The Sisters

by Kate Forster

  Dominique smiled at her. ‘Thank you, my dear. Just what I wanted to hear. Well then, you better see the rest before you start,’ she said, standing up.

  Grace was flummoxed. ‘Start what, Mrs Calthorpe?’

  ‘The inventory, my dear. You have the whole house to catalogue. I know you said your auction house was small but I thought there would be more than just you,’ Dominique said as she walked through the sitting room into a study filled with art nouveau objects.

  Grace stood behind her and silently clapped her hands. ‘Oh thank you, Dominique, and yes there are more of me,’ she smiled.

  ‘Well, you should ring for reinforcements then.’

  Grace pulled out her phone and saw another message from her mother’s house, but instead she rang Cranfields. ‘Alan, it’s Grace. Yes, we got it. Get yourself down here. There is more art nouveau than I have ever seen and she has a Cassatt, yes a Cassatt!’

  As Grace spoke she remembered how much Birdie loved Mary Cassatt’s work and thought about her mother and felt guilty. She quickly dialled the number that had been harassing her all morning.

  ‘Hi Thea, it’s Grace. Is Mom there?’ she said quietly so Dominique who was in the next room wouldn’t hear.

  Grace was silent and felt the colour drain from her face. ‘I’m coming now.’

  ‘Dominique, Dominique,’ she cried.

  The old lady rushed into the room.

  ‘I have to go, it’s my mother, she’s been hurt. She needs help. I’m so sorry.’

  Dominique waved her hand at her. ‘Go, go, family first, always child.’

  3

  The de Santoval triplets stood by their mother’s bedside listening as the doctor spoke. Carlotta was the eldest by two minutes and the heaviest at birth. She was strong and impulsive and had a wild temper to match her wild auburn hair. Violetta was the middle triplet. Pretty but not beautiful, she made up for her looks by being perfectly groomed and extremely fashion forward wherever she went. Graciela was the youngest and the true beauty of the family. A willowy brunette, she may have had all of Birdie’s fine features and elegance but none of her sisters’ courage.

  It had been almost two years since the triplets had been in the same room. Christmas, Grace remembered as she tried to recall when they had last seen each other.

  Carlotta focused on her mother and ignored her sisters. When had she seen them last? That horrible Christmas, she thought, remembering Leon’s scathing character assassination he had given each of them over the Christmas table. She had avoided Christmas last year and would try to avoid it again this year.

  Violetta snuck a look up at her sisters. Carlotta looked the same as ever. Grace looked like a mini version of her mother. Twenty-five going on fifty, thought Violetta unkindly, noticing her velvet headband.

  She avoided seeing the family the most out of the three. She had nothing to do with her father and spoke to her mother only when she needed more money or an introduction. She had nothing in common with either of her sisters and no respect for them. Grace was a control freak and Carlotta was a horse freak. Violetta had nothing to share with them about her own life and wasn’t about to do it over her mother’s hospital bed.

  ‘You are all Cordelia’s daughters?’ asked a man with a stethoscope around his neck and a tie with golfers woven on it.

  ‘Birdie, she likes to be called Birdie,’ Carlotta said, her mouth set in a straight line.

  ‘OK, sure, I will get the nurse to change the tag above her bed,’ he said, gesturing to the crudely written name on a small whiteboard above it. ‘Shall we sit somewhere and talk?’

  ‘Should we leave her?’ asked Grace, still clasping her mother’s hand.

  ‘Your mother will be fine. The nurses will let us know should anything change,’ he said kindly.

  Leading the women from the room, he guided them into a small waiting room, with sofas and a box of tissues on the small side table.

  The girls sat down. ‘Your mother is in a coma. She has suffered a traumatic head injury. We will do an MRI to ascertain how much of her brain has been affected but I won’t know any more till then.’

  The girls were silent. Finally Violetta spoke up. ‘Do they know how this happened? Did she slip in the bath?’

  The doctor looked down at the floor. ‘Well, that’s the other thing. The police want to speak to you.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Carlotta, her voice raised.

