‘So, how’s the house coming along?’ he asked her over the supper table an hour later.
‘Well, I think. The foreman is a good guy . . .’
‘He should be, he’s a friend of mine,’ Bobby said. ‘He’ll see you right, so he will. Or he’ll have me to deal with.’
‘Maybe we could go over there tomorrow and take a look for ourselves, Bill?’ suggested Cecily.
‘Yes, I’m sure we can,’ he agreed. ‘I have some things to do in town first thing, but I could go along with you tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Well, the roof has gone on since you last saw it, so at least we don’t have to worry about keeping dry,’ encouraged Cecily.
‘How exciting,’ Katherine said. ‘With all these ideas Cecily’s got, the farmhouse is going to be wonderful.’
‘Let’s hope so, although on the budget I’ve got, it’s hardly going to be The Ritz.’
When Bill said he was retiring to bed, Cecily immediately said she’d come too. The bedroom door closed behind them and Bill proceeded to strip down to his undergarments and climb into his bed.
‘You’re getting bigger, aren’t you?’ Bill said as he surveyed her in her nightgown.
‘I seem to be, yes. Bill . . .’ she said as he was about to switch off the lamp on his nightstand.
‘Yes?’
‘I just wanted to tell you that my parents have wired some money as a wedding gift. For both of us, that is. So, I can at least contribute to furnishing the house and any extra costs that come along.’
‘You mean they’ve provided you with a dowry?’ Bill smiled at her. ‘How very generous of them. Well, I won’t say it won’t come in helpful, because it will. I sometimes wonder why I run a cattle farm for a living; it gives me continual grief and I earn little from it, given the amount of hours I put in.’
‘Maybe because you love it?’
‘Maybe,’ he agreed. ‘I certainly can’t see myself working nine to five in an office, that’s for sure. Joss was saying that if war does come, they’ll be wanting as many men as possible to help out. He’s got an idea to join the Kenya Regiment himself, and I think I should do the same if and when the time comes.’
‘Surely you’re too old to fight?’ Cecily was horrified.
‘Not so much of the “old”, young lady,’ Bill chided her.
‘Do you really have to do it?’
‘I rather think I do, yes. I can hardly sit out in the plains chewing the cud with the local elders while Blighty and my fellow countrymen are under attack, can I? Anyway, it hasn’t happened yet, so let’s wait and see.’ Bill rolled over. ‘Goodnight, Cecily.’
Cecily and Bill finally moved into their new home at the end of June. Perhaps it was the nesting instinct that had taken hold of Cecily, but she had spent the past few weeks choosing paint colours for the walls, as well as curtain fabric (albeit from the paltry selection in the haberdashery shop in Nairobi). She was elated when Bill arrived home in early June to tell her a container of furniture from America had arrived in Mombasa and was being brought out by truck to the farmhouse in the next week.
At least with everything to do for the house, Cecily had noticed Bill’s regular absences less; he was either away checking on his cattle and moving them back up the mountains now the rainy season was over, on a game drive, or disappearing to commune with his Maasai friends.
‘I must bring a couple of them up to the house at some point to meet you, Cecily,’ he’d said in passing. ‘The way they live is fascinating. They go where their cattle go and simply rebuild their homes each time they settle.’
‘Then they’ll find Paradise Farm very strange, I’m sure,’ Cecily had said.
The name for the farmhouse had come about one evening when Bill had arrived back unexpectedly and they’d taken a trip out to see their soon-to-be finished home. Cecily had sat on the steps leading up to the front veranda and sighed as she gazed down at the valley laid out beneath her.
‘It’s paradise here, it really is,’ she’d said.
‘Like Paradise Lost,’ Bill had said, coming to sit next to her. ‘My favourite poem; it’s by John Milton. Heard of it?’
‘No, I’m afraid I’m just not very good with English literature.’
‘Well, the poem is actually in twelve books and contains ten thousand lines of verse.’
‘Wow, that isn’t a poem, that’s a story!’
