The Sun Sister

by Lucinda Riley

  Cecily was pleased that Katherine was coming over tonight for supper and a chat. She too was currently husbandless, Bobby having joined up. Due to his asthma, he served in an administrative capacity in the Agricultural Office in Nairobi.

  ‘Thank heavens for Katherine,’ she sighed. ‘Come on, Wolfie, let’s go and prepare supper.’

  ‘Help yourself to casserole.’ Cecily indicated the steaming dish she’d placed on the table.

  ‘Thank you. It looks delicious. At least we’re not on rations like everyone in Europe is anyway,’ Katherine said as she cut the freshly baked bread that Cecily had made. ‘By the way, Alice has asked me to invite you to a party she’s having up at Wanjohi Farm. She’s been so very lonely. Will you come?’

  ‘I really don’t think so.’

  ‘Cecily! You haven’t been out now for a year. It might do you good to come and have some fun.’

  ‘Not the kind of fun Alice and her friends indulge in, but thank you anyway.’

  ‘Goodness, you sound prissy. Just because you’ve forgotten how to enjoy yourself, you shouldn’t hate the rest of the world because it still tries to remember.’

  Hurt by her friend’s words, Cecily lowered her eyes and buttered her bread in silence.

  ‘I . . . oh, forgive me, please. I do understand that you’re still grieving and that Fleur’s first anniversary was so recent. It’s just that . . . you’re only twenty-four, for goodness’ sake. You have a lot of life left to live and I don’t want to see you waste it.’

  ‘I’m perfectly happy living it the way I do. How’s Bobby?’ Cecily swiftly changed the subject.

  ‘Bored with organising his crop rotas and wishing he could get back to our cattle full-time.’

  ‘Bill said he’d be checking on them while he’s out on the plains this week. He had a few days’ leave.’

  ‘So I heard. Thank goodness they can look out for each other. I was wondering,’ Katherine added as she toyed with her food, ‘why didn’t you go with him?’

  ‘Because he didn’t ask me.’

  ‘He’s probably given up asking you, because you always say no.’

  ‘Why don’t you stop nagging me and eat some of the casserole I’ve made?’

  ‘Because . . . in truth, I’m feeling rather sick. Oh Cecily, I’ve put off telling you now for a month, but you’re my best friend, and you should hear it from me. Bobby and I are going to have a baby. It’s due next May. I’m so terribly sorry, but I had to tell you.’

  There were tears in Katherine’s eyes as she reached her hand out across the table.

  ‘I . . . That is the most wonderful news! I’m thrilled for you both,’ Cecily managed.

  ‘Are you sure? I’ve been so worried about saying anything; I didn’t want the news to upset you.’

  ‘Upset me? Why, I’m happy for both of you, really.’

  ‘Are you absolutely positive?’

  ‘Completely. Actually, we should break out the champagne that’s still left over from Kiki’s hampers.’

  ‘Oh, don’t waste it on me. I feel ill at the very thought of alcohol just now. The other thing I wanted to ask you is whether you would be prepared to be godmother to the little one? I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather ask.’

  ‘That is so sweet of you! Of course I’d be honoured, Katherine, honest I would.’

  ‘That’s wonderful! And as you’re my nearest neighbour, I’m sure I’ll be begging to dump the baby on you quite often.’

  ‘That will be just fine by me,’ Cecily smiled.

  Later, she waved goodbye to Katherine from the veranda. As the tail lights of the pick-up disappeared along the drive, Cecily sat down at the table, put her head in her hands and sobbed as if her heart were breaking all over again.

  Cecily was in the middle of scrubbing the kitchen floor when Bill arrived home three days later. Even though he kept insisting she should have help, Cecily refused. She enjoyed her solitude, and besides, keeping house gave her something to do.

  ‘Good evening,’ he said as he surveyed his wife on her hands and knees.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, dropping the scrubbing brush into the bucket and standing up. ‘How were the cattle?’

  ‘Dwindling by the day.’

  ‘Oh. I’ll put the supper on. I wasn’t sure what time you’d be back.’

  ‘No. Sorry. Cecily, can we have a chat?’

  ‘Why, yes, of course. There’s nothing wrong, is there?’

  ‘No, not with me anyway. Any gin going? I could certainly do with one.’

