The Sun Sister (The Seven Sisters)

by Lucinda Riley

  ‘My dear girl, we are the “cops” here,’ Tarquin chuckled. ‘As you will learn, anything goes in Happy Valley,’ he said as they both watched Kiki take another snort from the samovar.

  ‘Have you ever tried it yourself?’ she asked him.

  ‘A gentleman is never meant to tell a lie, and I would be lying if I said no. So yes, I have on occasion, and it does give one the most amazing feeling. But I wouldn’t recommend it for a young lady like yourself. As I’m sure you know, your godmother has had the most terribly difficult few years. Whatever gets you through the night, as they say. Neither you nor I are in a position to judge.’

  ‘No, of course not. I mean, I wouldn’t like her to get sick on it or anything, though.’

  ‘I know what you mean, Cecily, but as I said, the normal rules do not apply to either Kiki or Kenya and that is the best piece of advice I can give you.’

  Tarquin left her a few minutes later, probably to talk to someone far more interesting. Cecily was content, in between being introduced to various middle-aged friends of Kiki’s, to sit and watch the gathering crowd. Aleeki and his band of servants buzzed around, keeping the guests’ glasses topped up and handing round trays of canapés. Realising she hadn’t eaten anything all day, Cecily tentatively took a devilled egg and found to her surprise on biting into it that it tasted just like the ones back home. Somehow she’d expected to be eating antelope roasted over a fire rather than American-style delicacies. After she had taken two of everything that came her way, Aleeki bent down to whisper in her ear.

  ‘I will make memsahib a sandwich if she would prefer? And there is soup in the kitchen.’

  ‘Oh no, these canapés are just divine,’ she replied, touched that he had noticed her obvious appetite.

  ‘All alone and forgotten about by your godmother already, my dear?’

  Alice, the lady in the blue silk dress who’d arrived with Tarquin, sat down next to her. ‘Don’t take it personally, she’ll have forgotten her own name by the end of tonight,’ she drawled. ‘I think I met your mother once in New York. She lives in that sweet house surrounded by apartment blocks on Fifth Avenue, doesn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, she . . . we do,’ Cecily said, looking into Alice’s eyes, which were very pretty but had a rather glazed appearance. ‘I . . . Do you live close to here?’ she added, struggling to find conversation.

  ‘I suppose that depends on how you define “close”, doesn’t it? It isn’t so far away, not as the crow flies at least. But the problem is, we’re not crows, are we? Just humans, damned humans with arms and legs but no wings. You must come over to my farm someday. Meet all my animals.’

  ‘What kind of animals do you have?’

  ‘Oh, all sorts really; I had a pet lion cub for years, but sadly I had to give him away when he got too large.’

  ‘A lion?’

  ‘Yes. You don’t like guns, do you?’

  ‘I can’t say, because I’ve never held one or used one.’

  ‘Good girl, then don’t. Animals have hearts and minds too, y’know. They feel in just the same way as we do.’

  They both watched as the woman called Idina swept past them with Lynx, the man she had arrived with. The couple walked towards the lake, then disappeared into the darkness beyond.

  ‘Y’know, Idina was once married to the love of my life,’ Alice sighed. ‘We shared him, a long time ago . . .’

  ‘Oh . . .’ Cecily nearly choked on her drink. ‘Is he here tonight?’

  ‘No, although he used to live just around the corner from here at the Djinn Palace, on the lake. Don’t you let Joss Erroll seduce you, will you, my dear? It would be nice to know that one virgin managed to keep her virtue safe from him.’

  Cecily blushed heavily at Alice’s words, not because they particularly shocked her – she was learning fast that the wild plains of Africa had nothing on the wildness of its human inhabitants – but because it reminded her of the fact that she no longer had a ‘virtue’ to lose.

  ‘Does America think war will come?’ Alice asked as she glanced round dreamily at the other guests.

  ‘I think it’s just as much in the dark as everyone else,’ Cecily said, trying to keep up with the conversation, which seemed to bounce erratically from one subject to the next. Yet there was something about Alice that she liked, however crazy she seemed.

  ‘I hope not, or it will be the end of everything we’ve known here. Joss will be involved in it, of course. And I just couldn’t bear for him to die, y’know?’ Alice said as she stood up. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, honey. Come over and see me soon.’

