Your friend and admirer,
Orlando
My fingers passed over the expensive vellum envelope, which was closed with a wax seal. So, here it lay in front of me: the truth of my birth. My fingers began to tremble and I felt horribly sick and dizzy.
‘You okay?’ Mouse asked as he found me with my head resting against my knuckles.
‘Yes . . . no,’ I confessed.
He walked over to me as my head spun, and put a hand on my shoulder.
‘Poor Star. Doctor Mouse deduces that the patient is suffering from shock, emotion and almost certainly hunger. Therefore, as it’s lunchtime, I’m going to nip across the road and feed you for a change. Won’t be a moment.’
I watched him leave, and despite myself, managed a smile as I banished the image of the Sewer Rat and – for today at least – turned it into a soft white creature with cute ears and a pink nose.
‘Sit there and don’t move,’ Mouse said when he returned through the door with our foil tins. ‘Today, I’m caring for you.’
Although slightly suspicious, given his past track record, it was nice to be looked after by someone. As we ate, and I drank a glass of Sancerre that went straight to my head, I searched for an ulterior motive, but couldn’t find one. Then a thought struck me.
‘Who’s picking up Rory this afternoon?’
‘Marguerite. She arrived home from France late last night. Never seen her look so happy either. Isn’t it incredible, how one can tread water for years with everything the same, and then suddenly there’s a tidal wave of events that pushes you either further out to sea, or brings you in gently to shore? There’s been a definite seismic shift happening for all of us Vaughans and Forbes recently. And you seem to have been the catalyst.’
‘I think that’s just coincidence.’
‘Or fate. Do you believe in fate, Star?’
‘Probably not. Life is what you make it.’
‘Right. Well, for the past seven years, I’ve believed that my fate was to suffer. And I indulged that one hundred per cent. In truth, I’ve wallowed in it. And I can’t ever make up for the harm it’s caused my family. It’s all too late.’
I watched his eyes darken and the tense expression return.
‘You could try.’
‘Yes, I could, couldn’t I? Anyway, enough of me. Are you going to open that envelope so we can discuss it, or not?’
‘I don’t know. It will only tell me my parents gave me away, won’t it?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Either that or they died. But if they did give me away, how can I ever forgive them? How can any parent give away their child? Especially a tiny baby, which I know I was when I arrived at Atlantis.’
‘Well,’ Mouse said, sighing deeply, ‘perhaps you should hear the reasons before you judge. Some people aren’t in their right minds when they do such things.’
‘You mean like postnatal depression?’
‘I suppose so, yes.’
‘It’s not quite the same thing as not having enough food to go around or no roof over your head.’
‘No, it’s not. Anyway, I’d better get back. Things to do. You know.’
‘Yes.’
‘Anything I can help you with,’ he said, standing up, ‘just call.’
‘Thanks.’ I stood up too, sensing the sudden shift in his emotions. ‘And thanks for lunch.’
‘Don’t thank me for anything, Star. I’m not worth thanking. Bye.’
And then he left.
I sat there, shaking my head and swearing at my gullibility. What was it with him? He blew hot and cold in the blink of an eye. All I knew was that there was something . . . something that haunted him.
41
That night, as CeCe and I ate together, there was a thick tension between us. Normally, she’d blurt out everything that was on her mind, but tonight her eyes were like an impenetrable fortress.
‘I’m off to bed. Long day tomorrow,’ she said as she rose to go upstairs. ‘Thanks for dinner.’
I cleared away the dishes and stepped out into the cold night to watch the river flowing beneath me. And thought of Mouse and his wave analogy. I too was undergoing a seismic shift; even my relationship with CeCe was finally changing. Then I thought about the unopened envelope slowly burning a hole in my rucksack, and knew I needed to speak to someone I trusted urgently. Someone who wouldn’t be judgemental, who would give me calm, sensible advice.
Ma.
I took my mobile out of my back pocket and dialled home – my real home – and waited for her to pick up, as she always did when we girls called her, even if it was late. Tonight, the line went to voicemail and an automated message told me no one was at home. My heart plummeted. Who else could I call?
