Sister to Sister

by Olivia Hayfield

  You deserve better than what I can offer, Rob. You deserve someone who’s always there for you, who can commit to you one hundred per cent, who can give you a family, who has the same goals as you.

  Do you understand?

  None of this changes the way I feel about you, not one little bit. I love you with all my heart and I always, always will. Me and you – it was a moment in time and nothing like it will ever happen again, to me. Thank you for giving me that time, for making me so happy. I’m beyond sad that we couldn’t make it work. (Oh god, I’m crying again.)

  She put down her pen and wiped her eyes, picturing Kit’s face as he told her, ‘There’s a world out there full of beautiful men. And you’re its queen.’

  Picking up her pen, she carried on.

  You’ll see me with other men. But know that I will never love anyone the way I love you. Never. And when I see you with those other girls, my heart will break a little bit, but I will be strong and I will hope you find someone who makes you happy, who gives you what you want.

  But hey – before you do, can we take that road trip? I am SO due some time off. You could get us a big fuck-off American car (actually, no – carbon emissions. Unless they do an electric version). One with a soft top. We can drive through the desert with the wind in our hair (a new level of hair chaos?) and sleep under the stars and eat burgers in diners and do all the American things.

  How about it, Roberto? Friends and a lot lot more, for ever?

  With all my love

  Lizzie

  Harry

  ‘Oh my gosh, who’s this one?’ asked Clare, spotting Eliza with a tall, fair-haired man on her arm.

  ‘He’s French,’ said Eddie. ‘She met him at the gym.’

  ‘French?’ said Harry. ‘That’s disappointing.’

  ‘He’s rather lovely,’ said Clare.

  ‘Mum!’ said Eddie.

  ‘I can’t keep up,’ said Harry. ‘What happened to that other one? Dev, was it? The chap from Essex.’

  ‘Oh, he’s still around. I like him, too,’ said Clare.

  ‘Hello, family!’ said Eliza, as the Frenchman pulled out her chair. ‘Hi, Terri, Layla. This is François. How is everyone?’

  ‘Good!’ said Clare. ‘You look beautiful, darling.’

  She did. There was a glow about Eliza, these days.

  Tonight was the launch of her new charity, the Ana Rose Foundation. Initial funding had come via Eliza’s rather massive settlement from Seymour Morrissey. Her ‘suggestion’ that he make a donation in exchange for not naming names in the recent Rack interview had been a pragmatic one, but her use of the term ‘family member’, and some clues in the surrounding context, meant that most in their circle had worked it out. Seymour was persona non grata in London now.

  Harry had suggested tightening the charity’s focus, which to him seemed a little amorphous. It was mostly to do with empowering women. Scholarships to see bright, underprivileged girls through university; business mentorships; seed funding for female entrepreneurs, and the like. But also the Kit Marley Residency, which paid for a promising writer to spend six months at the Roses’ Provençal villa – the wedding present he’d bought for Ana, all those years ago.

  Harry looked across at his daughter. He’d been worried by her reaction to Marley’s death, six months ago. She’d been bereft; heartbroken at losing her soulmate. But she finally seemed to be bouncing back.

  Harry, too, had been deeply affected, blaming himself for a while. It had been him, after all, who’d set them off on the mission to entrap Andre.

  ‘No, Dad,’ Eliza had said. ‘He died because of me, not you. And the only way I can handle it is by reminding myself how Kit believed we should go with the flow, shouldn’t fight against Fate. I didn’t always understand his words, but now I see he had a sense of things to come. He saw a pattern – of events, relationships. He’d say, Don’t look for reasons. Let it play out.’

  Rob had been a great support, but then Eliza had sent him back to the States. She’d joined him for a holiday, but on her return had told Harry, ‘It’s over, Rob and me.’

  Her explanation as to why had almost broken Harry’s heart (again).

  ‘I can’t make it work with him,’ she’d said on their Sunday afternoon walk in the park. ‘He wants all of me. And children. I can’t run Rose and make that commitment.’

  ‘Surely it’s possible, in this day and age.’