  ‘I can’t say too much, I am not sure of the complete circumstances. There are some detectives waiting for a chance to talk to you all. If now is not a good time then I can ask him to come back. Perhaps you can talk to them while we take Birdie for her scan?’

  ‘Send them in,’ said Carlotta, without waiting for permission from her sisters.

  The doctor left the room and the girls sat quietly, each absorbed in her own thoughts and ignoring each other. The door opened again and two detectives in suits stood in the doorway. ‘Hello, we are from the NYPD. I am very sorry about your mother’s condition,’ said one of them.

  Violetta nodded to them and gestured for them to sit down.

  The other one spoke gently. ‘I know this is an awful time for you but we need to ask a few questions, if you don’t mind.’

  Violetta nodded again. Carlotta spoke. ‘Why? Did she slip in the bath? Why do you need detectives to ask about that?’

  ‘I am afraid that there were reports of voices raised before your mother was found. Your mother was known to us, you see, and we have to investigate.’

  ‘What?’ said Carlotta. ‘How did you know my mother?’

  ‘She had filed domestic battery charges before against your father, a few times over the years, but then always withdrew them.’

  The girls sat in shock. How had she hidden this from them? Why hadn’t she told them?

  The detective continued, ‘and now we want to speak to your father, but he’s missing. We have reports he has flown out of the US as of an hour ago on a private plane. Do any of you know why he would have left so suddenly?’

  Carlotta finally spoke. ‘That fucking bastard,’ she spat out angrily.

  The detective was silent and seemingly nonjudgmental, but Violetta noticed a slightly raised eyebrow, as though he agreed with her.

  ‘We have reports he has left with a woman, a Melanie Sanger,’ he said, looking at the small notebook in his hand. ‘Can you tell me anything about her?’

  Carlotta snorted unattractively. ‘Melanie is Leon’s long-term mistress. Been together for about twelve years, as far as I know.’ She looked at her sisters for agreement.

  They nodded in shock.

  ‘And she has a son? Matthew Sanger?’ asked the detective.

  Violetta groaned and Grace’s face went white.

  ‘Yes, he’s around our age,’ said Violetta. ‘We don’t see him though.’

  Matthew was a pimply, thin boy who was forced to holiday with the girls on and off when Leon went away with Birdie without them. They knew never to mention him to Birdie when they returned from their forced vacations but they all hated him. Matthew’s father had divorced Melanie when he found out about Leon’s relationship with her and Leon had, as far as Violetta knew, paid for everything in Melanie and Matthew’s life.

  ‘Here is my card should you find out any more? I will be in touch,’ the detective said, handing it to Carlotta.

  ‘Sure.’

  The sisters sat in silence after the police left.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ Violetta said.

  ‘I know,’ said Carlotta.

  ‘I can,’ said Grace.

  ‘What?’

  Carlotta and Violetta turned to their younger sister.

  ‘I knew he was hurting her. I tried to make her leave but she wouldn’t.’ Grace started to cry.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us, Grace? Jesus,’ spat Carlotta at her sister.

  ‘She made me promise, said she didn’t want it blown out of proportion. I thought it was just slapping and yelling, but not this serio
us.’

  ‘You should have fucking told us,’ yelled Carlotta. ‘Slapping is still abuse, Grace.’

  Grace raised her voice back at her sister. ‘You were closest to her, you live on the estate. Why didn’t you call in and see her more? Then maybe you would have found out. You could have gone and seen her this morning but instead you were out on a horse, as usual. So don’t blame me.’

  Violetta sat between them. There was no way she was going to admit she was fucking someone while her mother was lying naked on a cold bathroom floor for hours.

  ‘Listen, we are here now,’ she said, ever the peacemaker with her sisters, and wondering how long she had to stay. She had promised Adam she would go to a party with him later.

  ‘Mom is being cared for and we have to hope she improves soon. The last thing we have to worry about is Leon.’ She spat her father’s name out as though it left a bad taste in her mouth. ‘Mom will get through this and when he returns from wherever the hell he has gone, then the police will deal with him,’ she said, convincing herself more as she spoke.

