The Sun Sister (The Seven Sisters)

by Lucinda Riley

  With a wave, Miles was gone, and I felt my heart drop like a stone. If I was honest, I’d been imagining lunch with him at one of those intimate hipster cafés; besides anything else, I was starving.

  Twenty minutes later, I walked under the canopy of my apartment building and saw that even Tommy wasn’t at his post ready to greet me. I went inside and up in the elevator, feeling tearful. Seeing the miserable concrete shed that represented what little help kids like Vanessa could expect, then the truth of my own sad origins, plus the fact that I’d felt so close to Miles as we’d walked through Harlem together only for him to dump me back down to earth and shove my backside into a cab, as if he didn’t care about me at all . . .

  Trying not to dwell, I got a Coke and some leftover lentil soup from the fridge and sat down to eat, but immediately felt sick to my stomach as guilt ran through me like the streak of designer lightning on my chest. How could I sit here in my flashy apartment, with a closet full of even flashier clothes, feeling sorry for myself while there was so much suffering going on not more than a few miles away?

  I drank the Coke can dry and grabbed another, feeling that scary black cloud beginning to descend – the one that I’d always ‘medicated’ against with alcohol or drugs. I checked my cell and saw it was just past one thirty. My AA meeting wasn’t until five p.m., which gave me three and a half hours to sit here with only the insides of my currently messed-up head for company.

  ‘Shit,’ I muttered, knowing I needed to talk to someone. Picking up my cell, I saw there was a missed call from Zed. I automatically went to return the call, then stopped myself just in time. Zed was not good news, because he’d arrive laden with all the substances I needed to steer clear of. I switched to my address book and scrolled down to find Mariam’s number. Even though the last thing I wanted to do was to bother her on her first day off since I got back, it had been drummed into me by everyone around me that if I was struggling, I had to make a call and get help.

  I dialled the number and it rang, then went to voicletter.

  I pressed the end call button; she was probably having a wonderful day, spending quality time with her family . . .

  ‘Her family,’ I muttered. ‘And where is mine? Where do I belong . . .? Yeah, right! In a home for unwanted babies!’

  I even wished that Stella was in town so I could talk to her; find out how come she’d let her granddaughter end up there. Feeling my anger rising, I knew I needed to divert my attention urgently. I stood up and walked through the living room and onto the terrace, holding my cell and waiting for Mariam to call me back. Looking over the tops of the densely packed trees that covered Central Park, I sat down and then thought about Miles, and the way he’d made it so obvious today that ours was only a business relationship. I decided I should have an imaginary conversation with Fi about the situation.

  Fi: ‘So, Electra, how do you feel about Miles?’

  Me: ‘I’m . . . confused,’ I admitted.

  Fi: ‘And why do you think you’re confused?’

  Me: ‘Because, even though he’s not my type, AT ALL,’ I underlined, ‘I think I might have feelings for him.’

  Fi: ‘Okay. And are these feelings for a friend or a more emotional attachment, do you think?’

  I paused as I considered this question.

  ‘Initially, I guess I thought it was just friends; he’s the first person I’ve ever met who I could identify with. I mean, he’s black, brought up in a middle-class family, got a scholarship to Harvard and has had a successful career. Oh yeah, and of course a drug problem.’

  Fi: ‘I can imagine that was a very powerful experience. Did it make you feel less alone?’

  Me: ‘Yeah, it did, a lot. Like, maybe because we were in rehab, I didn’t have to pretend to be anyone other than myself. I was . . .’ – I searched the air for the right expression – ‘comfortable with him. Like I didn’t have to explain anything to him.’

  Fi: ‘So when did that feeling of having a friend tip over into something romantic?’

  I winced as she – or rather I – said that, but it had to be said.

  Me: ‘It was that night of Vanessa’s suicide attempt. I was at the hospital and then Miles joined me. He put his arm round my shoulder and I fell asleep against his chest. It felt like . . . home.’

  At this point, Fi would have handed me the box of tissues, but there weren’t any out here on the terrace, so I swept a hand across my eyes, then grabbed my ringing cell like a lifeline.

  ‘Hi, Mariam.’

  ‘Electra? It’s me, Lizzie, from rehab, remember?’

