THE VISIT

I recall it being a great to-do when our Headmaster made an official visit to our home when I was in Grade One. “I play tennis with Hansie every week, so why would he want to make a formal visit?” My mother felt affronted and turned to me. “You haven’t done anything silly have you Joni?”

Except for placing a large hairy spider in my teacher’s desk drawer, I couldn’t think of anything that might have drawn the headmaster’s attention. James had dared me to do it, egged on by Sarel and Timothy. I knew this was because I hadn’t screamed when they put it on my shoulder. Denise had yelled blue murder and the other girls in our group had run away. When you have two older brothers, you quickly learn to stand your ground. In fact, Damian had been watching for my reaction. I had seen him standing next to the jacaranda tree growing at the edge of the playground.

Had Mrs van Tonder found out it was me? I thought back to that thrilling moment when she had opened her desk drawer to retrieve her tube of lipstick. We had all observed her reapplying her lipstick several times a day. Her high-pitched scream had brought the headmaster rushing into the classroom. Some of the girls were crying too – probably from the fright I think – but the rest of us were laughing, fit to bust. There was no way she could have known it was me. Only James, Sarel and Timothy knew. Well, they might have told Damian because when we walked home together that afternoon, he pushed me hard against my shoulder and promised he wouldn’t say anything. I was puffed up with pride because I knew that this meant he was pleased with me.

“I haven’t done anything wrong.” I eyed my mother, seeking for a clue that she might know. The way she looked at me made me feel uncomfortable. “Actually,” I reached out to touch her hand. “Actually, I meant to tell you that I got my three times table wrong again today.”

“Your three times table? You knew it perfectly last night!”

“Mrs van Tonder says I mustn’t learn like a parrot.” I hid my head in her wide skirt to show a remorse I didn’t feel.

By the time Mr van Jaarsveld arrived at our home the following afternoon, my mother had set the teacups and saucers on a low table in the lounge. My brothers and I hoped that some of the freshly baked scones and thin slices of buttered date loaf would be left over for us to enjoy as my mother usually only baked at weekends.

I hid behind the long dining room curtain, my heart thumping so loudly I was sure it could be heard in the room next door, and listened to the greetings: him so politely cheerful and my mother tensely formal. Mr van Jaarsveld sat down on what was usually my dad’s chair and accepted a cup of rooibos tea. I heard my mother ask stiffly, “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Hansie? Surely it cannot be about Joni’s arithmetic.”

“Arithmetic? Oh no, Felicity, not at all. In fact, I think Joni has quite a head for numbers. No, not that. It’s just that I have been here for two years already and have yet to meet all the parents. I like to see where our children come from and -.”

At that point I slipped away to join my brothers perched in the large Brazilian pepper tree that towered over the garage. From that vantage point we would be able to see when the headmaster left so that we could gobble up any of the left-over eats.

All that happened many, many years ago. That same heavy thumping pulsed through me when I switched off my cell phone and looked at Andrew. “Geoffrey Philips would like to visit us this afternoon.”

“Is something wrong?” Bruce, our youngest, asked. Geoffrey was his headmaster.

“It’s about Helen.” I answered the query in Andrew’s eyes.

“Why? She left school four years ago!”

I cancelled my tea date. Alison needed a reason. “The headmaster has invited himself to tea.”

“Is Bruce in trouble?”

“No, he wants to chat about Helen.”

“How very strange.”

I phoned to change my dental appointment later that morning because I needed to bake. “Is there a problem?” Nadine, the receptionist, was always curious.

“I have to entertain the headmaster to tea.”

“That’s fine. I’ll move you to Monday morning. Is Bruce in trouble?”

“No.” I hesitated. “He wants to talk about Helen.”

“But, she’s at university!”

Geoffrey arrived promptly at three o’clock. I offered him tea and shortbread. He complimented us on our garden and spoke of Bruce’s prowess at cricket. Ben, our neighbour, arrived just as it seemed we might be getting somewhere in the conversation. He had walked in through the open kitchen door and stopped agape at the sight of Andrew and me entertaining the headmaster to tea on a Thursday afternoon – when Andrew would usually be found at the squash courts. Why? You could see the question written all over his face.

Andrew made the introductions, but Ben didn’t move. “I thought home visits had gone out with the Ark,” he said lamely before slowly backing away. “If you don’t mind, I’ll help myself to your ladder,” he called over his shoulder as he left.

At five o’clock I poured us each a glass of red wine. We shook our heads at each other at the wonder of it all.

“Does she know?” My mouth was dry.

“I have been trying to get hold of her for two days. She’s brought such a great honour to our school. She’s the first, you know.”

“She’s been hiking in the Drakensberg for the past ten days.” Andrew refilled our glasses and handed round the remaining shortbread. “We’re expecting her home on Sunday afternoon.”

The three of us looked at each other and couldn’t hide our joy. I found a packet of potato crisps in the kitchen cupboard and was shaking so much that I spilled some on the counter as I emptied them into a bowl. It was six o’clock before Geoffrey left.

Bruce peered around the door and made a beeline for the crisps left in the bowl. “Is Helen in trouble?”

Far from it my boy,” Andrew couldn’t keep the pride from his voice. He was bursting with it. “Your sister has won the regional scholarship to go to Oxford!”