My Life as a Man (17 page)

It was into the afternoon before they came back. I watched as August took a box out of the back seat and carried it into the house.

Eileen smiled at me as she got out of the car. ‘I’ve been well looked after. I spent most of the time sitting on a bench in the sun while August shopped. And then we went to a little
café and had lunch.’ I stared at her without replying. I wondered if he’d found his tongue with her. ‘I enjoyed myself,’ she said.

‘I didn’t know you’d gone.’ I couldn’t help making it sound like an accusation.

‘You slept all through us leaving. He must have tired you out yesterday.’

For no good reason, this offended me. I scowled at her, but she didn’t seem to notice.

‘I don’t feel sick.’ She stretched her arms wide. ‘It’s wonderful to feel human again.’

When we went inside, the box of shopping was sitting on the kitchen table. To help Beate, who was putting away the contents, I began to hand her packets of salt, blocks of soap, toilet paper, a
floppy package in a wrapping of thick white paper that might have held fish; and, surprising me, half a dozen tins of custard.

Seeing me look at them, Beate said, ‘That’s August’s treat.’

I didn’t know whether to smile or nod. Maybe he ate them all himself, and she was warning me off.

Anyway, treat or not, none of the tins appeared at that evening’s meal. While we ate – the usual solid plateful of meat and potatoes – Eileen tried to make sociable
conversation. It was an uphill battle, for August had fallen back on silence, making me wonder if it was my company which had that effect on him. It was a relief when, unexpectedly, Beate began to
talk about her life as a child on a farm far out on the South African veldt.

‘We were surrounded by space to the horizons,’ she said. ‘A wonderful life for a child, like being on an island. And the sky at night was crammed with stars.’

‘Plenty of stars here,’ August said. It was the first time he’d spoken during the meal. If he’d found his tongue when he was alone with Eileen, he seemed to have lost it
again.

‘They aren’t the same stars,’ she said on an odd note of triumph. ‘I used to lie on my back and look up at them. It felt like falling.’

‘Were you an only child?’ Eileen asked.

‘I was a lonely one. Lonely all the time. Until I met August.’

Putting a forkful of food in his mouth, he glanced up at her but said nothing.

‘Did you meet as children?’ Eileen sounded startled, but somehow pleased. Maybe she thought that would have been romantic.

‘Oh, no!’ She shook her head vigorously. It was very emphatic.

She
doesn’t think it’s romantic, I thought sourly.

‘Beate came to town to work as a servant.’ August broke his silence again. Wiping his mouth, he said, ‘It happened to be in my father’s house.’

‘Not polishing and dusting,’ Beate said. She frowned at him, lines wrinkling her high, pale forehead. ‘Blacks did that kind of work.’

‘We could do with one here,’ he said. ‘A strong kaffir girl.’

‘We had plenty of kaffirs on the farm,’ she said, ‘men and women. My mother kept the women in the house busy, and my father worked the men hard – he had no patience with
slackers.’

‘You can’t stop a kaffir taking it easy,’ August said. ‘It’s their nature. If it wasn’t for the white man they’d sit on their’ – he glanced
at Eileen – ‘sit around all day. Nothing was done with the land when they had it.’

Eileen looked from husband to wife, then at me. I chewed and stared down at my plate. There didn’t seem much room for either of us to say anything. Probing, as if with sword-tips testing
for weakness, our hosts were absorbed with each other.

‘When I was eleven I saw my father beat a kaffir to death,’ Beate said. ‘He thrashed him with a long black whip that was used on the cattle.’

I realised my mouth had fallen open, and shut it.

‘They call a whip like that a sjambok.’ August offered this matter-of-factly, a piece of information we might find of interest. It didn’t help.

To my amazement, Eileen asked, ‘Is that how you pronounce it?’

August lifted his black eyebrows at her and nodded.

I couldn’t believe she’d heard what Beate had just said.

‘That’s the correct way,’ he said as if settling an argument.