  Cecily watched her float off into the crowd on the terrace. A few of the guests had started to dance to the tinny gramophone music and one woman was openly kissing her dance partner as his hands slid down the back of her dress.

  ‘Time for bed,’ she sighed and stood up. She heard a peal of laughter from down by the lake, turned and saw the backs of two completely naked bodies running into the water. With another sigh, she headed for the sanctuary of her bedroom.

  Cecily was woken by a dawn cacophony of tweets, calls and caws of unknown birds and animals. She lay there, desperate to return to sleep. She had been awake for hours last night, disturbed by the hilarity of the guests and the gramophone, which had played beneath her bedroom window until at least four in the morning. Even after that, there had been stifled screams and giggles from inside the house. If it was possible to feel exhausted when one had just woken up, Cecily did. However, as she forced her eyelids to close, the sunrise chorus only increased in volume.

  ‘Darn it!’ she swore, realising that counting imaginary sheep – or lions – was not going to help, so she rose from the bed, taking a few seconds to extricate herself from the mosquito net, then walked over to one of the windows and pulled back the shutters.

  ‘Oh my goodness!’ she breathed, because there, standing on the grass that led down to the lake, was a giraffe nibbling the leaves of one of the flat-topped trees.

  Despite the fatigue and the anxiety that was still making her tummy clench after everything she’d witnessed last night, Cecily couldn’t help but smile. She searched the room for the camera Papa had given her as a parting gift, but had no idea where Muratha had stowed it after emptying her trunk. By the time she did find it, the giraffe had wandered out of sight. Still, she thought, even without the giraffe, the view was enough to make grown men weep.

  It was not even seven a.m. and the sky was already glowing turquoise, casting a shimmering light on the lake. Cecily walked to her closet to search for one of the cotton dresses Kiki had suggested she bring from New York. After dressing hurriedly, then giving her hair – which had become even more unruly in the heat – a cursory brush, she opened the door, walked along the silent corridor and tiptoed downstairs.

  ‘Good morning, memsahib.’

  Cecily’s heart gave a small start as she turned round to find Aleeki had appeared behind her.

  ‘Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Why yes, I did, thank you.’

  ‘Would you like some breakfast?’

  ‘That’s most kind, but I was going to take a stroll down to the lake first.’

  ‘Then I shall set breakfast for you on the veranda, ready for when you are back. Tea or coffee, memsahib?’

  ‘Oh, coffee, please. Thank you, Aleeki.’

  She started to walk towards the door, but Aleeki overtook her swiftly to open it for her, giving her a small bow as she walked through it. There was no sign on the terrace of last night’s festivities; all traces had obviously been cleared away by the servants. As Cecily donned her sunglasses to shield her fragile eyes from a sun that felt as though it had moved miles closer overnight, she marvelled at Kiki’s ‘houseboy’, as she’d heard her godmother call him, looking fresh as the proverbial daisy after what must have been a night of even less sleep than she’d had. At the water’s edge, Cecily glanced to her left, and saw a group of hippos sunning themselves on the bank a few hundred yards along.
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  ‘This is just surreal,’ she whispered to herself. ‘Am I really here?’

  She went to the bench positioned thoughtfully at the edge of the lake and noticed a white brassiere hanging over the back of it. She thought of Idina and her fiancé swimming naked last night and wondered with a chuckle whether she should alert Aleeki to the brassiere’s presence. He was so inscrutable that she could imagine him not batting an eyelid, even if she handed it to him over the breakfast table.

  ‘Maybe it was just a homecoming party that got out of hand,’ Cecily said aloud to a bird with a coat of metallic blue and green feathers sitting in a tree right on the water’s edge. She was pretty certain it was a kingfisher. This was confirmed as the bird suddenly plunged into the water beneath the overhanging branch and plucked a fish from it a few seconds later.

  Cecily sat there for a while, feeling her shoulders relax as she watched the natural world go about its day around her. However the humans – still asleep in the house behind her – wished to behave, this landscape and what it contained had a heartbeat of its own, and that was what she must try to tap into.

  Eventually the sun forced her to head for the cover of the shady veranda on one side of the house – she really must remember to wear a hat, even this early in the morning, otherwise her freckles would speckle her face like a leopard’s coat. She walked through the gardens that bordered the terrace, which were full of sweet-smelling flowers and exotic-looking plants that she couldn’t name. The sun had already warmed the grass under her feet and the air hummed with insects dipping their heads into the nectar-rich blooms.

