‘The Midlands!’ they exclaimed in unison again.
‘I cannot stress this enough. It is the best school in the country. The very best.’
‘A boarding school? But he is only nine years old,’ she said.
They exchanged yet another look. Mr Bartleby understood the look of dread that passed between them. Their own, probably not so happy, boarding-school memories were flashing before them.
‘The school itself is situated within hectares and hectares of untamed savannah. He will be able to explore, hunt, fish, camp … all while getting the best education that a young man can get in this country.’
‘The best?’ she asked, still a little wary.
‘The very best. The Selous School for Boys turns boys into the men of history,’ Mr Bartleby said, hoping that this would impress upon them how much they were supposed to be impressed.
At dinner that evening, Gemma’s natural flair for detail deserted her. She could not quite capture the essence of the meeting when she announced, as she placed more cucumber salad onto his plate than Emil could ever possibly eat, ‘Poppet, we have met with Mr Bartleby and it has been decided that you shall attend the Selous School for Boys at the beginning of the coming year. Is that not a wonderful thing?’ she concluded with a weak smile.
Johan scrutinised his son’s face. The first thing to register on it was confusion.
‘It is in the Midlands,’ Johan added cautiously.
‘The Midlands?’
The second thing to register on Emil’s face was panic.
‘It is the best school in the entire country,’ Gemma said.
‘The very best,’ Johan corrected.
‘You’re a lucky duck for getting in,’ Gemma said, her smile weaker still.
The third thing to register on Emil’s face was fear.
‘Have I done something wrong?’
‘Wrong? What could you possibly ever do wrong, poppet?’ Gemma said, giving Emil’s cheek a gentle squeeze. ‘This is a good thing, darling. A wonderful thing.’
Emil stared at his father, his eyes pleading with him to, for once, take a view contrary to his mother’s.
‘Lots of hunting and shooting to be had, so we’re told, our boy. Just your sort of thing,’ Johan said, as he reached over and ruffled his son’s hair.
‘It will be just like living on the outpost, but this time you will be receiving the best education in the country,’ Gemma said as her fingers gently righted Emil’s ruffled hair. ‘The very best.’
‘They turn boys into the men of history.’
‘Or some such thing.’
‘In the Midlands?’
‘Yes. In the Midlands,’ Gemma and Johan said in unison, both also trying to reconcile themselves to this fact.
Things moved along with frightening alacrity after that. Term’s end came. Mr Bartleby told Emil that his life was just about to change for the better, that he was very fortunate to have this rare opportunity afforded him and that he had every confidence that Emil would prove worthy of it. As Mr Bartleby said all this, Emil tried not to cast his eye on a postcard of the gargoyles at Sanssouci Palace on the schoolmaster’s desk. After Emil whispered a confused, ‘Thank you, sir,’ Mr Bartleby gave him a cowboy hat as a parting present. Neither Mr Bartleby nor Emil could have known at that moment that a cowboy hat would one day become a permanent fixture on Emil Coetzee’s head.
Gemma stoically went to the Meikles department store to buy Emil’s trunk; this was an extravagance, given Johan’s meagre civil-service salary, but she felt that the boy deserved the best. Once it came home from the store, Johan meticulously stencilled EMIL COETZEE onto the trunk. As the Coetzees were trying to decide what next to do, a letter came from the Selous School for Boys congratulating Emil on his acceptance and providing a very extensive list of required items. Gemma and Johan divided the list into two and set about buying the items on it. Johan wished that they had more than one holiday break and, consequently, more than one pay cheque to prepare for Emil’s departure for boarding school. Emil might have received a full bursary, but school uniforms for both summer and winter needed to be purchased, along with a cadet uniform, several sports kits and a litany of sundry items that included a rifle and a pistol (which were to be the first in a series of firearms that the boy would need to acquire over the years at the school). Emil was a growing boy and chances were that the start of every academic year would see the need for such expenditure. Luckily, Gemma had long learnt how to stretch a civil servant’s salary and had developed an eagle eye for bargains and sales. She managed to successfully stretch Johan’s one pay cheque to afford all that was needed by the Selous School for Boys and graciously accepted Scott Fitzgerald’s Christmas and New Year’s invitations so that the Coetzees could have a wonderfully festive season before Emil left for the school. Scott Fitzgerald had followed close on the heels of the Coetzees when they left the BSAP outpost and, like them, had resettled in the City of Kings. At Scott Fitzgerald’s parties, Gemma hoped that no one noticed that her stockings were darned.
With nothing much required of him, Emil watched as his trunk gradually filled up and he wished with all his heart that he could have found it in himself to have loved the City of Kings better, because that love would have saved him from the fate that had now befallen him.
The trunk, filled to capacity, was finally shut the day before he was to depart for the Selous School for Boys.
‘Wouldn’t it be lovely if we went out to Centenary Park?’ Gemma said suddenly, as she latched the locks of the trunks. ‘You could ride the train there. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’
Emil nodded. Was it too late now to pretend to love all the things the city had to offer?
‘We could go to the natural history museum afterwards … or … or the theatre for the matinée. There’s a wonderful production of Anything Goes, I gather,’ Gemma said, searching for her hat. Just like that, she had decided on a day out. ‘It has a lot of musical numbers. You would like that, I dare say, and we could also get some ice cream. We’ll make an entire day of it. I’ll leave a note for your pa and instructions on how best to warm up the cottage pie. I don’t want him to worry when he finds us not here for lunch.’ Gemma breathlessly inspected her reflection in the hallway mirror. ‘I know you’d like your father to be there for this last hurrah … We can all go to the bioscope in the evening. You would love that, wouldn’t you?’
Emil nodded slowly as his mother set his appearance to rights.
‘Yes. We will make an entire day of it and it will all be lovely … very, very lovely indeed,’ Gemma said, as she wrote a note for Johan.
Gemma, determined to have the best day with her son, crossed Borrow Street with Emil held safely and firmly in hand. The day started out promisingly enough. They rode along on the train through Centenary Park and Gemma, occasionally stroking her son’s blond hair as it was ruffled by the breeze, made herself smile at nothing in particular. When they hopped off the train she bought them ice cream, which they ate as they made their way to the National Museum of Natural History. They spent a little
