There was a deeply disturbing incident that occurred around this time, one I wish I could erase from family history entirely. But it happened, and its poison has been seeping through our relationships ever since.
By 1995 or '96, Briony had been living in London for some time in the beautiful Chelsea house John Bredenkamp had bought for her—a freestanding property on Lamont Road that most people could only dream of. But I think she missed family. When Niels told her that Matthew, now seven or eight, "couldn't even catch a ball" and needed a healthier environment than London prep schools, she decided to return to South Africa.
She moved in with Niels and Carey in White River for several months while John arranged to build her a house on the same estate. Matthew would attend Uplands with his cousins—a sensible plan that seemed to work well initially.
But Carey isn't the easiest person in the world, and frictions began showing. Terry and I would visit often, staying over for weekends before driving back to Lydenburg. It was after one such visit that the incident occurred.
We'd driven home on a Sunday afternoon. Tired, I went for my usual siesta. Terry woke me with a cup of tea and an ominous expression.
"I need to show you something," she said. "And you're not going to like it."
"What are you talking about?"
"Carey gave me a present when we left."
"That's nice of her."
"Look."
She handed me a small silver picture frame designed for passport-sized photos. I opened it and felt sick to my stomach. Inside was a photograph of Briony—with her eyes blacked out with a koki pen.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I immediately grabbed the phone and called Niels.
"What the fuck is Carey thinking, giving Terry a photo like that?"
"Oh, get over it," he said dismissively. "Relax. It's just a joke."
Just a joke. My sister's face defaced like some kind of voodoo doll, and it was just a joke.
I was furious. More than that—I was disturbed. Who does something like that? What kind of mind thinks that's amusing?
I swore Terry to secrecy. "Please don't ever let Briony know you saw this or that it even happened. Let's just forget it, put it out of our minds."
That's how it stayed for years. But secrets have a way of getting out, don't they? And when this one eventually did, it poisoned relationships that have never recovered.
I still can't fathom what possessed Carey to do such a thing. Or why Niels thought it was acceptable. The image of my sister's photograph, mutilated like that, has never left me. Some "jokes" reveal more about the person telling them than they ever intended.