“A party,” Elza cried in astonishment, “But Rutger, I’m still confined to bed. How is it possible?”
“Oh Elza, you need do nothing yourself. Maisa will see to everything. I’ll give her some extra money to buy everything. I’ve already arranged for the musicians, and along with Alex I’ll see to it myself that the lighting and tables and chairs and everything else is all right.”
“But how can I receive the guests if I’m still in bed, Rutger?” Elza sounded really upset.
“That’s quite normal here, nothing exceptional. When there’s a bris milah for a Jewish baby, the mother is in bed, and the party carries on in the house just the same. I’ve already invited a group of people from this evening’s do, and it will be nice for Sarith to have a party for her birthday.”
“For Sarith, of course for Sarith,” said Elza tearfully.
“Oh darling, don’t be angry.” Rutger leant over and gave his wife a kiss on her forehead. “Let’s do this for her. Look, you have a fantastic son, but what does she have, in fact? It’s surely not all that terrible to give a party for her. She’ll feel content and flattered and will only be kinder to you.”
Elza said nothing further. Perhaps Rutger was right. Perhaps everything was over between Sarith and him. After all, he had come directly to her.
The next day it was all hustle and bustle in the house. Sarith herself went to Esther and Rebecca to tell them that there would be a party for her twentieth birthday. Aunt Rachel, who was still in the town, had objected briefly: it was, after all, still quite soon after the death of Grandma Mozes de Meza. But all right – the party was at Elza’s, and she wasn’t a relative of the deceased.
Elza had continually asked Maisa whether she really could not get up. She felt fine. But Maisa was adamant. A white lady simply could not leave her bed before the sixteenth day. Who could guess what consequences that might have. And when Elza complained that most slaves were up and around with their babies after only three days; what was the difference – a woman was a woman, surely – Maisa had asserted brusquely, “Negroes are negroes.”77
On the twenty-second itself it was really hectic there in the house. Rutger had taken a day off specially. Elza lay in the bedroom with a contemplative expression and heard the footsteps coming and going downstairs. Chairs were set out in the front hall. The long table in the dining room would be used for the supper, with all the porcelain, crystal and silver being polished up by Amimba and Afanaisa.
When Rutger, amidst all the goings-on, paid a brief visit to her in the room and saw her lying on the pillows, he said, “How upset you’re looking, Elza.”
“Oh,” answered Elza with a shrug of her shoulders, “Isn’t this just typical of what is going on in this house. A party is being given in another woman’s honour, and I can just lie here upstairs in bed.”
“Oh dearest, are you feeling a bit neglected? Please don’t feel that way. Look, the party is for our son, too. And who has had this wonderful son, well you, of course! So do cheer up.” Rutger looked her in the eye while teasingly lifting her chin with his finger. “But you know what? To make sure you don’t feel neglected, we’ll come and have lunch here with you in this room, all right?” And he called Maisa from the stairs to set a small table in Misi Elza’s room so that they could eat there.
Maisa did so, grumbling, “There’ll soon be ants on the baby.”78 But she was nevertheless pleased that Masra Rutger wanted to be with his wife so much that he wanted to have lunch in the room with her. Sarith did not come to eat with them, however. Mini-mini came to say that Misi Sarith wasn’t hungry, and so Rutger and Elza ate alone, and Elza was cheerful again.
After lunch, when Rutger was already lying on the bed for his afternoon nap, wearing only thin pyjama trousers, and Elza was half asleep, there came a timid knock at the door. It was Mini-mini coming to say that Misi Sarith had asked whether Masra Rutger could come along briefly.
Rutger left the room. Elza waited and waited. Rutger did not return. Half an hour passed, then an hour. Where could he be? He couldn’t be with Sarith all this time. Elza became furious. This was too much. She had to know whether Rutger was with Sarith in her room. She would get up. She let her feet glide from the bed; slowly she stood up. Oh what an unpleasant feeling she had in her legs and feet. It felt as if there were a thousand needles in her feet, and her legs were so limp. Perhaps Maisa was right: it was bad to get up before the sixteenth day. But she had to, just had to. Step by prickly step she began walking cautiously, first to the door and then along the passage, softly, step by step. Oh those feet, those pins and needles. There she was by the door of Sarith’s room. She heard nothing. Perhaps Rutger wasn’t there; perhaps he was downstairs. Should she call downstairs? But then she suddenly heard soft voices coming from the room. She bent down, looked through the keyhole, and could just see a part of the bed. She saw Rutger’s bare shoulder and she saw Sarith’s bare arm thrown round Rutger and her black hair lying over the pillow and across his shoulder.