Dr Barnes helped her measure out the correct dosage, then watched as she gave Lankenua the injection. He nodded in approval.
‘Well done, Mrs Forsythe. You’re quite the nurse. Now, I’ll be back to check on her tomorrow.’
‘Goodness, you really don’t have to.’
‘Why, that’s what I’m here for, and after all, we’d like it if you could be well for your first Christmas in Manhattan, wouldn’t we?’ he said to Lankenua, who nodded at him weakly. ‘Right then, until tomorrow.’ Dr Barnes smiled at them all then left the room.
‘Tomorrow I’m going to take Stella out shopping for some warm clothes and to see Santa at Bloomingdale’s,’ said Cecily. ‘She’s bored with her mama sick in bed.’
‘She can always go to the kitchen and have the staff take care of her. You seem rather attached to that child.’ Dorothea eyed her daughter. ‘She is your maid’s child, not a relative.’
‘Maybe things are different in Africa, Dorothea,’ countered Walter.
‘Maybe they are, but I don’t think that I have ever seen a white woman wandering around Bloomingdale’s with a black child. Have you?’
‘Times are changing, dear,’ said Walter. ‘I was reading in the New York Times only last week that the number of black male entrants to both Yale and Harvard is on the rise.’
‘What about female students?’ Cecily muttered under her breath.
‘What was that, honey?’ Dorothea asked her.
‘Oh, nothing. Has Mary made up the spare room next to mine for Stella? If not, I can do it.’
‘The spare room is always made up, as you well know, Cecily. Though why it’s necessary to move her downstairs, I really don’t know.’
‘Because of the risk of infection, Mama. Dr Barnes told me I should keep Stella away until her mother is better,’ Cecily lied. ‘Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, I must go and check on Lankenua.’ Cecily rose from the table. ‘Oh, and I thought I’d call in to the Stanhope Hotel where Kiki is staying. I want to take her a gift for Christmas.’
‘I called them today, but her mother said Kiki wasn’t seeing visitors.’
‘Well, I can at least leave my gift at reception for her. Goodnight, Mama, Papa.’
Cecily left the table and went upstairs to the attic, where she was pleased to see that Lankenua was sleeping peacefully and her forehead felt cooler. She’d wake her at ten o’clock for the next dose of medicine.
Stella, whom Cecily had left in her own room whilst the adults had dinner, was now sitting on Cecily’s bed in her nightdress, engrossed in an old picture book called ’Twas the Night Before Christmas.
‘How is Yeyo?’ Stella looked up anxiously.
‘Oh, she’s getting better already, honey. Let’s take you to your very own bedroom now.’ Cecily offered her hand to Stella and led her to the room next to hers where she had asked Mary to light the fire earlier so it was toasty warm. ‘Into bed you get,’ Cecily said, tucking Stella in.
‘Can Yeyo come down here when she’s better?’
‘We’ll see. Now, do you want to try reading me a story tonight?’ she said, indicating the old book and sitting down on the bed.
Lankenua was definitely better the following morning. Her fever had abated, and even though the cough still sounded vicious, Cecily was pleased that she was able to sip a little water.
‘Sorry, Missus Cecily, I big trouble,’ Lankenua sighed.
‘Not at all,’ Cecily comforted her. ‘Now, I’ll be back to give you your next injection this afternoon. Meantime, I’m taking Stella off shopping.’
‘I good,’ Lankenua nodded. ‘You go.’
‘Rest now,’ said Cecily, putting some more coal on the fire. ‘And we’ll be back to tell you all about it later.’
Cecily and Stella’s first port of call was the children’s clothes department at Bloomingdale’s. Stella’s eyes widened at the racks of dresses and pinafores that she could choose from. An assistant – who’d given them a strange look when Cecily had approached her – was following them closely along the aisles as the two of them picked out things for Stella to try on.
‘Don’t you look a picture,’ Cecily smiled as Stella twirled in front of the mirror, wearing a pale orange dress, the skirt made up of layers of net and tulle. ‘It’s perfect for Christmas Day and sets off your colouring to perfection!’ Cecily clapped her hands together, not caring about the shop assistant’s disdainful expression. ‘Now, let’s choose some sensible warm clothes, shall we?’
