‘All right, all right. Sit down I said. He won’t bite you.’
‘Where do you come from?’ asked Jansen.
Marie said a name he had never heard.
‘It’s not far from Bloemfontein,’ explained Lilla.
‘I went to Bloemfontein once,’ said Marie, offering Jansen this experience. ‘The bioscope there is big. Not like near home.’
‘What is home like?’
‘But it’s small,’ said Marie.
‘What does your father do?’
‘He works on the railway,’ Lilla said quickly.
‘He’s a ganger,’ said Marie, and Lilla rolled her eyes up and sighed.
Jansen had seen the gangers’ cottages, the frail little shacks along the railway lines, miles from any place, where the washing flapped whitely on the lines over patches of garden, and the children ran out to wave to the train that passed shrieking from one wonderful fabled town to the next.
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