  ‘Is it, Dad? Didn’t being head of Rose scupper your marriages? You drifted apart from Katie, always busy with work, never home, and Mum was there in the office and you couldn’t resist. Then Mum’s ambition was too much for you; you couldn’t work together so you turned to Janette, who was sweet and easy and didn’t challenge you. But if she hadn’t died, would she have been enough? Or would you have tired of her, too? And then Caitlyn. According to you, it was your wealth and power she loved, not you. So perhaps your position wrecked that marriage too.’

  He saw his life playing out through her eyes.

  ‘But, finally, you’re doing it right with Clare. Maybe that’s because you’ve taken that step back. Rose isn’t everything to you any more. Your family is just as important now.’

  Along with Rob, she’d sent Mac to the States, making her Vice President of RoseGold’s US operation.

  ‘What’s that all about?’ he’d asked.

  ‘I’ve given her a kingdom of her own, Dad. It was the only way. And Rob will keep an eye on her, make sure she toes the Rose line. Cecil’s right behind me on this. He’s always been suspicious of Mac.’

  ‘Here’s Maria,’ said Eddie, bringing Harry back into the moment.

  ‘Number one daughter!’ he said, rising out of his chair to give her a hug.

  ‘Hello, Father.’

  She looked so different. This was her first visit home since she’d left for Cambodia. Eliza had been to see her recently, to discuss yet another arm of the foundation, this one providing support for girls who’d fallen victim to sex traffickers in the region.

  ‘Maria, you look stunning!’ said Eliza.

  Something of an exaggeration. But much improved, for sure. Her hair was in a sophisticated up-do, and she was wearing a rather lovely red dress. Red! And heels. High ones.

  After Eliza’s speech, which was received with thunderous applause, she swapped seats with Eddie.

  ‘How did I do, Dad?’

  ‘I liked the part about me.’

  ‘Oh my god.’

  He took her hand. ‘Ana would be so proud.’

  ‘It’s all down to you,’ she said. ‘Thanks so much for not dying.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘Dad . . . any time you want to come back, properly, to Rose. I know how much you miss it all.’

  ‘I might feel somewhat superfluous, in light of your competence.’

  ‘Are you sure? You’re nowhere near retirement age, and I’d love to have you properly back on board, not just doing your remote thing. You’re always working anyway; you may as well come in. It seems a shame you don’t, especially considering all the effort you put into the Rose building.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Come on, Dad. We make a great team. Just a day or two a week?’

  ‘Is that an order?’

  ‘Well, yes. It is.’

  ‘Very well, then. You’re the boss.’

  Epilogue

  Eliza

  ‘So you finally gave up smoking?’ said Frankie to Leigh, as they laid out blankets beneath a willow tree.

  ‘One untimely death was more than enough,’ Leigh replied. ‘However, I’m wide open to the possibility of excessive alcohol consumption tonight.’

  ‘Excess is mandatory,’ said Will. ‘We’re here to honour Kit, after all.’ He sat down, flicked his curls back and began opening a bottle of champagne.

  Insects dipped into the water, creating ripples, as a church bell chimed the hour from some distant dreaming spire. The air was warm, and the setting sun bathed everything in gold
en light.

  ‘I still can’t believe he’s gone,’ said Frankie. She’d just completed the Ocean Race, after nine gruelling months, her Rose-sponsored team coming in second.

  ‘Neither can I,’ said Eliza. ‘I miss him so much. But his work will live for ever; he’ll never be forgotten.’

  Will had poured his heart and soul into bringing Kit’s visionary script to life, his empathy for Kit’s work producing a compelling masterpiece that had resonated with viewers worldwide. Reviews spoke of a writer of unique brilliance, a Shakespeare for the twenty-first century, cut down in his prime.

  The first time Eliza had watched My Dark Soul, in the dark of The Rose’s little cinema, her insides had been ripped to shreds. All Kit’s pain, confusion and, ultimately, his beauty, as he tried through his writing to make sense of human existence, was displayed right there, large on the screen. She’d cried all the way through.

