Martine The Girl in the Shadows

By Martine Lachambre

This extraordinary and gritty memoir shares the unimaginable and cruel home life Martine endured while growing up in South Africa in the 1970s and 1980s.

 

Martine was the forgotten, unwanted child who lived in isolation within her family. All she wanted was to be loved by them. Whenever she came close to being adopted and loved, it was cruelly snatched away from her in a brutal way. Martine was often locked out alone and hungry and slept overnight in the doorway of her home, fearing the shadows and vulnerable to the evils of the night. Martine's childhood was filled with broken innocence and emotional pain, but her spirit was never broken.

 

This narrative bursts with the young Martine's courage, resilience, and determination to navigate herself to a safe life. The writing is eloquent and compelling. With her bravery leaping from each page, the decision to share her story showcases that however traumatic one phase of life is, it does not have to become the blueprint for the future!

 

Author:

I have written my book in the third person in a novel format. It took me three years to write this honest and true account of my childhood; I wanted the reader to feel what little Martine felt in every situation. I never thought I had so much to write about until I finished it. It was emotionally challenging as I relived each experience in my book, and from the reviews so far, I think I did a good job. I have never let my childhood define who I was and who I am now!

x Martine x

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lexi Publishers
• Release date: May 11, 2024
• ISBN: 9781399976855

Book preview

Chapter 1

In 1955, in Belgium , Ferdinand Lachambre had fallen in love with Jacqueline, a beautiful 18-year-old girl. Jacqueline was a pretty, petite young woman with brown curly hair, big blue eyes, and generous lips with a constant pout but with a smile to brighten the dullest day. Their romance was hot and steamy, and their love was deep. Ferdinand had found the love of his life and wanted to marry her. He knew her father, Julian Timmerman, was a well-respected businessman in Charleroi who owned a bar and a taxi business. He was a tough man, a man you do not cross, but Ferdinand just had to ask for her hand in marriage.

His heart was in his throat as he knocked on the Timmerman front door, but he was determined to win the love of his life. A middle-aged lady answered the door.       Bonjour, can I help you?

I have come to see Monsieur Timmerman, Ferdinand muttered.

She led him into the living room, where Monsieur Timmerman sat on a chair.

Sit down. Can I help you? he said in a deep voice, almost a grunt.

Monsieur, I’m in love with Jaqueline and want to marry her, and I am asking for your permission, Ferdinand asked in a barely audible voice.

Speak up boy! bellowed Monsieur Timmerman.

Monsieur, I’m in love with Jaqueline and want to marry her, and I am asking for your permission, he repeated, loudly this time.

Ahh, you want to marry Jacqueline, my only daughter. You are not man enough for my Jacqueline; she’s a feisty girl and needs a real man. Now, if you want to marry my daughter, you need to prove you are a real man!

Ferdinand looked down, not knowing what to say.

You see that photo? Julian pointed to a photograph of a young man wearing a flat, round-peaked cap.

Yes, Monsieur, Ferdinand replied, looking at the photograph.

That’s me when I was in the French Foreign Legion. Now, that will make you a man. If you want to marry my daughter, then you have to join the Legion, and when you come back, you can marry her.

Yes, Monsieur, Ferdinand muttered.

I’ll see you in five years, Monsieur Timmerman bellowed and got up and left the room.

Ferdinand stood up and looked around, not sure where the front door was that he entered.

You can leave now, the lady said, opening the door for him.

Ferdinand turned and almost ran out of the door; he was angry and upset; he loved Jacqueline, and his dreams had just been shattered.

Devastated, Ferdinand walked home slowly, his head hung down. He contemplated his future without her in the darkness, a scenario he couldn’t face. That night, he couldn’t sleep; his mind filled with thoughts of her, her laughter, her beauty, and her touch. The following day, Ferdinand waited for Jacqueline at their meeting place by the bridge in the town. After waiting for what seemed like hours, she ran up to his with tears in her eyes.

My father said you went to see him, and now he won’t let me see you again, she sobbed. Her heart was breaking. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, feeling her heart breaking as she sobbed even louder in his arms.

I cannot disobey him. He is sending me away to a finishing school in Switzerland. I can’t see you again. He knows everybody in the town and says if I see you or try to run away with you, he will find me and kill me!

I love you; I love you, choked Ferdinand.

