The Moon Sister

by Lucinda Riley

  ‘Nein, liebling. You must stay in bed and rest.’

  It was obvious that Charlie had been in contact with Ma, and both my carers irritatingly insisted on following his advice to the hilt and beyond – I’d been forbidden to leave my bedroom and I’d even had to physically prevent Ma escorting me into my bathroom when I’d first arrived. But as the next week passed and it was obvious I was fighting a losing battle, I capitulated and began to think how I could use the time I had wisely. Angelina always said that everything happened for a reason, and as I pulled all my notes I’d taken in Sacromonte from my rucksack and began to commit them to memory, I decided she’d been right. The process made me ponder how exactly I was meant to use my newfound skills. Was I meant to change my career path completely and set up shop as a full-time herbalist-cum-spiritualist like my ancestors? These days, to practise that kind of thing professionally – whether it was prescribing powerful herbal remedies or laying hands on injured bodies, human or animal – involved having qualifications that showed you knew what you were talking about. Ten days with an ancient Spanish gypsy would not cut the mustard in today’s bureaucratic world. The brujas of the past had treated customers who trusted completely in their gifts; they’d had no need for certificates to confirm the practitioner’s talents.

  I spent many hours staring out of the window at the mountains on the other side of the lake and wondering how I could incorporate what I’d learnt into my work. And the more I thought about it, the more I realised that Chilly might have had a point when he’d declared that I’d chosen the wrong path. Animal conservation was great, but I knew for certain now that I wanted to use my skills on the animals themselves.

  ‘Your power is in your hands, Tiggy,’ I murmured, staring at them earnestly.

  I then thought about Fiona, the way her man-made medicine had seen Thistle recover within a couple of days. And Charlie and Angelina, using both modern and holistic methods to care for me and Ally, and I wondered if there was a way I could combine the two . . .

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I sighed, frustrated that everything had been so straightforward when I was working for Margaret. Animals, fresh Highland air, and busy from dawn to dusk. I went online to have a look at courses that could possibly qualify me in the ‘normal’ world to practise on animals. And to my surprise, found a number of holistic ones, including one in Reiki. And, as Fiona had mentioned, there was a list of alternative veterinary practitioners working in such a way.

  ‘Would I really want to go back to uni to retrain as a vet for all those years?’ I asked myself as I chewed the end of my biro. ‘No!’ I shook my head in frustration. ‘I’d be an old lady by the time I came out, and besides, I don’t want to cut them up and study the inner workings of their lymphatic system. There has to be another way . . .’

  As I grew physically stronger, I found myself wide awake at night. So, after Ma had been in to take my blood pressure and say goodnight, and I’d heard her walk softly down the corridor to her suite of rooms, I gave her half an hour to fall asleep before I rose from the bed and began to prowl around the house. The first time I’d felt the urge to do this, I thought that it was simply because I had cabin fever, but as I got up night after night to resume my nocturnal ramblings, it struck me that I was searching for something – or more accurately, someone . . .

  I felt Pa’s presence in this house so strongly it was as if he had just stood up from his desk to go to the kitchen for a glass of water, or to climb the stairs to his bed.

  I found myself rifling through his desk drawers for any evidence of him being here recently, or any clues I might find to explain the enigma of my beloved father.

  ‘Who were you?’ I asked as I picked up a small icon painted with an image of the Madonna and wondered if Pa had been religious. He’d certainly taken us all to church when we were small, but had allowed us to choose whether we wanted to attend as we grew up.

  I then noticed a forlorn bunch of herbs held together by a fraying length of string. I took it carefully from the shelf, seeing in my mind’s eye the gypsy who had accosted me in the plaza in Granada and had somehow known my nickname.

  ‘Did you get this when you were there?’ I whispered to the air, closing my eyes and asking my spirit guide for an answer. The problem was, I didn’t know if Pa was one now, or not.

  ‘If you are up there, please speak to me,’ I whispered.

  But no answer came.

  *

  ‘Ma, I’m begging you, I can’t stay in this bed any longer! Please – it’s a beautiful day.’ I pointed at the weak March sun melting the frost on the window pane. ‘After so many days inside, I’m sure Charlie would approve of me getting some fresh air.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Ma sighed. ‘Besides the risk of you catching a chill, there’s all those stairs to get back up to bed.’

