The Sun Sister

by Lucinda Riley

  The rest of the meeting totally passed me by, and when the leader was doing the closing notices, I snuck out before Tommy could see me. I didn’t want him to suffer the embarrassment of knowing I’d heard his most intimate thoughts. I jumped back into the car and checked my cell. Mariam had left a voicemail, so I called her back, still breathing hard.

  ‘Hi, it’s me. You called?’

  ‘Yes. What is it, Electra? Is everything all right?’

  Wow, I thought, Mariam knows me well. This was the first time I’d ever been faced with the confidentiality issue, because I was bursting, just bursting to confide in my PA. I knew she too was fond of Tommy – it was him she’d turned to that night to help me when I’d been off my face – but I swallowed hard, remembering the AA code.

  ‘Oh, it was nothing, just an upsetting story from one of the guys at the meeting. What did you want?’

  ‘Oh, just to tell you I’m making tomato soup with chilli for lunch. Is that okay?’

  ‘Sounds perfect,’ I said.

  ‘And also, Miles has managed to get himself and Vanessa on a flight from Tucson. They land at ten tonight at JFK.’

  When we pulled up in front of my apartment building, I got out and checked around the awning to make sure that Tommy wasn’t going to jump out at me to say hi. He definitely wasn’t there so unless he had a twin, I knew it had been him at that meeting. However, there was a surprise waiting for me in the lobby. There, sitting on one of the leather chairs, was Stella, my grandmother.

  ‘Hello, Electra,’ she said as she stood up to greet me. ‘Do forgive me for arriving like this, but if the mountain wouldn’t come to Mohammed . . . I wanted to see for myself how you were.’

  ‘Of course, please, come up.’ I ushered her towards the elevator, marvelling at the way she held herself so straight and elegantly in her old-fashioned bouclé jacket and skirt.

  ‘I won’t keep you long if you have things to do,’ she said as we walked into the apartment.

  ‘No problem at all,’ I replied, feeling a sudden warmth towards her and wondering why I’d been so frightened of seeing her. ‘Come in and sit down. Mariam’s preparing some lunch.’

  ‘I am,’ Mariam said, appearing in the hallway. ‘It’ll be ready in five minutes. Hi, Stella,’ she added with a smile, then went back to the kitchen.

  ‘She is such a genuine person, Electra,’ Stella said as she sat down in an easy chair – I could never picture her lounging on a couch in track pants and a hoodie like me. ‘She called me regularly with updates while you were . . . away. How are you feeling?’

  ‘I’m good – really good,’ I added, just in case she thought I was throwing her a line.

  ‘And you’re still off the liquor and drugs?’

  ‘I totally am, yup. But as you know, it’s one day at a time, so I can’t get too cocky and think I’m out of the woods or anything.’

  ‘No, you shouldn’t. That’s the most dangerous thing of all. So, tell me, what was it like in the place you went to?’

  I did my best to give her a brief overview. ‘Y’know, I was dreading it, but actually, it was fantastic.’

  ‘You should count yourself lucky to have been able to go to such a place. It sounds like a holiday resort. Except I know that it isn’t, of course,’ she added hurriedly.

  ‘Lunch is served,’ Mariam called from the kitchen and my grandmother and I trooped in to eat at the table, which Mariam had set up using some of the flowers from the vases around the apartment as a centrepiece.

  ‘I was saying to Mariam this morning that I need to start watching my calories,’ I commented as we all dug in. ‘I’ll soon be too fat to be called a supermodel.’

  ‘I doubt it. Look at me, I am heading towards seventy and I’ve never put on a pound in the whole of my life. You’ve got good genes.’

  ‘Your cheekbones are identical,’ Mariam commented. ‘Mine are somewhere near my jaw!’

  ‘Nonsense! You’re a very attractive young lady, if I may say so, both inside and out,’ said Stella. Mariam glowed at the compliment.

  ‘By the way, I want an opinion,’ I said, once I’d cleaned my bowl and we were on to the fresh fruit salad that Mariam had doused in some heavenly coulis. ‘I’ve been thinking of a change of hairstyle.’

  ‘Okay . . .’ said Mariam. ‘Have you spoken to Susie about this?’

  ‘No, it’s my hair, isn’t it? I can do what I want with it.’