  ‘There’s some in the cabinet in the sitting room.’

  ‘Then let’s go and talk in there, shall we?’

  Cecily followed him through the hall and into the sitting room, then watched him pour two fingers of gin into each glass and hand one to her.

  ‘Tchin tchin,’ he toasted her.

  ‘Cheers.’ Cecily took a sip. ‘What is it, Bill?’

  ‘Do you remember my friend, the Maasai chief, Leshan, who I once brought here to visit?’

  ‘Of course I do. Why?’

  ‘He heard I was out on the plains and came to find me. He’s run into a bit of a problem, you see, and wondered if we could help him out . . . As you might have gathered by now, the Maasai have a complex tribal hierarchy. Leshan is the leader of the Ilmolean clan, one of the most powerful in the area. Nygasi belongs to it too.’ Bill paused and took a sip of his gin. ‘Leshan’s eldest daughter has long been promised in marriage to the son of the chief of the Ilmakesen clan. They are of the Right pillar, which means they can intermarry with Leshan’s Left pillar.’

  Cecily nodded, although she really didn’t follow the nuances. She could only imagine it was a bit like the powerful Vanderbilts intermarrying with the Whitneys.

  ‘Leshan’s daughters are the equivalent of princesses in Maasailand. The eldest has come of age now, at thirteen, and of all her sisters, she’s considered the most beautiful,’ Bill continued. ‘But her father discovered she’d . . . coupled with a moran – a warrior – within his own clan, and has subsequently become pregnant by him, which is strictly forbidden. If her intended finds out, there could be war between the two clans. At the very least, Leshan would be forced to cast out his daughter and she’d be left to the mercy of the hyenas and jackals.’

  ‘Oh no! That’s dreadful! How can these people be so barbaric?’

  ‘It’s hard to argue that it’s any more barbaric than what is going on in Europe, Cecily, but certainly, the chief loves his daughter and despite his difficult position he doesn’t want to see her harmed.’

  ‘Of course not, but what has this got to do with us?’

  ‘He’s asked me if I – we – would take her in for a while, just until she’s had the baby. Once she has, he’ll place her back in the clan and hopefully no one will be any the wiser.’

  Cecily stared blankly at her husband. ‘You’re saying you want this girl to come live here? And she’s pregnant?’

  ‘That’s the long and short of it, yes. Given your recent circumstances, you may think me insensitive to suggest such a thing, but the man has done me a number of favours over the years. Besides, if we don’t help, the poor girl has nowhere to go. Out in Maasailand, Leshan can’t be seen to help her, but here, where no Maasai would ever think of looking, we can help. I’ve known this girl since she was a baby, and – dare I say it – she is in a similar situation to you when I first met you. Surely you can find it in your heart to offer her shelter on our land?’

  ‘I guess if you put it like that, then I have no choice. How far along is she?’

  ‘Leshan isn’t sure; she’d hidden the baby’s existence for a while and it was only when her mother caught her naked while she was washing that it was noticed. Her mother reckons that she has perhaps a couple of months left to go. When she gets close to her time, her mother will be brought here to be with her.’

  ‘Do either of these women speak English?’

  ‘No, but Nygasi has some basic English, and it doesn
’t take long to establish communication – I did. I’d leave him here to guard her and bring her food; he’ll find a safe place to make camp somewhere in the woods. You’ll hardly even know she’s here.’

  ‘Okay.’ Cecily was at least relieved that the girl wouldn’t be living in the house with her. ‘Well, if all we’re doing is letting her camp on our land and her mother will be around when it’s her time, then I guess that’s fine. When will she arrive?’

  ‘She’s already here. We hid her under a blanket in the back of the pick-up. Nygasi is with her now, scouting for a suitable spot in the woods.’

  ‘I see.’ Cecily realised that this was already a done deal. ‘I’m sure you’ll want to run straight off and help.’

  ‘No, but I will go and tell Nygasi that you’ve agreed to her staying here. Cecily, I implore you again, we cannot tell anyone – I mean, anyone – that she’s here. Not even Katherine. Now, I’ll be back for supper.’

  As she watched Bill leave the house to head in the direction of the woods, Cecily sighed and walked into the kitchen to put together an evening meal.

