The Sun Sister (The Seven Sisters)

by Lucinda Riley

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She left her goddaughter a legacy – some shares and some cash – which eventually allowed us to buy an apartment a street away from Rosalind in Brooklyn. It was nothing like Cecily had been used to, and when I look back now, life must have been very hard for her. That day, she lost her entire family – because of me.’

  ‘She must have loved you very much.’

  ‘She did,’ Stella nodded. ‘And I adored her. She proved to be a talented teacher too, and between her and Rosalind, the little school they’d started went from strength to strength. By the time I was ten, they had managed to gather enough pupils to rent a building of their own. And by the time I left, they had eighty pupils – a few of them white, I might add – and six full-time teachers.’

  ‘She found her mission.’

  ‘She did, yes. She was one incredible woman and I miss her to this day.’

  So many questions that I wanted answers to were jostling for priority in my brain.

  ‘What about the maid that you grew up believing was your mother?’

  ‘Lankenua? Oh, she stayed right here in New York with us. She met a man through her church and they married a year after we left the house on Fifth Avenue. They moved into a small apartment here in Brooklyn and she carried on working for Cecily, caring for me.’

  ‘And her son?’

  ‘Kwinet was almost sixteen when we left Kenya. Lankenua asked him if he wanted to come and join her but he refused. He was happy enough taking care of Paradise Farm.’

  ‘Are they dead?’

  ‘Sadly yes,’ Stella sighed. ‘Most everyone is, except for Beatrix. She’s eighty-five and still going strong. I’d love to introduce her to you one day. Could you turn on a light?’

  ‘Sure.’ I reached for the lamp on the table next to the couch. The glare of the light somehow broke the spell and we were both shot back fully into the present.

  ‘Oh my, it’s past two in the morning,’ Stella commented, looking at her watch. ‘I must go home.’

  ‘I’ll call you a cab.’

  ‘Thank you, dear. That would be most kind.’

  I went to the concierge phone and organised it as Stella stood up and walked rather unsteadily to the bathroom. I went to grab some water from the kitchen and saw that Lizzie’s bedroom door was closed. She must have crept back into the apartment at some point during the evening.

  Stella came out of the bathroom and went over to the chair to collect her purse.

  ‘Are you going to be okay here alone tonight?’ she asked me gently. ‘I can stay . . .’

  ‘I’ll be fine. I have a friend here with me, but thanks for the offer.’

  ‘Electra, I know there is so much more to talk about . . . that you want and need and have every right to know about your momma. But I hope you understand why it was so important for you to hear about how I came to America. It can’t ever excuse what subsequently happened, but—’

  ‘I get it, Stella. You go home and get some rest.’

  ‘When would you like me to come back? I have things on, but you’re my priority now, I swear.’

  ‘Can I give you a call in the morning once I’ve had some sleep?’

  ‘Sure. Goodnight, dear, and I am so very sorry to have upset you.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ I said as I opened the front door for her. ‘At least there’s one thing that’s cheered me up.’

  ‘And what is that?’

  ‘That I really am descended from a line of princesses,’ I smiled at her. ‘Goodnight, Stella.’

  ‘You guys were certainly having a long conversation,’ Lizzie commented as I walked into the kitchen the following morning feeling like I’d done a few lines and a whole bottle of Goose last night.

  ‘We sure were, yes,’ I agreed as I walked across to the coffee machine to pour myself a strong shot.

  ‘So, are you all sorted with your grandmother?’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it like that, but I think we’re getting somewhere now, yes.’

  ‘Good, good. Well, you know I would never want to interfere, but I’m here if you ever want to talk about it, Electra.’

  ‘I know, Lizzie, thanks.’

  ‘I’m off to the bank this morning – hopefully they’ll have found the right forms I need to sign so I can have my funds released to me. Then I can get out of your hair.’

  ‘Lizzie, seriously, I absolutely love having you here. In fact, I’d be so upset if you left right now. On my road to self-discovery, I’ve found I’m not cool living by myself. So how about if you move in permanently?’