  ‘Of course I do! Sorry, Lizzie, I was expecting my PA to call me back. It’s great to hear from you. How are you?’

  ‘The honest answer to that question is not good. I’ve left Christopher.’

  ‘Oh my God! Like, how? Why?’

  ‘Listen, it’s a long story, but I was wondering if you’re busy just now?’

  ‘No, not at all. Fire away,’ I said, thinking how a conversation about Lizzie’s shit of a husband would fill in the time nicely before I left for AA.

  ‘Actually, I’d prefer to tell you in person. Can I come round and see you?’

  ‘What? From LA?!’

  ‘I’m not in LA, Electra. I’m here in New York. And I’ve just discovered that the bastard has called the bank to cancel all my credit cards. I’m at JFK and don’t have enough money to get a cab, let alone a hotel room. Oh dear . . .’

  I heard a sudden sob on the other end of the line.

  ‘Oh no, Lizzie. I’m so sorry. What a vindictive prick!’

  ‘I know. I bet he was scared that I would withdraw everything I could on the cards. Obviously I need to see a lawyer but . . . I’m so sorry to call, I had no one else to turn to.’

  ‘Lizzie, you go and get yourself in a cab right now. I’ll tell the concierge to pay for it once you arrive here. Do you have my address?’

  ‘Yes, you gave it to me the day I left The Ranch, remember? I’m so sorry, Electra, I—’

  ‘Please stop saying sorry, Lizzie. We’ll talk when you get here, okay?’

  ‘Okay. See you soon.’

  I stood up and hung over the balcony and screamed out unrepeatable words on Lizzie’s behalf into the toxic Manhattan air. As I was halfway through spelling out a particularly juicy one, my cell rang again.

  ‘Electra? It’s me, Mariam,’ she said, panting slightly. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine, really.’

  ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t answer my phone immediately, but I’m actually close by and can be with you within ten minutes.’

  ‘No, no, I’m good, Mariam, honestly. I’m sorry for interrupting your day.’

  ‘Oh, okay. Phew,’ she chuckled. ‘Well, I’m here if you need me.’

  ‘Sure, thanks, Mariam. See you on Monday.’ I ended the call, then grabbed my wallet and went down to the concierge to give him the cash to pay for Lizzie’s cab. I was feeling much brighter. Simply because I had a friend – a real friend – and it made me feel good to think she had turned to me for help.

  An hour later, I settled Lizzie on the terrace with a ‘nice cup of tea’, as she always called it. She looked so bedraggled, it was now me having the maternal feelings rather than the other way around.

  ‘Oh Electra, it’s such a cliché,’ she sighed as she sipped her tea. ‘Chris has been having an affair with one of the actresses on his new film. She’s young enough to be his daughter and incredibly beautiful. She’s Brazilian, six feet to his five-five, and . . . Maybe it was the time in rehab that gave me some modicum of self-worth back, but I just . . . well, I blew up.’

  ‘How did you find out?’

  ‘Apart from the stench of exotic perfume that hung in my bedroom when I arrived home?’ she said. ‘As well as the bright red lipstick made by a brand I would never even contemplate buying still sitting on my dressing table? On my dressing table! Can you believe it?’ Lizzie shook her head. ‘It was like she was marking her territory �
�� she obviously wanted me to know, and my poor stupid husband hadn’t even noticed it.’

  ‘So you confronted him?’

  ‘I did, yes, and forgive me for saying so, Electra, but only after I downed half a bottle of one of his most expensive wines. I mean, I’ve known he’s played away for years, but somehow that lipstick was just so blatant – like she didn’t even care that she was screwing a married man with two kids – that I realised what a fool I’d been.’

  ‘Was he shocked?’ I asked, really feeling like Fi now.

  ‘Totally, absolutely, completely, yes.’ A hint of a smile appeared on Lizzie’s oddly shaped lips. ‘He gave me the usual rubbish about how it was nothing, that they’d been on location together, and I’d still been away when they’d returned, and one thing had led to another and . . . You know what? I can’t even be bothered to repeat his pathetic excuses. He said he would end it immediately, blah blah blah, but I just grabbed my holdall that I’d packed before he arrived home – late for dinner as usual, of course – then drove to LAX. I got on the next flight to New York – first class, I might add,’ she said with a wink, ‘and landed to find out that he’d stopped all my credit cards.’