Maia? Ally? Tiggy? Certainly not Electra . . . Even though I loved and admired her for what she’d achieved in her life, empathy was not in her nature. Pa had always called her ‘highly strung’. CeCe and I privately called her a brat.
In the end, I tried Ally, knowing that, unlike Maia, at least she was in the Northern Hemisphere.
She picked up on the third ring.
‘Star?’
‘Hello. I haven’t woken you, have I?’
‘No. Are you okay?’
‘Yes. You?’
‘I’m good.’
‘That’s nice to hear.’
‘When I see you, I’ll tell you all about it. So, how can I help you?’ she continued.
I smiled at my big sister’s automatic response. She knew that when we younger sisters called, we weren’t contacting to ask after her health. And she accepted it, because that was her role as ‘leader’ in our family.
‘I have an envelope,’ I told her. ‘And I’m scared to open it.’
‘Oh. Why?’
I explained as succinctly as I could.
‘I see.’
‘What do you think I should do?’
‘Open the envelope, of course!’
‘Really?’
‘I promise you, Star, however painful it is, Pa wanted to help us all move on. Besides, if you don’t do it now, you’re only putting it off for the future. You’ll open it at some point, of course you will.’
‘Thanks, Ally. How’s Norway?’
‘It’s . . . wonderful. Wonderful. I . . . have some very good news.’
‘What is it?’
‘I’m pregnant. By Theo,’ she added quickly. ‘Ma knows, but I haven’t told any of our other sisters yet.’
‘Ally,’ I said with a catch in my throat. ‘That really is wonderful! Oh my God! It’s amazing!’
‘Isn’t it? Oh, and I’ve also found my birth family here in Bergen. So even though the two most important people are missing, I have support, and there’s a new life on the way.’
‘I’m thrilled for you, Ally. You deserve it, you’re so brave.’
‘Thanks. And Star, I’m playing the flute in a concert in the Grieg Hall here in Bergen on the seventh of December. I’m inviting all of our sisters, of course, but I’d so love you to come. And CeCe if she’s around.’
‘I will, I promise.’
‘Ma said she’ll come too, so maybe you could speak to her about the travel arrangements? I’m happy, Star, even though I never thought I would be again after . . . what happened. But listen, back to you. All I can say is that you need to be brave now, if you want your life to change.’
‘I do.’
‘I’m warning you that it might not be exactly what you want to hear; the fairy tale was Atlantis . . . but that was our life then and it isn’t like that any more. Just remember, you’re the only one in charge of your destiny. But you have to help it to happen. Do you understand?’
‘Yes. Thank you, Ally. I’ll see you at the beginning of December.’
‘I love you, Star. You know I’m always here for you.’
‘Yes. God bless,’ I added.
‘God bless.’
I ended the call and wandered inside as I realised my fingers had turn
ed blue with cold. And, checking my messages, listened to a number of them from Orlando and Mouse. After taking a quick shower, I crept into the bedroom where CeCe was sleeping silently.
‘A seismic shift,’ I muttered as my head touched the soft pillow gratefully.
I would take a leaf out of my big sister’s book.
And be brave.
CeCe had a nightmare around four o’clock, and, after I had slipped into bed with her to comfort her, I felt wide awake. I got up and went downstairs to make myself a cup of tea. I looked over the velvety dark of London, the Seven Sisters of the Pleiades – at their most brilliant in the Northern Hemisphere in winter – shining brightly above me. Tracing the river to the east, I wondered if my real relatives were asleep somewhere, perhaps wondering how I was. Or where.
Gritting my teeth, I took the envelope out of my rucksack and, not daring to stop to analyse my actions, I opened it, with the still sleeping city as my only witness.
There were two sheets of paper inside. I unfolded them and placed them on the glass coffee table. One was a family tree covered in Orlando’s flamboyant hand, with arrows pointing to his various comments. The second was a copy of a birth certificate:
Date and place of birth: 21st April 1980
The Mothers’ Hospital of the Salvation Army, Hackney
Name and Surname: Lucy Charlotte Brown
Father: —————
Mother: Petula Brown
‘Lucy Charlotte,’ I breathed. ‘Born on my birthday.’
