The Storm Sister

by Lucinda Riley

  I looked at him, trying to take in what he was saying and failing. ‘Is this a Theo-style proposal?’ I snapped.

  ‘I suppose it is, yes. Well?’

  ‘I hear what you’re saying.’

  ‘And . . . ?’

  ‘Well, to be blunt, Theo, this is hardly a scene out of Romeo and Juliet.’

  ‘No. It isn’t. I’m no good at the big moments, as you’ve seen. I just want to get them out of the way and get on with . . . living, I suppose. And I really would like to live with you . . . I mean, marry you,’ he corrected himself.

  ‘We don’t have to get married.’

  ‘No, but that’s where my traditional upbringing kicks in, I suppose. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, and therefore, I must formally propose. I’d like for you to be Mrs Falys-Kings and to be able to say “my wife and I” to people.’

  ‘I may not want your surname. Lots of women don’t take their husband’s name these days,’ I countered.

  ‘True, true,’ he agreed calmly, ‘but it’s so much cleaner, don’t you think? Sharing one name? Just for bank accounts, and it also saves explanations during telephone calls with electricians and plumbers and—’

  ‘Theo?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘For God’s sake, just shut up! However infuriatingly practical you can be sometimes, before you analyse me out of a positive response, I’d marry you tomorrow, too.’

  ‘Would you really?’

  ‘Yes, of course I would.’ I then noticed what I thought was the beginning of tears forming in his eyes. And the part of me that was so like him realised that even the most outwardly self-assured humans were rendered vulnerable when it came to believing that the person they loved loved them back. And wanted them and needed them just as desperately. I moved closer to him and hugged him tightly.

  ‘Well, isn’t that wonderful?’ He smiled, surreptitiously wiping his eyes.

  ‘Considering how rubbish that proposal was, yes.’

  ‘Good. Well . . . even though it’s again rather old-fashioned and you can blame it on my upbringing, I’d quite like it if we could go shopping tomorrow and choose something that marks the fact you’re promised to me.’

  ‘You mean, we become “betrothed”?’ I teased him. ‘Even though you do sound as though you’ve walked straight out of an Austen novel, I’d be delighted.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Then he looked up towards the stars, shook his head, and looked at me. ‘Isn’t this a miracle?’

  ‘Which bit of it?’

  ‘All of it. I mean, I’ve spent thirty-five years feeling alone on the planet, and then you arrive out of the blue. And suddenly I understand it.’

  ‘Understand what?’

  He shook his head, and gave a small shrug. ‘Love’.

  We did as Theo had asked and the next morning he took me to the island’s capital, Chora, which, in reality, was little more than a sleepy white-washed village perched on a hill overlooking the southern coast of the island. We wandered around the quaint narrow streets, where we found a couple of tiny shops selling hand-made jewellery alongside a mishmash of food supplies and household goods, and a small street market with a few trinket stalls. Jewellery in general had never been my thing, and after half an hour of trying on various rings, I could see that Theo was getting frustrated.

  ‘Surely there must be something that you want?’ he urged me, as we stopped at the last market stall.

  In fact, my eye had settled on something.

  ‘Would you mind if it wasn’t actually a ring?’

  ‘Right now, I don’t care if it’s a nipple piercing, as long as I’ve got something you’re happy with and we can get some lunch. I’m starving.’

  ‘Okay, then I’d like that.’

  I pointed to an ‘evil eye’: a traditional Greek pendant of a stylised blue glass eye dangling on a delicate silver chain.

  The stall-keeper unhooked it from the display and held it out to us on his palm so we could take a closer look, indicating the handwritten price tag. Theo took off his sunglasses and picked up the pendant between his thumb and forefinger to study it. ‘Ally, it’s very sweet, but at fifteen euros, it’s hardly a diamond ring.’

  ‘I like it. Sailors wear them to ward off stormy seas. And after all, my name means I am the protectress of sailors.’

  ‘I know, though I’m really not sure an evil eye is an appropriate engagement token.’

  ‘Well, I love it, and before we both drive ourselves mad and give up, can it be this, please?’