  She remembered their first-year discussions, here on this riverbank, about changing the world. Kit had made his mark. Not only had Dark Soul set the arts world on fire, it had opened up a whole debate on the nature of right and wrong, good and evil, and the place of religion in contemporary society. The term ‘spiritual atheism’ was being used to describe his way of thinking, though Eliza loathed such attempts to label Kit and his work. He’d been unique.

  ‘He was both dark and light,’ Frankie said. ‘Kind of . . . unknowable.’

  ‘He saw things, knew things,’ said Eliza. ‘He understood time and Fate.’

  ‘I thought he was just weird, or on drugs,’ said Leigh.

  Will laughed. ‘He was those things too.’

  Will was carrying on Kit’s work, developing the ideas they’d had together, keeping the flame burning.

  ‘Come on, Eliza. Drink up,’ said Leigh, pouring more champagne.

  The sun slipped away, and the river was a wide, dark path in the dusk.

  They were quiet for a while, remembering Kit.

  Twilight deepened; night wrapped itself around them. The moon rose, huge and golden.

  ‘It’s time,’ said Eliza. ‘Will?’

  They moved down to the river, Will carrying the simple white urn containing Kit’s ashes. They passed it along, each tipping out a handful, scattering them onto the moonlit water.

  ‘Goodbye, sweet Kit,’ said Eliza, as she crouched down and let the ashes slip through her fingers. Tears ran down her cheeks as she remembered the two of them together here, on that magical last night.

  Later, as the moon climbed higher and the water meadows turned silver, Eliza held out her hand to Will. ‘Come with me.’

  She led him back from the river, to where the ancient oak waited.

  ‘He brought me here. On our last night.’

  ‘I remember you running off.’

  ‘He told me things. Truths.’

  They sat in the shadows, leaning against the gnarled tree trunk, looking back towards the Thames. Their friends’ voices carried across in the stillness of the moonlit night.

  The air suddenly snapped with magic.

  Eliza felt his presence. He was here.

  For ever, now. It’s all the same.

  ‘Time,’ she said. ‘It’s the strangest thing.’

  Acknowledgements

  First and foremost, thanks to my editor Emma Beswetherick at Little, Brown UK for the conversations we’ve had about this story, especially the lunch we spent chewing over Harry and Kit. The writing life doesn’t get much better. Thanks too for the care and thought you put into helping me get Eliza right.

  My thanks also to Eleanor Russell for forging ahead with editing through these crazy times of Covid.

  Huge thanks and hugs to my agents Vicki Marsdon and Nadine Rubin Nathan at High Spot Literary, whose support goes above and beyond. I mean, how many agents design a cocktail based on your main character? (Visit oliviahayfield.com to learn how to concoct a Harry Rose. Smooth and spicy, with a hit of ginger.)

  Big thanks to Giles Portman and Chris Buckley for answering my questions on life at Oxford, for sharing your memories and letting me steal some of those, and for your helpful and occasionally acerbic comments on the text. Mwah!

  I’d also like to thank Jennifer Ward-Lealand, actress, supporter of the arts and well-deserved New Zealander of the Year, for generously giving advice on the machinations of film production; and actor and director Michael Hurst, mostly for reciting a Shakespeare sonnet to me on his doorstep. Shivers down the spine. I hope you enjoy Will Bardington.

  Director and writer Kirstin Marcon also read through the film production parts for me – thanks so much for your enthusiasm and support.

  Thanks to my beta readers: my daughter Helena (Team Kit), for blisteringly honest feedback; Jane Bloomfield, Suzanne Main and Julie Scott – your ongoing support and fun messages keep me going and mean the world.

  And finally, enormous thanks to my husband Michael, who brings me wine and nuts in my writing hut and cheers me on, even when I forget who’s real and who’s made up; and my children James and Helena (again), for only rolling their eyes occasionally.

  Readers Guide –

  Questions for discussion

  1. Did Eliza do the right thing in deciding marriage wasn’t for her? Or should she have tried harder to make it work?

  2. Do you think the tension between Maria and Eliza accurately reflects the relationship Mary Tudor would have had with her sister Elizabeth?

  3. Neither of the Tudor sisters had a happy ending when it came to romance. Has the author been true to their stories with regards to Philip of Spain and Robert Dudley?