  Silence hung heavily over the sisters and then Grace looked at Violetta.

  ‘What are you wearing?’ she asked, looking at Violetta in a short silver-sequined T-shirt, skin tight black jeans and high heeled purple boots. ‘Did you come straight here from a nightclub?’

  Violetta looked down at herself. ‘Why do you give a shit about what I’m wearing, Grace?’

  ‘Well, I thought you might have worn something a little less conspicuous,’ said Grace tartly.

  ‘Right, well you worry about my clothes while I worry about our mother, how’s that for you?’ said Violetta acidly.

  Violetta had grabbed the clothes on the floor when she had finally heard the message from Thea. Granted, they weren’t standard issue hospital visiting wear, but she didn’t really care about the stares she received when she ran into the hospital.

  Grace was silent and Carlotta glared at her.

  ‘Well, I have to get back to Connecticut as soon as possible, so I hope this doesn’t drag on,’ Carlotta said to no one in particular.

  ‘I’ll be sure to tell Mom that you send your regards then, will I?’ Grace asked, without looking at her sister.

  ‘Fuck you,’ said Carlotta.

  ‘Charming,’ Grace answered.

  ‘Shut up, you two,’ Violetta said angrily, deciding to blow off the party. Adam would understand, she thought. ‘We all have our lives to get back to but I think you are forgetting that Mom doesn’t have one at the moment, so I would suggest you rethink your priorities.’

  She stood up. Surprisingly, she felt in control even in the face of uncertainty.

  Grace and Carlotta were chastened enough to nod in agreement and they left the waiting room and went back to Birdie’s bedside. The doctor and a nurse were standing over her, looking at the display on the machine next to her. The doctor looked up at the sisters.

  ‘How is she?’ asked Grace, reaching down to take her mother’s hand. Her short nails were perfectly manicured, as always, and it softened Grace’s heart as she held onto the lifeless fingers.

  ‘She’s not doing so great. We are about to take her for an MRI scan,’ he said. ‘That should tell us more.’

  ‘What can we do?’ asked Carlotta.

  ‘I suggest you stay here, perhaps take it in turns to sit with her. This could be a long wait to find the outcome we are all hoping for,’ the doctor said. He turned to Violetta, who was silent. ‘Talking to her is good. Reading, telling her about your lives will help to bring her out. She is in a coma right now, but once we see the results of the MRI then we can create a plan of action.’

  Violetta looked at the doctor, her eyes filled with tears. ‘Can she hear us?’ she asked.

  ‘I think she can. I like to believe my patients can hear their loved ones. I have read many instances when people have come out of comas and have remembered their treatment and the words from their families.’

  The girls were quiet as he spoke. He had a sense of calm that they needed to grasp onto in this destabilising time.

  Violetta reached down and took Birdie’s free hand. ‘Mommy, it’s Letty. We are all here, the trio is back. We came and we will stay here until you wake up, OK?’

  ‘So, we will take her for her MRI now,’ the doctor said gently.

  ‘OK,’ said Carlotta, unsure of what to say to her silent mother.

  As the doctor went to leave the room, Violetta looked up at him. ‘Excuse me, what’s your name? I don’t think you told us.’

  ‘Jeff, Jeff Carson.’ She noticed a tiny blush creep up his neck.

  Violetta smiled at him. ‘I’m glad Mom has you, Doctor Jeff.’

  She turned back and the sisters all stood by their mother’s bed.

  ‘So, no fighting by her bed, OK?’ said Violetta.

  ‘OK,’ said Grace.

  ‘Absolutely,’ agreed Carlotta.

  ‘Somebody needs to ring Spencer,’ said Violetta.

  Spencer was their mother’s lawyer and Birdie’s childhood friend and lived in Georgia. Their relationship with him was the most significant they had with any man and he stepped in where Leon had failed them.

  Spencer and Birdie had grown up together. He came from a long line of wealthy lawyers and he had been Birdie’s lawyer since the day she married Leon. Spencer and Birdie were betrothed at the cradle, Birdie had told them, but then she met Leon and all plans were thrown out the window.

