When Time Fails (Silverman Saga Book 2) (25 page)

The poplars cast a long shadow across the rock, providing some respite from the blazing sun. Annamari closed her eyes. She hated seeing the gaps in the once proud wall of trees. They were an unwelcome reminder of how her life was disintegrating. She hugged her knees to her chest, trying to sort through the cacophony of thoughts swirling through her mind. She felt like a child again, caught in one of those huge waves that used to sweep her up, toss her around like a ragdoll and then spew her out, coughing and spluttering, onto the Amanzimtoti beach. Her father would always be waiting to pick her up and comfort her – and then she’d rush back into the surf to brave the dumpers again.

But her father wasn’t around to comfort her this time. In fact, her father would probably disown her. As he would have disowned her thirty-six years ago had she dared to tell the truth. He would have been so disappointed in her. Her mother too. And Christo. They had been so brave, tried so hard to be supportive when they thought she was carrying Thys’ child. They’d also had to try and ignore the whispers and the conversations that stopped abruptly as they passed people in the street in Driespruitfontein, or in church. Their hurt and disappointment in her had been palpable. But what if they had known the truth, if she had confessed, if Thys hadn’t married her? It would have destroyed them. They would never have been able to show their faces in church again. They would have been shunned, become pariahs in their own town. And Arno – what kind of a life would Arno have had – if she had been allowed to keep him? She still shuddered at the thought of what it would have been like to have to give him up, give him away to another mother. But they would have called him the Jew bastard if she had kept him. If her parents had let her keep him.Not just a bastard, but a Jew bastard with a whore for a mother who had opened her legs for a Jewboy – which was just one small step above doing it for
a
kaffi
r
. She wouldn’t have been able to keep him. There was no place for Jews in Steynspruit – look at how Alan and his family had been ostracised. She would have had to leave Steynspruit – and that would have killed her.

No, when she saw the man Arno had grown up to be – honest, hard-working, clever, eloquent and good-looking, so very good-looking – no one could blame her for doing what she had done. And no one would ever have known... besides Thys of course, but by the time he found out he had come to love Arno... and... and he seemed to have come to terms with it... so what harm had there been keeping quiet for all these years?

It was just a malicious twist of fate that was going to unravel the intricate web of lies she had woven so lovingly, so desperately, so protectively about her son. Oh God, she didn’t know what to do...

Perhaps, perhaps it was possible to ... not to tell Arno at all. If Thys agreed. Perhaps she could persuade Arno that that girl, Alan’s daughter, wasn’t right for him. And she wasn’t. If she had been able to persuade him that Beauty was not for him – Beauty who he had loved for years and years... well surely they could find a way to persuade him that loving that girl was a mistake. After all she was Jewish – not that she had anything against Jews: look how she had fallen in love with Israel and even made her precious farm into a kibbutz. But there was no question that Jews were different; they didn’t go to church, they didn’t eat pork, they didn’t even believe in Jesus, or the bible.

And if that didn’t work she could focus on his children. How fair would it be, she could argue, to his children – and to his father – to raise them without the bible? It would break Thys’ heart if his grandchildren didn’t have a bible. If they weren’t good Christians.And it would kill th
e
domine
e
.

There was also the age difference to consider. That girl – Alan’s daughter – was far too young for him. She couldn’t be more than twenty-two or twenty-three. A baby really. He was a mature man. She would bore him before too long... and if their marriage did last, what would it be like for her when he was an old man getting ready to retire and she was still a young, vibrant woman? It could work – if she was subtle, not too pushy, just showing deep concern.

And then... She took a deep breath. It had been in the back of her mind all along. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to even think of it. But she could use it. But only as the last resort. There was the issue of the girl’s... her psychological stability. She must have gone through hell. Annamari couldn’t bear to think about it. Could anyone be normal after that? Annamari shuddered. No. There was no way she could even raise that subject with Arno, with anyone. It was too... no. She couldn’t and she wouldn’t. That would just be too cruel. No.

She groaned. She couldn’t do this to Arno. Not again. And this time Arno was older, more sure of himself. He had chosen this girl... after so many others he had dated, after so many years. Why would he even listen to any of her arguments – which, even she had to admit, were pretty thin? All she would do was make him angry, turn him against her – and this time she would probably never see him again. And he would marry Aviva anyway.