  4. If Kit hadn’t had a sense he was on borrowed time, would he have hooked up with Eliza? Would she have reciprocated? Was Kit in fact the real reason why she couldn’t bring herself to commit to Rob?

  5. To what extent do you think Elizabeth I’s refusal to marry was down to her father’s example, in particular his beheading of her mother? Or was it simply about giving up power?

  6. In real life, Elizabeth I and Mary Queen of Scots never met. If they had, do you think they could have resolved their differences, woman to woman?

  7. How well do you think Olivia Hayfield reflects the tension between the queens of England and Scotland in her depiction of Eliza and Mac’s relationship?

  8. Lady Jane Grey (Chess) and Mary Queen of Scots were beheaded; Mary Tudor died an unhappy woman, and Elizabeth I was a successful queen but had to give up thoughts of marriage and a family to make that work. Do you feel Olivia Hayfield’s resolution of their lives in modern times is realistic?

  9. Shakespeare’s and Marlowe’s plays were often social commentaries on key people (especially those in power). How effective do you think a modern-day Shakespeare or Marlowe would be in holding people in power to account – who is doing this sort of thing now?

  The history behind the characters . . .

  A Q & A with Olivia Hayfield

  Eliza’s historical equivalent, Elizabeth 1, is famously known as ‘the Virgin Queen’. Do you think Robert Dudley really was her lover? And do you think she would have married him if he’d been free?

  These are still hotly debated questions in historian circles. I’m going to go for a disappointing ‘Honestly, I don’t know’ on both.

  I think there’s a strong possibility Elizabeth would have considered marrying Robert if he’d been free, early on in her reign when she perhaps allowed her heart more of a say, before she became the tough cookie of later on. She was certainly indiscreet about her feelings for Robert, openly flirting with him. They’d known each other since childhood, too, and that would have meant a lot to someone in her position.

  But she’d have had a hard time convincing those around her – especially William Cecil – that marriage to Robert was a good idea. Marriages weren’t made for love, they were political alliances, and the Queen of England was not to be squandered on a fellow Englishman. She was a prize for a foreign prince, emperor or king. And when Robert did become available, there was no way
she could have married him – it would have been a wildly unpopular move, given the suspicions surrounding his wife’s death, and Elizabeth cared a great deal about her image. I also think that by then, she’d realised that marriage to any man would mean giving up a great deal of power. As an imperial diplomat at the time said, ‘If she marry My lord Robert, she may one morning lay herself down as Queen of England and rise the next morning as plain Mistress Elizabeth.’

  I wonder if she was influenced by her father’s track record with marriage. He did behead her mother, after all. She may have decided early on that marrying for love wasn’t wise – or maybe marriage was just a big ‘Nope!’ from the word go.

  As for whether or not she remained a virgin, I like to think not, though I’m basing that mostly on sentiment. Many argue that she wouldn’t have had the opportunity – she was always surrounded by her ladies, even in her bedchamber at night. And then there was the risk of pregnancy. But! She was the queen, she could have dismissed those attendants for a while, right? Put a trusted lady on the door for an hour. As for pregnancy, maybe there were ways; maybe she only took the risk once or twice, who knows? I hope she did. She was smitten with Robert, and I believe he genuinely loved her too (though he was undoubtedly ambitious, and looking at the portraits, I’d say a bit full of himself).

  It has been suggested that the episode with her step-father Thomas Seymour (see later question) contributed to an aversion to sex and hence the resolve to remain a virgin. I explored this idea when writing of Eliza’s problem – it seems plausible to me that this would have affected her, but to what extent we don’t know.

  Unlike Henry VIII, Harry Rose got a happy ending. Did you have to think hard about that?

  Not too hard. By the time I started writing Sister to Sister I’d already decided he was genuine in his search for redemption, and sorry for the damage he’d done, and I wanted him to have the chance to put things right with Eliza and Maria (and Ana), for their sakes as well as his. But Harry has to work hard for his happy ending, and he does suffer, blaming himself for Stu’s unhappy life, and Maria’s, and Eliza’s inability to have a proper relationship with Robert. He’s also haunted by the deaths of Ana and Caitlyn, and is determined to atone for those.