The Sun Sister

by Lucinda Riley

  ‘She has a probation officer?’

  ‘Yeah. Her social worker told me earlier that she’s been in and out of foster homes since her mother died, then, at sixteen, she disappeared off the radar until she was arrested for soliciting in Harlem. She only got a caution, but she was classified as a delinquent, which means that up until a few months ago when she turned eighteen she had a “team” that monitored her. Ida – the social worker – is gonna put things in motion fast and if the court grants an extension until Vanessa’s twenty-one, she can then make the right calls to get her onto this programme the shrink has recommended. And then she’ll get the welfare she’s due and, eventually, a place to stay. Hopefully not in one of the Projects.’

  ‘What’s a “Project”?’ I asked.

  ‘Wow, Electra.’ Miles rolled his eyes. ‘You sure have lived in a different world. I thought all Americans knew about those.’

  ‘I’m technically Swiss.’ I blushed, but I knew it was no excuse. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s social housing, paid for by the State. Trouble is, some of them can be very rough. But anyway, let’s see where we go from here.’

  ‘Please, Miles, remember I’ve told you both I’d help as much as I can. If she needs a place to stay, I can pay for it. I feel bad that I’m leaving her, but I just need to get out of here now.’

  ‘You gotta do what’s best for you, Electra. Vanessa knows you’re there for her and that you’ve already paid for her treatment at the hospital.’

  ‘If I gave you some cash, can you buy her a cell? Then I can call her on it direct.’

  ‘Yeah, of course, but remember, she’s in a dark place just now and maybe won’t want to communicate much. And you, young lady, have got to put yourself first.’ He wagged a finger at me. ‘You’re no good to Vanessa if you’re back on the Goose.’

  ‘I know, Miles. And what about you?’

  ‘I’ll kick around here for a while till Vanessa’s sorted out, then hopefully bring her back with me to New York.’

  ‘Okay, well, I’d better go and pack. The cab’s coming for me at seven tomorrow morning. Here.’ I handed him an envelope. ‘That’s got my cell phone and my PA’s cell just in case you can’t get hold of me. Let me know as soon as there’s news on Vanessa, won’t you? Bye, Miles.’

  ‘Course I will. Hey!’ Miles called to me and I turned round.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re a good person, Electra. It’s been my pleasure to get to know you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said and walked away from him before he could see the tears forming in my eyes.

  A week later, I woke up luxuriating on the cloud of down that was the mattress in my New York penthouse. I stretched and rolled over to look at the time and saw it was six a.m. I needed to get up and get running before the park became too crowded. Putting on my track pants and hoodie and adding the wig, sunglasses and baseball cap that had so far protected me from the paps, I left the apartment, took the lift down and jogged from the lobby across into the park. The magnolia trees were in full bloom and summer flowers were adding colour in the beds along the path. New York was wearing its best today – the sky was as blue as anything you’d find in the south of France – and I smiled simply because I felt happy.

  When Mariam had met me at the airport, I could see the trepidation on her face. The first thing I did after I’d walked down the steps of the jet was to give her a big hug. She’d immediately hugged me back.

  ‘You look amazing, Electra!’ she’d said as we walked to the limo parked on the tarmac.

  ‘No, I don’t. My weave and nails are a mess and I have all sorts of hair growing in all sorts of places,’ I’d laughed. ‘They don’t allow razors at The Ranch.’

  In the limo on the way into town, we’d talked about my time inside and Mariam had thanked me for her letter, which she said she’d treasure forever.

  ‘Don’t thank me. I was a total bitch to you and I apologise. You still wanna carry on working for me, don’t you?’ I’d shot her a worried glance.

  ‘Of course I do, I love my job, and you, Electra,’ she’d added, and even if it could have just been a cheesy line, I really didn’t feel it was.

  Back at the apartment, I noticed that Mariam had decorated it with lots of sweet-smelling flowers and loaded the refrigerator with Coke and soda and endless flavours of juice.

  ‘I wasn’t sure what you’d be drinking.’

  ‘Coke and ginger tea are good,’ I’d said, opening a can of the former and taking a sip.

