The State Vs Anna Bruwer. Anchien Troskie

you might drink it or eat it. Also your laces.”

      I nod.

      “Superintendent Webber says you may have a shower before you go back.”

      “You can shower in the cell.” The superintendent talks to me for the first time. “I’ll see to it that you get toothpaste.”

      I stand still outside the door. I turn around so that I can stare at the three faces. So that I can burn every detail into my memory. Am I doing the right thing? Shouldn’t I . . .?

      No, I mustn’t. I am doing the right thing.

      The constable locks the first gate carefully, leaves the door open. “Shower and get dressed, I don’t have much time.”

      I turn on the tap, the water is cold. Stand shivering and naked under the meagre trickle of water, wash my hair, soap my body. Hold the toothbrush out to the constable so that she can apply some toothpaste. Brush and brush to get the sour taste out of my mouth.

      She hands me the towel. I dry myself, pretend that I do not feel her eyes on my body. Spray deodorant. Dress.

      “Thank you, Constable.”

      She takes the redhead’s gym clothes, holds out her hand for the toiletries and the towel. “I’m going to need them tomorrow,” I protest.

      “Not allowed to keep them. I’ll see that you get them back. Come.”

      She unlocks the cell door, the gate. When she wants to shut the door behind me, I stop her by placing my hand on her arm. She does not draw back, she does not draw her service pistol, she just looks at me with something like sympathy.

      “Are the lights switched off at night?” I ask to make sure.

      “No,” she answers softly. “Here it never gets completely dark.”

      That’s good, I don’t like the dark.

      When I lie down on the mattress again, this time with everything, even my tackies, on, I allow myself to cry for the first time. Allow myself to hope for the first time. Tomorrow the lawyer is going to apply for bail.

      Auntie Miriam said, “This time tomorrow you will be home.”