The Sun Sister

by Lucinda Riley

  The baby stopped sucking and Cecily put a finger to her lips.

  ‘Don’t you dare try to silence me,’ Bill said and Cecily saw he was shaking with anger. But he did at least lower his voice.

  ‘It’s very simple, Bill. Shortly after you last left for Nairobi, I went to visit Njala at her little camp. Even though all trace of it had gone, Wolfie picked up a scent and disappeared into the woods. He started barking and wouldn’t come to heel, so I went to fetch him. Wolfie was the one who found her, buried beneath a heap of dead leaves in the forest. I’d guess she’d only been born a few hours before. It was obvious she’d been left to die in the woods, so I did what any Christian would do, or any human being with a heart for that matter: I picked her up and brought her back home with me. She’s been here ever since.’

  ‘Oh God.’ Bill put one hand on his forehead and rested his elbow on the table.

  ‘Do you think I did the wrong thing?’

  ‘No, of course I don’t.’

  ‘Did you . . . did you know that they would dump the baby and leave her to die?’

  ‘Of course not. I didn’t want to know anything,’ Bill sighed. ‘I was simply asked if I would provide a safe harbour on our land to my friend’s daughter until her time came. I’m sure Leshan told me that the child would be taken to safety. I just can’t believe they left her behind in our woods.’

  ‘Well, she was buried pretty deep, so it was pure luck that Wolfie found her. A few more hours and she’d have died. She was so tiny.’ There were tears in her eyes as she looked down at Stella.

  ‘I must admit, I’m furious that they left their dirty laundry for us to clear up. And—’

  ‘Don’t you dare call this baby that! She is not “dirty laundry”, she’s a human being, just like us!’

  ‘Forgive me, Cecily, that was crass and I apologise, but please understand I’m in shock. I’ve come home on Christmas Eve, looking forward to a couple of days’ peace away from the mayhem, to find a black baby in the nursery.’

  ‘Is the colour of her skin really relevant to you, Bill? You’re the one that spends half your life pretending you’re a Maasai.’

  ‘No, of course it’s not relevant in that sense, Cecily, but it obviously means that as soon as Christmas is over, we must take the baby into Nairobi and—’

  ‘No! I will not see this child given to a mission, or to an orphanage where she won’t be adequately cared for. The Lord only knows what her fate would be, and I just couldn’t risk letting anything bad happen to her.’

  ‘You’re not suggesting we should keep her, are you?’ Bill said after a pause.

  ‘Why not? We don’t have children and never will. Why shouldn’t we adopt her?’

  Bill stared at Cecily as though she had truly lost her mind. ‘Are you serious? You would actually entertain the thought of bringing her up here as our child?’

  ‘Yes! We have a home, enough money . . . and besides, Njala obviously knew what was going to happen. She asked me to help her baby in the few words of English I’d taught her. I’m convinced that’s why she left the baby close by; she wanted me to find her.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Cecily, but you’re lapsing into fantasy. As you said, it was simply the dog that found her by chance whilst you were taking a walk through the woods—’

  ‘A walk we’d taken every day for the best part of two months. Wolfie knew Njala’s scent, which is bound to be similar to Stella’s . . .’

  ‘You’ve named the baby?’ Bill looked grey with exhaustion.

  ‘I had to call her something, didn’t I? Here, I’ve winded her and she’s sleeping. Would you like to hold her?’

  ‘No, Cecily, I would not.’ Bill pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. ‘I’m sorry, but we simply cannot keep her.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because . . .’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘She is black. Adoption of such a child just does not happen in our world, or anywhere else in the world for that matter.’

  ‘Why, Mr Forsythe, the great champion of the Maasai, who even has one at his side everywhere he goes. Underneath all that, you’re just as prejudiced as everyone else! Well, let me tell you something: if this baby goes, so do I! Because I made a promise to that poor young girl and I will not send her baby away, you hear me?!’ Cecily rose with Stella in her arms, marched to the bedroom, then slammed the door behind her and locked it.

  Laying the baby down on the bed next to her, Cecily burst into noisy tears.

  ‘Don’t worry, little one,’ she hiccupped, ‘I’ll die before I let harm come to you, I swear it.’

