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a way I almost wished we could do without sex: I just wanted to hold
her. Stroking her, I went on talking, trying to comfort her, aware of
the unnatural tension in her body pressed against mine.
 Have you been very lonely? I asked.
 Yes. I don t know what it is, but for the first time in my life I
sometimes feel I ve lost all control. I don t know where I m going.
 Is it because of Bernard?
 Don t talk about him now.
 So it is because of him? The old, aggressive lust was throbbing
back into me; my caresses became more insistent.
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 You were just as shaken by it.
 Did you see much of him, Bea? I asked in her ear.  I mean,
before he went underground.
 We were friends. You know it.
 And while he was in hiding?
 Oh Martin, don t.
 Bea, did you and Bernard ever  My voice became unsteady,
and I stopped.
 Suppose I said:  No, you wouldn t believe me, would you?
 I ve got to know.
She moved her head against mine. Her breath was warm on my
cheek.  You were the one who always said one had to keep the peo-
ple in one s life apart. Do you remember? When I spoke to you about
Elise. Why don t you allow it to me too?
 You re trying to hide it from me.
 For God s sake don t go on asking. Don t break down everything
we have.
 You re in love with Bernard. You ve been in love with him since
the first day you met him. Isn t that so?
 I love you, Martin. I do. Really. Please come inside me now.
In a sort of frenzy she grabbed me and forced me into her, heav-
ing and moaning and uttering animal cries. Something was quick-
ened inside me too. I wanted to thrust myself violently into her, lose
myself in her, and never come back to myself again. Perhaps it
wasn t even Bea I was trying to reach or crush, but something impos-
sibly deep within her, behind her, beyond her. Bernard? Myself? I
was desperately groping for something which had eluded me all my
life, but it remained beyond my grasp. It was the same inexplicable
panic which, later, beset me in the wood after the encounter with
the old man. Equally unreasonable, equally wild. And when my
orgasm started, I began to shake uncontrollably. It was as if some-
thing was smashed inside me. I doubled up in spasms of quite
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unbearable pain, gasping for breath. Then I lost consciousness. I
thought I was dying.
I don t know how she managed to roll me off her. I don t know how
she went about arranging for an ambulance to take me to hospital, or
how she kept her wits to contact Charlie so that he could get in touch
with Elise. I don t know how or when she collected her car from the
demolition site at Dullabh s Corner. All I heard afterwards was that
I d been close to death and that I d been in a coma all day.
Once I was allowed visitors again, she came to the hospital
occasionally, staying very briefly, something restrained and remote
about her. It was six weeks before I could return to my office. Then,
obviously, we started meeting more regularly again. But I found it
impossible to discuss that day with her, or anything connected with
it. It was a strange experience, like seeing one another from afar and
waving in despair, as on that first night in Aunt Rienie s flat. It was
too delicate to try and force anything. We would have to be very
gentle with one another. And perhaps one day& .
Then came the trial. And the mine riots at Westonaria. Our
attempt to arrange a weekend together: at last, just the two of us, like
that distant week in Ponta do Ouro. But the trip to the farm made it
necessary to cancel our arrangements and postpone our weekend.
Only temporarily, of course:
 I m terribly sorry, Bea. You know how much I ve been looking
forward to this weekend. But we can always do it later. Next week.
Any time. We re not bound to anything.
 Of course.
 Please, Bea, you must believe me.
 I told you it didn t matter.
 But I can hear you re upset. Tell me what s the matter.
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The brief silence before she said:  There s something I must
discuss with you. But not on the telephone.
 I ll see you on Tuesday.
 I know. It s just it seemed rather urgent, but I suppose it can
wait. Anything can wait.
 Look after yourself. It s only a few days.
Her sudden surge of passion:  Martin, is it really quite impossible
to postpone this farm business just for one week? I must see you.
 But I told you.
 Oh well, if it s out of the question. And then the smothered,
final exclamation:  Oh, God, before she rang off.
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8
OON AFTER WE D CROSSED the Vaal River, just after leaving
Orkney on the pitch-black road to Potchefstroom, I turned on
Sthe radio for the nine o clock news. The weekend was over.
Within an hour or so we d drive past Westonaria again. It was time
I caught up with whatever had been happening in the world in my
absence. But nothing had prepared me for the contents of that fatal
broadcast.
 Violence broke out on an unprecedented scale in Soweto and
other Black townships in the vicinity of Johannesburg today. There is
still considerable confusion about the causes of the riots, but according
to reports received by the SABC large crowds of Black pupils marched
out of their schools this morning and started rioting in different parts
of the townships simultaneously. Different reasons have been advanced
for their action, including the fact that they have allegedly been forced
to take some of their school subjects through the medium of Afrikaans.
The situation soon got out of hand and police reinforcements were
rushed to the scene from other parts of the Rand and Pretoria. Many
vehicles were stoned and numerous cases of arson have been reported.
The police were forced to open fire to control the rioting children and
make an end to the violence. The casualty figure is not known yet,
but it has been reported that an undisclosed number of bodies, mainly
of children, have been taken to mortuaries in the city, and according
A NDRÉ B RI NK
to our information the Baragwanath Hospital is overflowing with
wounded and injured Blacks& .
Dazed with shock I sat listening to the commentator. Glancing
towards Louis, I saw him staring fiercely ahead of him into the night.
The wipers were whirring evenly, almost useless against the now
blinding sheets of rain. It took a long time before the words on the
radio started making sense again:
 ...police undertook raids in all major cities. It is not yet known
how many people are being detained in terms of the security laws.
Among the names for which the SABC has been able to obtain
confirmation, are the following. In Johannesburg: Isaac Joseph Katzen,
a student at the University of the Witwatersrand; Henry Dudley
Johnstone, a press photographer employed by the Star; Beatrice
Fiorini, a junior lecturer in the Faculty of Law at Wits; Buster
Nkosana, a 
I didn t link it with her immediately: the announcer had
pronounced her name  Bitriss, something she d never been able to
stomach, probably because it reflected on the only bit of security left
to her. Not that it really mattered any longer.
From the beginning I d believed that she needed me, that I could [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]