Spud (18 page)

We returned to find the farmhouse in a state of chaos. Wombat was in tears, Mom was fuming and Peggy was making tea. Wombat’s third suitcase (carrying her underwear, petticoats and her dead husband’s gum-boots) had been stolen in the night. Dad, with the gun slung over his shoulder, casually brushed the broken glass from his trousers and told everyone that he’d used Wombat’s suitcase as a bribe at the border post.

17:30   I’m now officially the only person speaking to my father. We took an afternoon walk along a dry riverbed to watch the sun set. He asked me about school
and I told him about Fatty and the night swim and Gecko, Rambo, Boggo, and Mad Dog and his pigeon hunting. He laughed at my stories and told me that he had hated boarding school. (He went to a government school in Upington in the Northern Cape.) He then gave me a sip of his beer and told me to never be ashamed of myself and that even the Queen has to shit once a day. I nodded solemnly like I understood his point and stared out at the setting sun. After a long silence, Dad gave me another swig of his beer and then said he must go and apologise to everyone. I stayed out in the bush and threw stones at an old lamppost and for a moment, a very brief moment, I wished I were back at school.

22:00   Dad has miraculously calmed the troubled waters and we all sat happily around the fire, laughing, chatting and telling stories. Even Wombat emerged from her room to join the party. Mom cleverly placed Wombat next to Aunt Peggy so that she didn’t have to listen to the first of many stories about the saga of the disappearing yoghurt. Dad got me to tell the story about Fatty getting stuck in the chapel window. Everyone laughed uproariously at Fatty having to speak in chapel about his Jesus revelation.

Wombat drank too much sherry and started singing old British war songs. Uncle Aubrey sang a song in Afrikaans and before long the two were arguing about the Anglo-Boer War of 1899-1902. Wombat steamed off to bed after Aubrey called the English a ‘bunch of Nazis’ and then returned a minute later to call the Afrikaners a bunch of ‘racist pigs’ for creating apartheid. What followed was a heated debate about politics and Nelson Mandela. Feeling brave, I stepped in and told everybody how pleased I was about the freedom of Mandela. After a shocked silence, my father called me a bleeding heart commie and sent me to bed. I felt wickedly rebellious. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to call myself a freedom fighter.

Aunt Peggy was the first to wake and drove the bakkie to Keetmanshoop (the nearest town) to have its windscreen replaced.

My parents offered to take me to visit an old relative at a nearby farm. I politely declined. (I’m dealing with more than enough family at the moment.) I decided to spend the day reading and relaxing. Wombat elected to take a stiff walk (I’m sure she meant brisk) before lunch to charge her appetite. I sat in the lounge reading The Lord of the Rings. I got through half a page of the exciting Mines of Moria before Lion sat on my foot and drooled all over my shin. I was too scared to tell the gigantic animal to move so I just smiled at the huge mutt and pretended not to notice.

09:35   Uncle Aubrey rose and made us both a strong cup of coffee. He sat in his rocking chair, lit a cigarette and began telling me stories. Uncle Aubrey’s a superb storyteller with a deep voice, carefully selected words and a series of long pauses while he draws on his cigarette. He began with hunting stories from his youth and how he and Dad shot birds and ate them. (Must introduce Uncle Aubrey to Mad Dog.)

12:00   Now onto war stories from the Zimbabwean bush war. Uncle Aubrey still calls the country Rhodesia.

16:00   Still on the couch listening to Uncle Aubrey’s stories. The first hour was great, the next two fine, but the last three hours have become increasingly unbearable. I kept trying to escape with an excuse, but every time he got the better of me. He even followed me to the toilet and told me a hunting story through the closed door while I pretended to release a prisoner.

17:30   Uncle Aubrey is now onto fishing stories from Lake Kariba in Zimbabwe. He says there are fish there called vundu (a type of catfish) which grow so big that they can swallow a dog. He reckons way back in the seventies he tied a huge piece of meat to a massive hook on a long rope and then tied the rope to a tree. The next morning he returned to the scene to find the tree uprooted and floating in the middle of the lake. That was the last straw. After seven and a half hours and only half a page of my book I retired for a bath. Were it not for Aunt Peggy’s return, Uncle Aubrey may well have followed me in.