  ‘If you really insist, I’ll let Christian carry me back upstairs,’ I suggested.

  ‘I’m afraid Christian isn’t here today but . . .’ I could see Ma was mulling something over. ‘I will talk with Claudia and Charlie, chérie. Oh, I almost forgot, you have a letter.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Ma left the room and I opened the slim envelope, noting it had come from overseas.

  26th February 2008

  Majete Wildlife Reserve

  Chikhwawa, Malawi

  Dear Ms D’Aplièse,

  Thank you for your application for the position of Conservation Officer at the Majete Wildlife Reserve. We subsequently emailed you an invitation to attend for interview in London at 13.00 on Friday, 7th March, but we have received no response. Please inform us by the latest Wednesday, 5th March, if you are still interested in the position and let us know whether you will be attending the interview, the details of which can be found in the attached document.

  Sincerely yours,

  Kitwell Ngwira

  Majete Park Manager

  I gulped and climbed out of bed to pull my ancient uni laptop out of my drawer. I’d completely forgotten about the email I’d fired off in frustration, and I’d had no reason or inclination to check my emails since I’d arrived back home.

  Not only did I find two emails asking me to attend the interview in a week’s time, but also emails from Maia, Star and CeCe, and three from Charlie.

  Putting off opening Charlie’s messages, I opened those from my sisters first. CeCe’s email was the most surprising of all of them.

  Hi Tiggy

  Ally told me you got hurt and were home at Atlantis. I hope you get well soon. I know you always Hated being ill. Maybe you hard I moved to Australia. I love it hear and am painting again. Im living with my Granpha and my friend Chrissy. Theirs lots of animals hear if you want to come and visit.

  Lots of Love

  CeCe xx

  ‘Wow, CeCe,’ I murmured to myself, ‘you did it, you found your home.’

  I took a deep breath and turned to Charlie’s emails. Each one was a couple of short gentle lines asking me how I was, the last requesting my permission to book me in for various scans and tests at Inverness hospital in mid March, after my sojourn at Atlantis.

  In other words, Charlie presumed I would be returning to Scotland.

  ‘It really is best you don’t go back, Tiggy,’ I told myself. ‘I’m sure Cal wouldn’t mind adopting Alice, and packing up your bits and pieces to send them on . . .’

  So, not wanting to appear rude and ungrateful for all he had done for me, I typed him a quick reply before I changed my mind.

  Dear Charlie,

  Thanks for your emails. I’m doing well and resting lots. Thanks for suggesting you book me in for the tests, but it’s probably easier if I have them here in Geneva. As you know, the medical care here is excellent.

  Hope all is well with you,

  Tiggy

  ‘God,’ I murmured as I pressed ‘send’, hating myself for sounding so cold and formal, but anything else was a road to nowhere and – for Zara’s sake if no one else’s – I would not be a home w
recker.

  ‘Right, Tiggy,’ Ma said as she appeared back in my room. ‘I have just spoken to Charlie and he thinks it a good idea for you to take a walk outside.’

  ‘Oh.’ I winced again at the email I’d just sent. ‘Good.’

  ‘But he is not yet happy to let you climb all those stairs. So, Claudia and I have decided you must use the lift.’

  ‘The lift? I didn’t know there was one!’

  ‘Your father had it put in not long before he . . . left us, as he was struggling to mount the stairs himself,’ Ma explained. ‘So, chérie, let us wrap you up in some warm clothes and I shall take you downstairs.’

  Once I was bundled up to Ma’s satisfaction, I followed her along the corridor, fascinated to see where this lift was. I headed for the stairs that led down to the next floor where Pa’s bedroom was, but Ma stopped me.

  ‘The lift is here, chérie.’

  She took out a silver key from her skirt pocket and moved towards the wall along the corridor. She inserted it into a lock on a wall panel, turned it, then tugged at the small latch underneath the lock. The panel slid back to reveal a teakwood door, then she pressed a shiny brass button to the side of it, which set off a whirring noise.