He said if you join the French Foreign Legion and make it back, he won’t stand in our way, but I don’t want you to go. My father told me stories about the Legion, and it’s dangerous.

I must. I love you so much; without you, my life is not worth living. You are my life. Ferdinand looked into her eyes. Will you wait for me, my love?

I’ll wait for you until the end of time; I love you, Jacqueline promised.

Today, I will say my goodbyes, and tomorrow, I go to Paris to join the Legion. I love you with all my heart. I will think of our love every day and every night until I come back to claim my darling Jacqueline.

Jacqueline pulled herself out of his arms.

I must go, my darling; my father does not know I am here.

I will love you forever, Ferdinand. Jacqueline walked away, tears streaming down her face, her heart broken.

Ferdinand watched her until he could no longer see her; his heart was also broken. If he did not go to the Legion, he would lose her forever; if he joined the Legion, she would be his. His mind was made up.

The next day, Ferdinand made his way to Paris, knocked on the door of the French Foreign Legion office, and signed on for five years. He was now a soldier in the Legion, where a man is pushed to his absolute limits mentally and physically. The basic training is hard and brutal, and only the best survive it. The Legion is about making hard men more challenging and lives changed – they were given a new name and identity, and their past is forgotten for five years. They become part of a fighting machine where nothing but the Legion matters. It consisted of haunted men from around the world, fighting anywhere and dying for causes that weren’t their own.

They are loyal to the Legion, not the country. The motto was Legion, Patria Nostra – the legion is your fatherland. Life is sparse, hard, and brutal, and hunger is never far away. Everything was provided - food, drink, clothing, shelter, and lots of alcohol, but the Legion owned your body, heart and soul. Some might even say the Legion was a legendary bunch of narcissistic alcoholics who were highly trained killers.

Ferdinand returned from the French Foreign Legion in March 1960 after serving five years to claim his beautiful Jacqueline. He looked for her in Charleroi and asked in all the local bars to find out if anyone knew where she was. Finally, he found her serving customers in one of the bars. When he walked in, Jacqueline was too busy to notice him.

Jacqueline! he called out, his heart pounding in his chest.

This was the moment he had dreamed of for five years. Jacqueline looked up and ran around the bar straight into his arms, tears streaming down her face. No words were said as they clung to each other. Their reunion was sweet and tender as if they’d never been apart. Ferdinand was no longer the boy she remembered but was now a short, stocky, muscular man with short brown hair and brown eyes that could see right through you, narrow and sullen-looking.

Jaqueline was single and had a little girl, a beautiful child with golden curls and the bluest of eyes.  While this did not hinder Ferdinand in his quest to marry her, he later decided he didn't want to bring up another man’s child and insisted.

Jacqueline chooses between her daughter and him. Jaqueline chose the latter, taking her two-year-old to her father, explaining she didn’t want the child, and if he didn’t take her, then she would put her in an orphanage and she would be put up for adoption.

The child’s father was shocked that a mother could desert her own daughter, but he could not see his child being put in an orphanage with the nuns, so he took her in to live with his family, his wife, and sons. This put a lot of strain on the family, and soon after, his wife left him. He was left to bring his little girl up on his own.

Jaqueline never visited or saw her little girl again, even though she lived in the same town for several years afterward; it was as if her daughter had never existed.

On August 3rd, 1961, Jacqueline and Ferdinand got married. Nine months later, on May 8th, 1962, Mireille (pronounced 'mee-ray') was born in Charleroi, Belgium.

Ferdinand found it difficult living in Charleroi as there were always murmurings about Jackie’s past, having an illegitimate child that she had deserted, which made him uncomfortable.

He got into many a brawl, standing up for his wife’s honour against a taunting drunkard. Work in the coal mines was scarce in Belgium, and wages were low. Ferdinand decided the best thing he could do for his family was to look for work elsewhere and leave Belgium. He decided to apply for jobs in Australia and South Africa, and South Africa came up with the first offer, including a house and a good wage. The decision was made, and the family of three were on their way to Westonaria, South Africa, arriving on January 5th, 1965, to start a new life together. Soon, the dream turned into a nightmare.

It was a calm winter's day in the middle of June 1967, and the sun was bright for the time of year.  Mireille, a smaller-than-average 5-year-old with long dark hair tied back with a bright red ribbon, was used to playing on her own, as she didn’t know any other little girls in the area.

