You went in the jeep to the landing strip, at speed over the drift and slip-slide round the bend on the other side of the bridge, because it had been flooded till recently. Jakkie was driving, a whole line of cars following with guests who didn’t want to miss it.
You’re not going to fly with me in that apron and with that white cap on your head, Jakkie said to Agaat.
I am, said Agaat.
You are not your apron and your cap, Agaat, Jakkie said, and turned round to her.
I am, Agaat said.
Well, then tonight you’re going to feel what it’s like for a change not being yourself, because that’s what you wanted from me and I did as you said. Where’s the scarf?
I’m not wearing the scarf, she said.
Take off that bishop’s cap of yours and tie on the scarf, Gaat. And off with that apron, this moment!
Then look in front of you, said Agaat.
Aitsa, Jak said, now the current’s flowing!
They laughed, your husband and your son.
You saw sparks, a rustling of the static electricity in the scarf as Agaat pulled it out of her apron pocket. You got out, following Jak and Jakkie.
Around the runway there was a bustle of men setting up the two rows of tractor headlights for the take-off. A few women had come along and were standing to one side chatting. Children were swarming around the plane. You turned away. There was a full moon, a clear night with the chill of the recent winter still in the air. You turned back again. The little white plane at the far end of the runway looked as if it had been glued together from planks, a splash of white paint against the black outlines of the hills.
Jakkie climbed in. Against the light you could see him checking the controls. The headlight came on, a harsh beam over the stony ground of the fallow field, and then the red and green lights on the tips of the wings. The engine putt-putted and took and when it was at full strength, the propeller started turning slowly, faster and faster till it was only a grey haze in front of the nose. A cloud of dust was slowly being churned up around the body. In the fumes you could see the tailfin waggling, first to the right and then to the left.
Then the passenger door opened, a hand beckoned. The back door of the jeep opened, the red scarf was tied round Agaat’s head, nurse-style, with a peak in front and a triangular flap at the back. How did she figure it out so soon? you wondered. Would she have practised in her room in the evenings with all the scarves that Jakkie had brought home over the years?
The children yelled. In between the men called out with hands cupped in front of their mouths.
Strap yourself in, Gaat!
Say your prayers, Gaat!
Hee, now you’re going to see a flying goffel!
God, but she’ll shit herself, the creature!
Piss in her pants!
If she’s wearing pants!
Jakkie, do you have a pee-pot in that fly-machine?
She’s going to puke!
Fly her till she pukes on the Catholics’ roof!
On the apostolics!
On the kaffir location!
Agaat looked neither left nor right. Up against the stepladder she climbed, the tip of the scarf was fluttering wildly in the slipstream. With the little hand she held it behind her head. It was half an Agaat up there on the running-board, her hips narrow without the waist-band of the apron, her shoulder crooked without the white cross-bands. She hoisted herself into the door-opening with the strong hand. The little door slammed shut. Through the window you could see her staring straight ahead, her chin to the fore, her lips a thin line.
And then they were away with a jolt and a bump, faster and faster until the head lifted at the far end of the runway. For a moment they were invisible behind the plateau. You could hear the engine labour for height. Then they arced back. Once, twice, three times the headlight dipped and the wings waggled to one side. The children waved and shouted at the salute.
A few times the plane circled over the yard, higher and still higher before striking a course in a straight line in the direction of the town.
As if he wanted Agaat to experience what it felt like to go away, you thought.
You didn’t want to drive back with Jak. You wanted to be alone to watch the tail-lights get smaller and smaller, the one white flank in the moonlight fainter and fainter. You wanted to think of Agaat in that cabin and the landscape unrecognisable from that height. You wanted to think and you didn’t want to think. You started walking back on your own along the road to the house. Some distance further down the yard was glowing and flickering with fires and torches and lit-up tents and the reflection of coloured lanterns in the dam. That’s what it would look like from the aeroplane. If you didn’t know what you knew, you could imagine that it was a fairy tale.
Your shoes, should you rather have taken them off? you wondered when you crossed the drift to the house. You had to step carefully there, so deeply rutted was the drift with car tracks. Halfway through you slipped badly and lost your balance, and stood still to recover your equilibrium, and to look and to listen. Grootmoedersdrift, you thought, how much must this crossing have seen. There were the shiny circle-tracks of insects on the water, the croaking of frogs, the distant sounds of the feast in the yard, coarse laughter at the dam. The black trunks of the wattles and the black stream in the light of the torches, the fluttering of moths around the light. If only I could read all these together, you thought, all these signs, if the meaning of everything could only be revealed to me here, a pointer for the future. The damp was starting to seep through your soles. You looked down, the polish of your shoes flickered eerily in the dark, as if your feet were packed in fire. Jak had had the torches planted there for the guests, Agaat’s orders, so that they would see the hitch in the bridge when they came around the corner. Not that that was the greatest problem. You should have had the silt hoed away there, the kerb was almost covered in it. You took off your shoes and scraped off the sticky black mud with a twig.
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.