‘It’s actually a biblical epic, reimagined by Milton. It follows the story of Satan, who is determined to destroy God’s favourite new creatures: humans. Perhaps we should name the farmhouse “Paradise”? It can mean different things to both of us.’
‘Umm, okay, but I hope you won’t feel that paradise has been lost when we finally move in here,’ Cecily had said.
‘Oh, don’t worry about that – the poem that comes after is called Paradise Regained,’ Bill had smiled. ‘Come on.’ He’d offered her his hand and pulled her up from the stoop. ‘Let’s leave paradise and go back to our temporary digs.’
Cecily had subsequently had a carpenter fashion a sign that said ‘Paradise Farm’ to hang on the gate, just in case anyone came to visit them.
‘And I remain optimistic about that,’ Cecily said to Katherine, who was helping her hang curtains in the sitting room.
‘Of course people will come and visit you, darling; they’re all far too nosy to stay away.’
‘Then they might also notice that I’m awful large for what’s supposed to be less than three months of pregnancy.’ Cecily rolled her eyes.
‘Perhaps, but they’ll just assume that the two of you simply couldn’t keep your hands off each other before you got married,’ Katherine shrugged. ‘Seriously, if you’re going to live here in the Valley, or at least on the edge of it, you absolutely can’t be worrying about what people say. Anyway, it’s certainly stopped the rumour that Bill batted for the other side.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Oh, you know,’ Katherine said, lowering her voice, ‘that he is a homosexual.’
‘No! Just because he never married they thought that?’
‘Cecily, the women round here in particular have far too much time to think. Now, that’s the sitting room done,’ said Katherine as she climbed down from the stepladder and surveyed her handiwork. ‘And isn’t it starting to look lovely?’
The curtains swayed in the breeze from the fan that had been installed in the centre of the high-ceilinged drawing room, and Cecily looked around at the surprisingly pleasing mix of Kenya and New York she had created. She had asked her parents to send over all their old furniture which had been gathering dust in the basement of the Fifth Avenue house, and the sturdy mahogany pieces gave the farmhouse a certain gravitas. Cecily had arranged the chaise longue and leather armchairs around the fireplace, with a large oriental rug between them. She had stowed Bill’s books in the bookcases that lined the room and the air was filled with the smell of polish.
She tried her best not to look at the leopard-skin rug in the entrance hall – Bill’s contribution to the proceedings – fashioned from the animal he’d brought home a few weeks ago.
She pushed one of the leather chairs closer to the fireplace and imagined herself sitting opposite Bill beside the fire, drinking gin and talking about their day.
‘Cecily!’ Katherine laid a firm hand on her arm. ‘You’re in no condition to push anything at the moment, let alone that heavy chair.’
‘Exercise is good for pregnant women and I’ve managed so far,’ Cecily shrugged. ‘I hope Bill will like it, though it might just be too civilised for him.’
‘I’m sure he’ll love it, darling. I certainly do, and how I envy you your indoor bathroom – Bobby has promised me that we should be able to afford the plumbing for one next spring.’
‘Come and use mine whenever you want,’ Cecily suggested.
‘I’d love to, but I’d only get hot and dusty riding back!’
A few days later, Bill returned home. The plan was for him to go to I
nverness Cottage as usual, where Katherine would tell him that Cecily was up at Paradise Farm, sorting out the container. Cecily peeped through the curtains as she saw Bill’s pick-up approach and swerve to a halt in front of the house. Picking up two champagne glasses, she walked to the front door and waited for him to enter.
‘Hello?’ he called as he opened the door.
‘I’m here, Bill, right here.’
‘Thank God!’ Bill’s forehead was creased with worry. ‘I couldn’t understand what you were doing at the farm alone so late in the day.’
‘I’m absolutely fine,’ she said, handing Bill the glass of champagne. ‘Welcome home to Paradise Farm.’
‘What?’ Bill looked round the newly furnished hallway. ‘Are you saying that you’ve moved in?’
‘We have, yes! Come and see the living room first.’
