Agaat (27 page)

 

Two balls are enough & don't look at me like that I'm not a ghost. Two she said in a hoarse voice the good hand extended as if she's waiting for punishment. So made sure I didn't touch the hand & rolled the balls into her palm & quickly she closes her fist zip-zap gone but no running it's just the new clockwork-step enough to make the apron creak. Remember to wash your hands! I called but my voice wouldn't come out & I was angry something terrible with her & with myself for reacting like that to hr tricks. Must be the hormones. Dr. said people do have trouble with them during pregnancy.

 

But I have the feeling deep in my bones & I'm writing it down here now for the record: From the moment that precious cloth left my two hands I've felt there is a snake in the grass as sure as my name is Milla de Wet. Must remember to store the mothballs in a different place.

Jak was repelled by your pregnant body. He couldn't stand being close to you, he couldn't even hide it any more. Gone he was suddenly on that morning of the twelfth of August with the bakkie to an obstacle race with rowing and swimming and cycling at Witsand. He took Dawid along to transport his bicycle and his canoe for him to the various starting-points. You would have to look after yourself. You'd been booked months in advance into Barrydale's clinic to be close to your mother. Your suitcase was packed weeks before. You weren't going to be caught unprepared.

Then the first contractions came right there in the passage after the to-do with the mothballs.

You had to sit down on the telephone stool in the passage. You'd thought another two weeks. The first convulsion had made you feel faint. You phoned, who else, the omniscient.

Look at your watch, your mother said. Note how far apart the contractions are and plan your movements accordingly.

Her voice was hard, business-like, reproving.

You can get here taking your time, even after your waters have broken. The first one usually takes a long time, she said, I had a terrible struggle with you, nine hours on end. Sheer hell it was, so you might as well prepare yourself.

Ma, you said, please. She cut you short. There's no time for chit-chat now, Milla, steel yourself and get on the road. I'll phone the maternity sister so that they can prepare for you. And bring Agaat along so that we can teach her with the child, I have a sore hip, I can't be running after you any more.

You called Agaat. You were scared, you could hear your own voice coming from afar.

You have ten minutes, you said, pack for a week, take your embroidery stuff along, we're going to the Ounooi, the child is coming, he's early, you'll have to help . . . if necessary.

Her eyes were big. Her hands that she was holding in front of her, fell open, the little arm hanging like something that had been loose all the time, something that had broken off that she was hiding. You thought, God help me, you need two hands for a delivery. But you didn't really think it would be necessary. Ma would know, after all.

Pull yourself together, Agaat, you said, we don't have time to waste. Pack your suitcase.

Suitcase, she said, what suitcase, I don't have a suitcase.

I shouted at her.

Where's your brown suitcase that I gave you? If you can't look after the small things, how can I ever count on you in important matters? Take pillow slips, take an onion-pocket in the store, take an apple box, take anything, just hurry up!

You started writing a letter to Jak.

You tore it up. You started again.

You crumpled it up.

Let the baas know where I am, you said to Saar, phone the hotel in Port Beaufort. Go and open the motorcar shed. Go and tell them to open the gate to the main road. If the drift is still under water, tell two boys to stand on either side on the kerb so that I can see where I'm going.

You called out orders. Agaat ran to and fro with wild gangling legs, the stiff little steps quite forgotten. Her mouth was open. You ordered her around. You remained sitting in the passage on the stool, your legs were lame. She was quick, she did what you told her to. Now it's you and me, you thought, it's always been just you and me. That you realised then, for the first time so clearly.

Sharp scissors, you said, sharpen a meat knife, singe the blades in a candle-flame, wrap them in clean cloths, the big enamel basin, the one with the three roses in the base, Dettol, take the half-full bottle and the new one. And cloths and sheets and packs of newspaper and blankets and matches and rolls of cotton wool and gauze.

She knew where everything was. She kept the whole list in her head as you dictated it. Her lips moved as she repeated it after you. She took hold, sure-handed as you'd taught her. Saar got a trunk off the shelf, put it down at your feet.

Must I come along, Mies? Saar asked. You just gave her a look, made her pack the things as Agaat brought them.

Don't worry, you said to calm them as well as yourself, it's just in case, we have enough time, we'll be there in time.

You remembered the smelling salts, flasks of hot water, a roll of dental floss and string for the tying-off, a box of paper towels. One bottle of sweet tea.

You wrote your mother's address and telephone number on a slip of paper. You put it in your purse. You see, Agaat, here I'm putting it, in case, remember it. You explained how it would work. You had to get to the pass in twenty minutes and then you would stop for a while for the next contractions and then in another twenty minutes you would be on the other side. Jak always used to do it in quarter of an hour. Further than that you couldn't think.

You would take the Mercedes, you decided, that would be safest. You had to slide the seat back to fit behind the steering wheel. You put newspapers and a blanket on the seat under you.

Agaat was trembling. You had to reassure her, now she had to feel sure of herself, as sure as she could. Never mind, you said, we've caught lots of calves, you and I, haven't we? Everything works in exactly the same way, you know it by heart. But it won't be necessary, it's like with the first calf, it comes slowly.