  ‘Oh Electra, I’d jump at the chance, but I simply can’t afford what must be an exorbitant rent.’

  ‘For one thing, you know money isn’t an issue for me and for another, I’ve also been thinking that I might like to live elsewhere in the city. My lease is up in a few months’ time. I went to Harlem with Miles the other day and it has a real community feel. Up here, you could just about be anywhere, couldn’t you?’

  ‘If you mean that it’s impersonal, like a hotel, then yes, you’d be right. Harlem with Miles, eh?’ Lizzie grinned at me. ‘I never did get to hear the lowdown on him last night. I mean, it’s obvious how he feels, but what about you?’

  ‘You’ve got it wrong, Lizzie. Miles and I are just good friends; we’re helping Vanessa and working on a project together. Even though he’s had plenty of opportunity, he’s never even tried . . . well, anything.’

  ‘Maybe he’s shy, Electra, or overwhelmed. I mean, you are officially one of the world’s most beautiful women. He probably feels he’s punching above his weight,’ Lizzie said as she stood up and went to the counter. ‘Fancy some avocado on toast? If I can’t eat it, I’ll enjoy making it for someone who can.’

  ‘Yeah, why not?’

  ‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘that’s my theory on Miles. He might be a serious piece of man-hunk, but he’s hardly the kind of brand name celeb-slash-billionaire you normally date, is he?’

  ‘No, I guess he isn’t, thank God. You know what? I never thought about it like that.’

  ‘Then maybe you should. Oh, and changing the subject for a minute, when I was in the kitchen last night making myself scarce, I hope you don’t mind, but I looked through your sketchbook.’ Lizzie indicated it lying on the table. ‘Some of those designs are really, really great.’

  ‘Thanks, but they’re just doodles. I started drawing again in rehab, remember?’

  ‘You should do something with them, Electra. I’d definitely buy them. I love that whole ethnic look.’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I was thinking about that yesterday. Like, maybe having the materials ethically sourced and putting the profits from the collection towards the drop-in centre. I mean, I don’t need the money, do I?’

  ‘Oh, how I wish those words rang true for me too. I think it’s a fabulous idea,’ she said as she spooned the avocado onto rye toast.

  Once Lizzie had left to go to her bank and Mariam had arrived, I took a shower and thought about whether I was up for seeing Stella today. And decided I was. Or at least, I had to be. I just needed to know.

  Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards . . .

  Pa’s quote for me on the armillary sphere kept floating into my brain. Perhaps he had chosen it because he’d known that Stella was going to make contact with me and ultimately tell me the story of my heritage. If he felt it was right for me to know, then I really had to trust that it was. After all, he’d loved me more than any other human on the planet . . .

  With that thought empowering me, I called Stella, who picked up immediately, and asked her if she could come by later today.

  ‘Of course, or maybe you’d like to come over to me? You could see where Cecily and I lived together.’

  ‘You’re still in the same apartment?’

  ‘I am, yes, and it’s not changed much since,’ Stella chuckled.

  ‘Okay, I’ll come to you. What time?’

  ‘Three
o’clock would suit. We can drink tea out of Cecily’s bone china service.’

  I wrote down the address, then hung up and went into the kitchen to see Mariam.

  ‘Morning,’ I smiled at her.

  ‘Good morning, Electra. How are you today?’

  ‘I’m good. I’m heading out this afternoon to visit my grandmother and probably won’t be back until later.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’

  I looked down at her covered head and her neat little fingers flying across the keyboard as she typed. There was just something about her body language that told me all wasn’t well. But it wasn’t my business to pry.

  ‘A couple of things,’ I said as I took a Coke out of the fridge. ‘Do you think you could look into cotton sourced from Africa? Preferably from Kenya?’

  ‘Of course I could,’ Mariam said. ‘May I ask why?’