She was playing at the bottom of the large garden, under an enormous tree, in the bright South African sun. Mireille had built a castle out of stones and sand; she was the princess with a beautiful queen as her mother and a handsome king as her kind father.

A little dolly was her queen, a teddy was her king, and a little baby doll was her princess. The king and queen were very happy and loved each other, with lots of hugs and kisses. The queen stretched both arms and gave her princess the tightest hug ever.

The king then came over and gave her, his princess, a slow hug full of love and kindness. The little castle was full of happiness and love, and the sun shone on the stones like gold glistening in the sun, and the sand shimmered. 

Suddenly, shouting and screaming echoed through the garden from inside the small miner’s house. Mireille put her hands over her ears to deafen the noise. Her heart started beating fast, and she could feel it thumping in her little chest – the feeling of absolute fear and terror swept through her. She had tears streaming down her face but had learned it was best to stay in the garden and block the noise out until it was calm again, and she was called in by her mother.

Jacqueline was wearing a bright orange and brown A-line knee-length dress and flat brown shoes. She had been in Westonaria for 18 months, living in a gold mining town full of miners’ houses with her husband and daughter, and she only spoke French.

She hadn’t had the opportunity to learn to speak either of the local languages - English or Afrikaans. Her life was isolated, and Ferdinand had become an extremely possessive man, not letting her leave the house without him. Most of her day was spent cleaning, washing, ironing, and cooking at home.

Ferdinand had large, calloused hands, used to hard manual labour as a miner in Western Deep Mine, the deepest gold mine in the world. Every day, he would descend 3.9 kilometres in a shaft lift in total darkness. It was claustrophobic, noisy, and very dusty work, with just a little light from the safety helmet. It was dirty, hard physical work, and as a fitter and turner, he would be constructing, fitting, repairing, and maintaining large machinery in the depths of the mine.

The dream of starting a new life in sunny South Africa was short-lived, and life was not the fairy tale the couple had thought it would be. It was hard work, and Ferdinand found working with people he didn’t understand was more difficult than he envisaged.

Miners were often in huddles laughing and joking; were they laughing at him? Working in the abyss was hard work, and he felt excluded and very alone. Coming from the Legion, where it was 'one for all and all for one,' Ferdinand missed the camaraderie.

He was a man of few words when sober but felt the need to drink when he got home from work to cope with the stress. A bottle of wine was always within reach. The more alcohol he consumed, the more neurotic and aggressive he became. He was extremely possessive of Jacqueline and expected her to be at his beck and call 24/7. She wasn’t allowed to speak to any man without his permission and only in his presence.

Little Mireille sat in the back garden on her haunches with her hands over her ears and eyes tight shut, waiting for the screaming and shouting to stop. She couldn’t understand a word being shouted but could tell it wasn’t nice. Ferdinand was screaming:

What took so long at the shop? Who was that man you were talking to? You’re fucking him, aren’t you? Grabbing Jacqueline by the hair, he dragged her to the bedroom.

I’ll show you. I’ll show you what happens when you fuck around. He pushed her onto the bed, punched her in the face, lifted her dress, and raped her.

No! No! I didn’t, I promise you, she whimpered.

Shut up, you whore! I’ll show you what you deserve! The rape was quick and brutal.

Stop crying, or I’ll give you something to cry for, woman, bellowed Ferdinand.

She went to the bathroom, cleaned herself up, and brushed her hair to look respectable for her little girl. She took a deep breath; crying would make him angrier.

What had happened to Ferdinand? He used to be such a kind man. What hate has filled his heart now? Life was good in Belgium; he never raised his hand to her; he couldn’t find a job, and as a proud man, he needed to work to earn his keep. Within a week of starting the job in the mines, he started drinking and became an aggressive evil monster! She thought I couldn’t go back to Belgium; he would never let me go, and I have nobody in Belgium.

Jacqueline’s father had kicked her out when she fell pregnant out of wedlock, and her mother had died when she was nine years old. She didn’t have any siblings; there was nobody in Belgium for her.  Jacqueline had no friends and no family to speak of and was stuck in South Africa with a ghost of the man she married.

She quietly prayed for God to give her strength for her little girl. Taking another deep breath, she made her way to Mireille and sat with her in the back garden.