  Cecily was woken by a knock on the door. She looked at the clock and saw it was past midnight. The baby was stirring next to her, stuffing her knuckle into her mouth, which was her way of saying she was hungry.

  ‘Cecily, can I please come in?’

  As Stella needed a bottle anyway, Cecily reluctantly unlocked the door with the baby in her arms. She didn’t so much as look at Bill as she walked out past him to fetch the bottle. Having warmed it, she sat down on a kitchen chair to feed her charge.

  ‘Forgive me, Cecily,’ he said as he appeared at the kitchen door. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong at all.’

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ Cecily hissed. ‘And anyone who says I have is a despicable human being.’

  ‘I agree,’ Bill said, sitting back down in the chair he’d occupied earlier.

  ‘I mean it. If you suggest again that this baby goes to an orphanage, I will pack my things and leave with her. Do you understand?’

  ‘I hear you loud and clear. But the fact remains that society has not yet been awakened to cross-racial adoption, on either side,’ he added firmly. ‘Perhaps someday that won’t be the case and I pray it is so.’

  ‘I don’t care about what society says and I didn’t think you did either!’

  ‘Cecily, believe me, if I did care about the rules of society, I’d never have married you in the first place, and we certainly wouldn’t even be having this conversation. I’d have simply grabbed the baby from you and whisked her away to Nairobi. So please, give me some credit. Nevertheless, the three of us do have to live in society, however much we try to bend the rules. And a white couple adopting a black baby is literally unheard of.’

  ‘I—’ Cecily opened her mouth to speak, but Bill put up a hand to stop her.

  ‘Hear me out, please. You’ve obviously become emotionally attached to the baby. Which is understandable, given the loss of your own child. I have only known about this . . . situation for a few hours, so forgive me if I’m struggling to come to terms with it. The fact is, Cecily, that even if you did leave with the baby, you have nowhere to run to.’

  ‘Of course I do! Katherine, or even Kiki would take us in . . .’

  ‘I’m sure they would initially, but they would say the same as me. You cannot be a mother to a black child. It would not be accepted anywhere in the world. And please don’t say you’ll go and live with the Maasai, because they wouldn’t want you either,’ Bill said, making a weak attempt at a joke. ‘Cecily, do you hear what I’m saying? The fantasy world you’ve created since I’ve been away cannot ever be real. You must know that, surely?’

  Cecily bit her lip, knowing that to some extent what her husband said was true.

  ‘But I can’t give her up, Bill. She was given to me to care for. And besides, this is all your fault to begin with. If you hadn’t let Njala come stay here on our land, then we wouldn’t be in this situation now.’

  ‘I’m aware of that, Cecily, and I now rue the day I said yes. Come, let me hold her,’ Bill said, reaching his arms across the table.

  ‘You swear you won’t make off with her in the night to Nairobi?’

  ‘I promise. Here,’ he encouraged, and reluctantly, Cecily placed Stella in his arms.

  ‘Hello, little one,’ he said as he stared down at her. ‘You’re just like your mother – absolutely beautiful.’

  Cecily watched as Bill held
out his finger and one of Stella’s tiny hands grabbed it and held it tight. The sight brought tears to Cecily’s eyes.

  ‘My goodness, Mrs Forsythe. You’ve certainly led me a merry dance since I married you.’ He gave her a weak smile. ‘And there was me driving home, thinking that we were sailing into calmer waters because you seemed so much better.’

  ‘Divorce me if you wish,’ Cecily shrugged defensively.

  ‘Cecily, in order to sort this situation out, you need to behave like a grown woman, not a petulant child. Can I ask you, does anyone else know of Stella’s presence here? Katherine, for example?’

  ‘Nobody – that’s why I didn’t let Katherine in the other day.’

  ‘You’re absolutely sure?’

  ‘Totally.’

  ‘At least that’s something.’ Bill looked down at the baby. ‘Let me think calmly about what is best to do for all of us . . .’

  ‘But I—’

  Bill put a finger to his lips. ‘No more tonight, Cecily. I’ve heard you. Now, it’s time we all got some sleep. I’m exhausted.’

  Bill stood up and handed Stella back, then kissed Cecily on the forehead. ‘Merry Christmas, my dear wife. That’s one hell of a present I’ve come home to.’

