Agaat - Marlene van Niekerk [117]
First to the co-op, yes, Dawid must get things, parts for the combine harvester that he has to keep in order, yes, and sacks.
Baling wire, yes, there’s enough, the railway bus delivered.
A bit of a squeeze everything, yes, and the harvest is late this year, but I knew it would be around Christmas sometime, so my side is ready.
Yes, so now we can only wait . . .
Agaat’s voice sounds tired.
Yes, yes, only to town, as I say, Nooi. We have to deliver things. No, the eggs and the milk. Pumpkins. Onions too. And I must exchange the videos. But the story films upset her, now I keep to nature films. National Geographic, yes.
That’s right, Agaat, butterflies, bats, killer whales. Juicy bribes for the neighbour’s wife.
Agaat rubs out an insect on the passage floor with the point of her shoe.
Yes, Human and Pitt, she says.
Quickly she speaks now.
Yes, that’s here already, it’s standing in the shed. They want to come and do it here. Yes, they say it’s better at home when somebody has been lying for such a long time already.
Dominee, yes, he phones regularly and asks, yes, Mrs Dominee as well, but Ounooi doesn’t want them here, nor the elder.
I do the service.
I do it, yes. I pray and I read when she feels the need, and I sing.
Yes. It will be here on the farm. In the graveyard here.
Yes, it’s been dug for a long time. Next to her mother’s. Wire netting over it so that things can’t nest in it.
Weeded, yes. Whitewashed, too, the wall. Everything tidy. I sowed a few painted ladies seeds there, they’re nicely in flower now.
Who? Jakkie? Last time he still said he was coming. It’s snowing there, he says it’s lying thick. Tomorrow I’m sending him a telegram so that he has it, black on white.
He’s working, yes till just before Christmas, they don’t have a holiday now.
No, it’s arranged. Everything’s arranged. So will you please come tomorrow, Nooi? Thank you very much, Nooi. Till tomorrow then, Nooi. Thank you, Nooi. The same to you, Nooi.
I beg your pardon, Nooi?
No, doctor says he thinks less than a month, Nooi, perhaps a month.
No, Nooi, yes, Nooi, we can only hope for the best, Nooi. Well, that’s fine then, Nooi. Till tomorrow, Nooi. Goodbye, Nooi.
Tsk, Agaat sucks her teeth.
I don’t hear her replace the receiver.
The board next to the telephone stool creaks as she comes upright and then it creaks again as she sits down again. Then it creaks again. Then she replaces the receiver with a soft click. Then it clicks again as she lifts it.
Is everything in order, Agaat?
She slams the phone down hard on the cradle. The receiver falls off, I can hear it banging against the wall as it swings from its cord.
Tring, goes the telephone. Again the receiver is slammed down.
She walks down the passage with loud confused steps. She walks past the kitchen door, she walks blindly into the sitting room. She kicks over something there. She sets it upright. It falls over again, metal on wood. Other things fall. Thud, it goes, thud, thud, thud. She’s back in the passage. She wants to come to me, but she can’t. She’s dragging something, wires across the floor.
What do I hear? A groan, a curse, a sob?
Two doors slam. The kitchen door, the screen door. And then another one, the outside room’s.
A dog barks.
What else do I hear? Windows are slammed shut, stiff copper catches violently pulled over the lip of the window frame, and then opened again.
Curtains are yanked shut, too far so that half of the window is exposed again. Plucked to and fro, two rings come undone.
I understand, Agaat. It was too much. Your voice, your words, your news, your request, it was too much for you to hear.
I see you. You’re standing in your room, you’re standing and you can’t stand any longer. You bend at the middle and you bend at the backs of your legs, your back hunches, you crawl forward over the linoleum. You take the poker, you pull out the grate. You crawl into your hearth, white cap first. You go and lie with your knees pulled up in the old black soot. You make yourself heavy and you make yourself dense and you sink