Spud (45 page)

‘Christ,’ she said. ‘Get him in here – fast!’ We laid Gecko down on a bed. Sister Collins called Sparerib and told him to bring his car. She then ordered us back to bed. I tried to argue but she said whatever Gecko had could be catching. I left reluctantly, knowing that there was no way that I could possibly sleep.

07:00   Gecko is in hospital. Nobody’s sure what disease he’s contracted this time. Sparerib wouldn’t allow me to visit him. Apparently Gecko has been isolated.

Earthworm is catatonic. He’s staring at the wall mumbling to himself with his maths books open in front of him. I asked him rather hopefully if he had heard any news of Gecko, but he just looked at me like I was crackers and continued to mumble things to himself.

06:30   Luthuli says Gecko has cerebral malaria. His condition is serious.

After lunch Sparerib called me into his office and said that Gecko’s condition is getting worse. He continually slips in and out of delirium but has been awake and calling for me. Sparerib asked if I would mind spending the day with him tomorrow. Without hesitating, I said yes.

20:45   After prep I went to see Sister Collins to find out about cerebral malaria. She looked grave and said it was a fever that attacked the lining of the brain and that if it wasn’t caught in time it could be serious. She said she felt terrible – that she should have known straight away and not sent him back to bed. She made us each
a cup of hot chocolate and spoke in her deep voice that almost lulled me to sleep. She put her arm around my shoulders and said that we should expect the worst. She started crying, blew her nose and then smiled at me.

‘Remember, my little one,’ she said, ‘the good Lord works in mysterious ways.’ She kissed me on the forehead and told me it was time to go.

Sat on my window ledge looking at the stars, which looked brighter than ever. Said a prayer for Gecko – hope God heard it and gets to work immediately.

Gecko looked terrible (not that he ever really looked healthy). His eyes stood out on stalks as he struggled hard to fight against the fever and the delirium. I sat with him while he slept and held his hand when he was awake. I didn’t know what else to do.

The day slipped into night. The doctor said I could sleep at the hospital.

Some time in the night I was woken by a nurse. ‘He wants to see you.’

I crawled out of bed and staggered into Gecko’s ward. There he sat propped up on the pillows, lucid and in good spirits. I sat next to him and we chatted, me more than him, but I have become used to these long monologues thanks to Earthworm’s madness. I chatted on about Oliver and Christine and our adventures together up at Hell’s View. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

When he awoke he looked very scared. He gripped my hand and asked me if he would be okay. I told him we’d be night swimming by next Friday. He grinned and squeezed my hand and asked me to sing to him. Part song, part prayer, I leapt into Amazing Grace. I think we
both knew that Gecko could do with some much needed attention from above. I kept singing more songs. I ran through all the hymns, the entire score of Oliver, and then moved on to pop songs. My singing seemed to be having a soothing effect on my friend. He closed his eyes and smiled a bit as the waves of fever shook his body.

Around dawn, I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. I must have fallen asleep with my head on Gecko’s bed. I turned to see Reverend Bishop. He smiled warmly and asked me to leave him with Gecko. I squeezed his hand but he didn’t wake up.

Outside Sparerib was deep in conversation with two worried looking people who I figured were Gecko’s folks. Sparerib introduced us. His mother hugged me and his dad shook my hand and then rested his arm around my shoulders.

On the way back to school, Sparerib told me the truth about the rumour that a lion had bitten his shoulder. It turns out that he was attacked by something far more savage – bone cancer. As he studied the road ahead with his wonky eye looking sad, I realised I was with a man who knew the true meaning of pain. There was a long silence, then, like Sister Collins, he said we must expect the worst, but believe in God’s miracles. He ran his fingers over his jaw and stared out at the rolling green hills around us. I felt happy that this man finally had his wife back. He deserves some happiness.

23:40   Another strong hand shook me awake. It was Luthuli. ‘Come down to the prefects’ room,’ he said. I staggered out of bed, down the stairs and entered cautiously, half expecting it to be some prank.