  To her surprise, Cecily wasn’t woken by Stella until five. Fearing her cries would wake Bill, she gathered her up and took her into the kitchen to feed her.

  ‘Happy Christmas, darling,’ she said as a glorious sunrise began to peek above the horizon through the window. ‘And don’t worry, I’ll fight for you, whatever it takes.’

  With Stella fed and asleep in the bassinet, Cecily donned her apron and prepared a fresh batch of bread to accompany the smoked salmon, then used the two-day-old bread from the larder to make stuffing for the chicken Bill had brought home. Preparations made, she put on her favourite emerald dress, then added some powder to cover the dark circles beneath her eyes and dabbed a little rouge on her pale cheeks. Then she returned to the kitchen to peel some vegetables. Next year, her vegetable garden should be thriving and she could just pick them fresh . . .

  She checked herself. What was she even doing being so jolly? There was every chance that Bill would wake up and say that Stella had to go, which meant that she’d be packing her bags too . . .

  ‘Good morning,’ Bill said, as though her thoughts had summoned him to her. ‘You look bright and breezy. Might I beg a cup of tea?’

  ‘Of course.’ Cecily put some water on to boil.

  ‘How did you – and she – sleep?’

  ‘Very well indeed, thank you. She doesn’t fuss much at night.’

  ‘But she’s obviously up with the lark, eh? Thank you,’ he said as Cecily passed him his tea. ‘Right then, Bobby and Katherine are due round at noon, so I’ll complete my morning ablutions and I’ll see you in the drawing room after that. We have to talk, Cecily.’

  Fifteen minutes later Cecily was sitting in the drawing room, her heart hammering, when Bill returned fully dressed and sat down in the armchair opposite her.

  ‘I will tell you that I spent a great deal of last night thinking about what was best to do,’ Bill began. ‘I realise that I am ultimately responsible for this . . . predicament we find ourselves in. I agreed to have Njala here, after all.’

  ‘I know for sure she would have kept her baby if she’d been allowed to, but she wasn’t, which was why she wanted me to help her . . .’

  ‘I think, my dear, that we have to deal in hard facts here. I can understand that you feel responsible for the child, but you must know that in reality you should have no such guilt. However, I equally accept that you have become emotionally attached to her and have told me that you will leave with her if I insist she goes.’

  ‘I sure will, Bill, I’m sorry but—’

  ‘Could you spare me any histrionics, Cecily, and simply listen to what I have to say? I told you last night that it is untenable that you, and by association I, become the baby’s parents. I dread to think what your mother and father would say if you presented Stella to them. So, you have to be realistic. Or, in fact, I have to be realistic for you. I’ve come up with a solution that I hope will keep you – and I, and of course Stella herself – happy. Are you prepared to hear me out?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. So, remember I mentioned to you when I left for Nairobi last time that we should employ some domestic help?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘My suggestion is that we find a woman through Nygasi, who will be told of the situation and come into the household to live with us as a cook and housekeeper. I’d already earmarked part of the barn as servants’ quarters and it will take no time to make it habitable. When the woman arrives, we will tell everyone that we have a new maid who has come to us with her baby, or, in fact, her granddaughter, depending on her age. That way, Stella can stay with us here at Paradise Farm and grow up under our protection. It’s not uncommon for maids to have dependants living with them. It also means that Stella will ostensibly grow up within her own culture. Please remember that’s important for her too.’

  ‘Are you saying that Stella will have to live in a barn?’ Cecily was horrified.

  ‘To be honest, Cecily, I’m not worried about the details; they can be ironed out later. I’m much more concerned about finding a way for you to know that you fulfilled your promise to Njala, that you did your Christian duty and that Stella can stay.’

  ‘But Bill, I want to bring her up . . . be her mother.’ Cecily bit her lip.

  ‘And to all intents and purposes, when no one else is around, that’s exactly what you can be.’

  ‘Won’t the maid think it strange that the white lady of the house wishes to spend so much time with the black baby?’

  ‘Maids are not paid to decide what is strange about their employers and what isn’t. You can do as you wish, as long as Stella is left with the maid when anyone visits.’

  Cecily studied her feet silently.