  Then we’d run through what Susie had said to the bookers about my sudden departure.

  ‘She told them you had a family crisis and had to take time out. Seriously, I don’t think there’s been a lot of gossip. I certainly haven’t seen anything untoward in the press,’ Mariam had comforted me.

  ‘Well, I’m lucky no one managed to get a shot of me covered in blood in that ER in Tucson,’ I’d sighed. ‘I looked like I’d murdered someone.’

  As it was late, I’d told her she should go home, but she’d shaken her head.

  ‘Not me, sorry. I am staying in the spare room tonight.’

  ‘I swear, I’m off everything, Mariam,’ I’d said, momentarily affronted.

  ‘I know, Electra, it’s not that I don’t trust you. I just want to hear about everything that has happened to you since you left. I thought we could order some take-out and you could tell me all about your friend who ended up in the hospital.’

  So we’d showered, gotten into our robes, eaten take-out Chinese and I’d told her all about Vanessa.

  ‘Oh Electra, you are a good Samaritan,’ Mariam had said, which had made me blush. ‘She’s lucky you have taken such an interest in her.’

  So I began to tell her about my plans to do more, and then I’d felt my eyes closing and gone to lie on my cloud of feathers and slept right through until six the next morning.

  Since then, I hadn’t stopped. I’d had a meeting with Susie to tell her I was cutting my schedule right back, and even though she hadn’t looked pleased, she’d eventually agreed and we’d worked out that I’d only do the campaigns I was already contracted for.

  ‘But what about the fall shows?’ she’d asked me.

  ‘No,’ I’d said firmly, knowing that if anything could drag me back into my old ways, it was the crazy world of the catwalk.

  ‘Oh, and I’ve had a couple of enquires from designers who’d like to talk about collaborations, in the same vein as the one you did with Xavier last year.’

  As I’d listened to Susie, for a couple of brief seconds I’d thought back to my sketchbook and how much I’d loved designing. But then again, I’d promised myself not to take on too much.

  ‘Maybe next year,’ I’d told her.

  The upshot was that I had just enough work to keep me busy up until mid-June, and after that, I’d go away to Atlantis for the sisters’ sailing trip. Then I hoped to go down to the Hacienda Orchídea to organise the building works I wanted done.

  Excitement bubbled up inside me every time I thought about my new home-to-be. Casey, my business manager, had confirmed that I could easily afford it, so I’d called Manuel with an offer and he’d accepted. He’d also agreed to sell me Hector and said that he’d find a ranch hand to look after him and other horses I might care to add to my stable.

  ‘But you must come to choose, señorita. Horses are a soul choice,’ he’d said.

  I was buying it fully furnished, at what even Casey said looked like a good price. I was also planning on adding a pool and an extra wing to provide further bedroom accommodation; I had dreams of inviting all my sisters to come stay with me at Christmas . . .

  As for Miles, he’d moved out of The Ranch and was staying in a motel nearby the hospital, as he waited for Vanessa’s team to complete the red tape needed to bring her back to New York and get her onto the programme the doctor had suggested. There wasn’t much news on Vanessa herself; since I’d left, they’d put her on what Miles described as heavy-duty antidep
ressants, and she’d been sleeping a lot. I called her on her cell, but she didn’t answer, so I sent her a text every night, and occasionally received the odd ‘okay’ or ‘thanks’ in return.

  Talking to Miles on the phone felt different to talking to him in person; perhaps it was because he had such a warm, rich tone to his voice and a clever sense of humour, but I’d started to see our calls as the highlight of my day. It was partly because he knew exactly what I’d been through and how the transition back to reality was one of the hardest moments of staying clean. I could talk to him freely about the way I was feeling. Which, for the main part, had been positive. Yes, it was still hard to open the fridge and take out a can of Coke or some juice when a month ago there had always been a bottle of vodka in the icebox. At night, when I was watching TV or drawing in my sketchbook (I hadn’t dared venture out to any social functions – I wasn’t strong enough for those just yet), I knew it would take one call to bring my dealer to my front door. Life on the level was tough; I missed the highs badly, but at least there were no lows either.