I woke up in the middle of the night to hear my parents return drunk as skunks and singing The Final Countdown at full volume in the garden. Lion woke up and started howling along with them. Before falling back into slumberland I could hear Uncle Aubrey shouting to Aunt Peggy to find the keys to the wine cellar.

08:30   Absolute pandemonium has broken out. Wombat has been declared missing. Mom is beside herself with panic while Dad is trying his best to look concerned. Everybody has dispersed to various parts of the farm for a manhunt (Wombat hunt).

At a family meeting over coffee in the kitchen, it was decided that Wombat may not have returned from her walk yesterday. The police have been called.

Lunchtime: Whilst chowing down on baked beans on toast, Uncle Aubrey suddenly jumped up, laughing, and shouted, ‘You little beauty!’ like he’d just discovered flre. He took the pipe out of his mouth and knocked it savagely against the wall calendar. April Fool’s Day!’ he declared like it was the most obvious point ever. Nobody seemed particularly convinced by his theory, since Wombat is partially senile and often forgets her
own birthday.

Dad and I spent the afternoon searching the farm while the others waited for the police.

Tea time: More coffee and debate. I told everyone the story of the disappearance of Vern ‘Rain Man’ Blackadder. Uncle Aubrey thumped me on the back and called me a genius. He then led the long line of Miltons under the house armed with a powerful torch and his shotgun. No Wombat but plenty of fruit bats.

The police have promised to begin searching in the morning should she not return.

18:45   My mother is already onto her fifth glass of wine. Dad says he’s matching her glass for glass out of sympathy.

After some Sherlock Holmes detective work, I discovered that Wombat’s toothbrush, pyjamas and overnight bag were missing.

20:00   I chaired the third family meeting of the day (because everybody else was too drunk). I told them that I thought Wombat had escaped and was not lost. I ordered Aunt Peggy (as the least pissed of the adults) to begin phoning hotels, guesthouses, coach services and airports.

The Holiday Inn (Kimberley) informed Aunt Peggy that they had an elderly woman by the name of Elizabeth Windsor, who had checked into the honeymoon suite yesterday. (Wombat often thinks she’s the Queen nowadays and signs most documents Elizabeth.)

I phoned the hotel and asked the receptionist if the old lady in the honeymoon suite was the same lady who had caused chaos in their hotel on Tuesday. She giggled and said it was. Wombat has been found!

Mom, reeking of alcohol, kissed me a hundred times and called me a genius (should she be surprised?). Dad put on a brave face and tried to look relieved. After
much kissing and fondling, Uncle Aubrey and Aunt Peggy said they had to check something in the bedroom and disappeared for fifteen minutes.

Mom called Wombat and started shouting at her over the phone. Wombat told her she was afraid of the dog and the sheep and didn’t like the company. Mom started crying and soon they were chatting lovingly to each other.

Dad pulled me over and through gritted teeth he uttered, ‘I’ll never forgive you for this, you little bastard!’ With that he grabbed a bottle of whiskey, stalked into his bedroom and slammed the door.

Think I may become a missing persons investigator when I’m older. At the age of thirteen I’ve already been involved in two cases, solved one and am well up on police procedure. Spud Milton PI – could even be a TV show!

It’s been decided to leave Wombat in Kimberley until we pass through tomorrow. The details of her escape are not consistent with a senile old woman but rather a deceptively sly criminal. Apparently, before taking her morning walk, she packed a bag and called a taxi service, telling them to meet her on the main road. The taxi then drove her to Keetmanshoop where she caught a coach to the Holiday Inn in Kimberley.

Had a lovely evening over a tasty roast lamb and mint sauce meal. (Fatty would have done his nut.) Dad and Uncle Aubrey recalled stories of their childhood on the farm. After dinner Uncle Aubrey tried to get a game of indoor cricket going but this was abandoned after Lion ran away with the tennis ball and ripped it to pieces.

05:30   We left, hooting, in a cloud of dust with Lion chasing our car for nearly a kilometre. (Haven’t seen Baa the sheep since last night.) We were all in good spirits and Dad got us singing Country Road. Because we were in Namibia and in a closed environment I didn’t feel embarrassed and even added the odd trumpet sound and my infamous drum roll.

06:00   Dad’s still singing, but by now solo.

After offloading another suitcase of Wombat’s clothes we slipped through the border without having to fill out a form or wait in a queue. Even Mom saw the funny side of Wombat’s suitcases being used as international bribery currency.