  ‘Is it my punishment not only to lose my baby, but to be surrounded by pregnant women?’ she murmured to herself as she stirred the sauce and placed it on the stove to simmer.

  Bill appeared in the kitchen forty minutes later, just as she was taking the curry off the heat.

  ‘That smells good, Cecily. You really are a very good cook, you know.’

  ‘Don’t butter me up, Bill, just because you want your Maasai girl to stay,’ Cecily said, half joking because she was secretly pleased at the compliment. ‘Can you carry the plates through?’

  Once they were seated at the dining table, Cecily watched Bill tuck in to his curry. ‘So, is she settled in her . . . camp?’ she finally asked.

  ‘Nygasi is building a shelter and, as I said, I’ll leave him with her when I go to Nairobi.’

  ‘Oh my! Are you sure you can cope without him? You never left him behind to look after me when I was pregnant,’ Cecily remarked, blaming her loose tongue on the gin.

  ‘No, I didn’t, and I will always regret it.’ He eyed her as he put down his knife and fork. ‘You know there are only so many times that someone can say sorry. Will you ever forgive me for not being there, Cecily?’

  ‘Of course I forgive you. It wasn’t your baby in the first place,’ she said. ‘Anyway, what is the name of your girl?’

  ‘She isn’t “my girl”, she is simply under my . . . our protection until she gives birth. Her name is Njala. It means star,’ he murmured. ‘Every name the Maasai gives has a relevance. And so does everything they do.’

  Not for the first time, Cecily wondered if Bill wished he’d been born Maasai; he certainly seemed to prefer their company to hers or anyone else in their group.

  ‘Well, Nygasi must let me know if there is anything she needs.’

  ‘Thank you for that. And I will. She’s very scared, Cecily.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. I can’t believe that girls are allowed to get pregnant so young . . .’

  ‘They’re considered fair game for the morans as soon as they are fertile,’ Bill replied. ‘It’s the way of things out on the plains.’

  ‘Bill, she is no more than a child and I think it’s obscene.’

  ‘I’m sure they think the way we live is equally obscene,’ he countered.

  A silence ensued, which Cecily eventually decided to break.

  ‘I saw Katherine a few days ago.’

  ‘Did you? How is she?’

  ‘She’s fine. And expecting a baby in May.’

  ‘I know, Bobby told me. I’m very happy for both of them. Are you?’

  ‘Of course! They’ll make wonderful parents. Now, if you’re done, I’ll clear away.’

  Cecily stood up abruptly, then collected the plates and marched into the kitchen. As she ran the faucet full blast into the sink, she seethed with anger. Did the man not have an ounce of empathy for her suffering?

  Bill left early the next morning and Cecily went to work on her garden, grasping weeds by the scruffs of their necks and wrenching them from the soil with the force of a child torn from the womb. Even though she had seen neither Nygasi nor the girl now living on their land, it was as if she could feel their presence in the woods nearby.

  When she had finished, she sat with Wolfie on the veranda, enjoying her habitual glass of lemonade as she cooled down along with the heat of the day. After fixing a light supper of vegetable soup, Cecily felt unusually restless and couldn’t settle to reading as she usually did. She looked out at the sky and saw there was still another hour at least before darkness fell.

  ‘Come on, Wolfie, we’re going to pay a visit to our new neighbour.’

  Arming herself with her flashlight and a bottle of water in a canvas bag, Cecily set off with the dog in the direction of the woods. She’d never entered them before, only skirted round them when she was riding over to visit Katherine. They were set uphill, a good half a mile’s walk from the farmhouse, and dusk was already beginning to fall by the time she arrived at the edges.

  Wolfie nosed around in front of her as they walked through the shadows of the huge trees. She had never realised that the wood was so dense and only hoped that Wolfie would find the way back home. Darkness had almost descended and Cecily was ready to turn around when Wolfie barked suddenly and gambolled forwards. Knowing that this meant he’d picked up a scent – almost certainly of food – Cecily switched on the flashlight and followed him as he set off at full pelt.

  ‘I do hope you know where you’re going, Wolfie,’ she said as she did her best to keep up with him. But soon, even she could smell the enticing aroma of meat cooking over a fire, and a few seconds later, the two of them entered a small clearing.