Having arranged for the two large bags of new clothes to be sent down to Archer and the car, Cecily and Stella – now dressed in a red Harris Tweed coat with a velvet collar and shiny brass buttons, complete with a matching beret – left the clothes department to head for the toys. The queue to see Santa was a long one; it seemed every parent in Manhattan had had the same idea.
‘Look, Mama,’ said the little boy standing in front of them. ‘She’s black like a pickaninny!’ The boy pointed at Stella.
‘Jeremy! Please, hush now,’ the mother reprimanded her son, but nonetheless turned to stare at Cecily and Stella.
‘And you are white like Kuyia,’ Stella said, pointing back at him, not in the least perturbed. A few seconds later, mother and son had left the queue. Cecily held her breath, waiting for any more comments, while Stella amused herself by pointing out the dolls on the shelves and the life-sized bear that sat against a pillar with a Santa Claus hat on its head.
‘Look!’ exclaimed Cecily. ‘It’s a lion, like the ones at home!’ Stella broke away to run towards the toy. ‘It won’t bite, will it?’ she said as she approached it with Cecily following in her wake. ‘It’s only pretend, isn’t it?’
‘Of course it is,’ Cecily said, as Stella threw her arms around the head of the life-sized lion.
‘Oh! I’ve always wanted to hug a lion,’ Stella giggled as all the other mothers and children in the queue looked on at the display.
‘Tell you what, honey, let’s not wait in this great long line to see Santa right now. Let’s go and buy some gifts for Lankenua and my mama and papa, then go home and put the note to Santa up the chimney as we normally do, okay?’
Stella looked longingly at the man dressed all in red and white, sitting on the dais, and sighed. ‘I guess the line is kind of long,’ she agreed.
Cecily did not look back to see all the eyes following their exit.
Back at home later, Stella duly wrote her letter to Santa, with Cecily mentally noting the items she wanted. The big furry lion was top of her list.
‘But I can’t see how he would get it down the chimney, honey,’ Cecily said as they sat in front of the fire in her bedroom, toasting the s’mores – chocolate and marshmallow melted between graham crackers – which were Stella’s new favourite treat.
‘True,’ Stella agreed, taking a sticky marshmallow off the toasting fork that Cecily held out and squashing it like Cecily had shown her between chocolate and two crackers. ‘But Michael told me he got a bicycle from Santa last year.’
‘I’ll tell you a secret, I happen to know there’s a real-life lion in Central Park,’ Cecily whispered.
‘Really? He must be cold out there in the snow,’ replied Stella as she stood up and went to the window.
‘Oh, he’s okay; he has a whole house to himself. Now, why don’t you come help me wrap some gifts in this pretty paper?’
After she’d given Stella a bath, Cecily went upstairs to administer another dose of the penicillin to Lankenua. She knew her maid must be better, because she made an awful fuss about the needle and where it had to go.
‘There, all done,’ Cecily said, pulling down Lankenua’s nightdress. She then went to fetch Stella and led her up to the attic.
‘Honey, I’m just going to head along the block to see a very old friend of mine,’ Cecily told Stella. ‘I won’t be long, but can you stay here with Yeyo and keep her company while I’m gone? Maybe you’d like to read her your new book about Winnie the Pooh?’
‘That�
��s a good idea,’ Stella nodded eagerly. ‘Don’t be late, Kuyia,’ she called as Cecily left the room.
It had finally stopped snowing when Cecily stepped outside and into the back of the family’s Chrysler. As the car moved along Fifth Avenue, the sound of traffic was muffled by the thick covering of snow on the sidewalks and streets, the steam from the subway beneath puffing out of the grates and melting the snow atop it. Arriving at the Stanhope Hotel, Cecily asked Archer to wait for her as she stepped out of the car.
‘I’ll be about thirty minutes or so,’ she called as she disappeared under the green canopy marking the entrance to the hotel. She could already hear live jazz music coming from the bar as she walked over to the reception and asked them to let Kiki Preston know she was here. Expecting Kiki to be indisposed, she was surprised when the receptionist told her to go straight on up to the suite. Cecily took the elevator to the fifth floor. After a knock, a woman she didn’t recognise answered the door.