  ‘I can’t believe I never noticed this was here in the summer,’ I said as we waited for the lift to arrive. ‘And why did Pa have it come up to the attic floor when his bedroom is on the floor beneath?’

  ‘He wanted to be able to access every floor in the house. Before last spring, it was an old service hatch,’ Ma replied as the lift announced its presence with a soft clunk and she pulled the door open.

  Ma and I were both slim, but it was still a squeeze inside. Like the outer door, the interior was fashioned from polished wood. It reminded me of the type of lift one saw in grand old hotels.

  Ma closed the door and reached for one of the brass buttons. As the lift started to descend, I noticed that there were four buttons inside, yet to my knowledge, there were only three floors in the house.

  ‘Where does that one go, Ma?’ I indicated the last button.

  ‘Down to the cellar. It’s where your father stored his wine.’

  ‘I didn’t even know we had a cellar here. I’m amazed me and my sisters didn’t find it when we were exploring. How do you get to it?’

  ‘By the lift of course,’ Ma said as it came smoothly to a halt. We emerged out of another similar wall panel, tucked away along the back corridor that led to the kitchen.

  ‘Now, Tiggy, I will take my coat and boots from the cloakroom and we shall go outside.’

  As Ma left me, I walked through to the entrance hall, puzzling over what it was she’d said in the lift that had rung the warning bell of a lie. Opening the wide front door, I breathed in the glorious smell of pure, fresh air to try and boost my brain.

  It must have worked, because I suddenly thought that, surely, if the lift was the only way to access the cellar, it must have been there long before last spring, when Ma had said Pa had put it in, or how else would Pa have got down to his wine cellar before that . . . ?

  Ma joined me and we stepped out into the bracing but gloriously crisp afternoon. I decided not to mention the lift conundrum, for now at least.

  ‘It’s odd,’ I said as we walked along the path that led to the lake, ‘even though the terrain and climate is similar to Kinnaird, it smells so different here.’

  ‘Do you think you will return to Scotland once you are fully better?’ Ma asked.

  ‘I don’t think so. The job isn’t what I thought it would be.’

  ‘I thought you were very happy there, chérie. Is it the shooting that has scared you?’

  ‘No, that was just bad luck. I’m sure the poacher was aiming at Pegasus, not me. As a matter of fact, Ma, that letter you gave me was from a wildlife reserve in Malawi, inviting me to London next week to interview for the position of Conservation Officer.’

  ‘Malawi? London next week?’ Ma eyed me nervously. ‘You are not thinking of going, I hope?’

  ‘I would like to attend the interview, yes. Africa’s a longtime dream for me, Ma, you know it is.’

  ‘Tiggy, you are recovering from a serious heart condition. To go off to Africa is just . . . well, that is sheer madness! What would Charlie say?’

  ‘Charlie’s not my keeper, Ma.’

  ‘He is your doctor, Tiggy, and you must listen to him.’

  ‘Actually, I’ve just written to him to say that I’m going to transfer my care to Geneva. It’s far easier than flying to Scotland.’

  ‘Yet you will consider flying to London, then possibly Malawi?!’ Ma narrowed her eyes. ‘Tiggy, what is going on?’

  ‘Nothing, Ma. Anyway, we’ll discuss it later. How’s Maia?’

  Ma took the hint. ‘She is very well. It is so wonderful that she has found happiness. I am hoping that there might be wedding bells soon.’

  ‘She’s going to marry Floriano?’

  ‘She doesn’t say for definite, but it is my feeling she is eager to make babies of her own while she is still young enough to do so.’

  ‘Wow, Ma, the next generation . . .’

  ‘Speaking of which, I heard this morning that Ally is intending to visit in a couple of weeks with little Bear. I cannot wait. She hopes that you will still be in residence,’ she added pointedly.

  ‘Well, even if I go to London for the interview, I’ll try to be back to see them both. And if I’m not, at least you won’t miss me with a baby to coo over. Gosh, it seems like only a day ago that I was a little girl myself, sick in bed here with Electra screaming the house down!’ I smiled.

  ‘Well, let us hope you are now on the road to recovery. It is growing cold, Tiggy. We should go inside.’

