always wore neat long pants when he came to pick me up, but that he quickly changed into his jeans when we got to his house. The only thing he couldn’t hide was his beard. She hated that too. She would look at him disapprovingly but say nothing.
Weekends at my dad’s were the highlight of my life. He always bought a small present for me, but that wasn’t what I liked most. The best was just being together again, like in the old days. We’d watch rugby and go fishing, and there was no one to sneer at our catch. We cleaned the fish together, cut it up and braaied it.
My father didn’t live with Alta for very long. He’d still visit her, and on my weekends he’d call her late at night when I should already have been asleep. But I never saw her, and those weekends were mine alone.
My mother worked as a saleslady in a department store. She hated the job. “I have to find another job,” she often complained despairingly. “I feel that I’m in a dead-end street. It’s just the same routine over and over.”
I felt sorry for her sometimes. You could tell she wasn’t happy – her heart was broken over my dad and she hated her job. She cried a lot and sometimes she just stared out into nothingness. She didn’t pay me much attention. I didn’t hold it against her, but in some ways, the first two years on our own were hell. It was like standing outside in the cold and looking through a window at a happy family sitting around the fireplace inside. Of course a lot of my school friends’ parents were divorced, but there were others who didn’t come from broken homes. The difference between the two groups was obvious to me: children who came from happy homes seemed more relaxed, less moody, and not as desperate to please their teachers or their friends.
I was eight and in Sub B when Miss Lubbe handed out our first English reading books.
“Only read the first page for tomorrow,” was her instruction.
I couldn’t. I finished the whole book that same afternoon. I can’t recall the title, perhaps because it wasn’t important to me, but the story was about a giraffe, an elephant and a lion. The strange words were difficult to pronounce at first but it was easier the second time. The next day I proudly told Miss Lubbe that I’d finished the book. I could see she didn’t believe me.
“Should I read for you, Miss?” I offered.
She was so impressed that she dragged me around the school so that I could read for all the other teachers.
My mother was so proud she laughed out loud when I told her that night. I even got ice cream after supper. Mom so seldom laughed that I resolved to try even harder, so that she could be happy more often. She missed my father. I could tell, even though she never said so. But I knew it was him she longed for when she cried herself to sleep in bed at night. She was crying so much lately, especially after my father dropped me off at the end of a weekend. He always came inside and chatted to my mom for a while. Sometimes he’d have a cup of coffee. I always made sure I was wearing a dress when he dropped me off, crumpling the other dresses in my suitcase so that she wouldn’t find out and be angry with him. The only time her eyes lit up was when my father was there.
Then Mom brought Danie du Toit home.
“Remember I told you last week that I’d found a new job?” she said, smiling. “Well, this is my new boss.”
“Hello, pretty thing,” he said to me, bending to stroke my cat.
I liked him immediately. And why not? He was a handsome man, tall and dark with blue eyes. He thought I was pretty and he liked Snowy.
“My name is Uncle Danie. Your mom works for me. I’m the head of her department.”
“Hello, Uncle,” I greeted him politely, like my mom had taught me.
My mom got up to make coffee and Uncle Danie and I chatted. I don’t remember what we talked about, but he did tell me he had a son my age, who also lived with his mother. He said that next time he visited, he’d bring him along so we could play together.
“Are you happier at work now, Mom?” I asked as she offered Uncle Danie sugar and milk.
“Much,” she replied, looking at him and smiling.
“I’m glad.”
I was sent off to my room to play after they’d finished their coffee. Shortly afterwards I had a bath and went to bed.
My father started visiting us again. His relationship with Alta had ended when he’d walked in on her in bed with a girlfriend in broad daylight. My mom just shook her head and smiled triumphantly. “I told you!” she said, while my father stood there, hanging his head. I could sense the sadness in him.
After that my mom even accompanied us to a cricket match one Saturday to watch my father play. I was so proud of him – he was the wicketkeeper. My mom and I sat in the stands between all the other proud wives and children. I wore a dress, long, white knee-high socks and black shoes. Just like for church. There were no soft oranges this time. Instead, my mom occasionally filled a plastic glass with diluted Oros and passed it to me. The other children were drinking cans of Coke and eating ice cream.
Everything went so quickly, I still don’t know exactly what happened. The bowler ran up and bowled as my dad stood behind the wicket. Then Dad suddenly fell forward onto his knees and lifted his hands to his forehead. We could see the blood trickling through his fingers from where we sat. We rushed him to hospital. Luckily, there was no other damage, the doctor assured us. He was stitched up and admitted for the night. The stitches made a big X on his forehead and his left eye was starting to swell shut.
“Come and sit here with me,” he said, patting the bed next to him. I sat carefully so that I wouldn’t hurt him. “Don’t worry, Anna,” he said. “I’m okay. Only the good die young.”
My mom sat on the other side of the bed and held his hand.
Secretly, I hoped that they would find each other again.
But then Uncle Danie came to visit us again, and this time he brought his son along. I immediately disliked him. His name was also Danie. Danie Jr, his dad called him – little Danie. But there was nothing little about him. He was fat and he was a pain. He pulled my hair, kicked my cat and tattle-taled to his father. Uncle Danie never took Danie’s side when we fought, but my mom did. A few times I was ordered to go to my room for some crime or other, when Danie Jr was actually the culprit.
“Anna, make us some coffee,” my mom asked.
My heart sank. I was terrified that I’d drop the tray. It always felt so heavy. But I got up without saying anything.
“Do you always do what your mother says?” Uncle Danie asked as I carefully placed the tray on the coffee table.
“Yes.”
“She’d better. Anna and I have a good understanding. She knows I know better and that’s why she listens to me.”
“Do you hear that, Danie? I like obedient children,” he said to his son, with a look in his eyes that I didn’t recognise.
Uncle Danie’s visits became more regular. He’d take my mom out for dinner and sometimes they’d go dancing. Paulina would look after me. She’d sleep in my room because I was scared. I used to read her everything I could. Her favourite was You magazine – I had to read some of the articles over and over. When we heard my mom and Uncle