The drift was still flooded after the rains. Two of Dawid's brother's children stood on either side on the edges of the bridge, with the water washing around their ankles. They started laughing, high, long, merry yells when they saw how fast you were approaching. You put the car
in a low gear and charged through at full revolutions. You could feel the silt under the wheels, you skidded slightly when you got out on the other side and took the curve. To and fro you corrected in the slippery road. The wipers left long muddy streaks on the windscreen. In the rear-view mirror you saw the children sopping with brown muddy water looking after you open-mouthed.

On the Suurbraak road the next set of contractions arrived. You pulled off the road. Looked at your watch. Twenty, twenty-five after the first? Suddenly you weren't sure. When you could drive again, you started explaining to Agaat what she had to do if it came to the push. You had to concentrate hard on the road because it was wet, again and again you skidded.

Don't be so pale, you said to Agaat, and don't even think of puking. Your car-sickness you can keep for another day. You just pray that there isn't something slow in front of us in the road. Now listen carefully. It's for in case, it's not to say . . .

Her face was tight. She looked straight in front of her in the road. You talked fast, emphasised the main points. Water. Breath. Push. Head. Out. Blood. Slippery. Careful. Slap. Yowl. Bind. Cut. Wrap. Bring to. Wash. Hitch-hike.

That was the easy scenario.

If the little head can't get out, she has to take the scissors and cut, you said, to the back, do you understand? towards the shitter, she had to cut through the meat of your arse, so that he can get out. Saw if necessary, she mustn't spare you. If he's blue, she has to clean his nose and wipe out his drool, out from the back of his throat and from his tongue and blow breath into him over his nose and mouth until he makes a sound. As we do with the calves when they're struggling. She can leave you, you said, even if you're bleeding something terrible, it doesn't matter. And that again is different from the cows, you said.

You can still hear your voice.

We'd rather lose a calf than a cow. But a child, a human child, was something else, a human child comes first.

Ashen, Agaat was. She swayed from side to side in her seat as you took the first bends of the pass. You couldn't go too fast, the road wasn't tarred yet in those days.

The next contractions were too quick. You pulled off in a small parking area on the left side of the road. You tilted the seat as far back as possible so that you could half lie, but it didn't help. The pain was in you like a lip of lava thrusting, thrusting slowly into a street.

The first thing I'll teach you if we get through this is how to drive,
you groaned. Do you hear me? You'll learn to drive even if it's the only ride you ever get.

You took off your watch.

Here, put this on your arm. Time how long it goes on for.

The contractions lasted for seven minutes. When they abated, Agaat filled the lid of the flask with tea. She held the flask in her strong hand to pour. Her weak hand trembled as she tried to pass the lid to you clasped in the puny little fingertips.

God in heaven, you thought, just grant that we get across the pass in time, because there really are not enough hands here. For the first time you realised it. You closed your eyes, tried to get in the sweet tea in little gulps.

Is it very sore? you heard a whisper to one side of you, as soft as if somebody was twirling the tip of a feather in your inner ear.

You couldn't stop the tears.

Never mind, you heard, or thought you heard, deep in you, a sound that stirred lightly in your navel.

There is nothing, the voice said, nothing to about cry.

There is nothing.

The sound of feathers being settled in place before nightfall.

Never mind.

The sound of a rivulet trickling from a slope after it's rained high up in the rock faces.

Nothing to cry about. Agaat's first grammar.

You drew courage from that. You started the car and looked at Agaat. Her face was neutral, you must have imagined things.

It was almost twelve o'clock. Fortunately the road was drying out. You drove hard. The rock faces loomed up, closer all the time, rougher, greyer, swallowing you. Deeper and deeper, it felt, you were sinking into the body of the mountain, deeper into the black shadows, with every corner that you took.

What does the river look like? you asked Agaat to divert her attention.

Full, she said.

What else?

Shiny.

Is it far down?

Far. And near.

She whispered. There was a white ring around her mouth.

Suddenly it was lukewarm between your legs. Inside you something dropped and heaved and pushed. It was your time. It wasn't going to
take nine hours, Ma was wrong. It would be Agaat's baby, you knew, but you didn't say it out loud.

You were in the middle of the pass. The lay-bys were on your right. After fifteen minutes you had to pull in at the first one that appeared. This time the pains lasted longer. You breathed deeply. One more shift, you thought, another fifteen minute's driving, perhaps we'll make it after all. Suddenly you were angry with your mother. Furious that you'd listened to her hard voice and her harsh advice. You could have simply stayed at home. Saar was there, you could have summoned Beatrice. The one stank of body odour and the other of sanctity, but at least they had experience. You could have had the doctor called from Swellendam. There were hundreds of things that you could have thought of yourself instead of asking her. As if she had a monopoly on wisdom, she had after all only had you, the wisdom of a single child. Your resentful thoughts inclined you to brutality towards Agaat. You couldn't stop yourself. Now you sounded just like your mother.

Yes, Agaat, you said, that's the way of the world, you see what life's like. So it has been written. Come, you know your Bible, don't you. What does it say in Genesis about having children?

Agaat got out two words.

In sorrow, she said.

From the corner of your eye you saw her tighten her mouth, look at the watch. Seven minutes, she said.

My mamma has a goat, you started reciting, because you hadn't meant to sound that fierce, my mamma has a goat, she wants to have him shod. Come Agaat, what's next?

One two three four five six seven, said Agaat, her voice was quavering, but mamma doesn't know how many nails she's got.