school, most likely lots of times, and you did it there! You think I am stupid or something?'
'No, sir. It's not true, sir.'
'What is true and what is not true is not for you or me to say, it is only for the magistrate to decide. Where is this five pounds?' he said suddenly.
'I have it here,' Tandia whimpered.
The policeman stretched out his hand, 'Give it here,' he demanded.
Tandia knew she was badly trapped. 'I cannot show it to you, sir,' she whispered.
'You have this money concealed on your person, but you cannot produce it? Let me ask you a question. If you went to the lavatory, could you produce it then?'
Tandia said nothing.
'I see, the police know about these things. It is called a body search. Do you know who keeps their money in such a place?'
Again Tandia remained silent.
'Whores! That is the place prostitutes keep their money!'
'It is not what you think!' Tandia blurted out. She was distressed beyond tears. Geldenhuis had completely broken through her defences. If she took the money out of her bloomers right there in front of him, it would prove very little except that she was brazen enough to lift her skirt and put her hand down her pants. In his eyes this would only condemn her further. Tandia turned to look towards the black constable, but he immediately averted his eyes. She was beyond his help.
Geldenhuis lowered himself from the table and walked round to sit on the chair opposite her and called for the black constable to place the typewriter in front of him.
From a drawer in the table he removed a charge sheet and rolled it into the typewriter. He typed 'PATEL, Tandia', deliberately, using only two fingers, stopping when he had completed the two words. He then looked up casually at Tandia. 'Your address, what is your address?' he demanded.
'I have no address, sir,' Tandia replied.
'Vagrant,' the sergeant said, typing out the word slowly using only one finger to select each letter. 'No fixed address,' he said again deliberately pecking out the words on the typewriter. Then he looked up, leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. 'Do you know what I'm doing?' he asked.
As he typed Tandia had tom off a length of toilet paper and blown her nose and attempted to wipe her tears. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen and her pretty little face was bruised and sore. She nodded her head in reply to Geldenhuis.
'I'm charging you with a one seven five, soliciting in a public place.' He shook his head as though regretting the need for what he was doing. 'It's so easy, you know. All you got to do is tell me the truth and you can go.' He cleared his throat, 'Look at me please,' he instructed. Tandia looked up at Geldenhuis across the table. He smiled and spread his hands and turned his palms upwards. 'Just tell me you did it in the cemetery and got paid for it, that's all. I'm a man of my word, just say, "Yes. Yes I did it, sergeant," and we won't lay a charge, you hear. You can leave the station with no police record. You know what it means to have a police record, don't you?'
Tandia's hands were on her lap curled around several messy scrunched balls of toilet paper and now she fixed her eyes on her clenched fists and remained silent. If she told a lie and said she was a whore, she was free, her life could begin again. If she maintained her innocence who was going to believe her? Who would believe that over ten years she had saved every penny, tickey and sixpence she had earned at Patel's printing shop, for getting the lunches for the men or running an errand or writing a letter for someone who couldn't write until she had five pounds of her own? If she admitted the truth, that it was two policeman who had raped her and that Geldenhuis was one of them she would not be alive for long, that was for sure., She was conscious of the white man looking down at her, fixing her with his pale eyes, eyes which she now perceived as more deadly than a snake. Tandia raised her head slowly until she looked
'No, sir. It's not true, sir.'
'What is true and what is not true is not for you or me to say, it is only for the magistrate to decide. Where is this five pounds?' he said suddenly.
'I have it here,' Tandia whimpered.
The policeman stretched out his hand, 'Give it here,' he demanded.
Tandia knew she was badly trapped. 'I cannot show it to you, sir,' she whispered.
'You have this money concealed on your person, but you cannot produce it? Let me ask you a question. If you went to the lavatory, could you produce it then?'
Tandia said nothing.
'I see, the police know about these things. It is called a body search. Do you know who keeps their money in such a place?'
Again Tandia remained silent.
'Whores! That is the place prostitutes keep their money!'
'It is not what you think!' Tandia blurted out. She was distressed beyond tears. Geldenhuis had completely broken through her defences. If she took the money out of her bloomers right there in front of him, it would prove very little except that she was brazen enough to lift her skirt and put her hand down her pants. In his eyes this would only condemn her further. Tandia turned to look towards the black constable, but he immediately averted his eyes. She was beyond his help.
Geldenhuis lowered himself from the table and walked round to sit on the chair opposite her and called for the black constable to place the typewriter in front of him.
From a drawer in the table he removed a charge sheet and rolled it into the typewriter. He typed 'PATEL, Tandia', deliberately, using only two fingers, stopping when he had completed the two words. He then looked up casually at Tandia. 'Your address, what is your address?' he demanded.
'I have no address, sir,' Tandia replied.
'Vagrant,' the sergeant said, typing out the word slowly using only one finger to select each letter. 'No fixed address,' he said again deliberately pecking out the words on the typewriter. Then he looked up, leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. 'Do you know what I'm doing?' he asked.
As he typed Tandia had tom off a length of toilet paper and blown her nose and attempted to wipe her tears. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen and her pretty little face was bruised and sore. She nodded her head in reply to Geldenhuis.
'I'm charging you with a one seven five, soliciting in a public place.' He shook his head as though regretting the need for what he was doing. 'It's so easy, you know. All you got to do is tell me the truth and you can go.' He cleared his throat, 'Look at me please,' he instructed. Tandia looked up at Geldenhuis across the table. He smiled and spread his hands and turned his palms upwards. 'Just tell me you did it in the cemetery and got paid for it, that's all. I'm a man of my word, just say, "Yes. Yes I did it, sergeant," and we won't lay a charge, you hear. You can leave the station with no police record. You know what it means to have a police record, don't you?'
Tandia's hands were on her lap curled around several messy scrunched balls of toilet paper and now she fixed her eyes on her clenched fists and remained silent. If she told a lie and said she was a whore, she was free, her life could begin again. If she maintained her innocence who was going to believe her? Who would believe that over ten years she had saved every penny, tickey and sixpence she had earned at Patel's printing shop, for getting the lunches for the men or running an errand or writing a letter for someone who couldn't write until she had five pounds of her own? If she admitted the truth, that it was two policeman who had raped her and that Geldenhuis was one of them she would not be alive for long, that was for sure., She was conscious of the white man looking down at her, fixing her with his pale eyes, eyes which she now perceived as more deadly than a snake. Tandia raised her head slowly until she looked
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