The Seven Sisters

by Lucinda Riley

  What right did he have to know things about myself that even I didn’t?

  And yet, just like those who went to pray at the altar of an invisible power that they trusted implicitly – purely on human instinct and little factual evidence – I too felt comforted by Pa Salt’s omnipotence. If my father had known – and the guilt in Georg’s eyes after he’d made his very human error had confirmed he did – then I knew for certain that my boy was somewhere on the planet being cared for.

  It had not been my father who had lacked trust in our relationship. It had been me. I could see clearly now that he’d also understood the reasoning behind my decision not to confide in him and accepted it. He’d allowed me to make my own choice which – I admitted brutally – had not just been about fear of his parental reaction. It had been about me too. Nineteen years old, experiencing freedom for the first time, with what I’d been sure was a brilliant future in front of me, the last thing I’d wanted was the responsibility of bringing up a child alone. And perhaps, I mused, if I had gone to Pa then, confessed and talked over the options with him, I might well have come to the same conclusion anyway.

  I thought about my own mother. A similar age, in a similar dilemma, albeit at a different moment in time.

  ‘I forgive you,’ I said suddenly. ‘Thank you,’ I added, knowing that whatever her motivation, her decision had been right for me, her daughter.

  My thoughts flashed back once again to Pa Salt. I gave a small chuckle as I thought that I wouldn’t have put it past him to have interviewed the prospective adoptive parents himself.

  Maybe he had, maybe he hadn’t, but in that moment, as I sat draining my beer, I felt at peace for the first time since my baby had been born thirteen years ago.

  And now . . . I realised that in giving me my past, Pa Salt had probably offered me my future too. I quailed as I recalled my behaviour towards Floriano this morning.

  Maia, what have you done?

  Calling Christian on my mobile, I asked him to meet me at the pontoon in fifteen minutes. As I walked through the hectic streets of Geneva, I longed for the relaxed atmosphere of Rio. The people worked and they played and they also respected what they could not change or understand. And if I had messed up my future by letting old fears get the better of me, I accepted responsibility for it.

  For as I stepped onto the pontoon and boarded the launch, I knew that although my life had been shaped by events out of my control, it was I who had made the decision to react to them in the way I had.

  A very familiar but equally unexpected figure greeted me on the pier as Christian pulled the launch into Atlantis.

  ‘Surprise!’ she said, throwing her arms open to embrace me as I climbed out of the boat.

  ‘Ally! What are you doing here?’

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

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

  ‘I had a few days off, so I thought I’d come and check on how Ma was while you were away. I imagine it’s been hard on her too since Pa died.’

  Instantly, I felt guilty at my own selfishness. I hadn’t spoken to Ma once during my time in Rio. Or even given her much more than a casual ‘hello’ since I’d arrived yesterday.

  ‘You look wonderful, Maia! I hear you’ve been busy.’ Ally nudged me affectionately. ‘Ma tells me you had a guest here last night. Who is he?’

  ‘Just someone I met in Rio.’

  ‘Well, let’s get ourselves a cool drink and you can tell me all about it.’

  We sat at the table on the terrace, enjoying the sunshine. And as my usual initial ambivalence towards my ‘perfect’ sister abated after a few minutes in her easy company, I began to relax and tell her what had happened in Brazil.

  ‘Wow,’ she said as I paused for breath and took a sip of the home-made lemonade Claudia knew we both loved. ‘What an adventure you’ve been on. And it’s so brave of you to have gone there and discovered your past. I’m not confident that I’d be able to cope with finding out the reasons why I was put up for adoption in the first place, even though I did get lucky with Pa Salt and all my sisters afterwards. Didn’t it hurt when your grandmother told you about your mother?’ she asked me.

  ‘Yes, of course it did, but I understand. And Ally, there’s something else I want to tell you. That perhaps I should have told you a long time ago . . .’

  I told her about my son then, and how I’d made the terrible decision to give him up. Ally looked genuinely shocked and I saw tears appear in her eyes.

  ‘Maia, how dreadful that you had to go through that all alone. Why on earth didn’t you tell me? I was 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.’

  ‘What a burden you’ve had to carry,’ she breathed. ‘By the way, if you don’t mind me asking, who was the father?’

  ‘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.’ Ally shuddered.

  ‘Of course,’ I acknowledged, having completely forgotten that detail in the maelstrom of the past three weeks. ‘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.’

  Ally looked at me 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.’

  ‘Does Zed know that he was the father of your child?’

  ‘No. And if he did, I doubt he’d care.’

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

  ‘You know him then?’