  ‘I understand this is not the perfect outcome,’ Bill said gently, ‘but it’s the only one I could contemplate. Even I have my limits, Cecily, and trust me, I’ve certainly been pushed to them in the past year. But I understand that separating you from Stella is as untenable as us bringing her up as our own child. So for your sake and hers, I’m prepared to accept her presence under our roof, as long as you are prepared to accept my compromise. Are you?’

  Still, Cecily stared at her feet.

  Bill let out a sigh. ‘I asked you last night not to behave like a petulant child and I ask you again now. I can do no more. Do you accept?’

  Cecily finally raised her eyes to Bill’s. ‘I accept.’

  ‘Good. Now then, perhaps we can get on with having Christmas Day.’ Bill pointed to the tree. ‘Look underneath it.’

  Cecily roused herself and walked over to the tree. Underneath it was a small package.

  ‘Sorry I didn’t have time to wrap it properly. I hope you like it.’

  ‘Oh Bill, I feel so bad, my gift to you was in the parcel my parents sent from the States, but it hasn’t arrived . . .’

  ‘Really, don’t worry, my dear. Go on, open it.’

  Cecily brought it back to the chair and undid the string and the brown paper to reveal a velvet box. Opening the lid, Cecily saw a delicate gold chain with an exquisite square emerald sitting in the centre of a cluster of diamonds.

  ‘Oh my, Bill! It’s so beautiful. You shouldn’t have. I . . . I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you . . .’

  ‘Want me to put it on for you? It goes well with that green dress of yours. I’ve had the stone for years – a South African chap gave it to me when I did him a favour and rather than it languishing in the drawer, I thought, well . . . it would look beautiful on you. Now, there we go. Why don’t you look at it in the mirror?’

  Cecily stood up, tears glistening in her eyes, and walked over to glance at her reflection in the mirror set over the fireplace.

  ‘It’s absolutely perfect. Thank you, Bill, thank you so mu
ch. And thank you for allowing Stella to stay.’

  ‘Come here, you silly thing.’ Bill drew Cecily into his arms. ‘We’ve had a rough old time of it since we married,’ he said as she leant her head on his shoulder. ‘And what with the war and the new addition to our family, there’s almost certainly more to come. But I do hope that this Christmas can at least mark a new era for you and I.’ He tipped her chin up to look at her. ‘What do you think, old girl?’

  ‘I think . . . I think I’d like that very much.’

  ‘Good.’ Then Bill leant down and, for the first time since their wedding day, sought out her lips. It had been so long since she’d been kissed, Cecily had almost forgotten what to do, but an extraordinary rush of warmth filled her body as he teased her lips open with his own.

  A screech came from the nursery and Cecily reluctantly broke away from him.

  ‘Good God! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do that and now it gets interrupted!’ Bill smiled down at her. ‘Go on, off you go to your new baby,’ Bill called after her.

  Cecily knew she would never forget that Christmas Day. She hadn’t been happy about Nygasi taking Stella off into the woods and out of sight, especially when she’d seen the look of shock on his face when she and Bill had handed over the baby and enough bottles to keep her going for the next few hours. Bill had assured her that Nygasi would not harm a hair on her head.

  ‘I’ve told him that if any misfortune comes to her, I will report both him and Njala to the authorities for abandoning a newborn,’ Bill had comforted her as he’d ushered Cecily back inside the house. ‘You do understand, don’t you, that no one must see her before our new maid arrives?’

  ‘I do, yes. Thank you, Bill, thank you so very much. I promise she won’t be any bother and—’

  ‘You know very well that’s not true, but I appreciate the sentiment.’ Bill shook his head as he closed the front door. ‘The things I do to make you happy, my dear. Right, I’ll go and open the champagne and you’d better get to the kitchen. Katherine and Bobby will be here any minute.’

  The day passed in a trance, Cecily hardly able to believe that not only had Bill kissed her earlier, but that he’d also agreed to give her the best present of all: Stella could stay. No longer did she look at Katherine’s growing bump and feel envy, because she too had a child to love. It was sad that it could not be in the traditional way, but it was more than Cecily had dared to dream of over the past dreadful year. Her necklace was much admired by Katherine, who followed her into the kitchen to help her serve up lunch.