The Smell of Apples: A Novel (21 page)

I pour some of the Dettol into his palm, and he rinses it until it has all dripped through his fingers. He sniffs his hand.

'What do you think it was?' I ask.

Frikkie's eyes fill with tears, and he looks down at his bare feet and shakes his head, and now I know what it is.

'Let's go outside,' I say.

The sun is already high above the mountains, and there's hardly any traffic on Main Road. Soon, when the

Mark Behr

holidays really get underway, the road will be full of cars and holiday-makers.

We decide to take our Choppers for a ride to Simonstown. We haven't been there for ages, and maybe we can stop off at Jan Bandjies' beach and see whether he's got some snoek today. I have to go and tell Mum where we're going, otherwise she worries about us. Mum worries about everything.

I walk into the lounge where I can hear music. Use is lying stretched out on the couch, reading. Her long blonde hair is loose and hangs across the couch's armrest. She doesn't even look up at me while I'm talking to her. She's reading Moby Dick, and I can see she's near the end. On the cover there's a picture of Captain Ahab throwing his harpoon, and just in front of him, in the bloody water, is Moby Dick. There's a fountain of blood spurting from the little blow-hole on Moby's head and his jaw is open as if he's screaming.

With her nose still glued to the book Use says that she and Mum are going to visit Little-Neville in Groote Schuur later this afternoon. If I want to go with them, I must make sure to be back home by then. I answer that of course I want to go along because I've never seen Little-Neville.

'Well, go then,' she says, without looking up. 'Can't you see I'm busy?'

'Yes, I can see!' I answer. 'You're busy lying here, sulking about the General that's gone! Now we'll see how you practise your stupid Spanish.' And I start walking off.

'Marnus,' she calls after me, 'why don't you force yourself to grow up. That's all that can save you.'

I make as if I don't hear her, and go outside to where Frikkie's waiting.

We fetch our Choppers from the garage. I peep at

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Frikkie. While I'm holding his bike for him to pump the tires, I try to see what he's thinking. He doesn't look away from the tyres and it looks like he's clenching his teeth. There's something funny about him, but I don't say a thing. When the tyres are pumped we take the bikes and walk down the hill to Main Road. Then we ride along the pavement towards Kalk Bay.

When we're almost at the harbour, Frikkie says he doesn't feel like riding any more. He stops and gets off his bike. I suggest that we go for a swim, because it's such a hot day. But Frikkie says he doesn't feel like swimming, and when I ask what he wants to do, he says he wants to go home. Not to our house. Back to theirs in Oranjezicht.

I wish he would stay, because I don't feel like playing with the Spiros. I know he wants to go home because of what happened this morning. I don't want him to go home yet. We're leaving for Sedgefield tomorrow, and that means we won't see each other again until next year. And what if he tells . . .

'Frikkie,' I start, 'do you remember when we became blood-brothers?' And he says, ja, of course he remembers.

'We promised to tell each other everything. Do you remember?' He nods his head. I wait but he doesn't say anything.

'Isn't there something you must tell me?'

'Like what?' he asks, and it looks like he's getting irritated.

I ask him whether anything important has happened that he wants to tell me, just like I told him about who Mister Smith really was. We're meant to tell each other everything, and the only reason I didn't tell him about the reflection in the mirror was because I wasn't a hundred per cent sure.

He sits down on the Chopper's saddle, but gets up again. There's a fishing boat leaving the harbour mouth,

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close to the lighthouse where Zelda almost got washed off the quay. Frikkie says he has nothing to tell me. He says he must go now or else he'll miss the quarter past ten train, and he still has to fetch his bag.

We say goodbye to each other and shake hands. Before he goes he says we'll see each other next year in Standard Four. Then we'll play under-eleven A, and Frikkie will be captain again. He's such a good scrum-half and our big dream is to play for Jan Van Riebeeck's first team, one day when we're big. Frikkie wants to become a Springbok, so that he can play for South Africa against the All Blacks. Dad says Frikkie will go a long way in rugby. He says it's rare for such a young boy to play such hard and single-minded rugby. And together, as scrum-half and fly-half, he and I make an excellent pair. I know Frikkie plays better rugby than me. But I'm cleverer than him.

