Spud (38 page)

Tried to get the gossip out of Amanda during the lunch break but she showed absolutely no emotion. Either she
didn’t give a damn about Emberton or she’s the ultimate ice queen. I invited her to African Affairs tonight and she accepted. Does this count as our first date?

Dodge’s voice is gone. Viking has taken to the bottle.

20:00   Linton Austin took a dim view of me bringing a girl to the society meeting. He stood up and stated that he wanted his objection noted in the minutes. The rest of the group told him that he was being an idiot but the genius was adamant that he wanted his objection lodged in the minutes of the meeting. I felt embarrassed for Amanda, who looked like she wanted to punch his lights out. Once the hostilities had died down we settled down to this week’s topic which was focusing on Buthelezi’s Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP) which is made up mostly of Zulus and is very powerful in our province Natal, and its connections with the Nationalist government (known in our meetings as the apartheid government or ‘the bastards’).

We watched a scratchy home video on how ‘the bastards’ were funding the IFP (although even Lennox admitted it was terribly biased and a classic piece of ANC propaganda). Lennox also read us articles from various magazines and newspapers.

Luthuli led a stinging attack on Buthelezi and accused them (IFP) of being a bunch of traditional, land-grabbing, rural, traitorous Zulus. (This coming from a Zulu!) Linton Austin sucked on the back of his engraved fountain pen and then rambled on about how urbanised blacks turning against their tribal authorities is the first step in the communist revolution. Once he had finished, he scratched down one of his points on his notepad and looked smug.

I wish I could remember what followed, but in truth most of the words flew over my head like a flock of frightened fruitbats. Amanda attacked Linton with the most savage array of academic jargon imaginable. I
was able to remember: pedagogue, discourse, racial integration and paradigm. (Have no idea what these words mean but think I will call somebody a pedagogue or a paradigm and see how they react.) Austin watched Amanda with a mixture of disbelief and awe. She concluded by accusing Austin of being ‘an apartheid sympathiser, a closet capitalist and a sexist intellectual misogynist with no understanding or ability to dissect a humanist society from any other construct other than the utilitarian perspective’. (The only reason I had that bit is because I scribbled it down on the back of my Oliver script.)

The group of eleven put down their coffee and biscuits and applauded the stunning Julia Roberts lookalike. Amanda smiled and took a triumphant sip of coffee. Poor Austin, who has obviously never been attacked by an intellectual equal before (especially a woman), shook his head lamely and for the first time had nothing to say. At the end of the meeting Lennox nodded towards Bruce Henderson (the secretary noting the minutes) and asked him to record how the society meeting had been enriched by Amanda’s presence. He then proposed that she be made an honorary member of the society. (This was hastily seconded and voted in by the whole group, except Linton, of course.)

Afterwards the society all shook hands with her and just about everybody offered to walk her home. She smiled sweetly and said ‘It’s okay – Spuddy will take me.’ I felt myself melting with pride.

We chatted and walked for ages. There was none of the usual Smalltalk. Amanda always went straight for the jugular. This is how I like to remember the conversation (and don’t tell me this wouldn’t make the perfect scene from a movie).

Walking underneath a long avenue of leafless trees. The night is cold and still. In the distance a train chugs its way towards the station on its long, winding journey from Durban to Johannesburg.

Pause. Spud squeezes his thigh as he tries to ask the question.

Spud shrugs casually and then nods like an idiot.

They reach Mr Cartwright’s old grey gate.

Pause. An awkward moment as Amanda stares intently at Spud. Spud inspects his shoelaces.

Wedding bells, choirs of angels, wild horses galloping across the prairie. They kiss. Fade to blackout.

I don’t remember the kiss. I only remember my left leg shaking and the thud of the snare drum. I think I might have skipped back to the house singing Ding Dong! The Witch is Dead.

19:00   Full dress rehearsal including make-up (applied by various teachers’ wives and girls from the show). At last everything seems to have fallen into place. The orchestra sounds great, the singing is superb and the play looks splendid. Dodge’s voice is improving but still sounds like the guy who does the voiceovers for the Hollywood movie trailers. The only blemish was that Alf Little, who plays the part of Master Bates (now known as Wanker), was chatting up some girls and forgot to come on stage. After the show Viking struck him savagely on the head with his walking stick and Kojak threw a musical score at him. After the violence was over Viking gave us a most inspiring speech before bidding us a good night of rest.

After undressing and removing my make-up (I managed to get cream in my eye and Eve made me wash it out with milk) I tried to find Amanda but she was gone.