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

  ‘Yes. I translated his first novel for him. It was published in Paris last week to rave reviews.’

  ‘You were with him there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I . . . like him a lot.’

  ‘Marina says he liked you too. A lot,’ Ally emphasised. ‘So, where do the two of you go from here?’

  ‘I don’t know. We didn’t really make any future plans. He has a six-year-old daughter, you see, and he lives in Rio, and I’m here . . . Anyway, how about you, Ally?’ I said, not wishing to discuss Floriano any further.

  ‘The sailing’s going well, and I’ve been asked to join the crew of the Fastnet Race next month. Also, the coach of the Swiss national sailing team wants to put me through my final paces. If I’m in, it would mean training from autumn with the rest of the squad for next year’s Olympics in Beijing.’

  ‘Ally! That’s fantastic! Do let me know, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course I will.’

  I was just about to question her further when Marina came out onto the terrace. ‘Maia, chérie, I didn’t know you were home until I saw Claudia just now. Christian gave me this earlier. Then, with Ally arriving unexpectedly, I’m afraid I forgot to give it to you.’ Marina handed me an envelope. I looked down at the writing and recognised it instantly as Floriano’s.

  ‘Thank you, Ma.’

  ‘Will you two girls be wanting su
pper?’ she asked us.

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

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

  The two women looked at me and the letter knowingly.

  ‘See you later, chérie,’ said Marina.

  Back at the Pavilion, my fingers trembling, I opened the envelope.

  I drew out a piece of tatty paper that looked as if it had been hastily torn from a notepad.

  On the boat

  Lake Geneva

  13th July 2007

  Mon amour Maia,

  I write to you in what you know is my bad French, and although I cannot be poetic in the language the way that Laurent Brouilly was to Izabela, the feeling behind the words is just the same. (And forgive the bad writing, the launch is a little bumpy across the water.) Chérie, I understood your distress this morning and wished to comfort you, but perhaps you still struggle to trust me. So I will tell you in writing that I love you. And even though we have spent such a short time together so far, I believe our story has only just begun. If you’d stayed with me long enough this morning before I left, I would have told you that I wish more than anything for you to come to be with me in Rio. So we can eat burnt bean stew, sip undrinkable wine and dance the samba together every night of our lives. It is a lot to ask of you, I know, for you to give up your life in Geneva and come to me here. But, just as Izabela had a child to think of, so do I. And Valentina needs her family close. Certainly for now, at least.

  I will leave you to think about it, for it is a big decision. But please, I’d be grateful if you could put me out of my misery sooner rather than later. Tonight is too long to wait, but, under the circumstances, will be acceptable.

  Also, I enclose the soapstone tile. My friend at the museum finally managed to decipher the quotation that Izabela wrote for Laurent.

  Love knows not distance;

  It hath no continent;

  Its eyes are for the stars.

  Goodbye for now. I’ll wait to hear.

  Floriano X

  Ally

  July 2007

  New Moon

  12; 04; 53

  51

  Marina and I waved and blew kisses as we watched Maia leave Atlantis. Her two suitcases were filled to the brim with her most treasured possessions. And three hundred Twinings English Breakfast teabags, which she said were impossible to find in Rio. Even though she’d assured us she’d be back very soon, somehow we knew she wouldn’t be. And so we both felt emotional as we watched my big sister disappear from view to begin her new life.

  ‘I’m so happy for her,’ said Marina, surreptitiously wiping her eyes as we turned and walked back to the house. ‘Floriano is such a lovely man, and Maia tells me his young daughter is beautiful too.’

  ‘It seems as if she’s found herself a ready-made family,’ I commented. ‘Maybe it will make up for what she lost.’

  Marina shot me a glance as we entered the house. ‘Maia told you?’

  ‘Yes, yesterday. And I admit I was shocked. Not so much by what had happened, but by the fact she’d kept it to herself for all these years. As a matter of fact,’ I said, ‘selfishly, I felt very hurt that she’d been unable to trust me with her secret. Presumably you knew?’ I asked Ma as I followed her into the kitchen.

  ‘Yes, chérie, I was the one who helped her. Anyway, what’s done is done. And Maia, finally, has found herself a life. To be honest,’ Marina admitted as she switched the kettle on to boil, ‘sometimes I despaired she ever would.’

  ‘I think we all did. I remember her being so happy and positive when she was younger, but then she seemed to change overnight. I went to visit her once when she’d returned to continue her third year of university at the Sorbonne. She was so quiet . . . closed,’ I sighed. ‘It was a very boring weekend because Maia didn’t want to go anywhere, whereas I was sixteen and in Paris for the first time. Now I understand why. You know how I idolised her when I was younger. It really upset me as I knew she had shut me out.’