  Mariam had the list of therapists and the dates of local AA meetings sent through to her by Fi for my arrival. I’d needed her to force me to go to AA the first time; she’d driven with me there, squeezed my hand and told me that she’d be right outside. She’d even walked me to the door.

  ‘What if people recognise me?’ I’d asked her as I stood outside, abject terror filling me.

  ‘It’s anonymous, remember? No one is allowed to tell on anyone else. Now go, you’ll be fine.’

  I did, and I had been. To my utter surprise, I’d seen other well-known faces at the meeting and when I’d stood up and announced that my name was Electra and I was an alcoholic, everyone had clapped and I had cried.

  Then the meeting leader had welcomed me, and asked me if there was anything I wanted to say. When I’d done this for the first time at The Ranch, I’d shaken my head and hurriedly sat down, but to my utter shock, this time I’d nodded.

  ‘Yeah, I just wanted to say that I’ve just come out of rehab and at first I hated it and didn’t understand the Twelve Steps or how they could help me. But . . . I held on, and then I just got it, and I want to say thank you to, well, the higher power, and everyone who supported me, because people like you guys have saved my life.’

  There had been another round of applause (and some cheering) and I’d felt so warm and welcomed that I’d actually started to look forward to my daily meetings.

  Surely it’s all too good to be true? I thought as I pounded the pathway, which was exactly what I had said to Miles last night.

  ‘It’s anything but,’ he’d countered. ‘You’re in the honeymoon phase at the moment, thinking you can deal, but it’s when you’re really back to reality and you’ve been off the stuff for a while that it gets dangerous.’

  Every time I felt the urge – which was like a red haze that descended, with a devil voice in my ear telling me that just one shot wouldn’t hurt, would it? Because honestly, I deserved it for getting through a day without and for going to the AA meeting, or taking a run – I visualised instead the redness of the blood that had poured out of Vanessa’s arms as she lay on that bathroom floor. And that made me want to gag in horror and helped take away the craving.

  Mariam was the perfect housemate, I thought as I ran out of the park and along Central Park West to get home. She’d insisted on staying ever since I’d come back, and seemed to know instinctively when I needed company and when I didn’t. I also took inspiration from the fact that she’d never taken a drink in her life and was one of the calmest people I knew. She’d proven herself to be a superb cook, especially with curries, which I lapped up because the spice was still helping the cravings. Even though I’d said we could easily order take-out, she’d refused.

  ‘I love cooking, Electra, so it’s my pleasure. Besides, I know what I am putting into the food, and that makes me happy that we are both eating well.’

  ‘Morning, Tommy,’ I said, giving him a big smile and coming to a halt by him. There’d been a small posy of flowers waiting for me upstairs when I’d arrived home. Mariam had said they were from Tommy – picked illegally from Central Park, she’d added.

  ‘Morning, Electra,’ he greeted me. ‘How are you today?’

  ‘I’m good,’ I said. ‘You?’

  ‘Oh, I’m okay,’ he shrugged.

  ‘You sure you’re okay, Tommy? You look a little low.’

  ‘Oh, it’s probably because I’m having to get up a whole deal earlier to see you these days,’ he joked weakly.

  ‘Well, why don’t you come and join me on my run sometime?’ I asked him suddenly. ‘I could use some company.’

  ‘Hey, I just might do that. Thank you, Electra.’ He tipped his baseball cap to me and I ran inside.

  ‘Breakfast will be ready in ten,’ Mariam called from the kitchen.

  ‘Okay, just gonna take a shower,’ I replied, giving her a wave as I passed by. Mariam got up even earlier than I did to say her morning prayers.

  ‘Those were great,’ I said as I polished off the blueberry pancakes, which had been smothered in maple syrup. ‘Goodness, I’m having a food baby!’ I added as I cradled my belly in my hands.

  ‘Goodness’ was my new go-to word. Ma and my sisters had always told me I had a ‘potty mouth’, and what with Miles and his notable shudder every time I took his precious Lord’s name in vain, as well as Mariam, I’d decided it was time to clean that up too. The occasional ‘fuck’ or ‘shit’ came out automatically, but I felt proud that even the Queen of England would consider having me as a guest if I carried on like this. Next thing, I thought wryly, I’d be buying myself a Bible and attending church.