  ‘As long as you promise to protect me.’

  ‘Of course I do,’ I said, wrapping my arms around his waist.

  ‘Okay. Although I warn you, just for the sake of form, I might have to present you with something that’s more . . . traditional in the future.’

  A few minutes later, we walked away from the market with the tiny talisman strung around my neck.

  ‘In retrospect,’ he said as we strolled back through the quiet streets to find a beer and some lunch, ‘I think chaining you around the neck is far more appropriate than by a mere finger, although we will have to get you a proper ring eventually. However, I’m not sure I can run to Tiffany or Cartier, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Now who’s showing their roots?’ I teased him as we sat down at a table in the shade outside a taverna. ‘And just for the record, I hate designer labels.’

  ‘You’re right. Forgive me for showing my ingrained Connecticut country-club past. Anyway,’ he said, grabbing a plastic menu, ‘what do you fancy for lunch?’

  The following day, having reluctantly parted with Theo at Athens airport, I sat on the plane feeling lost without him. I kept turning involuntarily to my surprised neighbour to tell Theo something I’d just thought of, only to remember he wasn’t there. I admitted to myself that I felt completely bereft without him.

  I hadn’t told Ma I was coming home, thinking it would be nice to just turn up and surprise her. And as the aircraft carried me towards Geneva, and I steeled myself for arriving to an Atlantis that had lost its heart, my emotions swerved between the joy of what I had found and the dreadfulness of what I’d lost and was returning to. And this time my sisters wouldn’t be there to fill the gaping hole Pa Salt had left behind.

  When I arrived at Atlantis, for the first time ever, no one came down to meet me at the jetty, which depressed me further. Claudia was not at her usual station in the kitchen either, but there was a freshly baked lemon sponge cake on the countertop, which just happened to be my favourite. Cutting a generous slice, I left the kitchen and climbed the stairs to my room. I slung my rucksack onto the floor and sat down on the bed, studying the magnificent view of the lake over the trees and listening to the unnerving silence.

  I stood up again and wandered over to the shelves to pull down the ship in a bottle Pa Salt had given me for my seventh birthday. I stared at the intricate wood and canvas model inside the glass and smiled as I remembered how I’d pestered Pa to tell me how it could have got inside the thin bottleneck.

  ‘It’s magic, Ally,’ he’d whispered secretively. ‘And we must all believe in that.’

  Retrieving my diary from my rucksack and desperate to feel him close again, I drew out the letter he’d written me. Checking the details, I decided I would go downstairs to his study and look for the book he’d suggested I read.

  I stood in the doorway of his study, letting the familiar smell of citrus, fresh air and safety fill my nostrils.

  ‘Ally! Forgive me for not being here when you arrived. I didn’t know you were coming, but what a wonderful surprise!’

  ‘Ma!’ I turned around to embrace her. ‘How are you? I had a few days off and I wanted to make sure you were all right.’

  ‘Yes, yes . . .’ she said rather hurriedly. ‘And how are you, chérie?’

  I felt her keen, intelligent eyes appraise me. ‘You know me, Ma, I’m never sick.’

  ‘And we both know I wasn’t asking after your health, Ally,’ Ma replied gently.
r />   ‘I’ve been busy, so I think that has helped. We won the regatta, by the way,’ I offered lamely, not ready to tell Ma about Theo and the possible happiness I’d found just yet. Being here at Atlantis with Pa gone made it feel inappropriate.

  ‘Maia is here too. She went to Geneva earlier, just after the . . . friend she brought with her from Brazil left. She’ll be back soon, and will be happy to see you, I’m sure.’

  ‘And I her. She sent me an email a few days ago and she sounded really happy. I can’t wait to hear more about her trip.’

  ‘Now, how about a cup of tea? Come into the kitchen and you can tell me all about the regatta.’

  ‘Okay.’ I followed Ma dutifully out of Pa’s study. Perhaps it was just that I had turned up at home without calling first, but I sensed she was tense, her usual serenity temporarily deserting her. We chatted about Maia and the Cyclades race and twenty minutes later, we heard the launch approaching. I went to greet Maia on the jetty.