‘The whip took strips of flesh off,’ Beate intervened firmly. ‘Blood came up in sprays, I’ve never forgotten that. It was all so amazing. I couldn’t look away. When
my father finished, you could see the old man’s spine: white bone and tatters of black skin.’

‘What happened to him?’ I asked. I was surprised to hear my voice, thin and almost trembling.

‘They took him to hospital, but he died a week later.’

‘Your father, I mean.’ Your fucking brute of a father. ‘At his trial.’

‘Trial?’ August wondered. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘How could he get away with that?’

‘Oh, but he didn’t,’ Beate said. She was answering me, but she didn’t take her eyes from August. ‘He
was
taken to court. I remember how angry he was about
being fined. So, you see, he didn’t get away with it.’

Head to one side, Eileen was gazing at Beate and I couldn’t catch her eye.

‘Terrible things happen in the world,’ August said.

‘Like the Nazis,’ his wife said.

‘Why bring them up?’ he asked with a frown.

I knew the kind of terrible thing Beate was thinking of.

‘Like the teachers in Norway,’ I said.

Husband and wife turned on me identical expressions of surprise. It was as if they had forgotten I was there.

He got up abruptly. ‘I’m going to bed.’

‘Good night,’ Eileen said, but he was already out of the room.

When Beate yawned, she didn’t cover her mouth with her hand. Before it closed, she wiped her tongue over her lips. Quick and pink, it was like a small animal.

‘If it’s that time,’ she said.

In a moment, Eileen and I were left on our own.

‘What was that about?’ I wondered if she had heard me. My voice wasn’t much above a whisper. I needed her to say something reassuring.

‘They wanted to get to bed,’ she said.

‘It’s not late.’ I waited. Then I said, ‘I meant all that stuff about her father. Beating an old man to death with a whip.’

‘A sjambok.’

‘That’s not how he said it.’

‘Maybe it’s a word he’s only read.’

‘That doesn’t make any sense.’ Not with him being South African, I meant.

‘I suppose not.’

The way she said it shut me out of whatever she might be thinking.

‘Why would she tell us a thing like that?’ I asked.

‘How should I know what it was about, any more than you?’

I’d pulled the blanket up over my head as I slept. Going by the other mornings, I assumed August was already out and about, but lying there I missed the smell of food and the sounds Beate
made as she moved about. When I tugged the blanket off, the room was empty. According to the clock on the wall, it was just after seven. Half dressed, still pulling on my shirt, I went to the
window and there husband and wife were in the middle of the yard, heads bowed as if staring at the ground, silent but close together. I took a step back, not wanting to be seen, but as I did she
reached out her hand and he took it, and hand in hand the two of them went out of the yard towards the woods. The air was full of early sunlight. Black shadows from the byre and the shed beside it
stretched half across the yard. If I was surprised to see them go off like that, it was because I’d a vague idea that for people on farms the country was for work not pleasure. All the same,
if they wanted to go walking, what business was it of mine? It was a fine morning.

I decided Eileen must still be asleep; most mornings she’d been sleeping, or at least not coming down, until after eight. I cut a slice from the loaf Beate had made the day before and
found butter in a clay dish on a shelf. No cheese, though – maybe I was looking in the wrong place – and I didn’t want to risk trying to make porridge. I didn’t even fill a
kettle to boil water on the range for tea. Instead, I poured milk into a cup and was making a glum, cold breakfast at the table when Eileen appeared.

‘You’re early,’ I told her. It wasn’t much of a greeting, but I was feeling sorry for myself.

‘I’m a lot better. Not entirely well, but able to travel.’ She lowered her voice, as if not wanting to be overheard. ‘I think we should leave this morning. I’ll say
so to Beate.’

‘Beate isn’t here.’ She looked at me in surprise. ‘The two of them have gone off for a walk.’ I smiled, thinking she would find it as odd as I had.

After a moment, she went to the window and looked out. ‘Where to?’

‘Towards the woods. It’s nice out. They went off hand in hand.’

‘They didn’t say where they were going? Or how long they’d be?’

