Read Online Reeva: A Mother's Story by June Steenkamp - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: June Steenkamp
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too, and out of the two of us I was always the one more scared about everything.’ With one of her main passions forbidden to her, Reeva channelled more energy into pursuing modelling as a serious option.
Reeva carried that setback around with her for a long time mentally and physically. She was determined to make each day count. She left hospital wearing a made-to-measure surgical corset, a sort of plastic supportive cage which she had to wear every day for months. She had regular physiotherapy and endured a lot of lingering pain, but she worked hard to regain her fitness and perfect posture. After she succeeded in gaining her law qualification at varsity, the first thing she bought was a therapeutic bed. She paid a lot of money for a really good mattress.
Over the next few years she studied during the week, but at weekends she’d spend a lot of her free time up at the stables. She was unable to ride, but working life for Barry and me centred around the horses and the race meeting schedule, and Arlington racecourse was the epicentre of our social lives. In her early twenties, she became close friends with Abigail, who was working as an assistant trainer based at Arlington. I was running my little shop and Reeva would be there sometimes to help me in the spaza or with the catering on race days, or she might be loitering around with Barry. Of course Barry and I were still separated then and his life revolved around his racing community. He lived at Little Chelsea Farm, otherwise known as Barry’s Barn on the Farm, a building in Sardinia Bay which had about fifteen bedrooms. Inside, there was a partition so that Reeva could stay on one side over weekends, and Barry and his apprentice and other trainers and jockeys lived on the other side. There was a huge communal kitchen and living space and when the venue staged a double race meeting – full Friday and Sunday race cards – all the jockeys would stay over. Abigail and Reeva used to have some good parties!
As a mother you’re not always privy to all the details of your daughter’s youthful partying ways, but I’ve since learnt from sharing memories with Abigail that a typical weekend would see these apprentice jockeys and Reeva all pile into Abigail’s little car. They’d go to Toby Jo’s and this dodgy place called Redemption in the old post office in Port Elizabeth that held serious raves. They were big into their weekend raving, but good clean raving. No drugs, no drink. She used to come home sopping wet because the raves had a party cannon that shot out plumes of foam. Abigail was always the designated driver and never used to drink. Reeva hardly ever drank either. The pair of them usually drank tea. The girls had very different lives during the week – Reeva at varsity, Abigail working long hard days in the yard – but they reconnected each weekend to socialise and confide in each other about boys and things. They had the kind of easy friendship where you just pick up exactly where you left off and trust each other implicitly.
At the age of sixteen Reeva had started seeing an apprentice jockey, Wayne Agrella, who was her first serious boyfriend. They were together for six years, and eventually lived together. Another apprentice had asked Wayne to ask Reeva to ask Abigail to come out to supper because he liked her… It was that kind of scene. They were all young and crazy and having fun. And these young jockeys had to be so disciplined to make their weight that they were moody. They had a sort of bad-boy swagger that made them attractive. They were on a constant diet, sweating off the weight and living on lettuce leaves, and that left the heavier ones particularly grumpy, but they were also the heroes – the glamorous guys who risked everything to deliver wins for the trainers. Off duty, they were fun to party with, but they weren’t good romantic partners for the girls. Reeva loved Wayne. She used to cook him steamed fish and vegetables and make him
Reeva carried that setback around with her for a long time mentally and physically. She was determined to make each day count. She left hospital wearing a made-to-measure surgical corset, a sort of plastic supportive cage which she had to wear every day for months. She had regular physiotherapy and endured a lot of lingering pain, but she worked hard to regain her fitness and perfect posture. After she succeeded in gaining her law qualification at varsity, the first thing she bought was a therapeutic bed. She paid a lot of money for a really good mattress.
Over the next few years she studied during the week, but at weekends she’d spend a lot of her free time up at the stables. She was unable to ride, but working life for Barry and me centred around the horses and the race meeting schedule, and Arlington racecourse was the epicentre of our social lives. In her early twenties, she became close friends with Abigail, who was working as an assistant trainer based at Arlington. I was running my little shop and Reeva would be there sometimes to help me in the spaza or with the catering on race days, or she might be loitering around with Barry. Of course Barry and I were still separated then and his life revolved around his racing community. He lived at Little Chelsea Farm, otherwise known as Barry’s Barn on the Farm, a building in Sardinia Bay which had about fifteen bedrooms. Inside, there was a partition so that Reeva could stay on one side over weekends, and Barry and his apprentice and other trainers and jockeys lived on the other side. There was a huge communal kitchen and living space and when the venue staged a double race meeting – full Friday and Sunday race cards – all the jockeys would stay over. Abigail and Reeva used to have some good parties!
As a mother you’re not always privy to all the details of your daughter’s youthful partying ways, but I’ve since learnt from sharing memories with Abigail that a typical weekend would see these apprentice jockeys and Reeva all pile into Abigail’s little car. They’d go to Toby Jo’s and this dodgy place called Redemption in the old post office in Port Elizabeth that held serious raves. They were big into their weekend raving, but good clean raving. No drugs, no drink. She used to come home sopping wet because the raves had a party cannon that shot out plumes of foam. Abigail was always the designated driver and never used to drink. Reeva hardly ever drank either. The pair of them usually drank tea. The girls had very different lives during the week – Reeva at varsity, Abigail working long hard days in the yard – but they reconnected each weekend to socialise and confide in each other about boys and things. They had the kind of easy friendship where you just pick up exactly where you left off and trust each other implicitly.
At the age of sixteen Reeva had started seeing an apprentice jockey, Wayne Agrella, who was her first serious boyfriend. They were together for six years, and eventually lived together. Another apprentice had asked Wayne to ask Reeva to ask Abigail to come out to supper because he liked her… It was that kind of scene. They were all young and crazy and having fun. And these young jockeys had to be so disciplined to make their weight that they were moody. They had a sort of bad-boy swagger that made them attractive. They were on a constant diet, sweating off the weight and living on lettuce leaves, and that left the heavier ones particularly grumpy, but they were also the heroes – the glamorous guys who risked everything to deliver wins for the trainers. Off duty, they were fun to party with, but they weren’t good romantic partners for the girls. Reeva loved Wayne. She used to cook him steamed fish and vegetables and make him
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