  ‘All is ready for you, memsahib.’ Aleeki pulled a chair out for her as she arrived on the veranda. The table was set for breakfast, with all sorts of goodies sitting in baskets or on silver platters.

  ‘Thank you,’ Cecily said, feeling rather dizzy from the sun.

  ‘Here.’ Aleeki proffered her a glass of water and a fan. ‘Most helpful in the heat of the day. Shall I pour your coffee?’

  ‘Yes please,’ Cecily said as she drained the cool glass of water and began to fan herself rapidly. ‘Goodness, it’s hot today.’

  ‘It is hot here every day, memsahib, but you will become used to it.’ With a click of his fingers, a servant arrived carrying a gigantic version of her own fan. He began wafting it and Cecily’s dizziness began to abate.

  ‘Memsahib must wear a hat, it is very important,’ said Aleeki. ‘Milk in your coffee?’

  ‘I’ll take it black, thank you. And please tell him, he can stop fanning me now. What time does my godmother usually rise for breakfast?’

  ‘Oh, very rarely before midday. There is fruit, cereal and fresh bread with homemade jam and honey. We can toast the bread for you if you wish, but we also have eggs. Sunny side up is your preference?’

  ‘I think I’m good for now, thank you.’ Cecily indicated the feast spread out on the table.

  Aleeki gave his customary bow, then withdrew to the side of the veranda. As she sipped her coffee, she felt as if she was being served breakfast in a tropical version of the Waldorf Astoria. The food so far had been tastier than anything their family’s chef provided in Manhattan. And the staff were more attentive.

  As Aleeki was pouring her a second cup of coffee and she was eating a slice of the gorgeous freshly baked bread smothered in honey, she turned to him.

  ‘How long have you worked for my godmother?’

  ‘Oh, ever since she arrived here and built this house. Many years, memsahib.’

  ‘I’d love to see what’s beyond the trees,’ she said, indicating the boundary that had been planted around the gardens and house. ‘What’s there?’

  ‘On one side there is a cattle farm, and on the other the memsahib keep her horses. If you wish to ride after breakfast, I can arrange a good horse for you.’

  A sudden image jumped into Cecily’s head of riding out with Julius across the frozen English parkland, then lighting a makeshift fire in the folly and warming up together in front of it.

  ‘Maybe another time, Aleeki. I’m still a little tired today.’

  ‘Of course, memsahib. You wish for eggs now?’

  ‘No thanks,’ she murmured, the memory of Julius washing the beauty and calm of her first morning in Kenya clean away.

  It was two in the afternoon before Cecily glimpsed her godmother strolling onto the veranda. She’d spent the past few hours alone in her room, avoiding the intense noon sun and doing her best to take photographs of the view from the vantage point of her window. She would have to find somewhere to get them developed so she could send them home to her family. She’d written them a long letter on the thick vellum paper Aleeki had provided for her, documenting (most) of her adventures so far. The process had left her tearful on occasions; home had never felt so far away as it did right now.

  ‘Cecily, darling! Are you sleeping?’ called a loud voice from beneath the window.

  Well, if I was, I’d certainly be awake now . . .

  She poked her head outside. ‘No, I was writing home to my parents.’

  ‘Then come down at once!’

  ‘Of course.’ With a sigh, Cecily grabbed the letter and headed downstairs.

  ‘Champagne?’ said Kiki as Cecily approached the table on the veranda. Her godmother sat alone, a bottle in an ice bucket and a pack of Lucky Strikes apparently her only sustenance.

  ‘No thank you, I’m still full from lunch.’

  ‘Please accept my apologies, honey,’ Kiki sighed, taking a large slug of champagne and a draw on her cigarette holder. ‘The party went on late last night.’

  Cecily didn’t think Kiki looked sorry at all.

  ‘So, what did you think of my friends? I hope they were nice to you. I certainly told them to be.’

  ‘Oh, they were all very kind, thank you.’

  ‘Well, you were a hit with Alice. She’s asked us over to tea at Wanjohi Farm tomorrow. Did you like her?’

  ‘Why, yes, she was certainly interesting—’

  ‘Oh, she’s that, all right. You know that a few years ago, Alice was on trial for shooting her lover in Paris at a railway station?’