  Whether Spencer had harboured any feelings for Birdie, her daughters didn’t know, but he was a gentle and loving influence in their lives. Never married, he blew in and out of the de Santoval women’s lives when he came up from Atlanta and took them to the theatre in New York or to Economy Candy for shopping sprees, where he would buy them all the candy they wanted.

  Leon hated him and claimed Spencer was still in love with Birdie. The sisters had their suspicions that Leon was right, but as far as they knew nothing had ever happened between Birdie and Spencer besides a longstanding friendship.

  ‘I’ll call,’ said Grace, desperate to get away from the machines and her sisters.

  She walked away, heading back to the waiting room.

  A small knock came from the door and a nurse and porter came in to take their mother for her MRI. Violetta and Carlotta stood against the wall to make room for them as they unhooked her and attached the monitors to the bed.

  ‘Be careful with her,’ snapped Carlotta to the nurse, as she watched her lift her mother’s head to adjust the wires.

  ‘We are always careful with our patients,’ said the nurse, her hackles rising.

  ‘Well, be extra careful with her, OK?’ said Carlotta, her hands on her hips.

  The nurse looked at Violetta who made an apologetic face as the nurse wheeled Birdie from the room.

  ‘You have to be nicer to the staff, Carlotta,’ Violetta said.

  ‘Why? They need reminding who she is. She isn’t just some woman in a bed, she’s our mother.’

  ‘I think they know that. You aren’t going to get her treated any better by being an asshole,’ said Violetta, crossing her arms and sitting on a chair.

  Carlotta slumped down the wall and sat on the floor. ‘What a disaster,’ she said.

  ‘I know,’ agreed Violetta.

  ‘What are we going to do now?’ asked Carlotta.

  ‘I have no idea.’

  Grace walked back into the room. ‘Spencer had already heard from Thea. He’s on his way, his secretary told me he will be here by this evening.’

  The sisters were silent and then Grace spoke. ‘I’m sorry I was a bitch,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Me too,’ said Carlotta.

  Violetta said nothing. She didn’t know what to say to her sisters who were like strangers to each other. They were so separate in their lives now. The last birthday they had spent together was when they turned eighteen and Birdie and Leon had thrown a party for them at The Plaza.

  ‘I think we have to keep this pri
vate, well as much as possible,’ said Grace, always mindful of the family’s reputation. She was, after all, most like her mother.

  ‘Yes, I agree. No media, no interviews, nothing,’ said Carlotta.

  Violetta nodded and then felt sick, remembering the reality series. She would get out of it, she thought, making a note to tell Spencer to review the contract that lay on her dressing table in her apartment.

  ‘No problem,’ said Violetta, but she had a feeling it was going to be a problem, a big one.

  *

  Doctor Jeff Carson was 39 years old, one of the youngest neurosurgeons on staff at the exclusive New York hospital. He had gone through Harvard Medical School on a scholarship, working at a bar for cash to pay for his shitty rental apartment. Jeff was passionate about medicine and work. When he wasn’t at the hospital, he was reading medical texts and journals or online forums with peers overseas. Jeff was so wise when it came to work but completely ignorant of how to have a life. He had lost his virginity at college, to a young Chinese medical student; it was, as far as he could remember through the haze of beer and sweat, average. He had dated a few nurses while in his residency but he found them distracting and eventually his workaholic nature pushed them away.

  Tall and with sandy hair, pushed back as he was always forgetting to get a haircut, Jeff gave the air of a young Robert Redford, which women found irresistible, until they found out his personality was more like Bill Gates. He was awkward unless he was talking about the brain and its function and mostly he left the bedside talk to his peers, particularly the female doctors.

  Cordelia de Santoval’s daughters were not the usual types of family he had in the hospital. Especially the one who had asked his name. She was wearing odd clothing – sequins were rarely seen in a hospital and he could see a flash of toned bare midriff when she moved. A party girl, one of the nurses had gossiped when they were out of earshot. Birdie was the wife of a fashion king and the daughters were infamous in the New York social scene, Violetta being the most known.