Inside the prefects’ room a big wood fire was roaring. Luthuli’s notes were spread out all over the floor. He motioned me to sit down in an old comfortable chair and plonked a mug of sweet, milky tea down next to me. I stared into the fire, still groggy and disorientated.

‘Gecko’s gone.’ Luthuli’s voice was strong yet full of sadness. ‘He died about half an hour ago.’

I nodded blankly. My useless brain wouldn’t let me believe.

Luthuli continued talking to me but I didn’t listen. I stared into the flames, watching them swallow up thick pieces of wood and burn them into ash.

I launched myself out of bed in the middle of the night and fumbled around in Vern’s locker until I gripped his torch. It was impossible – he had huge green anti-malaria tablets. I ripped open Gecko’s footlocker and there they were, still in the shoebox. Twelve green capsules in their packet, unopened. Gecko had kept his promise. He would never take another pill again.

I wish I could say that I have been constructive. In fact there isn’t much to say about the last few days. I remember a cricket match, I remember trying to work, I remember packing Gecko’s trunk. I didn’t cry until last night’s roll-call when Bert accidentally read out his name then quickly moved onto the next name. Somehow that was the moment that I knew my friend wasn’t coming back. I ran down to the deserted fields where I could sob in peace – even then it felt wrong, like somebody was about to jump out and snigger at me.

Today I think I failed my first examination ever. Geography is tricky (even more so when you haven’t studied). Science was difficult and I’m not sure if I’ll pass that either. I don’t care. Nothing seems that important anymore.

Two more exams shot by. Tomorrow I will sing at Gecko’s funeral. His mother said it is what he would have wanted, but I knew that already. I remember him saying up at Hell’s View that he wanted me to sing at his funeral. We just didn’t think it would be so soon.

12:00   I didn’t listen much at the funeral. It all passed by in a bit of a haze. I couldn’t believe that my friend was lying in this polished wooden box with flowers on it. I remember seeing Christine in the congregation and feeling angry. Amanda was there too, but it didn’t matter. Girls may have taken up most of our thoughts and conversations but now they don’t seem as important anymore.

The Crazy Seven carried Gecko’s coffin in to the strains of the school hymn. The Glock spoke, then Reverend Bishop and finally Sparerib. I didn’t really listen. Everyone was calling him Henry – it seemed like they were talking about a different person. My friend was Gecko and that’s how I will remember him.

Reverend Bishop nodded to me. I shuffled up to the altar with my red-faced monkey droppings tucked away in my blazer pocket and sang Dear Lord and Father of Mankind. I remember the drone of the organ and the absolute silence around me apart from the cooing of the rock pigeons in the eaves outside. And there I stood, singing in my girl’s voice that everybody loves to a God that let my friend die without giving him any of his Amazing Grace.

Dear Lord and father of Mankind
Forgive our foolish ways
Breathe through the hearts of our desire,
Thy coolness and thy balm.
Let sense be dumb let flesh retire
Breathe through the earthquake, wind and fire
Oh still small voice of calm.
Oh still small voice of calm.

There’s a certain confidence that you get when writing exams that you haven’t learned for. I bumped into Dr Zoo on the way back from my English exam. He asked me if I needed another session. I shook my head and told him that there’s nothing this world can throw at me that I can’t take.

Simon’s convinced that Macarthur knew Gecko was going to die and that’s why he passed through him when he visited us. Vern now reckons that it wasn’t the word ‘echo’ that Macarthur uttered to him that night outside the crypt but ‘Gecko’. Fatty was beside himself with excitement and summoned everyone to his locker.

I lay on my bed and pretended to sleep.

Exams are over.

The marries gathered in the quad after their final paper and performed the New Zealand rugby haka, which they have been practising for weeks. The roar of approval from the rest of us signalled our respect and farewells for the matric class of 1990. In our house, only Luthuli (head boy) and Greg Anderson (hoping to make the Natal schools rugby team) will be returning for post-matric next year. Julian will be coming back for the carol service when he will lead the choir for the final time.

