Henry Jacquire was my friend and fellow accountant in the little town of Lady Grey, some 60 km from Sterkspruit. “Jack” as we called him, was a real card and a character to boot. He played golf, as Lady Grey had a beautiful little course, with proper greens, fairways and even a clubhouse, unlike what we were accustomed to in Sterkspruit. Some of our better players went there to play but we of the duffer brigade were too ashamed to disport ourselves on a proper golf course, so I never actually saw Jack play.
It happened on a Saturday afternoon. Jack was striding along the fairway, smoking a cigarette, as he so often did. When he arrived at his ball, he was just too lazy to take the fag out and place it on the ground and went ahead and played the ball, the cigarette clenched tightly in his lips. He then walked on a little further and then suddenly his fellow players saw him go down on the ground. In an anguished tone he groaned said, “Kerels, ek dink ek is besig om ‘n hartaanval te kry. Ek het ‘n brandpyn hier oor my hart”. The village doctor, Bob Ballantine happened to be golfing that day and he was nearby and rushed to help Jack. He bent over Jack who was lying on his back, moaning quietly and started emergency treatment.
Almost immediately he stood back up and laughed uproariously. The red hot tip of Jack’s cigarette had broken off as he swung his club and gone into the pocket of his nylon shirt, causing it to smolder and melt. He did indeed have a burning sensation over his heart but it was on the outside of his chest, not the inside.
One of the Mollentze brothers from the Barkly East Reporter newspaper was on the course that day and the incident was reported in their paper, to everybody’s amusement. This delightful story has immortalized Jack in that community and even in some quarters of the old bank – don’t be surprised if you hear a version with slightly different details to mine because many have heard the story and retold it.
While we’re talking about Jack, let’s not forget his good wife, Marie. Marie also worked in the bank before they were married but at Lady Grey she was a fulltime mother with their first lad.
I’ve always rated Marie as one of the most perspicacious wives I’ve ever met. There was no snooker table in Sterkspruit but the Mountain View Hotel in Lady Grey had one. So one afternoon 7 of us of the Sterkspruit Froth Blowers Society decided to drive through to Lady Grey for a few games. To make up two teams, we invited Jack to join us. He was a good, solid family man, not a barfly like the majority of us were but we convinced him that we were there for some innocent fun, not serious drinking (Heavens, he must have been naïve!) so that Marie wouldn’t gate him.
Right after work, we piled into two cars and made for the Mountain Shadows. We soon set up the balls and a round of Castles and off we went. While four played, the others watched, chatted and commented on the quality of play. We might have lacked snooker skills but we had an abundance of enthusiasm and as the evening wore on, we became merrier and wiser. Even Jack had wrapped himself around a couple of beers and was full of bull. Come nearly ten o’clock, closing time we had an excellent buzz going but boy, we were hungry. That’s when Jack spoke what I thought would definitely be his last words : “Kom manne, kom na my huis toe. Ek gaan my vrou wakker maak dat sy vir ons kos kan maak.” We demurred at this apparently suicidal suggestion but our hunger overcame our objections and we all went down and stumbled into his house.
That’s when Marie showed her true colours, her patience and her foresight. She was in bed but shouted out, “Daar’s ‘n pot Kerrie en rys op die stoof, genoeg vir almal. Help julleself – moet net nie raas en die kind wakker maak nie”. The ladies now reading this should gauge their own reactions to their tipsy husbands bringing home a gang of drunken bachelor pals unexpectedly and you’ll know why I (And indeed, all the guys) rated Marie as the most fantastic wife I’d ever met.
I can’t begin to describe how wonderful that plate of food was – just a magnificent end to a pleasantly sociable evening.
Marie jou doring, jy was definitief goud werd en ek hoop daai stomme Jack waardeer jou nog steeds.
Just a last word about silly old Jack: His branch had 3 on the staff and one day when I phoned him, his manager was away. So mystified I asked who posted the General Ledger and Jack replied that he did. But who checked his work then and he replied that HE did. I laughingly wanted to know how he did that and he told me that he posted the GL when he arrived in the morning and then at midday, he’d get the book out and carefully check it as well.
Seems it happened fairly often but that he’d not caught himself out yet. Bloody fool! I can still guffaw at the silly mental picture I have of Jack creeping up on the GL, trying to catch himself out. The arrangement rather flies in the face of the traditional bank maker/checker control, does it not?
Great story, as always! Man, she was a wife "duisend"!