‘I didn’t speak to them.’

She stood looking at me, biting her lip in silence.

‘Can you make porridge?’ I asked.

‘What?’

I didn’t think it was such a stupid question. For God’s sake, it was breakfast time.

‘Or tea? If you’ll make tea, I’ll have a proper look and see if I can find something to eat. Eggs or something.’

‘I packed my case last night,’ she said. ‘Go and bring it down.’

Though she spoke quietly, I got up at once and didn’t walk but ran up the stairs. It was as if with the first movement my body remembered what I had suppressed: how uneasy I felt about the
man of the house. Going in, I thought it would be the last time I saw that room. The skylight window was pushed up, held open by a thin metal bar. In the space between the window and the frame, a
spider had hung the loose weave of its net. The clock chimed eight as I lifted the case from where it lay beside the bed. The little statuette bowed its head to avoid my glance. I had dreamed of it
as more brazen.

Going back down, the case bumped awkwardly against the wall of the narrow staircase.

‘Now?’ I asked.

‘Why not? We’ve nothing to stay for.’

‘They’ll think it’s funny if we just go. Shouldn’t we thank them?’

‘Can we just go, please?’

Only perversity had made me argue. Of course I wanted to get out of there. Maybe I was trying to impress her, safe in the knowledge that she was determined to leave. I put on my jacket and
automatically felt to make sure the handful of coins was still in the side pocket.

Since that first night, I hadn’t tried to check the boot, afraid perhaps of finding it empty. Relief flooded through me when I saw the small case was still there. Going back into the
world, it seemed that after all we would have money, unless it had all been a middle-of-the-night dream. Pushing it to the back of the boot, I laid the big case in front of it like a barrier. Time
enough once we were well on our way to share the discovery with Eileen.

The yard was hot and still. I stood with the boot lid in my hand, feeling vulnerable. When Eileen appeared, I slammed it shut, alarming myself with the noise.

‘I decided it might be better if we left a note,’ she explained, as if apologising.

Her eyes were tired. I realised suddenly how much thinner she was.

‘I’ll drive if you want,’ I said. ‘You could rest.’

She thought about it, then shook her head. ‘If it gets too much for me, we can change places.’

I’d no argument with that. I’d no argument with anything. We were leaving!

I got in on the passenger side. As Eileen was sliding behind the wheel, I said, ‘If those two come back, don’t stop. Just keep going.’

She closed the door. We sat together, side by side again. I had an extraordinary feeling of peace and security. It was as if I had come home.

When she turned the key, it made a clicking sound. She glanced at me and tried again. The engine didn’t roar into life. As she tried for the third time, there came the same dry click.

I looked down as I felt Eileen’s hand grip my wrist. Before I could ask what was wrong, I saw for myself. In the shadow where the path emerged from the woods, a man and woman stood. They
seemed to be holding hands and there was no way of telling how long they’d been there.

There hadn’t been any fuss when they came out from under the trees and crossed to the car. He’d put up the bonnet and fiddled around and asked Eileen to start the engine again. When
it wouldn’t, I got out and stood beside Beate watching him. I recognised the engine mounting and the rod for testing oil and the place where you put water in and the other place where you put
liquid in for the windscreen wash. That was about it. Then August went and came back with a box of spanners and Beate asked about a wire hanging loose that I hadn’t even noticed. He frowned
at her, and went to work without answering. After he’d taken the starting motor out, it didn’t matter what the wire might have been, so I didn’t ask.

He’d gone into town, taking the motor with him, and the three of us were in the kitchen, waiting for him to come back. Beate was doing a washing at the sink by the back window. Eileen and
I were sitting at the table.

I leaned forward and said to her quietly, ‘Come for a walk.’

Beate turned and frowned at me. ‘Leave your mother alone,’ she said. ‘She’s tired.’

‘We don’t have to go far.’

Eileen shook her head.

I was desperate for her to come. I needed to tell her about the money. As well, I wanted to tell her about that loose wire; wanted her to say it was nothing; that I was imagining things.