  ‘Up to bed with you now,’ Ma said as we walked into the house. ‘I shall bring you some tea.’

  ‘Actually, as I have the lift, I’d like to sit in the kitchen with you and Claudia for a while. I get lonely upstairs,’ I added plaintively.

  ‘D’accord,’ Ma agreed. ‘Give me your coat and I will hang it with mine.’

  I did so, then wandered along the corridor to the airy kitchen – my favourite room as a child. When I’d been ill, it had been a great treat to be allowed downstairs and have Claudia mind me, and help her with the cooking whilst Ma ran errands.

  ‘You know, Claudia, if a perfumer could bottle the smell of your kitchen, then I would buy it,’ I told her as I went to give her a peck on the cheek. She turned from a pan of delicious-smelling soup she was stirring, her wrinkled skin creasing in pleasure at my words.

  ‘Then it would need to be a range of many different scents, because it smells different many times a day.’ Claudia filled up the kettle and switched it on.

  ‘Haven’t you noticed, Claudia? I’m downstairs. I’ve just been for a walk with Ma.’

  ‘I have, and I am glad of it. I agree that you need fresh air. Marina, like most Parisians, seems to be terrified of it.’

  I was used to Claudia’s derogatory comments about the French – being German herself and of a certain age, the enmity was de rigueur.

  ‘Do you find it . . . difficult working here without Pa?’ I asked her.

  ‘Of course I do, Tiggy, we all do. The house has lost its soul . . . I . . .’

  It was the first time I’d ever seen Claudia on the verge of tears. Even though I’d forged a closer relationship with her than any of my sisters, I had never seen her display such emotion before.

  ‘I just wish things were different,’ she continued as she indicated I should sit down at the table before placing two scones and a little pot of jam in front of me.

  ‘You mean, you wish Pa Salt was still alive?’

  ‘Yes, of course that is what I mean.’ As Ma appeared in the kitchen, I watched Claudia’s normal brusque manner wrap around her like a cloak. ‘Tea?’

  Fifteen minutes later, Ma insisted I returned upstairs for a rest. As I watched Ma extract the key for the lift from the key box next to the kitchen door, I felt lik
e a prisoner being escorted back to her cell. I stood behind her in the hallway as she unlocked the panel and slid it back. I carefully noted the technique she used to pull it open.

  ‘Why did Pa decide to hide the lift, Ma?’ I asked her as we rose upwards.

  ‘Don’t ask me, chérie. Maybe he didn’t want you girls sailing up and down in it all the time,’ she replied. ‘Or maybe it was pride. Perhaps he didn’t want you girls to know how sick he was.’

  ‘So the heart attack was not unexpected?’

  ‘I . . . no, it wasn’t, and it just shows how serious any form of heart condition can be,’ she added pointedly as we arrived on the attic floor. ‘Rest now, Tiggy, then I might consider you coming back downstairs again for supper.’

  She left me at my bedroom door and I went to sit on the window seat to collect my thoughts. Even though I’d seen many spectacular sunsets at Atlantis, they never ceased to thrill me, as they set the mountains on fire with red-gold light. What was different now was the silence inside; in the past, the sound of music would be blaring out from one of my sisters’ rooms, there would be laughing or squabbling – the humming of the speedboat edging towards the dock, or the lawnmower gliding across the lawn.

  Now, even though both Ma and Claudia were in the house, it felt as if Atlantis had been abandoned – as though all the energy my sisters and Pa had provided had disappeared, leaving only the ghost of past memories behind. It was depressing and terribly sad, and I wondered how Ma and Claudia dealt with the emptiness on a daily basis. What purpose did they both serve now anyway? Claudia with only Ma to cook for, keeping a house to which us sisters seldom came, and Ma with her large empty nest. Atlantis had been their life; what stood in front of them now must feel like a gaping void.

  ‘I don’t like being here without my sisters and Pa . . .’ I muttered, climbing off the window seat and realising how much better I must now be. Two and a half weeks here had shown me that I’d outgrown my childhood home.

  ‘I want to get back to my life,’ I murmured to myself. ‘Or more accurately, I need to find a life.’