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  And so that is the story, and the reason why the Welcoming Committee of Corriebush – Anna and Lily and Maria and Nellie and Amelia and Sophia – came to be standing on the station platform so early one biting July morning.

  Jacoba jumped from the train onto the platform and that was when a shocked silence fell on them. There were no furs, and no jewels. Jacoba was wearing jeans, a turtle-neck sweater and tackies. Their smiles drooped briefly, but then she held out her arms. ‘Aunties!’ and quickly they came to their senses, rushed to embrace her. It was an emotional moment for them, they were all choked up, now laughing, now reaching for their handkerchiefs. Sophia was the first to find her voice.

  ‘Where’s your yak hat, then?’

  ‘My what?’

  ‘Ag child, never mind,’ said Lily, embarrassed. ‘We’ll explain another day. Right now Herman is waiting with the car over there under the pepper tree. And your parents have put the kettle on. Come! We’ll all help you with your things.’

  They drove to Geo and Joey’s smallholding just outside the town.

  Lily raised her cup of tea. ‘To Jacoba!’

  ‘To Jacoba!’

  Joey cut the cake. ‘The whole of Corriebush is buzzing with plans to celebrate you, my child. We thought perhaps a big party in the Town Hall? Such an award needs to be honoured, not so ladies?’

  They nodded furiously, but Jacoba held up her hand.

  ‘Ja, I won the award, but the whole point is to try and double the prize money now. It’s my duty.’

  ‘Ag, the child wants to do her bit by the community.’

  ‘That’s right, Auntie Maria. That’s exactly what I have to do. So we must think of a plan.’

  ‘A bazaar?’ suggested Sophia.

  ‘Ag no, not enough profit there.’

  ‘A raffle then?’

  ‘Still not good enough.’

  They went home to think, and it was Servaas who came up with a sensational idea.

  ‘A float procession!’ he exclaimed. ‘Like they have at the universities. Lorries cruising down the street, all decorated with streamers and things, and you ladies standing on them shaking tins.

  All our friends will line the streets and throw money at you.’

  Maria presented the idea to all the women at a tea the following afternoon. Jacoba loved it.

  But Lily had reservations. ‘We have to have a theme,’ she told them, remembering her days at University, when she had been Carmen Miranda with a bowl of fruit on her head. ‘You can’t just have lorries looking like birthday cakes, there must be something more, to encourage people to give.’

  They stirred their tea thoughtfully; nibbled the cookies; said ‘I just can’t think of a thing,’ and ‘I’m no good at this sort of game,’ when Jacoba suddenly jumped up. ‘I’ve got it! I’ve got it! We’ll have a “Guess-who? Fancy Dress!”’

  ‘Brilliant!’ Amelia exclaimed. ‘Absolutely the jackpot! And seeing that the money is for children, why don’t we each dress up as a character from a children’s story?’

  ‘Or a fairytale! Or a myth!’

  Their enthusiasm started to sparkle.

  ‘And there’ll be six lorries – we’ll borrow them from the sheep farmers, they all have big lorries with railings round – and each of us will be on a lorry with a tin up front for donations, and a tin at the back for entry forms.’

  ‘Entry forms?’

  ‘Ja, people will have to guess who we are, and the first one drawn with all the correct answers will get a prize. Perhaps one of the farmers will donate a sheep.’

  The women whooped with excitement. The plan was faultless and fun, and they rushed home to consult their husbands and all the old story books in their dusty bookcases, promising to meet again the following morning to discuss their decisions.

  They sat round Amelia’s dining table – they had decided to meet there because Daniel was known to be the brains among the men and might come up with some great suggestions. Lily set the ball rolling. ‘I’m going to be the siren of the Rhine, sitting on the Lorelei,’ she announced proudly.

  ‘Sitting on what?’

  ‘A rock.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ said Sophia.

  ‘Yes. The siren sat on a steep rock called the Lorelei, on the bank of the river, and sang songs that lured sailors to her and then they died.’

  ‘Ag fie.’

  ‘So Herman will build a little rock for me and I’ll sit on it, undo my bun so that my hair hangs down, and I’ll beckon and sing ‘Ich Weiss Nicht’ – that one. I might even drape a fish across my lap if old Vissie the Fishmonger has a good catch that day, a yellowtail perhaps, to give them a clue.’

  ‘A tricky one, Lily. A tricky one that. But very original.’