The next morning, a remorseful Ferdinand hugged Jacqueline gently, telling her how much he loved her and that he was very sorry about what had happened. He loved her so much. He couldn’t bear to have another man look at her as she was his beautiful girl. What have I done? Ferdinand questioned himself. Every time, it breaks my heart to see what I have done to my Jacqueline when I see the bruises.  

Why did I decide to come to this God-forsaken country? The work in the mine was hard, physical work, but he could cope with that. What he could not cope with was the local miners, always sniggering, staring, and laughing at him. When he needed anything and tried to talk to them, they mimicked him, pretending they couldn't understand him, and shrugged their shoulders.

Occasionally, one of the men would come over and help. Every day, it got harder and harder, but he had a family to look after and no option of going back to Belgium.

You are a Legionnaire; you have gone 36 hours without sleep, gone hungry for days, and lived on the edge of life, but you always had your comrades, and alcohol was the reward at the end of an exercise. Here, you are alone; you work on your own. At the end of the day, there is alcohol, the only pleasure I have left, he thought to himself.

When he was sober, he was a kind and gentle man, but unfortunately, after a day of working in a stressful environment, the wine was never far.

Six weeks later, Jacqueline discovered she was pregnant. She didn’t want the child because it was a child spawned by the drunken devil who raped her. She kept it quiet until she started to show. Ferdinand was happy to have another child; maybe it will be a boy, a boy he could be sure was his. Mireille always looked at him with fear, and he never felt much of a connection with her, his own daughter - or was she his daughter?

Life did not change much for Jacqueline in Westonaria, a routine of beatings and regret in the morning and gentle apologies.   After one particularly bad beating, Jacqueline went to Krugersdorp Hospital and, soon after she arrived, was rushed straight into the operating theatre for an emergency caesarean at seven months pregnant.

The baby would be premature; this was its only chance of survival. A little girl was born on February 8th, 1968, a very small baby with no hair, eyelashes, eyebrows, or nails, who comfortably fitted into a shoe box. They named her Martine.

Martine was a tiny bundle of tears; she cried constantly, and Jacqueline didn’t have time for the baby. She didn’t want another child; she didn’t want little Martine, a consequence of being raped, who represented all the pain she had endured.

Ferdinand doted on the baby, which infuriated her even more. Mireille didn’t want this baby sister either and refused to look at or acknowledge her. All the baby did was cry and cry.

Ferdinand employed a maid, Virginia, to look after baby Martine, who didn’t want to drink or eat; she just cried, and Virginia would spend hours getting some nourishment into her and carrying her on her back most of the day to keep her from crying.

Martine was christened in the local Catholic church at a few months old - it was important for Ferdinand as he was a staunch Catholic. Mireille regularly attended Sunday school and had her first Holy Communion with her family present. It was a proud day for the family - Jacqueline and Ferdinand were dressed to the nines and had a get-together after the service to celebrate the event.

Ferdinand had bought Martine a bright red tricycle for her 2nd birthday. She loved it and would spend hours in the garden pedalling backward and forwards as fast as she could. Mireille, her nine-year-old sister, didn’t play with her, so she got used to playing on her own.

One day, the little girl cycled into a nest of red ants, and they crawled all over her. She screamed and screamed, and suddenly, her sister Mireille was dragging her indoors, where her mother stripped off her clothes, got rid of all the ants, and dressed her again. 

Ahh, Martine, you are a very naughty girl! If you go into the ants again, I will smack your bottom! Jacqueline yelled with a stern look, thinking what an irritating child she was.

She never listened, never ate her food, and cried all the time. The next day, Jacqueline heard her screaming again and felt her anger rise.

Mireille, Mireille, can you go get Martine? She is screaming again!

Mireille came running to her mother.

She’s in the ants again! I don’t want to get bitten, Mommy.

I don’t care; just get that brat in. The neighbours will think we are beating her!

Mireille dutifully went to get Martine, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her up the garden path into the house.

Oh, Martine, what did I tell you before? If you go into the ants again, I’ll smack you. Jacqueline grabbed her arm, swung her around, and gave her a firm smack on her bottom. The little girl started crying even louder.  

Jacqueline took her to the bedroom, stripped her, and roughly changed her clothes. Little Martine was still crying and snivelling, so her mother shut her in the room and told her not to come out until she had stopped crying.