Sat for hours on my window ledge above my bed
looking at the stars and listening to the sounds of the night. I don’t feel nervous, just concerned that I’ll never feel this happy again.

Well, this is it, dear diary. Hours and hours of rehearsing, months of preparation and it all comes down to tonight. There’s a real buzz of expectation around the school. Received calls from the folks who wished me well and a telegram from the Mermaid:

(Not sure why she has written stop twice – maybe the madness is back.)

Everywhere people were patting my shoulder and asking me if I was nervous. The answer – no. (One can’t be nervous if this is going to become one’s life and career.)

18:00   Sitting on the toilet. The world feels like it’s fallen out of my bottom. Am terrified and shivering like a leaf. The theatre will be packed to the rafters. (The first three nights are already sold out!) All the first, second and third years will be attending, as well as a whole host of teachers and locals. Everywhere people are hugging and exchanging cards and flowers. I hide away in the boys’ changeroom, unable to face anyone.

19:55   The audience is in. All I can hear is the dull roar of hundreds of excited voices. Viking, dressed in a catastrophic green suit and a red bow tie (nearly as bad as my second act costume), wished us all chukkas (good luck). Amanda blew me a kiss and said, ‘You’re amazing.’ Since that moment my nerves have steeled –
I’m ready to seize the day!

20:00   The workhouse boys skulk around the back of the theatre and wait in the foyer to make our grand entrance through the auditorium on Food Glorious Food.

Suddenly – applause.

Kojak bows and settles into his place. The band kicks into the overture.

The opening bars to Food Glorious Food. I can feel the fear around me but not in me. The curtain rises… and then suddenly there is a terrible screech. The curtain stops only a metre off the ground. We can see widow Corney up to the waist (her unflattering half). There is a gasp, then a few giggles and an ironic cheer. Viking, followed by a few others, hurtles past us, broken heel and all. Kojak and his band repeat the overture… and then again, and again. There we wait for fifteen minutes, maybe longer, until suddenly there is a whirr and the curtain is up. Applause and cheering. We’re on!

I reached the stage and looked out at the sea of smiling faces before me. I have never felt such adoration… such… God, there are no words to describe the feeling of being watched by so many people.

Suddenly it was over, two hours shot by in a blur. All I can remember was applause and laughter and more applause. Once again hugs and thumps on the back were passed around like jellytots at a Sunday school picnic.

Then I was at Amanda’s gate and we were kissing. This time I was relishing every single moment. This has gotta be as good as it gets!

07:30   I was surrounded by well-wishers at breakfast. Teachers and boys stopped me in the quad and in the dining hall to shake my hand. I could get used to this!

23:30   Tonight I was able to digest every moment of the play. It’s hard to imagine how many laughs The Guv gets. He should have been a great comedic actor instead of our English master (although, for my sake, I’m so glad that he isn’t). My solos, particularly Who Will Buy, get a lot of applause. The boys get a great kick out of seeing The Glock as a bloodthirsty villain. Eve (playing Nancy) gets loud support, although I think this has more to do with her sexy prostitute costume than the quality of her performance. Overall it feels like the crowd favourite is Dodge who’s a real natural on stage with his voice now fully restored.

Got caught up in a long discussion with Viking and Eve about acting and performance and missed my walk home with Amanda. After I escaped, I sprinted to Mr Cartwright’s house, but her light was already off and I was frightened of waking up the old biology teacher and his infamously crabby wife.

There is a song from My Fair Lady that I should have sung. Something about the street where she lives… but I couldn’t remember it so I waltzed back to the dormitory whistling I’ll Do Anything instead.

07:30   This time it was the older boys who were queuing up to shake my hand at breakfast. Earthworm made me coffee while I re-sharpened his pencils and he asked me hundreds of questions about the play. He seemed incredibly proud that Oliver was his slave. I later heard him bragging to Julian and Gavin, the prefect under the stairs, that he had the most famous slave in the school.

Even Pike didn’t try and hit me or spit on me today.

23:30   Tonight, midway through the second act, a woman from the audience got up and started staggering
across the stage towards the chorus. We kept singing until the stage manager guided the confused woman off into the wings. It turned out that she was Richard van Zyl’s mother who’s been undergoing treatment for seizures. Apparently, when she saw Richard dressed in his rags and begging for money she thought he needed help. Seems like wherever I go madness isn’t far behind.

Spud and Amanda walk slowly across the fields taking the long route home. They sing their duet hand in hand and then dissolve into giggling weakness. The night is thick and misty.