  ‘Thank you.’ Mariam started to clear up the dishes. ‘One day I’ll cook you a proper Iranian feast,’ she said as my cell rang.

  My heart gave a jolt as I saw it was Miles.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hi, Electra. Good news: Ida just called to say Vanessa’s care extension has been granted and they’ve managed to get her into the centre Dr Cole recommended. It’s on Long Island, about thirty minutes from JFK. I’m going to make the travel arrangements right now and I hope to get on a flight back either later tonight or tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Fantastic! That’s such good news!’

  ‘Yeah, it is. I called a friend who I work with at the drop-in centre and she rates this place. It’s a proper rehab unit, which means medium- to long-term residency, i.e. she won’t be kicked out after a couple weeks. Anyway, more when I see you.’

  ‘Great. Why don’t I come collect you from JFK? Give me a chance to see Vanessa?’

  And you, I thought.

  ‘If you have time, then that would be great.’

  ‘I do. Listen, I’ve got to leave for my AA meeting, but call Mariam when you know the flight details, okay?’

  ‘Sure. See you soon, Electra. Bye now.’

  ‘Miles will be calling you,’ I said to Mariam as I headed for the door.

  ‘Okay, and by the way, your grandmother called again this morning. Your diary’s clear for the weekend, so—’

  ‘I’ll let you know later, okay?’

  ‘Sure. See you shortly.’

  On my way downtown to the meeting, I pondered why, even though Stella had called a number of times on my cell (which I hadn’t picked up), and on Mariam’s (which she had), I felt reluctant to see her. As I climbed out of the sedan – limos were just too noticeable and I also wanted to use my finances a bit more constructively these days – I concluded that I just didn’t know the answer.

  The AA meeting was held in a church hall near the Flatiron Building, at the intersection between Broadway and Fifth Avenue. I loved it because it was at a crossroads; a metaphoric melting pot of humanity. No one cared where anyone else was from, because we all had the same diagnosis: we were all on the addict spectrum somewhere.

  The place smelt of sweat and dogs, with the slightest hint of alcohol, probably from years of holding meet
ings where the drunks came in off the street to say they’d fallen off the wagon. It was a well-attended meeting with about two dozen people already there, so I sat down on a chair at the back of the hall.

  We all stood and said the serenity prayer and then the meeting leader asked if anyone was new to the group.

  I watched someone in the front row adjust his baseball cap and stand up. He looked very familiar . . .

  ‘Hi. My name’s Tommy and I’m an alcoholic.’

  We all clapped for him automatically.

  ‘Welcome, Tommy. And is there anything you’d like to say to the group?’ the leader asked, as my brain finally got into gear and I drew in a deep breath.

  ‘Yeah, I’d like to say that I didn’t think I needed these meetings anymore, so I stopped coming. Then two days ago, I took a drink.’

  Tommy paused, then cleared his throat as we waited (me, with bated breath) for him to continue.

  ‘I’ve met a girl, see, and . . . I think I love her, but we can’t ever be together. She’d been away for a while and I really missed her . . . And I need you guys . . . this . . . to help me through.’

  We all clapped again, but he didn’t sit down, so there was obviously more.

  ‘Some of you here might remember that when I came back from Afghanistan, I found my wife had left me and taken the kid with her. I turned to liquor and I swore then that I’d never love anyone else. But I do, and . . . she’s been away for a while, but, yep, that’s all I have to say.’

  ‘Shit!’ I muttered under my breath.

  ‘We’ll all be thinking about you and praying for you, Tommy, and you know we’re here for you,’ the leader said.

  I saw a number of people around Tommy clap him on the back.

  ‘Now, is there anyone else who wants to stand up and speak?’

  An actor I recognised stood up, but I zoned out. Tommy, my Tommy, who I’d seen on Facebook had a wife and a kid to go home to, had no such thing. And apparently he was in love with someone who he could never have – someone who had been ‘away for a while’ – and he’d really missed her.