  Maria chose to be Cinderella. ‘Simple. I’ll just stick some patches onto my blue ball gown – you know the one I wore to the Show Ball and Servaas put his foot right through the skirt in the foxtrot? It’s spoilt anyway. Then I’ll tie an apron round my waist and sweep the lorry floor with a broom and hold my hand to my forehead and look very sad and hungry and faint.’

  ‘Now I don’t wish to sound vain,’ said Anna, ‘but I’d like to be The Sleeping Beauty. James will make up a nice soft bed for me, and I’ll just lie down in a pretty pink nightdress, with a crown on my head and my little canary on my chest. Maybe, after a while, I’ll give a big yawn, and sit up and look about me, very confused. That will give them a clue alright.’

  Both Nellie and Amelia chose quickly guessable ones, to encourage the children to support. ‘Red Riding Hood for me,’ said Nellie. ‘I’ll wear a red scarf round my head and Charlie’s big red mackintosh, and I’ll tuck a basketful of goodies under my arm. Charlie can put a potted tree on the back of the lorry, to look like a forest, and I’ll walk round and round it, and now and then I’ll dip into my basket, throw a biscuit to a child and ask for a tickey or a sixpence for my box, in payment.’

  Amelia would be a perfect Goldilocks. Not only did she have truly flaxen hair, but she was short and girlish and plump. She’d sit at a table on her lorry, surrounded by three teddy bears of just the right size – father, mother and baby bear, which she would borrow from Tom at the ToyShopStop. ‘I’ll put three bowls of porridge, a jug of milk and a jar of honey on the table, and from the time the lorries take off, I’ll start eating. I’ll go on until all three plates are empty, and then I’ll press the buttons in the backs of the bears and they’ll growl. The children will love it.’

  ‘Your turn, now Sophia.’

  ‘Olive.’

  ‘Olive?’

  ‘That’s what I said.’

  ‘But I don’t know of a fairy tale with an olive – do you, Lily?’

  ‘Never heard of one. Is it just Olive Sophia? Or does it have a surname?’

  ‘Olive’s Twist,’ Sophia replied smugly.

  ‘Oh dear, Sophia, it’s Oliver Twist and that’s a whole novel!’

  ‘Oh my glory. Well then I’ll be Olive Schreiner.’

  They began to look desperate. ‘She’s not a fairy tale, Sophia.’

  ‘Then it’s Olive Oyl for me.’

  ‘Olive Oyl?’

  ‘Ja, Popeye’s wife. You know, the one who ate the spinach.’

  It was no use arguing further, except to ask her how she was going to look like an olive.

  ‘There’s an old rain barrel in our back yard, a round belly and narrower top and bottom, it will look just like an olive once Dawid has painted it green. Then I’ll sit inside with a bunch of spinach sticking out of the top, and Bob’s your uncle. I’m Olive Oyl.’

  The float procession was scheduled for the following Saturday morning, as most of the farmers came to town on Saturdays. The mayor and town councillors had promised their support, and the shopkeepers had agreed to close their doors for the duration so that their staff and would-be shoppers could help swell the crowds and toss up their money. And, of course, being a Saturday, all the school children and their teachers would be free and able to cheer them
on.

  It was a glorious sight. Slowly the lorries rumbled their way down the main street, then down towards the mountain, and up to the houses on the hill – the elite area. The men had gone to heaps of trouble to brighten up the old, rather weary farm lorries, for the planks had been scratched by a million hooves over the years. They draped them with streamers and calendulas and nasturtiums, which grew in every garden in Corriebush, because they were hardy and did not need much rain. They wound ivy leaves round every possible wheel, strut, axle and cab, twisted streamers into the wooden rails, and tied big bunches of balloons on the backs, so that they would dip and rise in the breeze. The tins, painted in bright colours, were hung in prominent positions.

  The Corriebush Carnival was a total, hooting success. People dropped coins not only into the tins, they threw them onto the lorries as well.

  ‘Sjoe! On my blerrie head,’ wailed Sophia as a half-crown struck her forehead. Some farmers thrust notes into the tins, others stuffed in their cheques, and everyone entered for the prize draw, except the husbands who said it would be a skelm thing to do because they all knew who their wives were. In the end, Vissie won the prize, and the total donations amounted to close on £l,800.