  ‘Well said, Electra. Your body is your own property and you should make the decisions about it,’ said Stella. ‘Personally, I think you could do with a decent trim. It looks far too long to me. And the upkeep must be a nightmare. How you young black girls manage to keep it under control, I just don’t know.’

  ‘See these bits?’ I grabbed a piece from my ponytail. ‘They’re not my real hair, they’re extensions.’

  My grandmother took the strand and shrugged. ‘It feels real to me.’

  ‘It is, except it’s not mine. I was thinking how tasteless that is, especially because the girl whose hair I’m now wearing might have had to sell it just to feed her family. So, I’ve decided that I’m going to get my extensions taken out and then I’m going to shave it off so it’s short, like yours.’ I indicated Stella’s trimmed afro, which was about a centimetre long.

  ‘Wow!’ said Mariam, and I wanted to laugh, because she’d obviously picked the word up from me, but it sounded so wrong coming out of her mouth.

  ‘Well, I wear mine like this just because it’s sensible, but would the clothes designers and the photographers want you to look like that?’

  ‘I don’t know. And you know what? I don’t give a damn either.’ I then saw Stella’s expression at my use of an expletive. ‘Sorry,’ I apologised, ‘but as you just said, it is my hair and maybe I literally want to go back to my roots! They can jam wigs on my head for a shoot if that’s what they want to do. And . . .’

  ‘Yes?’ Stella prompted during my long pause.

  ‘Well, it’s also about being who I am, even though I’m not sure yet. I mean, Mariam’s family are all Muslim and know their history from hundreds of years back. I grew up in a mixed household, as a black child with a white dad and sisters in between.’

  ‘And you’re perhaps feeling confused about your identity,’ said Stella. ‘Trust me, I too grew up between worlds, Electra, just like you have. Some would say we were privileged, and in many ways we have been, but . . . you end up feeling you don’t belong in one camp or another.’

  ‘Yup,’ I nodded, and suddenly felt all emotional again, as if I’d finally found a real-life person that maybe understood my confusion. ‘Stella, you remember you began telling me the story about that girl going to Africa before I went to rehab?’

  ‘Sure I do. The question is, do you?’

  I saw her eyes twinkle and knew she was teasing me. Partly at least.

  ‘Some of it, yes, but I think . . . I think I need to hear more.’

  ‘Well then, we’ll take a day when you’ve got some time, and I’ll continue the story. Your story.’

  ‘I’ve got time now, really. Miles and Vanessa’s plane doesn’t land until ten p.m. tonight, right, Mariam?’

  ‘Yes,’ she confirmed. ‘Stella, if you’re staying on for a while, I might head out and run some errands. Shall I bring you both coffee in the living room?’

  ‘That would be just fine,’ Stella said as she rose. ‘Can we help you with the clearing-up?’

  ‘No, but thank you for asking. You two go through.’

  Chastened by the fact it had never even crossed my mind to ask Mariam if she wanted help in the kitchen, I followed my grandmother into the living room and watched as she sat down.

  ‘I realised when I was away that I still don’t know about my mom or the rest of my family. Or maybe you did tell me and I was just so out of it, I don’t remember. Who was she?’ I asked as I curled up on the couch.

  ‘No, I haven’t told you about her yet. All in good time, Electra, all in good time; there
is a lot to explain. Do you remember I told you how Cecily, the American lady, had been jilted by her fiancé, so decided to go to Africa to mend her broken heart?’

  ‘Yeah, I do, and how she’d fallen in love with a complete bas . . . love rat,’ I said quickly.

  ‘Exactly. Now, I think I’d reached the point in the story where Cecily was staying at Wanjohi Farm with Katherine . . .’

  February 1939

  ‘Time to get up.’ Katherine woke Cecily at five the following morning.

  ‘I’ve put your safari clothes on the end of your bed. We’ll drive Alice’s DeSoto over to Bill’s so I’ll see you outside. I’m packing some hampers with supplies, then I need to call Aleeki and let him know you’ll be coming home tomorrow instead,’ she said as she left the bedroom.

  Sleepily, Cecily put on a khaki suit and pants that fitted her almost perfectly, then pulled on the heavy lace-up boots, which didn’t. They were a few sizes too big – she’d always had tiny feet – but they would have to do.