This was the most attention she’d received from her mother and sister. This became a daily occurrence, to the annoyance of her sister and mother. They never did understand why she kept doing it.

One bright sunny day, Martine was playing outside in the garden, happily pottering around and playing with her tricycle. Her happiness soon turned to terror, and she was screaming her head off,

Mireille thought it was great fun to flick grasshoppers onto her with a stick. When the grasshopper landed on her, Martine would scream hysterically. Jacqueline would run out to see what was happening, and Mireille would say:

Don’t worry, Mommy, she’s just being a cry-baby again.

Grabbed by the arm, Martine would be put in her bedroom, her mother yelling:

Don’t come out until you are finished crying. You are such a cry-baby.

Martine was a very quiet soul, but tears were never far away. The only people who showed her love and affection were Virginia and her father when he was not drunk.

One evening, Ferdinand came home from work drunk, and dinner wasn’t ready when he walked through the front door. He grabbed Jaqueline by her hair and threw her to the floor, beating her before going into the bathroom. Jacqueline knew the beating wouldn’t stop, so she grabbed Mireille and ran down the road to the church, where she knew Ferdinand wouldn't dare lift his hand to her.

Mommy, what about Martine? Mireille cried.

Don’t worry about her; she’ll be fine; he won’t hurt her.

Ferdinand knew she would go to the church, so he wouldn’t follow her. He eventually went to bed and fell asleep just before midnight.

Soon after that, Jackie and Mireille returned, and once again in the morning, he would be full of remorse and apologise profusely. 

Ferdinand had met an Italian man in their local neighbourhood; they became firm friends. He had also followed work to South Africa and lived a few houses down.   At first, it was a bit of respite away from home for Ferdinand, but eventually, he spent a lot of time there and would come home late and go to sleep.

After a while, he started smoking cannabis with him and became more and more neurotic, regularly dragging Jacqueline out of bed in the middle of the night for a beating, accusing her of sleeping around and cheating on him.

Jacqueline knew if this carried on, he would kill her. She decided enough was enough after one particularly bad beating. She waited until he was fast asleep, roused the two little girls, and dressed them as warmly as possible, as it was winter and very cold outside. She told them to be very quiet and wait for her as she took blankets and pillows to the family car.

The fleeing family made their way in the darkness to the car. Jaqueline made a bed for the girls in the back seat of the car, making sure they were warm and comfortable. Her heart pounded, and her mouth was dry as she slipped into the driver’s seat. Jacqueline started the car and slowly drove into the darkness, aimlessly for a few hours, finally parking opposite a shop where there was a little bit of light, which made her feel safer. Jacqueline had no idea what she was going to do tomorrow or the next day; she just knew she had to leave, and after what seemed hours, she finally fell asleep in the car. 

Early the following morning, the shopkeeper arrived to open his shop. He noticed Jacqueline’s car and decided to go and have a look. In the car was a woman fast asleep on the driver’s side with her head resting on her arms on the steering wheel.

He noticed she had bruising to the side of her face. In the back seat were two little girls snuggled in blankets and pillows. The smallest little girl looked up at him with big, sad eyes and then looked down again.

He decided the best thing to do was to call the police. When they arrived, Jacqueline and the girls were still fast asleep. A policeman knocked on the window, and Jacqueline jumped. She could feel her heart beating in her chest, and for a second, she was confused, then suddenly, it dawned on her where she was.

She looked backward to check if her girls were there; they were fine, both looking at her with big, questioning eyes. Jacqueline wound the window down.

Are you alright, Miss? Can I help you? asked the policeman.

Mireille had been attending school and learning to speak English, so she answered the question.

My mother doesn’t speak English, only French. My father beat her, and we ran away. We have nowhere to go. Mireille told him in a matter-of-fact, mature manner for a 9-year-old.

He could see this little family was in trouble and was obviously running away from an abusive relationship. 

Do you want to go back home, and I can accompany you? the policeman asked.

Mireille translated what he said, and Jaqueline shook her head, wagging her finger side to side, saying determinedly,   No, no, home!

Do you have family and friends we can take you to? the policeman asked.

Jacqueline hung her head and slowly shook it.

Okay, I’ll have to take you to the Welfare office in Johannesburg to see if they can help you. Is that okay? the policeman said gently; he didn’t want to frighten them.

