Marlene van Niekerk - Triomf

And that’s how Lambert came to be treated for his sores. He even got dressings on the worst of the burns. She picked up his dirty clothes outside the bathroom and threw them on to the rubbish heap, just like that. Then she nagged Pop and Treppie until they went to Pep Stores in Ontdekkers to buy him a new T-shirt and a pair of shorts. The only pair they could find were Extra Large, with little black blocks on it.

‘This is an expensive round,’ Pop still said, ‘it’s no use buying him shorts if he won’t wear them.’

‘He will,’ said Treppie, ‘he’ll even chew fucken ladybirds now if you ask him to.’

JESUS’ BLOOD NEVER FAILED ME YET

In those days of Lambert’s studying, Treppie had a funny look on his face. She couldn’t make out if he was sad or what it was. It was like he knew what was coming, but he didn’t know when. And he knew it was bad, but now it must just come and be done with.

He began to drink even more than usual and by early evening he’d already be singing such sad songs. Hallelujah songs like ‘Pass me not, oh gentle Saviour’ and others like ‘Red River Valley’.

Until one night, when he went into his room and scratched around for the keys to the sideboard’s top drawer. He opened the drawer, took out Pop’s mouth organ and tried it out, with a hum on the high notes and a hum on the low notes. But the first hum sounded like a pain in the gut, and the second like a pain somewhere lower down. That’s what she said to him, but he just gave her one of his looks. He passed the mouth organ over to Pop and asked him to play something. Play what? Pop said, but Treppie wiped his hand over his face and said, anything, anything would do, thanks.

How Pop got on to it was a mystery, but he chose an old tune that the Salvation Army used to play in the streets of Vrededorp. By the time Pop had played the tune three times over, each time more smoothly with more and more notes in their proper places, Treppie began to remember the words and started singing along:

‘Jesus’ blood never failed me yet

never failed me yet.

Jesus’ blood never failed me yet

there is one thing I know

for He loves me so.’

They played that song and sang those words over and over again. The more Treppie remembered the tune and the words, the more trills Pop began coaxing out of the mouth organ. He played low notes like cellos and high notes like trumpets. After a while he played exactly like a harp in an orchestra. It was like the tune of a completely different psalm, but to the same words and the same song that Treppie stuck to. After a while it began to sound like some kind of a classic or something.

That Pop should have so much breath, and so much music left in him, and that Treppie should suddenly sing so much Jesus-stuff took them all by surprise, Pop too. What surprised them even more was that the music was so good, even though lots of Klipdrift had passed through their gills that night, and the mouth organ was so old, with missing notes here and there. After a while Pop and Treppie’s eyes began twinkling from making so much music together. Each time the song swung to a new verse they’d look at each other and wink. And then Treppie would raise his part of the tune by half a note, and Pop would catch that half-note clean out of the air, and there they’d go again.

‘Jesus’ blood never failed me yet.’

The next verse they’d take in a minor, and the one after that in a major, and so on, with all kinds of trills and frills as they went along. They’d play the song like a waltz and then faster again, and then like chapel music, and then jolly again.

‘… there is one thing I know

for He loves me so.’

They were playing Lambert through his catechism, she thought, they were playing sharp and clear air back into his head, so he could study well. For the fridges. They were singing and playing ’cause the family Bible had changed hands.

That was the fourth night of Lambert’s studying.

TICKEY

It’s exactly a week tonight since Lambert began his studying. And here he comes now, out of his den and down the passage. All three of them have been waiting here in the lounge. She’s told Pop three times already she wants to go sleep, but each time he says, no, she must wait, and Treppie also says she must wait, they’re still going to make history here tonight. She doesn’t want to miss out on history, so she thought she’d better sit and wait. She’s making all her buttonholes smaller, even though there’s only one button left. And here he is, at last, standing in the doorway with the fridge book under his arm. It doesn’t look like history to her, it looks more like trouble. She gets up and puts on her housecoat.

‘Now I’m fully swotted up,’ says Lambert. His voice sounds like it’s coming from a hole somewhere. He’s standing there with his legs slightly apart, swaying a little, like he’s leaning into a strong wind. He looks thin in the face and pale and wan, with dark rings under his eyes. She can see scabs and sores all over his body from the acid. He doesn’t look so good. But he’s acting tough and he’s smiling. She smiles a little smile back at him.

‘Hell, Lambert, if you’d studied like this at school you’d have gotten far by now, my boy!’ Treppie says. Give with the one hand and take with the other.

But she can see nothing will put Lambert off tonight. He made a deal in front of witnesses, and now those witnesses had better stick up for him. She’ll do her part, she’ll bear witness. He doesn’t have to remind her. She buttons up her housecoat in the middle with the new, small button.

‘Stick to the point, Treppie,’ Pop says in a straight voice here next to her.

‘Ja, I agree,’ she says. ‘A promise is a promise, let him have his exam now and be done with it, so he can get his fridges fixed.’

‘Fridges that work are another chapter altogether. You two mustn’t expect miracles.’

Now Treppie’s talking like a preacher. She can see he’s about to take off again.

‘The only thing I’m glad about,’ he says, ‘is that for once I’m seeing some real commitment from a Benade. ’Cause that’s the one ingredient we’ve been missing all our lives.’

She nudges Pop. Pop must be strict with Treppie now, before he really gets going.

‘Don’t start talking rubbish,’ Pop says. ‘All our lives we’ve been doing our best with what we were given.’ She hears him take a deep breath before carrying on.

‘Or with what we think we’ve got,’ he says, ‘’cause you don’t always know what your own possibilities are, and your eyes are not always open to your own talents. Anyone can look right past that kind of thing. It’s no one’s fault. It’s just the way things are.’

Pop looks Treppie up and down. She also looks at him. Up and down.

‘And you, of all people, should know what I’m talking about.’ Pop looks around to see if he’s got everyone’s attention.

Dear Lord, Pop mustn’t go and overdo it now.

‘You, for example, missed the fact that you should’ve been a clown. Yes, a clown at Boswell Wilkie circus.’

Pop holds up his finger to show he’s not yet finished. He must be careful with that finger. He knows what comes of it.

‘And don’t get me wrong, I mean it as a compliment. I don’t mean it in an ugly or funny way.’

Now she must help Pop a bit here. Now he’s taking big chances.

‘Tickey,’ says Mol. ‘Not Treppie, Tickey.’ They always laugh when she says something. They think she doesn’t know how to be funny. Well, she doesn’t know much about history, but she knows how to play the fool.