  ‘I think she shut us all out,’ Marina comforted me. ‘But if anyone can bring her back and teach her to trust, it’s that young man she’s found herself. Tea? Or something cooler?’

  ‘Water will be fine, thanks. Honestly, Ma, I think you have a serious crush on Floriano!’ I teased her, as she passed me a glass of water.

  ‘Well, he’s certainly very attractive,’ Marina agreed without guile.

  ‘I can’t wait to meet him. But now Maia’s gone, what will you do here?’

  ‘Oh, don’t you worry, I have lots of things to keep me busy. It’s amazing how often you girls fly back to the nest. Usually at short notice.’ She smiled at me. ‘I had Star here last week, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘Did you? Without CeCe?’

  ‘Yes.’ Marina tactfully refrained from commenting further. ‘But you know it’s a pleasure to have any of you at home with me.’

  ‘It does feel so different here without Pa,’ I said suddenly.

  ‘Yes, of course it does. But can you imagine how proud he would be if he could see what you are doing tomorrow? You know how much he loved his sailing.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, smiling sadly. ‘Changing the subject, you obviously know that the father of Maia’s son was Kreeg Eszu’s boy, Zed?’

  ‘I do, yes. Anyway’ – Marina abruptly changed the subject – ‘I’ll ask Claudia to make sure supper’s ready by seven tonight. I know you have an early start in the morning.’

  ‘Yes, and I must go and check my emails. Is it okay if I use Pa’s study?’

  ‘Of course it is. Remember, this is yours and your sisters’ house now,’ Marina said patiently.

  Taking my laptop from my bedroom, I went downstairs, opened the door to my father’s study, and for the first time in my life, sat down tentatively in Pa Salt’s chair. I stared into space as my laptop went through the process of opening, and gazed blankly at the cornucopia of objects Pa had kept on his shelves.

  The 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, and 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. As I switched 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 stood, 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 it to my ear as I made to dial the number, I realised someone else in the house was already on the line. The shock of hearing the familiar, resonant tones of the voice that had comforted me from childhood forced me to interrupt the conversation.

  ‘Hello?’ I said, hurriedly reaching over and turning the CD player down to make absolutely sure it was him.

  But the voice at the other end had become a monotonous bleeping, and I knew he had gone.

  Author’s Note

  The ‘Seven Sisters’ series is loosely based on the mythology of The Seven Sisters of The Pleiades, the well-known star constellation next to the famous belt of Orion. From the Mayans to the Greeks to the Aborigines, The Seven Sisters stars
are noted in inscriptions and in verse. Sailors have used them as guiding lights for thousands of years and even a Japanese brand of car, ‘Subaru’, is named after the six sisters . . .

  Many of the names in the series are anagrams for the characters that populate the legends, with relevant allegorical phrases used throughout, but it is not important to know anything about these to enjoy the books. However, if you are interested in reading more about ‘Pa Salt’, Maia and her sisters, then please visit my website, www.lucindariley.com, where the many legends and stories are revealed.

  Acknowledgements

  Firstly, I would like to thank Milla and Fernando Baracchini and their son Gui, as it was at their dining-room table in Ribeirão Preto that I first came up with the idea of writing a story set in Brazil. And the wonderful Maria Izabel Seabra de Noronha, the great-granddaughter of Heitor da Silva Costa, the architect and engineer of Christ the Redeemer, for so generously sharing her time and knowledge as well as her documentary De Braços Abertos (Arms Wide Open). And then sparing the time to read through the manuscript to check all the details were correct. However, this is a work of fiction, wrapped around real historical figures. And my portrayal of both Paul Landowski and the da Silva Costa family and his staff is down to my imagination, rather than fact. Valeria and Luiz Augusto Ribeiro for offering me their fazenda up in the mountains above Rio to write in – I never wanted to leave – and especially to Vania and Ivonne Silva for the pound cake and so much more. Suzanna Perl, my very patient guide to Rio and its history, Pietro and Eduardo, our lovely drivers, Carla Ortelli for her magnificent organisation – nothing was ever too much trouble – and Andrea Ferreira for being at the other end of the phone whenever I needed her to translate for me.

  I would also like to thank all my publishers around the world for their support and encouragement when I announced to them that I would be writing a series of seven books based on The Seven Sisters of the Pleiades. Particularly Jez Trevathan and Catherine Richards, Georg Reuchlein and Claudia Negele, Peter Borland and Judith Curr, Knut Gørvell, Jorid Mathiassen and Pip Hallén.