Mireille translated once again, and Jaqueline looked the policeman in his eyes.  

Yes, she said.

He hadn’t realised how beautiful she was with big blue eyes and took a double take.

Just follow me, he said.

Getting into his car, he was thinking to himself, what a sad little family. The mother had clearly been assaulted, the older girl seemed quite confident, and the little girl just looked so innocent with huge, sad eyes, not saying a word. I am sure the Welfare will help them.

When they got there, it was a bland square building; Jacqueline parked in the parking lot in front, and as the policeman opened the car door for her to get out, she motioned to the girls to come with her.  They both slowly climbed out and looked up at the building, following their mother as she walked towards a big red door.

An elderly lady answered the door, who immediately recognised the family was in trouble.

Come in, she said, opening the door wide.

She listened to the policeman’s report; it was nothing new to her. The paperwork was done, and the girls were admitted to the St Mary's Orphanage in Johannesburg. Mireille was taken by the hand by another lady who worked there and led away to a dormitory with 12 beds, six on each side.

This is your bed; wait here, the lady pointed to a bed.

Mireille sat down, looking around. It was a very sparse room with plain white walls.

Meanwhile, the elderly lady took Martine to the other side of the building to another large dormitory where there were rows of cots, picked her up, and put her in a cot, telling her to be a good little girl and to wait there.

The two girls didn’t see their mother again for a long time. Life was very difficult for Mireille.

She was no longer an individual, just a name; she could have just been a number in their minds. Her mother had disappeared, and she didn’t know where she was - she missed her terribly.

The food was so different from what she was used to. She was forced to clear her plate every meal but eventually got used to it.

You have wet the bed again, Mireille! You will not have play time this afternoon, Auntie Sarie shouted at her.   Mireille just stood there looking at the floor with tears rolling down her cheeks, not making a sound. All the other girls were staring at her; some felt sorry for her, others didn’t care.

All she could think of was her mother and wondering where she was. When will she come and get me? Her heart was breaking; she wanted to go home.

Little Martine was back in nappies and didn’t look at anybody or communicate with the staff; she didn’t understand what they were saying; she only understood French. She was a very quiet little girl who spent a lot of time sitting mindlessly in her cot. At mealtimes, she was put in a highchair, and food was placed in front of her. She would stare at the food but did not attempt to eat any of it until the staff coaxed her into taking a few mouthfuls. 

Her heart was broken; she was scared alone and wanted her mother and her sister. Where were they? She waited and waited, but they never came. She didn’t want to leave her cot; it was her safe place away from everybody. She didn’t want to eat their food; she wanted her Mommy’s food.

She wanted her Daddy to give her a gentle hug, but he never came.

Two big hands grabbed her, picked her up, laid her down on a table to change her nappy, and dressed her for the day. Little Martine lay quietly and let the lady dress her, not looking at her. 

Every day in the afternoon, the carers put the toddlers outside to play in the back garden. Martine missed her little red tricycle, and there were no toys to play with.

One day, she saw Mireille on the other side of the fence; she ran up to it, grabbing it with both hands and calling her sister.   Minna, Minnay. It was a desperate cry, almost a scream; tears streamed down her face.

A lady picked her up and took her to her cot, leaving her to cry alone.   Mireille had seen her sister calling her just as she had taken her away. Mireille couldn’t get there in time to speak to her and asked if she could visit her little sister in the baby dormitory. She was told a firm no, but maybe on the weekend.

From that day onwards, as soon as little Martine was in the garden, she ran straight to the fence looking for her sister, and if she saw her, she would call her as loud as she could in tears. She desperately wanted her but would get taken back to her cot.

One day, there was a loud banging on the front door of St Mary’s Orphanage. As the door was opened, a man barged through, nearly knocking the lady who answered the door off her feet.

Where are they? Where are my children? Where is my family? I want to see them now!

He was desperately yelling with a strong French accent, running around opening doors one at a time and peering in.

Can I help you, sir? Auntie Sarie asked and then louder:

Can I help you, sir? Finally shouting:

Can I help you, sir? He turned and looked at her.

Come, let us go to my office so we can talk, she said firmly.

I know you have them, she told me. Where are they? I want to see them now!  

He was getting angrier and angrier.

I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t know who you are. Who are your children? Auntie Sarie asked calmly.