For a while I look at Frikkie as he walks towards St James pushing his Chopper. Then I get on mine and ride off in the direction of Simonstown.

I try to see if the fishermen on the quay have been catching. Their rods are all straight and it seems like there's not much going on. I think I can make out the Kemp brothers standing about halfway along the quay, but from the road it's too far to be sure. The Kemps can't afford to go away on holiday. During holidays and over weekends, Zelda's brothers always stand on the side of the road and sell their catch to holiday-makers at terribly high prices. The Transvaalers who come down here for holidays are too stupid to realise they're being ripped off. Dad sometimes jokes about the Transvaalers all being so stupid because their forefathers were all illiterate miners.

Fish Hoek Beach is full of people. From up here the umbrellas make the beach look like a garden of big red and blue and yellow flowers. Some surfers are paddling out on

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their boards behind the breakers. I wanted a surfboard once, to learn how to surf, but Dad said the surfers are all dagga-smokers and they put stuff on their hair to make it white.

Where the road goes up the hill on the other side of Fish Hoek, just below the pastorie, I get off the bike and push it along till where it's downhill again. On this side of Simonstown you can smell the oil coming from the fish factory where Zelda's father works. On the beach below the factory, Jan Bandjies and his team are busy drawing in their nets. There are some people standing around, looking at the catch. I leave the Chopper next to the tracks and walk down on to the beach. Jan sometimes gives me a stompneus or a hotnotsvis, but today the nets look so empty that I can't ask. And anyway, I haven't got anything to carry it in.

From where he's standing up to his waist in the water, Jan Bandjies shouts hello to me and says I should come in and give them a hand. But I don't feel like helping today. I'll stop here on my way back from Simonstown. I can see a submarine in the docks over there. I want to go have a look.

The guards at the base know Dad, and when me and Frikkie come here, they always let us through without stopping us. I stand with my legs across the Chopper, looking at the submarine. It's the SAS Maria Van Riebeeck. The SAS stands for South African Ship, and the Republic has two other submarines like this one. All of them have women's names. The others are the SAS Emily Hobhouse and the SAS Johanna Van der Merwe. We've only had them for a few years.

I ride along to where the Namacurras are tied up against the wharf, and look down into their hulls. On all the ships and boats, seamen in blue uniforms and overalls

Mark Behr

are washing decks and shining equipment. Two seamen are holding handlines into the harbour from the wharf. Every now and then they pull up something and put it into a bucket. I go closer and see that they're catching small angel fish with yellow and blue stripes. One of the Namacurras comes past and sends waves knocking against the wharf.

The two seamen catching the angel fish look at me bending over the bucket and say something to each other. It looks like they're talking about me. After a while the one asks: 'Are you General Erasmus's son?' I nod my head, and they chuckle at each other.

I've gone out fishing on the Namacurras a couple of times with Dad and Brigadier Van der Westhuizen. We usually anchor the boat off Smitswinkel Bay, and stay there for a whole Saturday. Once, a huge great white swam right up to the side of the boat and circled us for a while before it swam off. It was almost as long as the boat and Dad said if he'd had his pistol there, he could have sent a bullet through its head.

It feels like the seamen are still talking about me, and they're laughing the whole time. I don't feel like standing around here any more. I turn the Chopper around and drive back past the submarine. Behind me I can hear them laughing, and I wish we were in Sedgefield already.