Why, she asked herself, why did Arno and Aviva have to know anything at all? What if… what if they were just two orphans – who grew up in an orphanage, or who had been adopted by different families? It must have happened. It can’t not have happened.She vaguely remembered – it was in an article she had read i
n
Huisgenoo
t
, or maybe it was a programme on television. It was about how the chances of brothers and sisters getting married was increasing, especially with the growing number of women who were too involved in their careers and were leaving it too late to get married and their biological clocks were running out and they were going to sperm banks to have children and now those children were all grown up and were meeting each other and getting married. Most of them never found out that they were brother and sister... and they had very happy marriages. There was no need for them to know.

It was like a revelation. A sign from above. There was no need for Arno and Aviva to know! She didn’t have to say anything. She could just go back to the house and congratulate the happy couple and welcome Aviva to the family. It was all going to be okay.

Annamari sat up. She felt light. Buoyant. Like a huge weight she had been carrying around for years was suddenly gone.

Except for one little thing – actually one big thing. Thys. Would Thys back her up on this? Thys never lied. He was the most honest man in the world... and yet. And yet he had passively supported her charade for twenty years, more than twenty years. Would he be willing to go against the Word of the Lord? For Arno’s sake? For her sake? To save their family? It was possible. Maybe. He said he loved her. He loved Arno. He wouldn’t want to see Arno hurt.

She felt a vibration in her jeans pocket, a warning that her cell phone was about to ring. She tugged the phone out and looked at it. An unknown number.

‘Hello?’ She was pleased that her voice sounded quite normal. No indication of her emotional turmoil. Anyway she was much calmer now.

‘Mrs van Zyl? Hello, how are you? It’s Tracy Jacobs here. From th
e
Daily Expres
s
.’

Annamari’s heart sank. Damn, what did that nosy journalist want now?

‘Tracy, hello. What a surprise. Thanks so much for the excellent article on Steynspruit. There’ve been some developments in the land claim situation – have you heard? I was planning to phone you once we knew all the details but at this point it looks like it may all be settled, finally, but I think it would be best if you spoke to Busi, or our lawyer...’

‘No, sorry to interrupt, Mrs van Zyl. That’s not why I’m phoning.’

‘Oh?’

‘Umm yes. Actually, I’m phoning about Arno.’

‘Arno?’ Her stomach clenched.

‘Well... Ja... Umm. I understand he is visiting you on the farm right now?’

‘Yes. But I’m not near him at the moment. If you like, I can ask him to call you back. I have your number. Will that be okay? Bye...’

‘No wait. Don’t hang up. I don’t want to speak to Arno. At least not yet. I wanted to speak to you...to... to confirm...’

Annamari held her breath.

‘Umm. Remember I told you that I was friends with Yair Silverman, Alan Silverman’s son?’

Annamari closed her eyes.

The journalist rushed on: ‘Well anyway, I was having supper with Yair last night and he told me that Aviva – his twin sister – had come back from Israel. Hello? Are you still there?’

‘Yes,’ Annamari said. She felt faint.

‘Ja. Well Yair said that Aviva and Arno were ... were engaged. He was terribly excited about it. He said Arno had gone to Israel to persuade Avi to come back with him and that it was all terribly romantic and they were planning to get married soon... and, well yes, I wondered if you had a comment about it?’

Annamari’s hand was shaking so much she could barely hold the phone. ‘Comment? What... I... no... ’ her voice petered out.

‘Hello? Hello? Are you still there?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

‘Look, Mrs van Zyl. I don’t want to seem rude but... when I was down at Steynspruit I noticed...’

Sweat poured down Annamari’s back; her forehead was wet, her hands clammy. She wanted to cut off the journalist’s voice, but she couldn’t. She felt like a rabbit, caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck.

‘I noticed that Arno looks very much like... there’s a remarkable similarity between Arno and... and Alan Silverman.’

Annamari screwed up her eyes, trying to hold back the tears that were leaking down her face.

‘Actually, it wasn’t the first time I had noticed it. Before I knew who Arno was – I saw him in the courtroom during the inquest, and I kind of made up a name for him. I called him Alan Lookalike. Hello? Mrs van Zyl? Are you still there?’

‘Yes, This is a very bad line. I can hardly...’ Annamari croaked.

‘Can you hear me now? So I was wondering... look this is really awkward for me. Especially as Mr van Zyl said you weren’t related. So I’m sorry but I have to ask...’

No you aren’t, Annamari thought. You are not sorry at all. You don’t have to ask anything. Just don’t ask, just go away...

‘I realise this is very ... but is Arno somehow ... umm. Is Alan... was Alan... I mean are Arno and Alan Silverman...’

Annamari swallowed hard.

‘Mrs van Zyl, are you there?’