  ‘Have you told him you want a divorce? I mean, do you want a divorce?’

  ‘Absolutely, I do. That man has played me for a fool for years, treating me like some glorified nanny and housekeeper whilst he went on a shagathon around LA!’

  I had to giggle at Lizzie’s unusual expletives, which still sounded very polite when spoken in her English accent.

  ‘What about the kids?’

  ‘As you yourself said to me, Electra, they’re all grown up now, with their own lives. The worst thing is, I think they probably knew what their father was like,’ Lizzie sighed. ‘I called Curtis, my eldest, from the airport – I think I was still a bit drunk at the time, because I’d had the other half of the bottle in the cab on the way – and he asked me why it had taken me so long. I’m not sure that Rosie, my youngest, will feel the same – she’s always been the apple of her daddy’s eye and spoilt rotten – but at least I have one of them on my side.’

  I watched as Lizzie stared across the Manhattan skyline and felt an enormous wave of affection for her.

  ‘You know what, Lizzie?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I am so proud of you for what you’ve done. Your new life begins today.’

  ‘Well, it certainly doesn’t if the rat fink is going to cut me off without a bean.’

  ‘All that can be sorted out, I’m sure. Maybe Miles – that tall black guy at the rehab clinic – could help you, or knows someone who could. He’s a lawyer. And you can stay here with me for as long as you want. I could use the company, to be honest.’

  ‘That’s awfully kind of you, Electra. Maybe just for the weekend – I do have some money in a checking account I started when I was first living in New York before I met Chris, so I can go in on Monday to get it. It’ll at least tide me over for a month or two whilst things are sorted out.’

  ‘Don’t worry about money, Lizzie, I won’t let you starve.’

  ‘Even though I’m in a mess, I do love New York,’ she said as her eyeline wandered over Central Park. ‘That’s why I decided to head for here, because it’s a place where I feel at home. I thought I could maybe get some kind of a job,’ she continued. ‘I mean, I know I’m not qualified for anything much, but I am computer literate. And besides, whether the rat likes it or not, I will end up getting fifty per cent of everything he has. I just hope I don’t crack and run back to him.’

  ‘Lizzie, I’m not going to let you do that. You keep me off the hard stuff, and I’ll keep you safe from your husband. Is that a deal?’

  ‘It’s a deal,’ Lizzie smiled. ‘Electra, I just can’t thank you enough for taking me in; you really are such a wonderful person.’

  ‘I’m not, but thanks anyway,’ I said as I saw Lizzie give a great yawn. I checked the time on my cell. ‘How about I show you to your room and you take a nap? I’ve gotta go to my AA meeting.’

  ‘Perfect,’ Lizzie said as we both stood up and she grabbed her holdall from the hall, then followed me into the bedroom recently vacated by Mariam. ‘This is far nicer than the hotel I was thinking of checking in to,’ she said as she stood by the full-length windows.

  I showed her the buttons to press on the remote control to bring down the blinds and left her to settle in. As I went down in the elevator, I thought how great it was to have someone who seemed to need me as much as I needed them.

  ‘Thanks so much for coming, Miles,’ I said as I ushered him into the living room on Monday evening.

  ‘It’s a pleasure, Electra,’ he said as I tried not to swoon over how goddamned handsome he looked in his suit and tie. I’d called him earlier today to ask if he had a free slot to see Lizzie. He’d said he didn’t but could come after work.

  ‘Hi, Lizzie.’

  ‘Hi.’ Lizzie stood up and shook his hand. ‘This is so kind of you, Miles.’

  ‘Don’t even think about it. Any friend of Electra’s is a friend of mine.’

  ‘I’ll leave you two to it, shall I? Can I get you anything to drink, Miles?’ I offered.

  We both eyed the glass of white wine that Lizzie was cradling. It was me that had asked Mariam to put it on the list for the home delivery from the grocery store; I had to face the fact that alcohol would appear regularly in my daily life.

  ‘If you’ve got Coke, I’ll take one of those.’ He grinned at me.