Bill accepted the champagne and allowed Cecily to give him a guided tour of the house. She had arranged fresh flowers in vases in each of the four bedrooms and placed photographs and paintings, so that it truly felt lived in.
‘This is where Mama and Papa and my sisters can stay,’ she said to him, as they went into the two guest rooms where the beds were already made up. The main bathroom was sparkling and featured a claw-footed tub with a polished brass faucet, while the kitchen at the end of the house had already been stocked with food.
‘Goodness, this is a real home now.’ Bill seemed bemused as he followed her around. ‘I have to say that you have done the most remarkable job here. The only problem is, I’ll be scared to enter in my filthy clothes in case I spread dust on all the polished surfaces.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ Cecily smiled as she led him back into the sitting room and topped up their champagne. ‘All this furniture is very old; my mother was about to throw it away before I asked them to ship it over. Now, are you hungry?’
‘You know I’m always hungry, Cecily,’ Bill said as he admired the pictures on the walls. ‘Who is that?’ he asked, glancing at a small oil painting of a young girl.
‘Why, it’s me! I think I was about four at the time. Mama had an artist come paint all her girls for posterity.’
‘It looks nothing like you at all, you’re far prettier than that. Right, are we heading back for supper at Katherine and Bobby’s?’
‘Of course not! This is our home now. And I’ve made supper for both of us. Why don’t you go wash up, and I’ll bring it through to the drawing room.’
‘Good idea,’ Bill said and Cecily smiled as she walked through to the kitchen. Bill looked mesmerised and she hoped it was a good sign.
‘No more wandering around in my long johns then,’ Bill said as she served the roast beef at the highly polished round table she’d placed in an alcove in a corner of the living room. ‘I think I’ll have to go to town and have the tailor make me some more formal clothes if we’re going to dine in here regularly. This looks awfully good, Cecily. I had no idea you could cook.’
‘There’s plenty you don’t know about me, Bill,’ she said, smiling at him coquettishly. Her euphoria at finally moving into her own home, combined with the glass of champagne, had made her brave.
‘I’m absolutely sure you’re right about that,’ he agreed. ‘And this is delicious. Here’s to you.’ Bill raised his glass. ‘You truly have created something lovely. I might be tempted to come home more often in the future.’
‘I’d like that,’ she said. ‘Oh, and I forgot to show you the study just off the hall. It’s not a big room, but I’ve put Papa’s old desk in there, along with a bookcase, so you have somewhere to go and have some peace and quiet when you’re working.’
‘I don’t think there’s anything you haven’t thought of,’ Bill said. ‘Where will the nursery be?’
Cecily blushed as she always did when Bill mentioned the baby. The nursery was a compact room just next to the master bedroom, which she had omitted to show him on purpose.
‘Really, Cecily, please don’t be embarrassed. I knew what I was doing when I asked you to marry me.’
‘I know, but . . . you’ve just been so darned good about it and it must be horrible for you . . .’
‘Not at all. I see it as a bonus; at the very least, he or she will be company for you when I’m away. Cecily, please don’t cry.’ Bill put his knife and fork down as he watched his wife’s eyes fill with tears.
‘Pardon me, I’m just exhausted from doing all this.’
‘And I’m now thoroughly ashamed that I wasn’t here to help you more. Here’ – Bill rooted inside his trouser pocket and produced a white handkerchief – ‘use this.’
Bill’s action immediately took Cecily sailing back to a moment when Julius had done the exact same thing, which then brought further tears to her eyes.
‘Come now, Cecily, you shouldn’t be crying on our first night at Paradise Farm,’ he said gently.
‘No, but . . .’ She blew her nose and shook her head. ‘Just ignore me, I’m fine now. Tell me where you’ve been in the past few days?’
Later, after Bill had helped her pile the used plates into the sink and they discussed finding a Kikuyu maid to help her around the house, Cecily wandered around her new home, switching off the lights. She stood in the darkened drawing room, looking out of the window at the moonlit plains.
‘Please,’ she whispered, ‘let us both be happy here.’