  When Cecily shone the flashlight on the small, circular shelter, concocted of smoothly packed mud draped with animal skins, she felt as if she was in a surreal African version of Hansel and Gretel. In front of the shelter was a haunch of meat roasting on a spit hanging over a fire pit.

  ‘Takwena, Cecily.’ Nygasi appeared in front of her warily.

  ‘Hello, Nygasi. I . . . I just came to say hello to . . .’ Cecily indicated the hut. ‘Is she here?’

  ‘No. She hear dog. Run away. She afraid.’

  ‘Oh. Can you tell her that I came here to see her?’

  ‘Yes. You come back with sun.’ Nygasi pointed upwards.

  ‘Okay,’ she said as Nygasi carved a piece of meat from the spit with a great sharp knife and tossed it to Wolfie.

  ‘Oldia. Dog,’ he said.

  ‘Oldia,’ Cecily repeated, stroking Wolfie.

  ‘Etaa sere,’ he said, then gave her a bow and turned away from her.

  Cecily set off back home. Once she had settled down on the veranda with the gas lamp beside her to read her book, she realised it was the first time she’d spoken directly to Nygasi. Having got used to him always being with her husband, she admitted to herself that she had always been a little afraid of him; but tonight he’d seemed friendly enough.

  As she got into bed an hour later, Cecily decided she would definitely return to the camp tomorrow and meet this Maasai princess for herself.

  ‘Is she here?’ she asked Nygasi when she arrived back in the clearing the following morning.

  ‘She there.’ Nygasi pointed to the shelter.

  ‘Can you tell her I’d like to meet her?’

  Nygasi nodded then walked over to the shelter, peeled back one of the cowhides and spoke in rapid Maa to the person inside.

  ‘She come. Sit?’ he indicated a hide placed on the ground beside the fire pit.

  Cecily did so, then watched as the animal-skin door was pulled back slightly and a pair of fearful eyes peered out. Nygasi said what were obviously comforting words, for the hide was peeled back further. Cecily watched in fascination as a young woman unfolded herself from the low shelter. She’d always thought of Nygasi as tall, but the woman who stood next to him was even taller. Cecily dr
ew in her breath at the incredible creature standing in front of her. Her black skin shone ebony in the sunlight that sparkled through the trees, her long limbs were almost impossibly slender and her neck seemed to go on forever, carrying an exquisitely chiselled face with full lips and high cheekbones below limpid brown eyes. Her hair was shaved neatly down to her scalp, and her chin jutted slightly upwards as she stared at Cecily with a certain air of hauteur. She was dressed in a lambskin skirt with a red shawl wrapped around her torso. An assortment of silver earrings hung from her ears and her neck and wrists were adorned with multi-coloured beaded bangles and necklaces.

  Cecily had been expecting a child, but this thirteen-year-old was every inch a woman, with the noble bearing of the princess that she was. She was so incredibly striking that Cecily could hardly speak for staring at her.

  She stood up slowly and walked over to greet the young woman, who towered above her. ‘I’m Cecily Forsythe, Bill’s wife. I’m pleased to meet you, Njala.’

  She held out her hand and the young woman took it almost regally, giving a nod as she did so.

  ‘No English,’ Nygasi explained.

  ‘It’s okay. I just wanted her to know that if there was any problem, I’m . . . well, I’m there.’

  Nygasi nodded, then spoke to the girl in Maa. She whispered something back.

  ‘She say thank you for shelter on your land.’

  ‘Oh, it’s no problem,’ Cecily stuttered, feeling Njala’s amazing eyes upon her. ‘I love your bangles.’ Cecily pointed to the woman’s wrist. ‘Very beautiful. Right then, I’d better be off. Good to meet you, Njala. Bye now. Come on, Wolfie.’ Cecily turned away and walked from the clearing. It was only when she was halfway home that she realised she had been so overwhelmed by the woman’s beauty, she’d not even taken a glance at Njala’s stomach to try and decipher how pregnant she was.

  Having spent the day in the garden and after cooking herself another lonely supper, Cecily wandered into the sitting room, turned on the light and went over to the bookcase to find one of Bill’s books on the Maasai. Lighting a fire in the grate because the evening was chilly, Cecily settled in an armchair and began to read.