‘Hello, Cecily, I’m Lillian Turner, a friend of your godmother’s. Please come in. Kiki isn’t feeling herself tonight, but she said she really wanted to see you,’ she whispered as she led her into a grand sitting room, where Kiki was lying on a chaise longue in front of the fire. It was one of the only times she’d ever seen her godmother with her face bare of make-up. Even though Kiki looked dreadfully pale, her dark hair down and scattered with grey, she was still very beautiful.
‘My darling Cecily! Excuse me if I don’t get up to greet you, but my health has not been robust these past few weeks.’ Kiki put out a hand to Cecily as she stubbed out her cigarette with the other. ‘How are you, honey?’
‘I’m well, thank you, and excited to be back in Manhattan! It’s been so long.’
‘And there’s me pining for Kenya in this dark, depressing city. One simply can’t see the sky here,’ she sighed. ‘Lillian, do get our guest a drink. What will you have, Cecily? Champagne?’
‘I’m fine, I don’t want to disturb you if you’re sick. I just came to drop off a Christmas gift for you.’
‘Oh! How terribly sweet of you to think of me. I sometimes feel New York has forgotten all about me. May I open it now?’
‘You can, of course, but maybe you should save it for Christmas Day?’
‘Oh my angel.’ Kiki placed an obviously shaking hand onto Cecily’s forearm. ‘The one lesson I’ve learnt is that one should never save special things for another day, because tomorrow may never come.’ Tears glistened in Kiki’s eyes. ‘Now, let’s see what it is you’ve brought for me.’
‘Oh, it’s nothing big, I just thought—’
‘As you know, it isn’t size that counts.’ Kiki gave Cecily one of her wicked smiles and suddenly looked more like her old self. She took the rectangular box out of its wrapping and opened it.
‘It’s a photograph of you and me at Mundui House before I left to marry Bill. Aleeki took it with my camera,’ Cecily explained.
Kiki looked down at the photograph, taken at sunset with Lake Naivasha behind them.
‘Oh my! What a beautiful gift you’ve given me.’ Kiki stroked the photograph. ‘And don’t we both look so young?’ She smiled, tears once again appearing in her eyes. ‘Thank you so much, Cecily. You’re so very sweet and I am – and always have been – so very fond of you. Here, Lillian, put it on the mantelpiece so I can see it.’ Lillian did so as Kiki grasped Cecily’s hand. ‘Are you happy, honey?’
‘Yes, I am, I think.’
‘Well, listen to my advice now and swear you’ll act on it: do whatever it takes to make yourself and those you love happy, because before you know it, your life – and theirs – is over and gone. Don’t waste it, Cecily, will you? Work out what and who is important to you and hold fast to them. Promise me?’
‘Of course I do, Kiki. Are you sure you’re okay? I know a great doctor—’
‘Oh, don’t worry about me. Now, you come here and give your godmother a big hug.’
Cecily bent forward and let Kiki embrace her, her godmother’s long red talons sticking into her ribs.
‘Merry Christmas,’ Kiki said as she released her grip, her eyes yet again full of tears. ‘Be happy, won’t you?’
‘I will. Merry Christmas, Kiki.’
Lillian escorted Cecily to the door.
‘Are you sure she’s okay?’ Cecily spoke in a low voice as she stepped out into the hallway. ‘She seems . . . out of sorts.’
‘She’s just low about her son,’ Lillian whispered. ‘And also she hates Christmas; it reminds her of all the people who are no longer here to celebrate it. Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll feel better once it’s over. Goodbye now.’
‘Goodbye.’
The following morning, Cecily remembered with childish excitement that it was Christmas Eve. She was surprised to find an invitation card addressed to her on a silver salver in the hall.
MRS TERRENCE JACKSON REQUESTS THE PLEASURE OF
AT THE VASSAR REUNION.
AT HOME ON TUESDAY, JANUARY 3RD 1947
RSVP
18 JORALEMON STREET
BROOKLYN
NEW YORK 11021
Cecily was surprised at the invite; Rosalind had been part of a group of girls who’d shared political and intellectual anecdotes rather than lipsticks in their dorms. Cecily felt Rosalind had always cultivated an air of aloofness, and she’d never quite felt good enough to be a part of her clique.