  Jacoba was ecstatic. Even after paying her parents for her fees, she had enough over to hire a hall, buy an upright piano, two violas, a trumpet, a triangle and two recorders. For six months she stayed in Corriebush and in that time the thrall of classical music touched 45 pupils of all races. They left their rugby and marbles, their tricycles, bicycles, even their dolls. And in no time she had a little orchestra going, holding concerts for all the parents.

  Before long, however, Jacoba had to go back to the college to continue her studies, but she promised to return once a month for further rehearsals and tuition. In the end, the Corriebush Children’s Orchestra was playing all over the district, as far away as Graaff-Reinet and beyond. After five years, during which time Jacoba never missed a single monthly visit, she finally had to stop. Her classes had increased to 70, but she had married a Port Elizabeth doctor and felt it was time to stay at home. Geo and Joey became the proud grandparents of four boys, including a set of triplets.

  Corriebush will never forget Jacoba: there’s a plaque on the wall outside the little hall in which she taught, and on it is written simply:

  JACOBA’S MUSIC SCHOOL

  It might still be there, just past the museum, in the avenue lined with oak trees.

  Starters

  Mushroom Mountains

  Starter Spreads & Snacks

  Mini Cucumber Cheesecakes with Avocado

  Tomato Tartlets with Olives, Pesto & Pecorino

  Asparagus with a Choice of Dressings

  Chilled Spanspek Soup

  Aromatic Dhal Soup

  Butternut, Butter Bean, Coconut & Basmati Soup

  Minted Cucumber & Yoghurt Soup with Walnuts

  Quick Gazpacho with Whipped Basil Cream

  Bean, Pasta & Vegetable Soup

  Spicy Pumpkin & Apple Soup

  Smoked Salmon & Green Bean Salad

  Salad with Rosemary Pears & Blue Cheese Dressing

  Mushroom Mountains

  When you’re nervous about the merits – or quantities – of your main course, it’s sensible to turn to a robust starter so that whatever happens afterwards, the meal would, at least, have got off to a fulsome start. This recipe is a good choice on such an occasion: large mushrooms stuffed to bursting, nestled on a bed of rocket and served with a herby, buttery baguette. All delicious, assembled in minutes, and virtually everything can be done in advance.

  6 jumbo brown mushrooms (400 g) (sometimes called ‘braai’ mushrooms)

  fresh basil leaves

  1⁄2 onion, coarsely grated

  3 cloves garlic, crushed

  firm but ripe tomatoes

  sea salt and sugar

  mozzarella cheese, sliced

  dried oregano

  olive oil

  milled black pepper

  rocket leaves

  Slice the stems off the mushrooms and arrange the caps, hollows up, in a large, lightly oiled baking dish, then do the stuffing bit, one at a time, as follows: First a generous sprinkling of basil, cover with onion, crush the garlic over (divide equally), top with a thick slice of tomato, sprinkle the tomato (not the mushroom) with salt and sugar, cover with cheese, sprinkle with a few pinches of oregano, drizzle each mountain with 10–15 ml (2–3 tsp) olive oil and finish with a few grindings of black pepper. If working ahead, cover and refrigerate, but allow to return to room temperature before baking, uncovered, at 180 °C for about 30 minutes, until the mushrooms are soft and juicy, and the cheese has melted. Serve on a bed of rocket with the herbed French loaf. Serves 6.

  Baked French Loaf with Fresh Herb Butter

  Mash together: 250 g soft butter; 125 ml (1⁄2 cup) chopped spring onions plus tops; a small handful of chopped parsley; 6 sage leaves, chopped; 6 sprigs marjoram leaves chopped; 2 sprigs thyme leaves, chopped; 2 cloves garlic, crushed (optional); a pinch of salt. Slice one large, long French loaf in 12 mm thick slices to the base, but not right through. Butter between the slices. If it oozes out at the top, scrape it off and slap it in again. Wrap in foil, leaving only the top exposed, and bake with the mushrooms for the last 15 minutes. Enough for 30–40 slices.

  Starter Spreads & Snacks

  If your main course needs both last-minute attention and careful timing, serving a starter beforehand can be tricky. Rather serve snacks with the preprandial drinks. The following spreads (choose one fish, one mushroom), served on breads or crisp, savoury biscuits, are quick to prepare, always disappear in a flash, and only the crostini need last-minute heating.

