Open Writing

Aunt Jeanne was married to my father's older brother. My first memory of her was when I was about five years old. That was the year that we moved from Cape Town City Bowl to the seaside.

She made the trip from Johannesburg to Cape Town by train every summer. ostensibly to visit her sister who lived some twenty kilometers away from us but she seemed to spend most of her vacation at our house. She would arrive on the suburban train about 10.30 a.m., unload her parcels and then proceed to the beachfront for a stroll "to breathe in the fresh air" as she told my mother. Some days she would have a swim and then come back and relate the whole procedure.

My father had three brothers all living in Johannesburg and I know the other two sisters-in-law did not tolerate her very well. She would seat herself at the kitchen table watching my mother preparing meals for the whole brood, regaling her with stories as I once overheard my mother tell my father "that would make your hair stand on end". That is how I remember her - larger than life, eccentric and with a very vivid imagination. In an age where married women were homebirds she dared to be different.

Aunt Jeanne had married my uncle after she finished school at eighteen years old. She bore two children. Her son was a brilliant engineer, now retired, who really messed up his life. He had one son from his first marriage and promptly left his wife of thirty years standing for his secretary. She produced two sons in quick succession but sadly in his old age, he is relegated to the garden cottage of their mansion. His second family does not have very much to do with him and he spends his remaining time with a few old cronies bemoaning his fate.

Wife number one was awarded a small amount of alimony but the second spouse has managed to get her hands on most of his assets and has a very busy lifestyle. After all, she is twenty-five years younger than him.

My aunt's daughter married a man twenty years her senior. He was the editor of a large newspaper and was very well known in journalistic circles at the time. My cousin also became a renowned journalist. Her husband passed away many years ago and she lives quietly at the coast somewhere. She has one son living in England but none of us have heard from her for about twenty years.

My aunt timed her visits to Cape Town in late January and most of February. She would attend classes at Cape Town University's summer school for about a week and my tolerant mother had to listen to repeat lectures of whatever she chose to attend. A prolific writer, she produced countless stories in a large, spidery handwriting. I actually was not aware if she had had anything published. Often, on returning home from school, we would find that she had somehow manoeuvred my mother into her bedroom to listen to her latest epistles.

My aunt and uncle lived in the centre of town in a large, comfortable flat. I stayed with them for a few weeks when I first came to Johannesburg and they were most hospitable. My uncle did all the cooking. Aunt Jeanne could definitely not cook.

I moved to board with family friends in Berea which was near to where I had obtained employment. My aunt went to London to visit family in June 1957. I was engaged at the time. Upon her return she handed me an exquisite silky negligee and gown. On inspecting the label I discovered that it was manufactured in the building where I was working. Apart from visiting their children together my uncle and aunt led completely separate lives. It was a strange marriage but it lasted for almost fifty years until death parted them.

I remember when I was pregnant with my daughter I was working in town as an accountant at one of Syfret's Trust's companies. During the last few months of my pregnancy after work I would walk the one block to my aunt and uncle to wait for my husband to collect me after he finished work in Eloff Street Extension. I found it very uncomfortable climbing on and off the packed peaktime buses at that time.

My aunt was always attired in a long blue dressing gown which she had donned after doing her shopping and morning visits. She told me that she was writing a novel and her son-in-law was going to edit it but I heard nothing further.

Aunt Jeanne passed away about three years after my uncle. She had developed Parkinson's Disease and was then living at Sandringham Gardens. I visited her often. She always spoke about her youth and her ambitions. When she died we were spared a funeral as she left her body to medical research.