Agaat - Marlene van Niekerk [288]
How long was Agaat in the air? Half an hour? Somebody charged into the garden in the jeep and deposited her at the mouth of the reception tent. A clutch of children jumped in to grab the next flip. You couldn’t see who was driving. The jeep left black soil-tracks on the lawn in pulling off. Agaat was in her white cap and her apron. The red scarf’s point was hanging out of her apron pocket. With rapid steps she walked along the yard to the house. A bunch of children clustered behind her.
What did you see Agaat? Did you nip, Agaat?
You trotted to catch up with her.
Tell, Gaat, what did you see? the children prodded.
Nothing, you heard her say, it’s night.
Baas, Agaat, you heard a male voice prompting, nothing, baas, it’s night, baas.
It was the white foreman who played chauffeur for one of the Meyers brothers.
D’you think because you were up there in the air you can now forget all about manners? I’m sure you saw something. Now tell us nicely what you saw.
The church tower, baas.
How do you know it was the church tower?
It’s got lights.
Baas.
Yes, baas.
Yes, baas, what?
The church tower has lights, baas.
Mr Lotriet, you addressed the man, your people want to leave, they’re looking for you there in the tent. And there’s strong coffee, looks as if you could do with some before you risk it on the road.
The man slunk off with a mumbled yes, Mrs de Wet, fine, Mrs de Wet.
Where are your manners? you scolded the children.
Come, Agaat, pleased to see you’re in one piece. I’m walking with you.
I’m walking alone, Agaat said to you.
You followed her. The sound of the aeroplane drowned out your voice. Low over the tops of the bluegums and the roofs of the outbuildings it sheared in the direction of the dam. You heard screams and saw the lanterns bobbing on the raft as the people fell flat to get out of the way.
A line of hired waiters with big trays full of dishes of dessert brushed past you on the garden path. The smell of baked chocolate pudding and date pudding and brandy tarts and liqueur sponges in your nose, Agaat’s puddings for Jakkie’s birthday, Jakkie who was yawing to and fro over the yard in the plane so that it sounded as if all hell had broken loose.
Twice you heard something spoken next to you before you could quite catch what was being said.
Agaat can’t come and dish now, Mies, she’s gotten behind with her work in the kitchen. It was Saar. The hesitation in her voice made you press on.
Is she fit to work?
She’s sitting there in her room in the dark, she says her head is sore.
It helped, that you had something to do. You wanted to put an end to the evening. Your actions felt sluggish, your voice muted. It was getting too late for your liking. You sent somebody to chase people off the raft, issued orders that the garden lanterns should be blown out so long and the torches extinguished. You blew out the lanterns in the marquee yourself and started emptying the ashtrays and picking up the butts from the floor. You found yourself standing behind a pudding table, faced with a horde of children of whom the bigger ones had been drinking furtively. Rudely they pointed at what they wanted you to dish up, prodded their fingers into the bowls, a feral look in their eyes.
Hey you! Back! Lietja snarled at one whose sleeve was