Читать книгу My name is Vaselinetjie - Anoeschka von Meck - Страница 6

The blood trickling down Vaselinetjie’s right knee felt sticky. A drop fell on the floor in front of her desk and she stuck out her foot and rubbed it away with the sole of her shoe so that the teacher wouldn’t notice.

On the blackboard Donovan Roman was writing out “Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika” for the umpteenth time that week. All the other grade fives knew the national anthem by heart – Vaselinetjie best of all. A large clock hung on the wall over the blackboard. Vaselinetjie tried her best to ignore it, because she knew it always stopped sometime during the day. Still she found herself watching the hands anxiously.

When the last bell went, she had to be the first one out, or she’d have more than a skinned knee by the time she got home.

They’re going to beat her up, they said.

They’re going to kick her and rip out her pigtails.

They said they’d never leave her alone till she told them the truth.

Aunt Kitta Bosman saw the smart car pull up at the gate and untied her apron.

It was the headmaster.

It was the third time this term that he was bringing Vaselinetjie home in person. He’s a good man, Aunt Kitta thought. A man who cared.

Before opening the front door, she stole a glance at her granddaughter through the tiny kitchen window.

When she saw the dark-haired little figure with the two long pigtails get out of the headmaster’s car, she breathed a sigh of relief.

As long as the child was safe!

She opened the door and greeted the headmaster with a smile. “Good afternoon, Meneer, and how are you today?”

“Afternoon, Mevrou Bosman. Mevrou, we need to talk …”

Vaselinetjie remained standing behind the headmaster until the grown-ups began to chat. Then she brushed past them and disappeared down the passage. After a while she emerged from her room. She had washed and put on a crocheted top and skirt. In the kitchen she made tea for Ouma and Meneer. She arranged the cups on the saucers with the ears all pointing in the same direction, the way Ouma had taught her, trying her best all the while to overhear the conversation in the sitting room.

“It can’t go on like this,” Meneer was saying. “You do understand that something will have to be done, don’t you?”

Vaselinetjie was unable to hear Ouma’s reply, but when she entered, carefully balancing the tray, she noticed that Ouma was brushing away tears.