  ‘Surprise!’ I said, throwing my arms open to her.

  ‘Ally!’ Maia looked amazed. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Strangely enough, this is my home too,’ I said with a grin as we walked up to the house together arm in arm.

  ‘I know, but I wasn’t expecting you.’

  We decided to sit on the terrace, and I went to fetch a jug of Claudia’s home-made lemonade. I studied Maia as I listened to her talk of her recent trip to Brazil, and thought she looked more alive than I’d seen her for years. Her skin glowed, and her eyes sparkled. Discovering her past through Pa Salt’s posthumous clues certainly seemed to have helped to heal her.

  ‘And Ally, there’s something else I want to tell you. That perhaps I should have told you a long time ago . . .’

  Then she told me what it was that had happened at university to make her hide away ever since. Tears came to my eyes as I listened to the story, and I reached out my hand to comfort her.

  ‘Maia, how dreadful that you had to go through that all alone. Why on earth didn’t you tell me? I’m your sister! I always thought we were close. I would have been there for you, I really would.’

  ‘I know, Ally, but you were only just sixteen at the time. And, besides, I was ashamed.’

  I asked then who this dreadful person was who had caused my sister so much pain.

  ‘Oh, no one you’d know. He was someone I met at university called Zed.’

  ‘Zed Eszu?’

  ‘Yes. You may have heard his name on the news. His father was the tycoon who committed suicide.’

  ‘And whose boat I saw close to Pa’s that terrible day when I heard he’d died, if you remember,’ I said with a shudder.

  ‘Ironically, it was Zed who inadvertently forced me onto the plane to Rio when I was originally deciding whether to go or not. After fourteen years of silence, he left me a voicemail message out of the blue, saying he had to come to Switzerland and asking if we could meet up.’

  I looked at her oddly. ‘He wanted to meet you?’

  ‘Yes. He said he’d heard about Pa’s death and suggested that perhaps we could cry on each other’s shoulders. If anything was going to send me scurrying away from Switzerland, that was it.’

  I asked her if Zed knew what had happened to her all those years ago.

  ‘No.’ Maia shook her head firmly. ‘And if he did, I doubt he’d care.’

  ‘I think you were definitely best rid of him,’ I said darkly.

  ‘You know him, then?’

  ‘Not personally, no. But I have a . . . friend that does. Anyway,’ I said, recovering before Maia could question me further, ‘it sounds as though getting on that plane was the best thing you’ve ever done. Now, you still haven’t told me much about this gorgeous Brazilian you had in tow. I think Ma rather fell for him. When I arrived she could talk of nothing else. He’s a writer, apparently?’

  We chatted briefly about him, and then Maia asked about me. Deciding this was her moment to talk of having found someone after all these years, I refrained from telling her about Theo and talked about the Fastnet and the upcoming Olympic trials instead.

  ‘Ally! That’s fantastic! Do let me know how you get on, won’t you?’ she begged me.

  ‘Of course I will.’

  At that moment Marina appeared on the terrace.

  ‘Maia, chérie, I didn’t know you were home until I saw Claudia just now. Christian gave me this earlier; I’m afraid I forgot to give it to you.’

  Marina handed Maia an envelope and her eyes lit up as she recognised the handwriting. ‘Thank you, Ma.’

  ‘Will you two girls be wanting supper?’ Ma asked us.

  ‘If there’s any going, absolutely. Maia?’ I looked at her. ‘Will you join me? It’s not often we get the chance for a catch-up these days.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said, standing up. ‘But if you don’t mind, I’m going back to the Pavilion for a while.’

  Ma and I looked knowingly at Maia and the letter clasped in her hands.

  ‘See you later, chérie,’ said Marina.

  As I followed Ma back into the house, I felt extremely unsettled by what Maia had just told me. In one sense, it was good that we had cleared the air and that I now understood why Maia had become so distant after university and thrown herself into what had amounted to self-imposed exile. But the fact she’d told me it was Zed Eszu who had been the cause of her pain was a different matter altogether . . .