Throughout a balmy July, Cecily felt the baby kicking inside her, the force of it rippling across her belly. Despite the dramatic effect on her life that the baby had wrought, she found herself becoming more and more excited to meet the child. And to become a mother. At least it would mean she would have some company, someone to whom she belonged and who belonged to her. She had so much love to give and for the first time in her adult life, she felt it could be given freely, without fear.
Kiki had recently telephoned her to ask her to come on a safari. ‘The wildebeest will be crossing the Mara River in their thousands – and the crocs will be waiting just below to get their dinners. It’s quite the spectacle,’ she’d said.
Cecily had gently reminded her that she was now six months pregnant.
‘Oh honey, pregnancy is such a killjoy,’ Kiki had drawled and hung up on the line.
Bill had been making an effort to be home more often, but she still went days without seeing him; he was even busier than normal, spending most of his limited spare time in Nairobi, attending meetings with Joss and various military staff. The rumblings of war in Europe had escalated to a roar that could be heard as far as the Wanjohi Valley, and she secretly fretted about Bill’s previous assertion that he would follow Joss into the Kenya Regiment if war became a reality.
As Cecily spent days alone, cleaning an already clean house, knitting matinee jackets, booties and little hats for the new arrival, she’d attempted to come to terms with the fact that Bill regarded her as a companion rather than a wife or lover. Since they’d moved into Paradise Farm, Bill had been sleeping in one of the guest rooms, rather than beside her in the master bedroom. Cecily had tried to comfort herself that this arrangement was to do with her pregnancy and that he was merely being gallant, but she never managed to fully convince herself.
We’re just two acquaintances who share a house, she thought one night as she put out the light and crawled into her bed.
After all, he had never tried to kiss any other part of her except her hand, aside from the brief brushes of his lips against hers at their engagement and on their wedding day. Cecily had grown used to pushing down the very human desire to be touched, telling herself she should be grateful as they got along very well indeed. She rarely ran out of things to say, or questions to ask him. He was knowledgeable on a whole host of different topics, especially when it came to her new homeland, and the war . . .
‘My parents so want to come out and visit us after the baby is born,’ Cecily sighed one night over supper.
‘Well, they shouldn’t hold their breath, and nor should you. British intelligence says th
at the Germans have been cosying up to the Ruskis – that’s Russians to you, Cecily. There’s something going on there, mark my words. They’re probably deciding how they’ll carve up the rest of Europe between them.’
‘When do you think it’s all going to start happening for real?’ she asked.
‘Who knows?’ he sighed. ‘All the governments in Europe are doing their best to prevent it, but there’s already been a noticeable build-up of troops along the German border with Poland.’
‘I miss my parents so,’ she sighed, then realised she’d never asked Bill about his.
‘Oh, they’re tucked up safe and sound in an English county called Gloucestershire. For now, anyway.’
‘But what if there’s war and England is invaded?’
‘Let’s hope it won’t come to that, old girl, but as my father was a colonel in the army last time round, I’m sure there’s nothing he’d like more than to feel important again.’
‘I don’t understand why men seem to love war so much.’
‘The majority of men don’t when it comes to the ghastly reality, but the thought of it certainly brings out one’s inner patriot. I have asked Ma and Pa if they’d like to come out here and stay with us. We’re relatively safe here, although we are beginning to station troops along the Abyssinian border. The trouble is, we have no idea where the blighters will turn their attention next. Seems as though Hitler’s been recruiting his army for years in preparation and the rest of us are having to play catch-up.’
‘You make it sound as though we’ve lost before we’ve even begun!’
‘Do I? I’m sorry to be so negative, but all the military intelligence that’s coming into the HQ in Nairobi indicates that Hitler is almost ready to execute his master plan of world domination.’
‘We could always leave here and go stay with my family in New York?’ Cecily suggested again. ‘Get out while the going is good.’
‘Cecily, you know very well I can’t just jump ship, so to speak. And you are in no condition to fly,’ Bill reminded her. ‘How are you feeling?’
The Sun Sister (The Seven Sisters) Page 43