  ‘Because I’m thinking of designing a collection. I want all the profits to go to the drop-in centre that Miles is trying to keep open.’

  Mariam’s reaction, like Lizzie’s, was very positive and we spent an interesting half an hour researching possible sources.

  ‘It would be amazing if you could actually go over there and meet the women who are making these fabrics,’ commented Mariam.

  ‘Maybe one day I will. My ancestors came from Kenya.’

  ‘Did they? Is that what your grandmother told you?’

  ‘Yes, and I’ll hear more about everything this afternoon. Can you book me a car to take me over to Brooklyn for three?’

  ‘Of course I can.’

  ‘Great, I’m going to head out for a run now.’

  Yet again, Tommy wasn’t at his post as I jogged across the street. It was weird that someone could play a part in your daily life, yet you had no idea where they lived or how to get in contact with them if they suddenly disappeared.

  Lost in my own thoughts, I didn’t see the two men until they were on me, one holding me in a headlock from behind, as the other tore my Rolex from my wrist, and ripped the tiny diamond and its chain from my throat.

  Before I could even shout out or begin to struggle, they were gone, leaving me numb with shock. I bent over, feeling the world spin for a moment. Then I heard a voice beside me.

  ‘You okay, ma’am? So sorry I couldn’t help, but they had a knife.’

  I looked up to see an old grey-haired man, who was bent almost as double as I was, but from natural causes.

  ‘There’s a bench over there, let me help you to it,’ he offered.

  I felt his arm go around my lower back; it was remarkably firm and comforting as he guided me to the bench.

  ‘There we go, you rest for a while,’ he said as he helped me to sit down.

  ‘S-sorry, it’s the shock. I’ll be okay in a minute,’ I panted.

  ‘Here, have some water. It’s a fresh bottle – I haven’t opened it yet.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be running alone in the park. These guys are professionals – they’ll have seen you and your jewellery before and planned exactly where to wait for you.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s my own stupid fault,’ I agreed. ‘I normally take my watch off, but—’

  ‘That’s why I bring Poppet with me; she might look small, but she’s gotta real fetish for ankles,’ the old man chuckled.

  I looked down and saw a tiny terrier, complete with a bow on top of its head, sitting by its master’s feet and gazing up at me. The sight made me smile.

  ‘You live round here, don’t you?’ the man continued.

  ‘Yeah, right across the street on Central Park West.’ I waved an arm in the direction of my apartment.

  ‘Then we’re neighbours,’ he said. ‘I live right there on Fifth.’ He pointed to an apartment building. ‘Have done for eighty odd years – I was born there.’

  ‘My grandmother lived on Fifth for a while, in the pretty house with the curved front.’

  ‘No! You don’t mean number 925? The house owned by the Huntley-Morgans way back when?’

  ‘I think so, yeah,’ I said, because my head was still fuzzy from shock.

  ‘Well, well, could I tell you some stories about them. That Dorothea – what a bitter, cranky old witch she was,’ the man chuckled. ‘After her husband died, she lived alone there for years. I was only a kid, but she used to terrify me, sitting at the window, all dressed in black staring out like the mother in Psycho. I never saw no one come to visit her, not once.’

  I felt too dazed to reply.

  There was a pause before he added, ‘I know who you are – I’ve seen you on the billboards. I’m surprised you don’t have a bodyguard running with you. If you don’t want stuff like that to happen again, you should think about getting one.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, but I enjoy the space, and . . .’ I was about to say I could take care of myself, but given the circumstances, it obviously wasn’t true. I touched the back of my neck, which was sore from where the necklace had been wrenched away from it. I’d bought it for myself with one of my first big pay checks and hardly ever took it off. I felt oddly naked without it. I saw my fingertips were smeared with blood.

  ‘You better get that cut looked at. Want me to call someone to come get you?’

  ‘No, I’ll be okay, it’s only a short walk back home,’ I said as I tentatively stood up.

  ‘I’ll walk with you.’