‘Oh my! You’ve been honoured! Rosalind and her husband’s soirees are considered some of the most sought-after tickets in town. Apparently Mrs Roosevelt herself attended the last one,’ said Mamie, who had arrived in the hallway with a large bag of presents to drop off. ‘She’s quite the feminist, by all accounts,’ she added. ‘You should attend.’
‘You know what, Mamie? I just might,’ Cecily smiled at her before she went upstairs to give Lankenua her injection.
Having left Stella in the kitchen with Mary and Essie, the cook, making all sorts of tasty Christmas treats, Cecily shut herself in the bedroom to prepare Lankenua’s and Stella’s stockings, and to wrap up the smaller version of the cuddly Bloomingdale’s lion that she’d had delivered to the house yesterday. Reminding herself to put a call through to Bill – who had said he would spend Christmas Eve at Muthaiga Club with some of his army pals – Cecily thought through the knotty problem of how she could persuade her parents that Stella should join them tomorrow for Christmas lunch, rather than eating in the kitchen with the servants.
A sudden rapping on her door brought her out of her reverie.
‘Who is it?’ she asked.
‘It’s your mother and I have to speak to you now!’
‘Come in!’
Her mother entered the room, utter shock spread across her face.
‘What on earth is it, Mama? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘Oh Lord, oh Lord, Cecily!’ Dorothea drew in a deep breath. ‘Kiki . . . she’s dead!’
‘Dead? But she can’t be, Mama. I saw her just last night and she looked fine, if a little low . . . What’s happened?’
Dorothea walked over to an easy chair and slumped into it. ‘Her mother just called a few minutes ago. Kiki was found lying in a courtyard at the back of the Stanhope. She . . .’ Dorothea gulped. ‘Apparently, she jumped out of her window. She was wearing her pyjamas when they found her.’
‘Oh my! Oh my! Are you sure it was Kiki?’
‘Of course I’m sure! Helen would recognise her own daughter, wouldn’t she?!’
‘Forgive me, Mama, I’m just so shocked.’
But was she? Cecily thought as she put her arms around her own mother and held her as she wept. It was almost as if last night Kiki had been saying goodbye . . .
‘They’re keeping it quiet over Christmas, but it won’t be two minutes before all the newspapers get hold of the story and dig into Kiki’s life, so that the whole of America can read about her scandals over their breakfast! Oh my, Cecily, I adored her; we go back such a long way, and she was so very kin
d to you, wasn’t she?’
‘She was, Mama, yes,’ said Cecily, desperately trying to hold back her own tears.
‘And the worst thing is, she wouldn’t see me, one of her oldest friends. If I’d have known how low she was, I’d have done anything – anything – to help,’ Dorothea sobbed.
‘Mama, I’m going to ring the bell and get Evelyn to bring us up a little brandy. It will help calm our nerves.’
‘Oh Cecily, how can I possibly carry on celebrating Christmas when she’s no longer here?’
‘Because . . . you know why, Mama? Kiki would want you to. She was one of the most famous party girls in town. And she said to me just last night how I must decide what makes me happy and go for it. So tomorrow, we will put on our best dresses for her, and’ – Cecily gulped – ‘celebrate her life. Okay?’
Eventually, Dorothea nodded, took Cecily’s handkerchief to wipe her tears, then stood up. She walked to the bedroom door as though she was in a dream. ‘Now,’ she sighed, ‘I must go tell your father.’
Cecily had gone to bed that night realising it wasn’t the moment to ask her mother whether Stella could join them for lunch. After a restless night full of strange dreams in which Kiki was speaking to her from a cloud in her pyjamas and telling her to decide what was really important, she was awake with a start on Christmas morning, feeling tears forming as she remembered the terrible thing that had happened yesterday. Taking a few minutes to gather herself, Cecily got out of bed and donned her robe. Forcing a bright smile on her face, she walked into Stella’s bedroom to find the little girl sucking on a candy cane, her lips smeared with the chocolate she had already eaten from her stocking.
‘He came, Kuyia!’ Stella looked up at her happily and pointed to the toy lion sitting on her lap. ‘I think Santa must have shrunk him to get him down the chimney. Do you think he’ll grow again now he’s here?’ she asked, her eyes wide.
The Sun Sister (The Seven Sisters) Page 59