Our Lives
A glamorous woman had come to live with us, but it wasn’t until decades later that I learnt the truth about her.
Pushing open the door, I felt excited to be home again. It was 1952, and my mum Blanche and I had just returned from a holiday to the UK.
It was where Mum and my dad Victor were from, but they’d emigrated to Cape Town in South Africa before I was born.
Mum was homesick, however, so Dad had sent us back for a visit and, at the age of three, I’d met some of my relatives for the first time.
I’d loved it, but I was happy to see Dad again.
But as I bounded inside our bungalow, a woman I didn’t know appeared.
‘This is Connie, sweetheart,’ Dad said.
I took in her sparkling eyes, wide smile and glossy hair, and she bent down to my level.
‘I’ve heard all about you,’ she said.
Her glamour was mesmerising but Mum didn’t seem impressed. She barged straight past, saying nothing to Connie, and stomped into her bedroom.
I learnt that Connie and her boyfriend had known Mum and Dad in the UK, but she was now single and here for a holiday. Only, weeks went by and, instead of going home, she got a job and settled into the guest bedroom.
While Mum ran the household, Connie lounged outside in the garden with me, sunbathing and sipping on ice-cold beer.
Her bubbly personality was the opposite of Mum’s quieter, gentle character.
But she seemed to spark something in Mum and I overheard rows between her and Dad.
‘Why is she still here?’ Mum would ask.
Connie wasn’t simply a guest.
She came with us everywhere.
On the beach I sandwiched myself between her and Mum, and she’d race me across the sand.
She became my favourite playmate.
When Dad’s work held dinner-dances, both Mum and Connie dressed up in elegant gowns to accompany him.
I even saw a photo of Dad sitting between them, all of them smiling into the camera.
But despite her smiles, I sensed Mum was deeply unhappy.
When we went out shopping, just her and me, she became wracked with nerves.
‘Sit here, Mum, I’ll get everything,’ I’d say.
When I was eight, Dad told me: ‘Your mum is going into hospital for a while.’
She’d suffered a nervous breakdown.
I missed her so much and, when she came back home, I could tell that the underlying unhappiness remained.
When I turned 14, we left South Africa and moved to the UK for Dad’s work. Connie came with us. But if I’d thought that was odd, it soon went out of my head when I met a boy. His name was Chris and when I was 21, we got engaged.
A year later, Mum left Dad and divorced him.
I was shocked, but re