  ‘Hop in,’ said Katherine, as she stowed some blankets on the back seat of the car. She started the engine and switched on the head lamps as it was still pitch black.

  Cecily did so, and with a last glance at Wanjohi Farm and the relative safety and comfort it offered, they were off.

  She dozed fitfully during the hour-long journey until bright sunlight jolted her awake. She opened her eyes to see that they seemed to have left the main road and were bumping violently along a narrow track that appeared to go on forever, winding through acres of hot plain, with grasses and trees clinging to the orange earth. Cecily rolled down the window to search for a breeze and was assaulted by the smell of livestock, earthy and faecal. She saw a group of cattle being herded across the grasslands by very tall men in dark orange robes that matched the colour of the earth beneath their bare feet. She marvelled at the cows, which only bore a vague resemblance to their American cousins. They had large humps on their backs, and folds of extra skin that hung almost to the ground around their scrawny necks.

  ‘Nearly there now, darling,’ said Katherine. ‘Welcome to Bill’s farm.’

  Cecily saw they were now approaching a low building with a timber frame sitting in the middle of the plain, the sun glaring off its tin roof.

  ‘Hello there! You made it.’ Bobby had emerged from the hut and walked towards them, as Katherine drew the car to a standstill.

  Cecily climbed out. ‘Jeez,’ she said, looking around her, ‘is this the Bush?’ she asked him.

  ‘It’s on the edge of the Loita Plains,’ said Bobby, which meant nothing to Cecily. ‘You girls go inside and have a cool drink. Bill and I are readying the vehicles with supplies.’

  ‘The hampers and blankets are in the back of Alice’s DeSoto,’ Katherine called as the two women walked towards the shack. Inside, Katherine poured them both a glass of water as Cecily looked around the very basic accommodation.

  ‘Is this where Bill lives?’

  ‘It is. As you can see, there’s no woman’s touch here,’ she smiled. ‘He spends so much time out in the Bush, I suppose he hardly thinks it’s worth doing anything about it. I must say, I’m rather excited. I do hope we find some elephants for you; out of all the creatures that inhabit these parts, I find them the most magnificent.’

  ‘Are they dangerous?’

  ‘Like any wild animal, they can be, but you couldn’t be in safer hands with Bill. Talk of the devil,’ Katherine said as Bill strode inside.

  ‘Good morning, Cecily. Glad you could make it. Ready to go?’

  ‘I am.’ Cecily saw he was staring at her feet again.

  ‘Katherine, can you sort out her puttees?’ Bill offered her two rolls of bandages. ‘Can’t have her precious ankles bitten by a puff adder while she sleeps, can we? I’ll see you both outside.’

  ‘Sit down, Cecily,’ Katherine ordered. Cecily did so and Katherine wound the bandages around each of her ankles, tucking the hems of her pants in at the top and tying the bandages in two tight knots. ‘There we go. Not very attractive, but it does the job.’

  ‘Goodness, I’m sweating like a pig in all these clothes,’ Cecily muttered. The heat was something else and she felt dizzy and sick.

  ‘You’ll get used to it, don’t worry. Right, let’s be off.’

  They left the shack and walked around the side of it, where Bill was sitting behind the wheel of his old pick-up, with Bobby in his next to it. Cecily’s eyes widened as she saw what could only be described as a real-life version of one of the drawings of a Maasai warrior she’d seen in the books she’d taken out of the library in Manhattan. The Maasai man, who was sitting at the back on the flat area loaded with supplies, nodded at her regally. He clutched a long spear by his side and was dressed in deep red robes that were knotted around his shoulders. His long neck was adorned with multi-coloured bead necklaces and his ears were pierced by several large rings. His face was angular, the dark skin barely lined, and his hair was cropped closely to his scalp and dusted with a reddish powder. Cecily could only guess at his age – he might have been anywhere between twenty and forty.

  ‘This is Nygasi, a friend of mine,’ said Bill. ‘Climb aboard, ladies.’ Bill indicated that Cecily should sit next to him in the front as Katherine climbed onto the rear seat with Nygasi perched just behind her. She shielded her eyes against the glare of the sun bouncing off Nygasi’s spear, and wondered if he had ever had cause to use it.

  ‘All ready to go?’ called Bobby from the pick-up beside them. Two more Maasai men were sitting on the rear of his vehicle, also holding spears.