When we go there for our holidays, Dad and Mum always leave their watches at home, because they want to be rid of all the rules and regulations of city life. Mum says that's the only time Dad has a chance to get away from all his responsibilities and to escape from it all. When she talks like that, she always looks like someone who's missing something. I think she misses the farm where she grew up, just like Dad misses Tanganyika. Dad always says the things you remember from childhood are your most precious memories. You never forget the things you were

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taught or the things that happened to you as a child. Those things make up your foundation for the future. Dad says you can see the flipside of the coin in old Sanna Koerant. It's because her father was a real drunkard in the streets of Arusha, that she herself turned out to be such an old gossip, with never a good word for anyone in the world. It was because of all her gossiping and because she always tries to act so wise, that people started calling her Koerant. Everyone knew her, right from Meru to Kilimanjaro. Many people hated Sanna Koerant. When the Mau Mau murdered the whites in Kenya, she told everyone that Kilimanjaro was calling her children to claim their birthright and that Uhuru was close. It caused such trouble when she said that, that she had to go and apologise to many people before they would allow Sanna back into their homes. Dad says, just like Sanna Koerant became such a bitter old woman because of her drunk father, so children that come from stable Christian homes will end up being stable Christian grown-ups. The dreams of the parents become the dreams of the children.

I leave the base and turn right to go home. The sun's so hot now I don't feel like biking all the way home. I'll go by train and get off at Kalk Bay so Mum won't see me. If she happens to see me I'll say I was scared of getting sunstroke in the heat.

I wait for the train at Simonstown station. As soon as it's pulled into the station, I push the Chopper into an empty compartment. It's like an oven inside the train, and it smells of plastic and cigarette stompies. I let the Chopper rest on its stand between the seats in the open space at the door. Then I sit down on the seaward side of the compartment so I can look out over the water. There's an engraving of a white springbok head on the window-pane. My shirt sticks to the plastic seat, and I feel hot and

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sticky all over. Maybe I should open the window. I get up and move the window-pane down with both hands. The moment it's open, the smell of salt water and sea-bamboo drifts into the compartment. I breathe in deeply and rest my head against the tall backrest. There are quite a few yachts on the bay, but not as many as on weekends. Maybe it's also because there's hardly any wind today. There's no haze over the water and the mountains on the other side of the bay seem so close. The train starts moving and the cool wind blows into the compartment.

I stand up and lean from the window to see if Jan Bandjies and his team are still down on the beach. It looks like they're packing up their nets for the day. I see Jan with his bare chest and rolled-down overalls, bending over the nets. Just before the train's right above him I put my hands round my mouth and shout loud: 'Jaaaaan!' And yes! He hears me, because he looks up and I stick both arms through the window and wave like mad for him to see. At first I think he's going to miss me, but then, when we're almost past him, he recognises me and he also puts up both arms to wave back. I can see he's laughing, and I laugh back and keep waving until the train's too far and I can't see him any more. It's a pity I didn't tell him that we're going on holiday tomorrow.

We're awakened by the shouts of troops sitting up against the dam wall. At first I think Vm hearing the sound of our own approaching choppers, but the panic-stricken voices bring me to my senses. I jump up from the ground and feel the dizziness threaten to overcome me. I step forward and keep my balance by concentrating on the approaching noise. Within a split second everyone understands what's happening. We all look into the sky.

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As though from nowhere, they come towards us. The first two must have alerted the sentries. Then come the next four - in perfect formation against the blue sky.

I scream: 'No! No! No!' I want to shout for everyone to run for cover, hut it i already too late.

With informed precision they come, slowly. When they're almost above us, they drop their deadly cargo: suspended in slow motion by parachutes, the bombs descend on to the dam wall, right above us.

Mum asks where Frikkie is and I tell her he's gone home.

'Did you have a fight?' she asks.

4 No, Mum. He just wanted to go home.'

Use and I help Mum pack the groceries that she has bought for the holiday into boxes. She sends me to go and pick up the blankets and pillows from the lounge where Frikkie and I slept last night; Doreen isn't here now to walk around cleaning up after me.

Mum says we should all get to bed early this evening, so that we can leave early tomorrow morning. The earlier we leave, the sooner we get to Sedgefield and the less we need to worry about driving in the heat of day. We must finish packing our suitcases tonight, and when Dad gets home, I'm to help him hook the boat to the car. That way we can just put the cases into the car in the morning and be off.

Everything that's leftover in the fridge and might go off while we're on holiday, Mum puts into a Checkers bag to take to the hospital for Doreen.