Oh Sarie, oh my poor little Sarie. Involuntarily Aunt Trudi turned her head towards a small framed photograph which stood on the table beside the sick girl's bed. It was a studio photograph of Manfred De La Rey in boxer's shorts and vest, crouched in the classic purilists pose with the silver championship belt around his waist.
The inscription read, To little Sarie. From your big brother, Manie. What a terrible thing! Aunt Trudi breathed. What will we do now? The following afternoon while Aunt Trudi was in the kitchen, larding a leg of venison which was a gift from one of the parishioners, Sarah came in on bare feet.
You should not be out of bed, Sarie, Aunt Trudi told her sternly, then was silent as Sarah did not even glance in her direction.
The thin white cotton nightdress hung loosely on her wasted frame, and she had to steady herself on the back of a kitchen chair for she was weak from her sick bed.
Then she gathered herself and crossed like a sleepwalker to the kitchen range. With the tongs she lifted the round black cast-iron cover off the fire box, and orange points of flame flickered through the opening. Only then did Aunt Trudi realize that Sarah had the photograph of Manfred in her hand. She had removed it from the frame and she held it up in front of her eyes and studied it for a few seconds.
Then dropped it into the opening of the firebox.
Rapidly the square of cardboard curled and blackened. The image upon it faded to ghostly grey and then was obscured by flames. With the points of the fire-tongs Sarah stabbed at the scrap of soft ash that remained, crushing and pounding it to powder. Even then she went on striking the irons into the flames with unnecessary force, until there was nothing left. Then she replaced the cast-iron cover over the firebox and dropped the tongs. She swayed on her feet and might have toppled forward onto the hot stove, but Aunt Trudi caught her and steered her to a kitchen chair.
Sarah sat staring across the kitchen at the stove for many minutes before she spoke.
I hate him! she said softly, Aunt Trudi bowed her head over the haunch of venison to hide her eyes.
We have to talk, Sarie, she said softly. We have to decide what to do. I know what to do, Sarah said and the tone chilled Aunt Trudi. it was not the voice of a bright sweet child, but that of a woman hardened and embittered and coldly angry with what life had offered her.
Eleven days later Roelf Stander returned to Stellenbosch, and six weeks later he and Sarah were married in the Dutch Reformed Church. Sarah's son was born on the 16th March 1937. It was a difficult birth, for the infant was big-boned and she was small-hipped and her body still not fully recovered from the pneumonia.
Roelf was allowed into the delivery room immediately
after the birth. He stood over the cot staring down at the mottled swollen face of the newborn infant.
Do you hate him, Roelf? she asked from the bed. Sarah's hair was sodden with sweat and she was drawn and exhausted. Roelf was silent for a few moments while he considered the question. Then he shook his head.
the qu
He is a part of you, he said. I could never hate anything that is you
she held out her hand to him, and he came to stand beside
the bed and took it. ou, Roelf.
You are a kind person. I will be a good wife to you I promise you that. I know exactly what you are going to say, Daddy. mathilda Janine sat opposite Blaine in his panelled ministerial office in the Parliament building.
You do, do you? Blaine asked. Then let's hear from you exactly what I'm going to Say. Firstly, Mathilda Janine held up her index finger, you are going to say that David Abrahams is a fine young man, a brilliant law student and a sportsman of international reputation who won one of the only two medals which this country was awarded at the Berlin Olympics. You are then about to say that he is gentle, considerate and kind, that he has a marvelous sense of humour and dances beautifully, that he is handsome in a funny sort of way and would make any girl a wonderful husband. Then you will say "but" and look grave!
I was going to say all that, was I? Blaine shook his head with wonder. All right. Now I say "but" and look grave.
Please continue for me, Matty!
But, you say gravely, he is Jewish. You will notice the inflexion, and now you look not only grave but significantly grave. 'This puts a certain amount of strain on my facial muscles, significantly grave. Very well, continue. My darling Daddy would not be so callow as to add, "Don't get me wrong, Matty, some of my best friends are Jews." You would never be as gauche as that, would you? 'Never! Blaine tried not to grin, even though he was still seriously worried by the proposition. He could never resist the impishness of his plain carrot-headed but beloved youngest daughter. I would never say that!
"'But," you would say, "mixed marriages are very difficult, Matty.
Marriage is a hard business without complicating it by different religions and customs and ways of life." How wise of me, Blaine nodded. And how would you reply? I would tell you that for the past year I have been taking instruction with Rabbi Jacobs and by the end of next month I will be a Jewess!
Blaine winced. You have never kept anything from me before, Matty!
I told Mummy!
I see!
still trying to make a game of it.
She smiled cheerily, Then you would say, "But, Matty, you are still a baby."
Amd you would reply, "I will be eighteen next birthday." you would look gruff and say, "What are David's prospects?"
And you would tell me, "David starts work with Courtney Mining and Finance at the end of the year with a salary
of two thousand a year.
How did you know that? Matty was stunned. David only told me, She broke off as she realized what his source had been and she fidgeted in her seat. Her father's relationship with Centaine Courtney troubled her more than she could ever tell him.
Do you love him, Matty? Yes, Daddy. With all my heart. And you have already obtained your mother's permission that I can be sure of. Over the years both Mathilda Janine and Tara had become adept at playing Isabella and Blaine off against each other.
mathilda Janine nodded guiltily, and Blaine selected a cheroot from the humidor on his desk. While he prepared it, he frowned thoughtfully.
It's not a thing to go into lightly, Matty. I am not going into it lightly. I've known David two years. I always thought you might make a career- I am, Daddy. My career is going to be making David happy and giving him lots and lots of babies. He lit the cheroot and grumbled. Well then, you'd better send your David to see me. I want to warn him what will happen to him if he doesn't look after my little girl. Mathilda Janine shot round the desk, dumped herself into his lap and flung both arms around his neck. You are the most wonderful father any girl ever had! When I give in to you! he qualified the compliment, and she hugged him until her arms and his neck ached.
Shasa and David flew up to Windhoek in the Rapide to fetch Abe Abrahams and his wife down for the wedding. The rest of David's family and most of his friends, including Dr TWentyman-jones, came down by train. Together with the friends and family of Mathilda Janine Malcomess this made up a multitude that filled the great synagogue in the Gardens suburb to capacity.
David would dearly have liked Shasa to act as his best man. However, it had taken some delicate persuasion to get the strictly orthodox Rabbi Jacobs to perform the ceremony for a bride who had clearly converted to the Faith for the express purpose of marriage rather than out of purely religious commitment. David could not therefore try to smuggle a gentile best man into the schul, and Shasa had to be content with the position of pole-holder at one corner of the huppah canopy. However, Shasa made a hilariously funny speech at the reception which Blaine gave at the house in Newlands Avenue, with David as the butt of his wit.
The wedding reception provided Shasa with an opportunity to effect one of his periodic reconciliations with Tara Malcomess. Their relationship over the two years since the Berlin Olympics had been storm and sunny weather alternating so rapidly that even the two protagonists themselves were not always certain as to how matters stood between them at any given time.