  ‘Oh my! That was her?’ Cecily remembered her mother’s mention of the scandal.

  ‘The very one. Luckily she shot him in Paris, the city that understands love, and didn’t go to jail for attempted murder. She is seriously crazy and I just adore her.’

  ‘She did tell me that she once had a pet lion cub.’

  ‘Dear little Samson, yes . . . She only let him go when he was eating two zebras a week.’ Kiki took another mouthful of champagne. ‘So, Aleeki has been looking after you?’

  ‘Oh yes, he’s marvellous,’ Cecily agreed. ‘I was wondering whether it was possible to post this letter to my parents?’

  ‘That’s no problem at all. Give it to Aleeki and he’ll see to it for you.’

  ‘Okay. Where is the nearest town to here?’

  ‘Depends what you want to do or buy. Gilgil is the nearest, but it’s a mighty dump with a railroad that runs right through it. Then there’s Nairobi, of course, where we landed yesterday, and Nyeri, which is some distance from here, on the other side of the Aberdare Mountains, but it’s popular with the Wanjohi Valley lot.’

  ‘Wanjohi Valley?’

  ‘Where most of the crowd who were here last night live, including Alice. You’ll see it tomorrow when we drive up for tea with her. Now, I’m not feeling so great today – like you, I’m probably suffering from the effects of our journey, on top of the bronchitis. Aleeki can show you the library if you need a book to read, and we’ll meet for dinner at eight tonight, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  As if by magic, for there was no physical gesture Cecily could discern, Aleeki appeared by his mistress’s side. Kiki stood up, took his arm and walked back into the house.

  As Cecily dressed for dinner that night, she thought about all the things she knew – or had overheard – about her godmother: that she was an heiress and, more import
antly, related to both the Vanderbilts and the Whitney family. She’d divorced her first husband, then married Jerome Preston – Cecily remembered meeting him as a young girl, and being struck by his handsome looks and jovial nature. Her whole family had been shocked by his sudden and unexpected death five years ago. Then, her mother had told her, Kiki’s brother-in-law had died a couple of years ago, and only recently her beloved cousin, William, had suffered paralysis due to an automobile accident.

  Now, here was Kiki, lying in her bed a few yards away, alone.

  ‘And so sad,’ Cecily sighed, the thought striking her out of the blue. ‘She is so sad.’

  ‘I am afraid my mistress is feeling unwell again today,’ Aleeki announced as Cecily appeared on the terrace at noon the following day, ready to drive to tea at Alice’s farm.

  ‘Oh dear, it’s nothing serious, is it?’

  ‘No, she will be quite well by tonight, I am sure, memsahib. But she says you are to go alone. And take this as an apology.’

  Aleeki was holding two wicker baskets, one full of bottles of champagne and the other covered by a linen cloth, which Cecily could only presume contained food of some kind.

  She followed Aleeki round to the back of the house and he opened the rear door of the Bugatti, which had been cleaned and polished so thoroughly that the sun glared off its white roof. The interior was burning hot, and Cecily perched close to the open window, fanning herself violently on the cream leather seat.

  ‘This is Makena, memsahib. He is driver who will take you to Wanjohi Farm.’

  The man, dressed in spotless white, bowed to her. She vaguely remembered him from their journey here.

  ‘I will see you later for dinner, Miss Cecily,’ said Aleeki as he closed the door and Makena started the engine.

  The drive along the lake was a pleasant one, but it was only as they passed through a small settlement, which Cecily realised must be Gilgil as she saw the train line running right through the centre of it, that it began to become interesting. She could feel the car’s powerful engine straining to bump upwards over the rough rutted road (which would be considered no more than a narrow pathway in America), and she smiled as she thought how typical it was of Kiki to have a stylish but fundamentally unsuitable car for the Kenyan terrain. In the distance, the scenery became increasingly lush and verdant and she could see a range of mountains, their peaks covered in misty cloud. She only wished she could ask Makena what they were called, but after a couple of attempts to make conversation, she realised his English was limited to a few stock phrases. She noticed the temperature was growing considerably cooler, with a brisk wind that blew her hair about her face. The scents here were different to those at Mundui House; she could smell the metallic charge of future rain in the air and wood smoke emanating from the various farms they passed.