I’m the father of Martine and Mireille Lachambre; I’ve come to get my girls.

I’m sorry you cannot see them right now. It needs to be arranged.

I want to see them now.

Martine heard her Pappa shouting and desperately tried to climb out of her cot, screaming for him.

Pappa! Pappa! Pappa! she repeatedly cried, tears streaming down her face, her little arms outstretched, waiting for him to pick her up.

On the other hand, Mireille was petrified of her father, and she sat quietly on her bed in her dormitory, not drawing any attention to herself. Suddenly, Ferdinand pulled a gun from a holster on his hip and started waving it around.

I want to see my children now!

One of the staff members managed to slip away to call the police.

Come to my office; I need to check where the girls are. Come, let’s go look, Auntie Sarie calmly encouraged him.

Ferdinand's life began falling apart the day after Jackie and the girls left. He’d woken up to find his wife and children gone. He was frantic, looking for them, running straight to the church and banging on the door loudly. The priest opened the door and immediately recognised him.

Can I help you? he asked.

I’m looking for my family, my wife and children. Are they here?

I’m sorry, but they aren’t here, said the priest, inviting him in. Ferdinand was crying now.

Do you know where they are? I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I love them!

Only God can forgive you, the priest told him, You must pray and ask God for His mercy.

Please pray with me, Father? Ferdinand pleaded.

You must confess your sins first, the priest insisted, you can come back at 4 pm for confession. I can’t help you now.

Ferdinand left, saying he’d return later. He slowly walked home, his mind trying to grasp the enormity of what had happened. They were gone, and he didn’t know where they were. 

Back home, he sat at the kitchen table and drank himself into oblivion. The day came and went; Ferdinand had lost all concept of time and was passed out on the sofa. He never made it to confession.

The following day, he woke up, and everything returned to him. He was alone; his family was gone. He looked around for another bottle of wine, even though his head was pounding, his mouth was dry, and his eyes were burning and swollen from his drunken crying.

The front door opened at that moment, and Jacqueline came in with two policemen.

Jacqueline, I’m so sorry, ma Cherie, I love you, he declared.

I’ve had it with you and your empty apologies; I’ve come to collect mine and the girls’ belongings, she said coldly.

I love you, and I love my girls. Please come back. I’ll never hurt you again; I promise I’ll stop drinking.  I’ll do anything you ask me to do, ma Cherie, he begged.

Please, please don’t go. Where are the girls? 

They are safe. They’re in an orphanage in Johannesburg, far enough from you. You will never see them again, she sneered.

Jacqueline collected all their belongings and left the house without looking back.

He went into the office with Auntie Sarie with the promise of seeing his girls, still pointing the gun at her.

I just need to check my register to see where they are, she said shakily.

Don’t mess with me, old lady; I want to see my girls now. They are my children.

At that moment, a voice at the office door shouted,

Drop the gun. Drop the gun, or we’ll shoot.  

It was the police. Ferdinand knew he’d lost the battle. He put his gun on the table and turned. The police officers rushed forward and grabbed him, handcuffing his arms behind his back and placing him under arrest. Ferdinand was taken to the local police station and charged with attempted kidnapping and, after 24 hours, was released pending a court hearing.

He made his way home, buying alcohol on the way. Ferdinand knew he would never see them again. He’d lost his beautiful Jacqueline; what had he become? A monster, but how did it happen? He sat at the kitchen table and held onto his bottle of wine, gulping it all down quickly.

Tears were pouring down his face; there was no reason to live; he had lost it all.

He put the bottle down, picked up a kitchen chair, and walked to his garage. He placed the chair under a roof beam and then stood in the centre of the garage, looking around until he found what he was looking for – a chain.

He climbed on the chair, looped the chain over a wooden beam, and then around his neck.

I’m sorry, ma Cherie, he wept softly.  

God forgive me, then kicked the chair from under his feet.

The chain tightened around his neck, and for a split second, he regretted his action, but it was too late. There was no turning back.

A week after Jacqueline had left, Ferdinand was found hanging in the garage of their house.   Jacqueline moved back into the house to make all the arrangements for Ferdinand’s funeral. She felt free for the first time in a long time, with no husband and no children. She was no longer Jacqueline but Jackie, a new identity, a new life, and she had no intentions of collecting the girls. . .  at least not for a while.