  Smoked Salmon Spread

  120–160 g smoked salmon slices or offcuts

  250 g smooth, low-fat cottage cheese

  15 ml (1 Tbsp) fresh lemon juice

  60 ml (4 Tbsp) very soft butter

  a few drops of Tabasco sauce

  5 ml (1 tsp) tomato paste (for colour)

  a pinch each of sea salt and sugar (to taste)

  milled black pepper

  fresh dill to garnish

  Place all the ingredients, except the pepper and garnish, in a processor fitted with the metal blade and process until smooth. Check seasoning, then spoon into a glass fridge container and refrigerate for a few hours. Spread thickly onto slices of crustless, lightly buttered rye or wholewheat bread, grind a little pepper over, slice into fingers and serve on a platter garnished with fresh dill. Makes 500 ml (2 cups).

  Smoked Snoek Spread

  200 g smoked snoek

  250 g smooth, low-fat cottage cheese

  15 ml (1 Tbsp) fresh lemon juice

  60 ml (4 Tbsp) very soft butter

  30 ml (2 Tbsp) sweet chilli sauce

  30 ml (2 Tbsp) finely snipped chives

  paprika

  Remove all the dark skin from the snoek, carefully slip out all the bones, then flake finely, feeling between your fingers to make sure you’ve got rid of them all. Now you should have 150 g. Put into a bowl (not a processor) and add the rest of the ingredients, except the paprika. Mix well, using a wooden spoon. Taste. It may need a pinch of salt, and another 15 ml (1 Tbsp) chilli sauce. Spoon into a glass fridge container, cover and refrigerate for several hours or overnight. Spread generously on slices of crustless, lightly buttered wholewheat bread, dust with paprika and slice into fingers. Makes about 500 ml (2 cups).

  Mushroom-Cream Cheese Spread

  15 ml (1 Tbsp) each oil and butter

  60 ml (1⁄4 cup) sherry

  15 ml (1 Tbsp) soy sauce

  5 ml (1 tsp) chopped fresh rosemary leaves

  2 cloves garlic, crushed

  1 small onion, finely chopped

  250 g button mushrooms, wiped and finely chopped

  250 g cream cheese (use low-fat if preferred)

  60 ml (4 Tbsp) chopped parsley

  30 ml (2 Tbsp) snipped chives

  a pinch of su
gar

  Heat the oil, butter, sherry, soy sauce, rosemary, garlic and onion in a frying pan. Add the mushrooms and sauté until soft and liquid absorbed, but still very moist. Remove from the stove, slowly stir in the cheese, then add the herbs and sugar. Taste to check the seasoning, then spoon into a glass container, cover and refrigerate for at least a few hours to allow the flavours to blend. Serve on savoury biscuits. Makes 500 ml (2 cups).

  Mushroom Crostini

  12–16 slices slightly stale bread

  45 ml (3 Tbsp) oil and 20 ml (4 tsp) butter, melted together

  extra 45 ml (3 Tbsp) butter

  250 g button or brown mushrooms, wiped and very finely chopped

  50 ml (3 Tbsp plus 1 tsp) flour

  250 ml (1 cup) hot milk

  6 spring onions, finely chopped

  1 ml (1⁄4 tsp) dried oregano

  sea salt and milled black pepper

  8 black olives, pitted and slivered

  grated Parmesan or pecorino cheese

  Slice the crusts off the bread and stamp out rounds using a 5–6 cm scone cutter. Place on a baking tray and brush both sides with the melted oil-butter mixture. Bake at 180 °C for 10–12 minutes, until crisp, turning once. Cool. Melt the extra butter in a saucepan, add the mushrooms and toss over low heat until all the liquid has evaporated. Sprinkle in the flour and, when absorbed, slowly add the milk. Bring to the boil and stir until very thick. Remove from the stove and add the spring onions, oregano and seasoning to taste. (If working ahead, cool, cover and refrigerate.) To bake, spread the mushroom mixture thickly on each round of bread, top with olives and sprinkle with cheese. Bake at 200 °C for 12–15 minutes until piping hot. Makes about 36.

  Mini Cucumber Cheesecakes with Avocado

  These crustless little cheesecakes make an unusual, minty, refreshing yet creamy hot-weather starter, which looks stunning turned out of individual moulds, topped with avo and black pepper, surrounded with salad leaves drizzled with a mustard vinaigrette*, and served with crisp rolls.