the new life you promised me. When I see how it starts, God knows how it will end!â
Blanchaille stepped up to the tap conscious of her rage, of her eyes boring into his back. He cleaned his face and his hands as best he could and rubbed rather hopelessly at the blood stains on his clothes but only succeeded in darkening and spreading them. When he turned again, Joyce was gone. He was not surprised and doubted whether anyone would have tried to stop her. Well, she would have a great deal to tell Makapan when she returned.
He walked to the front of the police station and, as he had expected, no one took any notice. He picked up his suitcases, one in each hand and one, bulky and uncomfortable, underneath his arm and began moving towards the front gate. Away to his right a group of policemen in shirt sleeves were playing a game of touch rugby using a water-bottle as a ball. The kitchen chair stood where he had left it, surveying the killing ground. He barely got out of the front gate before he collapsed, exhausted. He sat down in the dust on his suitcase beside the road.
And then I saw in my dream that a man driving a yellow Datsun estate stopped and offered him a lift. A short and balding man with a pleasant smile whose name was Derek Breslau. A commercial traveller for Lever Brothers dealing in ladiesâ shampoos. The inside of his car was so heavily perfumed it made Blanchaille swoon and he could barely find the words to thank him for his kindness.
âDonât mention it. Couldnât leave a guy sitting by the side of the road outside a bloody township. Normally I put my foot down and go like hell when I pass a township. You never know whatâs going on inside. Gee, you took a risk!â He examined Blanchailleâs bloodstained, muddied clothes with interest.
âMy bags are heavy and I canât go very far at a stretch.â
âWell, keep away from the townships.â
âItâs a funny thing,â said Blanchaille, âbut I always believed that the townships were peaceful now.â
Breslau nodded. âWell it depends on what you mean. If you mean the townships are peaceful except when there are riots, then I suppose thatâs correct. So I suppose you could say the townships are peaceful between riots. And I must say theyâre pretty peaceful after riots. If we need to go to the townships thatâs usually when we go. They have a period of mourning then, you see, and you got time to get in, do the job and get out again.â
âI suppose then you could also say that townships are peaceful before riots,â said Blanchaille, trying to be helpful.
Breslau thought this over and nodded approvingly. âYes, I suppose thatâs right. I never thought of it that way. But leaving all this aside, the truth is you can never be sure when the townships are going to be peaceful. You can drive into a township, and I have no option since I do business there, and find yourself in the middle of a riot. You can find yourself humping dead bodies or driving wounded to hospital. You can find yourself dispensing aid and comfort.â
âAid and comfort?â
âSure! That comes after the riots, usually, when theyâve laid out the victims and the relatives come along to claim them. Itâs an emotional time, as you can imagine. What they usually do these days is to get the priest up from the church and he gives each relative a blessing. Well one day I arrived just as the blessings had started. They didnât seem to be comforting people very much so the police officer in charge commandeered me and my vehicle and all my samples and he suggested that each relative should also get a sample of my shampoo, plus a blessing. Of course they werenât my samples to give, but on occasions like this you donât argue. Well, I stood next to the priest and he gave the blessing and I handed out the sample. Of course there was no question of matching hair types. I mean
Blanchaille stepped up to the tap conscious of her rage, of her eyes boring into his back. He cleaned his face and his hands as best he could and rubbed rather hopelessly at the blood stains on his clothes but only succeeded in darkening and spreading them. When he turned again, Joyce was gone. He was not surprised and doubted whether anyone would have tried to stop her. Well, she would have a great deal to tell Makapan when she returned.
He walked to the front of the police station and, as he had expected, no one took any notice. He picked up his suitcases, one in each hand and one, bulky and uncomfortable, underneath his arm and began moving towards the front gate. Away to his right a group of policemen in shirt sleeves were playing a game of touch rugby using a water-bottle as a ball. The kitchen chair stood where he had left it, surveying the killing ground. He barely got out of the front gate before he collapsed, exhausted. He sat down in the dust on his suitcase beside the road.
And then I saw in my dream that a man driving a yellow Datsun estate stopped and offered him a lift. A short and balding man with a pleasant smile whose name was Derek Breslau. A commercial traveller for Lever Brothers dealing in ladiesâ shampoos. The inside of his car was so heavily perfumed it made Blanchaille swoon and he could barely find the words to thank him for his kindness.
âDonât mention it. Couldnât leave a guy sitting by the side of the road outside a bloody township. Normally I put my foot down and go like hell when I pass a township. You never know whatâs going on inside. Gee, you took a risk!â He examined Blanchailleâs bloodstained, muddied clothes with interest.
âMy bags are heavy and I canât go very far at a stretch.â
âWell, keep away from the townships.â
âItâs a funny thing,â said Blanchaille, âbut I always believed that the townships were peaceful now.â
Breslau nodded. âWell it depends on what you mean. If you mean the townships are peaceful except when there are riots, then I suppose thatâs correct. So I suppose you could say the townships are peaceful between riots. And I must say theyâre pretty peaceful after riots. If we need to go to the townships thatâs usually when we go. They have a period of mourning then, you see, and you got time to get in, do the job and get out again.â
âI suppose then you could also say that townships are peaceful before riots,â said Blanchaille, trying to be helpful.
Breslau thought this over and nodded approvingly. âYes, I suppose thatâs right. I never thought of it that way. But leaving all this aside, the truth is you can never be sure when the townships are going to be peaceful. You can drive into a township, and I have no option since I do business there, and find yourself in the middle of a riot. You can find yourself humping dead bodies or driving wounded to hospital. You can find yourself dispensing aid and comfort.â
âAid and comfort?â
âSure! That comes after the riots, usually, when theyâve laid out the victims and the relatives come along to claim them. Itâs an emotional time, as you can imagine. What they usually do these days is to get the priest up from the church and he gives each relative a blessing. Well one day I arrived just as the blessings had started. They didnât seem to be comforting people very much so the police officer in charge commandeered me and my vehicle and all my samples and he suggested that each relative should also get a sample of my shampoo, plus a blessing. Of course they werenât my samples to give, but on occasions like this you donât argue. Well, I stood next to the priest and he gave the blessing and I handed out the sample. Of course there was no question of matching hair types. I mean