  With six girls in the family, and each one of us so very different, the amount of gossip about boyfriends and love affairs had varied depending on the character of the particular sister. Up until now, Maia had been totally closed about her private life and Star and CeCe had each other and rarely talked to the rest of us. Which left Electra and Tiggy, who had both confided in me over the years . . .

  I went upstairs to my room, pacing restlessly and pondering the morals of knowing something that potentially affected other people that I loved, and whether one should share such information or keep quiet. However, having just had Maia open up to me for the first time in years, I decided it was her decision whether or not to tell our other siblings the story. What good would it do to have me interfere?

  Having decided that, I checked my mobile, and smiled spontaneously as I saw a text from Theo.

  My darling Ally. I miss you. Trite but true.

  I replied immediately.

  Me too (even triter).

  As I took a shower before going down to join Maia for dinner, I longed to tell her of my own wonderful newfound love, but I reminded myself again that, after all these years, this must be her moment and mine could wait for another time.

  Over supper, Maia announced that she was returning to Brazil the following day.

  ‘We only have one life, don’t we, Ma?’ she said as she sat there glowing with happiness, and I thought she’d never looked more beautiful.

  ‘Yes, we do,’ said Ma. ‘And if the past few weeks have taught us anything, it’s that.’

  ‘No more hiding,’ Maia said as she raised her glass. ‘Even if it doesn’t work out, at least I will have tried.’

  ‘No more hiding,’ I toasted her with a smile.

  9

  Marina and I waved and blew kisses as we watched Maia leave Atlantis.

  ‘I’m so happy for her,’ said Ma, surreptitiously wiping her eyes as we turned and walked back to the house, where we chatted about Maia’s difficult past and apparently rosy future over a cup of tea. It was obvious from what Ma said that she shared similar feelings about Zed Eszu too. I finished my tea and then I told her I needed to go and check my emails.

  ‘Is it okay if I use Pa’s study?’ I asked, knowing it had the best internet signal in the house.

  ‘Of course it is. Remember, this is yours and your sisters’ house now,’ Ma said with a sad smile.

  Bringing my laptop down from my bedroom, I opened the door to my father’s study, which looked as it always had, its oak-panelled walls complementing the comfortable antique furniture. I
sat down tentatively in Pa Salt’s leather-seated captain’s chair, placing my laptop on the walnut desk in front of me. As it went through the process of opening, I swivelled the chair round to gaze blankly at the cornucopia of objects Pa had kept on his shelves. There was no particular theme to them and I’d always assumed they were just items that had taken his fancy on his varied travels. My eyes then sought out the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that lined one wall, wondering where the book he’d mentioned in his letter might be. As I noted Dante nestling alongside Dickens and Shakespeare alongside Sartre, I realised the books were organised in alphabetical order, and were as eclectic and varied in taste as Pa himself had been.

  The temperamental laptop then decided to tell me it wanted to shut down, having just opened up, so while I waited for it to reboot, I stood up and went over to Pa’s CD player. All of us had tried to move him on to an iPod, but even though he had a raft of sophisticated computers and electronic communication equipment in his study, he’d said he was too old to change, and preferred to physically ‘see’ the music he wanted to play. Switching the CD player on, fascinated to discover what Pa Salt had been listening to last, the room was suddenly filled with the beautiful opening bars of Grieg’s ‘Morning Mood’ from the Peer Gynt Suite.

  I was rooted to the spot, as a wave of memories assailed me. It had been Pa’s favourite orchestral piece, and he’d often asked me to play the opening bars for him on my flute. It had become the theme tune of my childhood and it reminded me of all the glorious sunrises we’d shared when he’d taken me out on the lake and patiently taught me to sail.

  I missed him so very much.

  And I also missed someone else.

  As the music swelled from the hidden speakers, filling the room with glorious sound, on instinct, I picked up the receiver of the phone on Pa’s desk to make a call.

  Holding the receiver to my ear as I made to dial the number, I realised someone else in the house was already on the line.