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Katherine gaily, passing Cecily a flask of water.

  ‘Only drink what you need. Water is precious out in the Bush at this time of year,’ she advised, which did nothing to calm Cecily’s jangling nerves.

  The pick-up’s engine rumbled to life and Cecily clutched onto the seat, praying she wouldn’t be sick, as Bill pushed down on the accelerator and they set off with a lurch.

  Driving for what felt like hours through the dusty grassland, eventually the terrain began to subtly alter and grow lusher. It was a wide-open landscape, the vast blue sky skimming the tops of the fever trees on which giraffes nibbled, their tongues curling out as they pulled the branches towards them. The pick-up swerved suddenly, and Cecily could see that they had narrowly avoided running over two hyenas that had dashed past their wheels.

  ‘Bloody pests!’ Bill swore above the engine noise.

  ‘Look, Cecily, those are wildebeest – the ones with the manes on their backs. And there’s Nygasi’s enkang – his settlement where his wives and children live.’ Katherine pointed to the left.

  Cecily looked at what appeared to be a grey circular hedge made up of branches. Women in deep red robes were strolling towards it with bundles of wood under their arms and goats at their heels. Some had makeshift papooses containing babies slung over their shoulders. At the sound of the passing pick-ups, the women stopped to wave and smile.

  ‘Did she say wives in the plural? You mean Nygasi has more than one?’

  ‘It’s the Maasai way,’ Bill answered. ‘The more cattle and women and children you have, the more respect you command within the tribe. And Nygasi commands quite a lot of respect.’

  ‘Look over there!’ Katherine shouted to her half an hour later, pointing into the distance where Cecily could see animals gathered around a hazy silver shimmer. ‘Do you see those Thomson’s gazelles there, the little ones with the straight horns? They’re very brave drinking the water, you never know when a croc will come out and snap at them! But that’s life here on the plains.’

  Cecily was awfully glad when Bill eventually pulled the pick-up to a halt by a copse of fever trees, and Bobby pulled up beside them. The sun was beating down on the open-topped pick-up and she’d felt horribly sick the whole journey.

  ‘Are we stopping here?’ Bobby called to them.

  ‘Yes, Nygasi says it’s the best spot for today,’ Bill nodded and climbed down fr
om his vehicle.

  ‘Time to set up camp,’ Katherine said cheerfully as she began to help Bobby unload the equipment and supplies. Cecily made a move to assist her, but Bill laid a hand on her shoulder and held her back.

  ‘I’d like to help,’ she protested.

  ‘You’d be best to stay out of the way while we set up,’ he said firmly. ‘You look flushed, Cecily. Go and sit in the shade and drink some water.’

  Cecily sat down on a convenient rock under a clump of trees, sipping water and watching the others ready the camp. Large rolls of canvas, iceboxes and the hampers were heaved from the backs of the pick-ups and placed next to her in the shade of the trees. The three Maasai men worked together as they laid out the ground sheets then swung the canvas over supple bamboo poles to create tents, replete with mosquito netting. Then they packed armfuls of grass on top of the canvas until the tents seamlessly blended in with the surroundings. Katherine unpacked provisions from the iceboxes and eventually sat down beside Cecily, handing her a sandwich wrapped in wax paper.

  ‘You’d best eat up, we’ll be doing a lot of walking today. Bill doesn’t believe in driving around to view the animals, then shooting them from the comfort of the pick-up.’

  ‘He’s planning on shooting game?’ Cecily asked. She had seen the large rifles being unloaded but had thought they were for protection.

  ‘What else are we going to eat for supper?’ Katherine chuckled. ‘Here, have some tea, it’ll keep you cool.’

  Cecily accepted the flask of hot, strong black tea laced with sugar and felt her nervous stomach begin to calm.

  ‘Oh, and if you’re concerned about the . . . facilities,’ Katherine whispered to her, ‘simply do your business behind a bush, no one will look. Just don’t pull up any rocks; you never know if a snake or a scorpion is having a nap underneath them.’ Katherine patted her knee and stood up to help Bobby, while Cecily sat frozen with apprehension.

  After the camp was set up and everyone had eaten, Bill and Nygasi led the march into the Bush, with the two other Maasai men bringing up the rear. Cecily walked closely beside Katherine and Bobby and listened as they regaled her with stories of previous safaris.