  ‘Oh boy, do I have plenty of that,’ I grinned back and left the room, wondering whether that last exchange counted as a flirt.

  Mariam was working on her laptop at the kitchen table. I pulled a Coke out of the refrigerator, debating whether I should offer Miles a glass or just hand him the can. The glass won because of his sharp suit.

  ‘It’s time you were going home,’ I said to her as I poured the Coke into the glass.

  ‘Actually, I just need a few minutes of your time to run through your schedule for the next few days. It’s been like Grand Central Station here this afternoon.’

  I took the Coke in to Miles and left it on the table because he and Lizzie were already deep in conversation, and gave myself a metaphorical hug. It had been busy in the apartment today, but nicely busy. Susie had come to see me, having heard about my new haircut, and she pronounced it ‘fabulous!’ She’d then ruined it by telling me I now had a head that was ready to be covered in any way the client and the photographer chose. I’d told her I wanted Patrick, my favourite photographer, to do a shoot just for me, completely au naturel, and he was now booked for sometime next week.

  Susie, who was originally English, and Lizzie had got on like a house on fire and had sat there bitching to their hearts’ content about their exes, while I dealt with a rail of clothes that had arrived from a designer and picked out the ones that I wanted to try on later and wear on high-profile occasions. Lizzie had then joined me and ooh-ed and aah-ed over a jacket which I’d put in my pile of ‘yes’s. Given her holdall had only contained her array of make-up, skincare products and a clean change of underwear, her wardrobe would definitely need boosting.

  ‘Right,’ said Mariam as I arrived back in the kitchen. ‘Hopefully, we won’t be disturbed. How are you feeling about flying up to Quebec for Marie Claire the week after next?’

  ‘You can confirm it.’

  ‘Great. Oh, and also XX sent me an letter, asking again if you could design another capsule collection for him?’

  ‘I . . .’

  I paused before I answered. My sketchbook was full of designs I could use for the project, but then I thought that surely my own name was big enough to enable me to do it by myself and not let someone else in on the profits? And then . . . I thought of Saturday’s visit to the drop-in centre, and the vaguest of ideas began to form in my mind . . .

  ‘Tell him no, I’m not interested,’ I said firmly.

  ‘Okay. Oh, and remember your grandmother is due here at
eight tonight.’

  ‘Of course, thanks.’

  I watched Mariam close her computer. Maybe it was because I’d been desensitised to the feelings of others for so long – certainly since I’d met Mariam – that I was now overly sensitive. But there was something about her that looked and felt different.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I asked her.

  ‘Yes, of course. I am the same as I always am,’ she replied, obviously shocked by my question.

  ‘Good, right, well, you’d better go home now. Lizzie has said she’s going to take over the cooking while she’s here, so at least that will relieve the burden on you.’

  ‘Oh, it really wasn’t a problem, Electra. You know I love cooking.’

  It was probably me, but I thought I saw a slight film of water in her eyes as she stowed her laptop in her leather satchel and stood up.

  ‘Goodnight, Electra,’ she said as she walked out of the kitchen.

  ‘Bye, Mariam.’

  I sat back down at the table and opened my laptop to check my own letters. I replied to the realtor who was handling the purchase of the Hacienda Orchídea, and saw that Tiggy had sent out an official round-robin letter to all my sisters, reminding us about our cruise. Then I turned on the small kitchen TV to keep me company so I wouldn’t think about the fact that Stella Jackson was due here in just under an hour’s time. And how I felt about her after discovering where Pa had found me. CNN was doing its usual tick-tack of news bulletins and share prices, then I winced out loud as a very familiar face came onto the screen.

  ‘Mitch Duggan announced today that he will be joining the Concert for Africa, which will be held at Madison Square Garden this Saturday. A host of musicians and celebrities are set to attend, including, it is rumoured, Senator Obama, the presidential candidate for the Democratic Party.’

  A picture of Obama appeared, then the camera cut back to the newsreader.

  ‘Stella Jackson, the leading civil rights activist and lawyer who works with Amnesty International, has joined me in the studio to explain the continuing AIDS crisis in Africa, and how the concert will help raise awareness of the problem.’