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“Have a heart, Gracie!” Emmanuel
interrupted her with a deep frown
creasing his forehead. “I’ve spent 40
years at the factory, working rain or
shine. Getting up in the dark. Giving my
employer his pound of flesh. Earning
every single rand I got paid. Surely I
deserve some rest and relaxation? ”
But Grace wasn’t a woman who gave
in to little-boy frowns and excuses. She’d
brought up three sons – and they hadn’t
got away with much either, even though
they’d tried the same tricks.
Thebe, Samuel and Alphonse. She was
proud of the way she’d handled them
through their boyhoods and teenage
years. Today, all three were fine hus-
bands who seldom annoyed their wives.
No, she knew how to deal with men.
Firmness was the key! She yanked the
duvet off the bed and Emmanuel knew
he was well and truly beaten.
I
N JUST half an hour he was dressed
and on his doleful way across the
backyard to the shed. He was mutter-
ing under his breath about being
unappreciated inhisgoldenyears,
kicking at the
sand like a child
with a bad temper.
From the kitch-
en window, Grace
noticed some-
thing strange. Emmanuel had his cell-
phone in his hand, which immediately
made her suspicious. Her husband
didn’t like his phone. It had been a
retirement present from their youngest
son, Alphonse. Normally, Emmanuel
left it lying on his bedside table, or he
forgot it in his jacket pocket, or let the
battery run flat, much to Alphonse’s
despair. But now he was clutching his
phone like his life depended on it.
When her husband was safely inside
the shed, noisily pushing old boxes and
rusty tools around, Grace dried her
hands and moved quietly across the
yard. She hid behind a bush near enough
so she could listen in to what was hap-
pening in the shed.
Her suspicions were right! Emmanuel
was on his cellphone, complaining to
his friend, MP, who had retired from the
same factory 16 months ago.
“Eish, a list, MP! She wrote down this
list of jobs for me on a big piece of paper.
Chores, she calls them. I mean, it’s not
right, is it? It’s not fair. After 40 years of
getting up and working every day. You
know what that was like! Now I get a list
to keep me busy. Did your Polelo ever do
this to you?... No? Well, I’m sure you
can see how wrong it is. Come on, MP,
you have to help me. What can I do?”G
RACE tiptoed back to the
kitchen to finish the wash-
ing up. She had a good idea
about what would happen
next – he was as predictable
as clockwork.
Sure enough, Emmanuel appeared at
the door, looking wide-eyed and inno-
cent. She recognised that look – it was
the look all three of her sons had given
her when they’d done something naugh-
ty and were hoping to get away with it.
Not that they’d ever stood a chance.
“Grace, Gracie my love, there’s a prob-
lem.. .” Emmanuel began.
“Oh yes?”
“Yes, MP just phoned.. .”
“Really? Strange, I didn’t hear your
phone ring.”
“Yeah, well, um.. .” An expression of
panic flickered across her husband’s
face.Buthesoldieredbravelyon.“Anyway, Gracie my love, MP was
planning to go fishing with a friend
today. Down at the dam. But now this
friend can’t come. Arthritis or some-
thing.. .”
“Oh yes?”
“Yes. MP’s really upset. He was looking
forward to it so much. But he doesn’t
want to go alone, poor guy. Fishing on
your own isn’t much fun. You under-
stand? Anyway, he’s asked me to go
along.”
“But Emmanuel, you don’t know how
to fish. You’ve never fished in all the 37
years we’ve been together!”
“Well, MP said he’d teach me. I mean,
I can’t let an old friend down, can I? Not
after all the years we worked together.
Not after all the times he covered for me
with the boss. That wouldn’t be fair,
would it?”
Grace had her fists firmly on her hips
now. “What about letting me down?
What about all the chores that need
doing? What about that shed? I’m tell-
ing you, Emmanuel, its driving me up
the wall. Every time I look at it, I get thecreeps.Andif youguysare fishing, you’ll
be away all day! Am I right?”
“Have a heart, Gracie!” Emmanuel
screwed his face up into a little-boy plea
of desperation.
“I’ll do the chores tomorrow. First
thing. Promise.”
“Yeah, right. I’ll believe that when I
see it.”
After several long, silent moments,
she slowly dried her hands on her apron
and finally relented.
“It’s your choice, Emmanuel. You’re a
grown man. So, I suppose you must
make your own decisions,” she said with
a weary sigh.E
MMANUEL scuttled out of the
kitchen as fast as his legs
would take him. He grabbed
his jacket and rushed out of
the house – before Grace
could change her mind.
She watched through the window as
he reversed the car at speed, narrowly
missing the cat who was taking a morn-
ing nap in the sun. Within seconds, he
haddisappearedup the road.
Grace shook her
head in the same
way she’d done
over the years
handling the an-
tics of her three
sons. Then she made herself a cup of
coffee – the expensive kind that she kept
for special occasions.
She settled herself into Emmanuel’s
favourite chair and switched the televi-
sion on to her favourite channel where a
tearjerker movie was just about to start.
She was definitely, absolutely, posi-
tively not going to waste a whole peace-
ful, glorious Emmanuel-free day doing
housework!
“I love it when a plan comes together,”
she said, smiling to herself as she slipped
the chore-list back into her apronpock-
et, ready for the next time she neededa
day off from her retired husband.‘If you can’t find a way to spend your day doing
something worthwhile, then I’ll organise it for you’
FICTION
BY PRECIOUS SEBONI
ILLUSTRATION: MICHAEL DE LUCCHI