‘I’m sorry. I can’t hear you. Can you repeat ...’ she said and pressed the red button on her cell phone. She leaned over and gave in to the nausea that had been threatening to overwhelm her all day.

***

The back door was unlocked. Annamari pulled it open and stepped into the stillness of the kitchen. She couldn’t remember walking back from the rock. She kept hearing the journalist asking those terrible, terrible questions. The silence assailed her. Arno and that girl, they must still be out somewhere. Thys too. Perhaps he was still down at the kibbutz office. Perhaps Mr Venter had phoned. She didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. She idly picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table, caught under the salt cellar. It was a note. From Arno. He was taking Avi for a picnic at the dam. They’d be back later. She put it back on the table. She opened the fridge, took out a bottle of water; she gulped down a mouthful, then another, but the foul taste of vomit persisted. She walked down the passage into her bedroom. She saw Thys’ bible, lying open on the bed. She was sure she had closed it and put it back on Thys’ bedside pedestal. She shrugged. She hated that bible anyway.

She sank down on the bed, curled up, wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes.

‘You’re back.’

She opened her eyes, stared at Thys and closed her eyes again. She didn’t want to talk to him. She wasn’t ready. She would never be ready.

‘Don’t you want to know what Mr Venter said?’

She kept her eyes closed.

‘He said he had also just been informed about the withdrawal of the case. He said it seemed like it was all over... but he was cautious. Apparently there is some talk that the law may be changed. There’s a rumour that the ANC is going to extend the cut-off for land claims to past 1998 because apparently there are still a lot of people who want to claim and haven’t been able to. Which is a joke, if you think of it. They haven’t even been able to process the claims they do have. But Mr Venter said that could be why the claim was withdrawn – so that they wouldn’t lose in the Constitutional Court and then they could resubmit a new claim...Annamari, are you listening?’

‘I can’t think about that now. I really can’t.’

She tucked her chin into her chest and hugged herself tighter. She just wanted him to go away. She wanted everyone to go away. She wanted time to reverse, to go back to before... before everything.

She could sense Thys standing silently, looking down at her. She heard him draw in a deep breath. She knew he was going to say something. She didn’t want to hear it.

‘We need to talk,’ he said. ‘We cannot pretend anymore. We have to discuss ... before they get back... come on
,
liefi
e
. Please. Come with me. I want to show you something.’

Her heart bounced. He’d called he
r
liefi
e
.

She dragged herself into a sitting position, hauled her feet off the bed and planted them on the floor.

Thys sat down next to her. ‘Annamari
,
liefi
e
… we have to tell Arno and Aviva.’

She shuddered. ‘Why?’ she whispered. ‘Why can’t we just leave things as they are?’

He shook his head. ‘Things aren’t the same. You know that. And Arno has a right to know.’

‘Why? It’s just going to upset him. There’s no need to tell him.’ She looked at him hopefully.

‘Don’t you think it’s time we stopped all the lying, all the pretence? For us. It’s about time we were honest with each other. And with Arno… and everyone.’

‘But it’s going to break his heart. It will destroy him if he can’t marry… her. He’s obviously crazy about her. He went all the way to Israel to propose to her…’

‘Who told you that?’ Thys looked at her sharply.

Annamari mentally kicked herself. Slowly, reluctantly, she told him about the call from Tracy Jacobs. ‘I didn’t know what to do, so I just put the phone down on her.’

Thys looked grim. ‘All the more reason for us to stop the lies. To tell the truth, the whole truth, for once in our lives.’

***

Arno and Aviva bubbled into the lounge, flushed, smiling and sweaty after their day in the sun. Annamari swallowed. She felt sick. The vague headache she had been fighting all day was threatening to turn into a full blown migraine. She wondered if she could plead illness and escape to the bedroom, emerging only after Thys had told them.

But Thys had insisted that she had to be the one who should break the news. It was, after all, her secret, her story. Her sin.

‘We’re just going to have a nice long glass of orange juice, with lots of ice and then we’ll go shower,’ Arno said, disappearing into the kitchen.

Aviva sat on the edge of the couch, her hands clasped in her lap. Annamari tried to examine her objectively. She could see why Arno had fallen for her. She really was very pretty – big brown eyes, thick brown hair, cut to just below her chin with just a hint of a curl, a nice straight nose – Annamari caught her breath. Alan’s nose and his wide mouth and perfect teeth...

‘So do you approve, Ma? She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?’ Arno said, plonking himself down on the couch next to the girl and taking her hand.

Annamari flushed. She hadn’t realised she was staring. She looked beseechingly at Thys. He nodded.

‘Arno. Your mother has something to tell you,’ he said.