  So my new guardian angel, his tiny terrier and I made our way slowly to my apartment building. He even offered his arm to me as we waited for the lights to change so I could cross the street.

  ‘Thanks so much,’ I said as we walked under the awning of my building.

  ‘Oh, it was nothing, ma’am. It’s been a pleasure to talk to you – that doesn’t happen too often in this city these days. You oughta call the cops and report it – I’d be happy to be a witness for you.’

  ‘For what good the cops will do,’ I mumbled as the man dug in his trouser pocket and offered me a card.

  ‘That’s me, Davey Steinman at your service. You come see me sometime and I’ll tell you stories about those Huntley-Morgans. My mother hated them – we were Jewish, you see, and even though they were our neighbours for years, they never once passed the time of day with us.’

  ‘I will. Thanks for your help, Davey,’ I smiled as I waved goodbye to him and Poppet, then wobbled inside.

  ‘Oh my!’ Mariam said as I walked into the kitchen and slumped into a chair. ‘What happened, Electra?’

  ‘I got mugged,’ I shrugged. ‘But I’m okay. I just need you to take a look at the back of my neck because I can’t see the wound.’

  Mariam was already up and reaching for the first aid box that was kept in the kitchen cupboard.

  ‘I’ve never been happy with you running alone in that park, Electra. It’s just not safe, especially for someone with a high profile like you. Now, let’s see what we’re dealing with.’

  ‘Maybe it’s only when something happens to you that you realise what you’re doing is dangerous. But I enjoy that time alone, you know? Ouch!’ I winced as I felt something stinging on the back of my neck.

  ‘Sorry, I just need to clean the cut. It’s very small – just where the chain has dug into your skin as they whipped it from your neck. You really should call the cops—’

  ‘What’s the use? They won’t catch them,’ I muttered.

  ‘So you can get a report to give to your insurance company for the stolen jewellery – and also to make sure it doesn’t happen to other people.’

  ‘I guess so. I met this sweet old guy who says they’d probably been watching me, which is kind of creepy,’ I said, as Mariam took some gauze and tape to cover the wound.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Mariam said vehemently.

  ‘The old guy said I should employ a bodyguard.’

  ‘Well, I agree with him, Electra.’

  ‘Maybe Tommy wants to apply,’ I said as I stood up, and dug around in the medical box to find a couple of Advil. ‘Actually, I’m worried about him –
I haven’t seen him around for a while. Have you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you by any chance have his cell phone number?’

  ‘No, why should I?’ Mariam answered abruptly.

  ‘Because I thought you guys were in touch . . . Anyway, let’s just hope he turns up in the next few days. Right, I need to take a shower, grab some lunch and then head off to Granny’s.’ I smiled at Mariam, whose back was turned to me as she replaced the first aid kit in the cupboard.

  ‘Okay, there’s some sushi in the fridge. I’ll take it out for you.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  As I crossed the Brooklyn Bridge on the way to Stella’s apartment, I thought again about Mariam and how there was definitely a subtle shift in her usual calm, composed demeanour. Something was going on with her, I just knew it instinctively, and I decided that tonight I’d ask her what the problem was. If it was me, I really needed to know, because I couldn’t bear to lose her.

  Arriving at Sidney Place, I stepped out and saw neat brownstones and newer redbricks. The sidewalk was tree-lined and had a calm atmosphere of understated wealth. Walking up the steps of a brownstone with pretty flowerboxes in the windows, I pressed the bell that said ‘Jackson’, and within a few seconds, my grandmother was standing at the door.

  ‘Welcome, Electra,’ she said as she ushered me into an entrance hall and then right into a large and airy space, with double-aspect windows that looked out at the front onto the houses opposite and at the back, down onto a garden below. I noted the dated furniture: there was a couch covered with chintz and two battered leather easy chairs that sat opposite a large fireplace.

  ‘This is lovely,’ I said and meant it, even if I did feel I’d just stepped back into a different century. There was something comforting about the fact that it looked like everything had been here forever.