I shook Earthworm’s hand. He smiled and thumped me on the back before giving me twenty bucks and a pile of his old school clothes. He looked hugely relieved that
at last his exams were over. He studied me closely and then, throwing caution to the wind, he gave me three of his treasured pencils and told me to use them wisely.

I carried his bags out to his parents’ car and was a slave for the last time in my life.

Our final cricket match

10:00   St Cyprians were never going to match up to our mighty mean machine. Mad Dog, Simon and I played with black armbands and dedicated the match to Gecko.

I managed to take four wickets and hit the winning runs, so for the first time in a while I felt like I was making a contribution.

The Guv was highly charged in the changeroom. He made great speeches, sang songs and verbally abused Kings College. Abruptly, he said his farewells and told us he was off home to get snot-arsed drunk! He bowed like an old Shakespearian actor and strode off across the field without looking back.

09:30   Geoff Lawson promised that it would be the bash of the year and he did his best to keep his promise. Sixty boys swarmed all over his farm. Impromptu cricket and touch rugby matches sprang up everywhere, as did food, music and a hotly contested fishing competition. Vern was the first thrown into the dam and he was followed by just about everybody else. The Crazy Seven then won another mud-fight before losing a boat race, a round of stingers and a water drinking competition.

After lunch Rambo made a toast to fallen heroes. Everybody grunted in agreement, downed their Cokes
and charged back into the dam to search for the elusive lake monster that’s meant to take up residence in a dark hole near the weeds on the far side of the dam. No monster was found.

13:30   My final lunch with The Guv. We chatted about death and the afterlife. The Guv read numerous poems and passages from old classics. At one stage, he shouted out, ‘We cannot fear it, Milton! Death be not proud, man!’ I wasn’t quite sure what he was on about, but I felt better anyway. My thoughts rambled forward to the long summer holidays. I feel so tired all the time, I spend my life yawning. Four more days and then… sleep.

When it was time to go I shook The Guv’s hand and wished him a good holiday and Christmas. He pulled me close and embraced me, saying, ‘You’re almost a son to me, old boy. You’ll get over this, you know, and you’ll be a greater man for it.’ Then he thumped me on the back and said, ‘Do take good care of yourself and remember, when in doubt – keep reading. A book will never die on you.’

I said, ‘Thank you.’ He nodded, ruffled my hair, and sent me on my way.

The school seemed a bit weird without marries and prefects. Luthuli and Greg Anderson have stuck around to keep chaos from erupting in the house. In truth, it seems like everybody’s only focused on going home. Trunks are being packed, plans made and dreams laid out. Even the school buildings seem to be desperately hanging on for three more days.

19:00   The chapel was bathed in candles. The organ sounded. I moved quietly forward holding the great candle of St Michael (not the original), its yellow flame flickering gently. I could feel its warmth against my cheeks. Hundreds of people swivelled around in their seats to watch me. This time I wasn’t nervous. My voice was no longer disembodied. It came out clear as a bell, echoing around that enormous holy space. As my solo ended and the rest of the choir joined in for the second verse, I looked up at the beam where Macarthur did himself in. I wonder if he was listening to the forty-sixth rendition of Once in Royal David’s City since his death. I thought about my friend and wondered if his ghost was here with Macarthur. Or maybe they were in heaven somewhere watching me sing with Gecko telling the old man he was getting goosebumps. That would seem right to me.

Whilst clearing out my footlocker, I found a small package wrapped in Christmas paper with
Milton 20-04-90
scribbled on it. It was The Guv’s birthday present, which I’d hidden away and then forgotten about. I tore open the wrapping and there it was

The Collected Poetry of John Milton 1608-1664

On the inside cover was an inscription in The Guv’s flamboyant handwriting: ‘Here’s to all the beginnings and the possibilities they bring.’

Underneath he had written: