Umbilicus: An autobiographical novel

THE CUCKOO'S NEST

'PRETTY, THIS IS CHARLOTTE. Charlotte, this is Pretty.' Beth introduces you to her maid as you walk into the house, and you detect more than a subtle hint of pride in her voice.

You are met with a broad grin, dazzling white against the plump brown face. She touches her doek nervously, then wipes her hands on her apron, looking at Beth, then you, then back at Beth again.

'Hawu! Too much the same!' She can clearly see the family resemblance, and you and Beth laugh self-consciously. You realise Pretty is the very first person to see mother and daughter together, side by side, reunited after twenty-one years. And you suddenly find yourself wondering just how many people other than Pretty have been briefed about you, and are waiting patiently in the wings for their chance to meet you, this long lost child of Beth's, face to face.

'How about a cup of coffee?' she suggests.

'Um, could I rather have some tea, please?'

'Sure. Five Roses or Rooibos? Just tell Pretty how you take it.'

'Five Roses, please. Not too much milk, and two full sugars. Thanks.'

'Strong and sweet,' Pretty says, seeming pleased. 'And I'll make Madam a coffee.'

As she starts filling the kettle with tap water in the sink, you follow Beth through a door to the sunny dining room with a large wooden table, similar to the one Mom and Dad have at home. She pulls out two wooden chairs on one side of the table, next to each other, but a comfortable distance apart. On the far side of the table is what looks like a scrapbook, and a photo frame, turned face down. In that instant you become acutely aware of the fact you are now in her home, where she lives, and it all feels incredibly real and intimate.

'Sjoe, it feels like I've gotten to know quite a bit about you already,' she says. 'But actually, we've only just begun to scratch the surface.'

'Ja, it's a bit crazy. Twenty-one years, a lifetime really, to try and catch up on in just a few hours.'

'I know! I've got a million questions I want to ask you, as I'm sure you've got a million you want to ask me. How shall we do this? Do you want to go first, or would you prefer me to go first?'

'I don't really mind.' You secretly hope she'll take the lead.

'Okay then. I'll start.' A brief pause. 'Please do stop me, though, if there's something you'd rather not talk about. I mean, even though I already feel like I know you, I do realise we've only just met, and I don't want to overstep the line.'

'Fire away. My life's an open book.' You smile reassuringly. Truth be told, you've played your cards close to your chest for so long, it's highly unlikely you'll tell her more than she wants, or needs, to hear this afternoon.