Dad’s mood plummeted after Kimberley Wombat didn’t stopped prattling on about the poor service of the hotel staff and the fact that they were stealing her toiletries. Dad kept his eyes fixed on the road and both hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel.

After four hours of non-stop complaining and endless repeats of the yoghurt story, Dad, with the whites of his knuckles showing on the wheel, stopped the car at a late night emergency chemist in Ladysmith. Ten minutes later he returned with cooldrinks and a soda water for Wombat.

Wombat passed out. Her head lolled back and her mouth opened, displaying a set of yellow false teeth and a wickedly pale tongue. Dad let out a delighted chuckle and squeezed Mom’s leg.

23:00   Home at last. Dad and I had to carry the comatose Wombat to bed, lock her flat and throw the keys through the window. As we trudged through the flowerbed he confessed that he had dropped seven sleeping tablets in her soda water and said he would
stock up for future trips.

So endeth the Milton’s Namibian adventure of 1990.

Have now completed a two-day period of rest and relaxation, much needed after our rather stressful holiday. I’ve advanced through the epic The Lord of the Rings at a rapid rate, only pausing to eat, swim, and talk to the Mermaid on the telephone. I have conquered the Fellowship of the Ring and am presently sweeping through the Two Towers quicker than Shadowfax the horse!

Mom says Wombat was unconscious for thirty-six hours and by the time she woke up she had no recollection of ever even going on holiday! She called the police to report the theft of many of her clothes and suitcases.

19:30   After hours of my begging and pleading, Mom is allowing me to join Dad on his neighbourhood watch. I promised her that I would stay in the car at all times. Looking forward to catching a few criminals or even witnessing a murder.

20:00   Dad and I set off for the neighbourhood watch together. We picked up somebody called Frank, who has a permanently red face and talks without opening his mouth. Frank rambled on about a gang that’s been ‘robbing the neighbourhood blind’, and reckoned that they stole Willy van Vuuren’s BMW last night. Like Dad, Frank also wears ‘camo’ clothing and has rubbed some sort of mud pack on his face. He says it’s what the US army uses. Dad applied the mud pack to his face and then declared himself ‘ready for action’.

The first two hours were uneventful. We gratefully accepted Frank’s offer of some strong coffee from his
flask, only to discover that the milk was off. There was a moment of excitement when a stray cat managed to trap itself in a rubbish bin. Dad and Frank stalked the bin like it was a landmine. Frank eventually lifted the lid and the crazed animal flew out like a demon. Dad screamed and dived into a hedge for cover and Frank screamed and fired three shots into the air. The gunfire seemed to wake up the entire neighbourhood. A woman screamed and dogs started barking everywhere. Dad and Frank galloped back to the car and we sped off down the street like a bunch of criminals.

Later on we met Garth and Bob (also dressed like idiots) who said they had just foiled a possible house-breaking. Dad and Frank were wickedly jealous and redoubled the effort to find some real crime.

The moment of truth arrived a little after midnight when we stumbled on a rather shady looking character trying to open a car door with a coat hanger. The man was dressed in pyjamas and a satin night robe and was feverishly working away at the side of the car. Dad flicked off the station wagon’s lights and pulled the car off the road. He ordered me to stay in the car and he and Frank pulled out their guns and began creeping towards the car thief who was still desperately trying to prise open the driver’s door. The thief was operating under a bright streetlamp so I could easily see what was going on from the safety of the back seat of the station wagon.

Dad and Frank, using the car as a shield, were able to sneak right up to the thief without being detected. With a shout they ordered the burglar to drop his coat hanger and place his hands on the car. The burglar looked terrified (who wouldn’t when faced with two armed middleaged men in camouflage and mud packs?). Dad frisked the criminal but only succeeded in discovering a toothbrush, dental floss and a tube of toothpaste. I heard him saying to Frank, ‘It’s amazing how high-tech
these criminals are nowadays!’

‘Take the car, take everything!’ cried the panic-stricken thief before Frank shut him up by jamming his revolver into the base of his neck. Meanwhile Dad returned to the car and radioed the police, triumphantly announcing that he had apprehended a car thief. His tone was nothing short of ecstatic and he gave me a wink before sprinting back to the scene of the crime.