Was this me?
I referred to the family tree, carefully drawn by Orlando, and studied it. ‘Tessie Eleanor Smith’ had given birth in October 1944 to a girl named ‘Patricia’, whose surname was also ‘Smith’. No father was mentioned on the tree, although Orlando had written Teddy’s daughter? in the margin. Which indicated that Tessie had not managed to make it up with her fiancé. And had brought up her daughter, Patricia, alone . . .
Then, in August 1962, Patricia had given birth to a daughter by the name of ‘Petula’. The father was named as one ‘Alfred Brown’. And on 21st April 1980, ‘Petula’, at the age of eighteen, had given birth to ‘Lucy Charlotte’.
I double-checked the family tree and saw Orlando had recorded that Tessie had died in 1975, and Patricia only recently in September of this year. Which probably meant that my mother – even thinking those words sent a shudder of fearful anticipation up my spine – was still living.
Hearing the bathroom door slam above me, I stood up and began to prepare breakfast, wondering whether I should ask CeCe’s advice.
‘Morning,’ she said as she came downstairs freshly showered. ‘Sleep well?’
‘Not bad,’ I lied. CeCe never remembered her nightmares, and I didn’t embarrass her by reminding her of them. She looked unusually pale and subdued as she sat down to eat.
‘You okay?’
‘Yep,’ she nodded, but I knew she was lying. ‘Are you back home for good now?’
‘I don’t know. I mean, I might have to go back again if I’m needed.’
‘It’s lonely here without you, Sia. I don’t like it.’
‘Maybe you could invite some of your friends from college round when I’m away?’
‘I don’t have any friends, and you know it,’ she replied morosely.
‘Cee, I’m sure you do.’
‘I’d better go.’ She stood up.
‘Oh, by the way, I spoke to Ally last night and she’s invited us both over to Bergen to hear her play in a concert at the beginning of December. Do you think you’ll be able to come?’
‘Are you going?’
‘Yes, of course! I thought we could fly out together.’
‘Okay, why not? See you later then.’ She shrugged on her leather jacket, collected her portfolio case and barked a ‘bye’ at me as she left the apartment.
The oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow . . .
Even if I was making a complete hash of walking out from behind hers, at least I was trying. And I was still convinced it was right for both of us, even if CeCe couldn’t see it yet.
I showered, then checked my messages. Orlando had left one, saying he was heading back from Kent up to the shop today and wanted to know if I was going to be there.
‘Dear girl, please come. I so wish to speak to you. Thank you. Oh, it’s Orlando Forbes here, by the way,’ he’d added unnecessarily, which made me smile.
As I was still officially in his employ, I decided I should go. But as I got on the bus to Kensington, I admitted this was just an excuse; I needed to talk to Orlando about the family he had found for me.
‘Good morning, Miss Star. How wonderful to see you back here. And how are you this fine foggy day?’ Orlando greeted me on the threshold, looking positively perky.
‘I’m okay.’
‘“Okay” will just not do. I aim to improve on that ghastly word forthwith. Now, sit yourself down, for we have many things to discuss.’
As I did so, I noticed the fire was already lit and I could smell fresh coffee brewing. Orlando meant business. He brought us both a cup of coffee, then laid a thick plastic file on the table in front of us.
‘First things first: will you accept my apologies for my insensitive approach to your current familial crisis?’
‘Yes.’
‘I really should stick to talking to myself or shouting at characters in books. I don’t seem to have the human touch.’
‘You’re very good with Rory.’
‘Well now, he is another story, but thankfully not my own. So, did you open your envelope?’
‘I did. This morning.’
‘My goodness!’ Orlando clapped his hands together like an excited child. ‘I am glad. And may I say, Miss Star, you are far braver than I. Having been “Orlando” all my life, it would be hard to discover I was a “Dave”, or a “Nigel”, or, God forbid, a “Gary”!’
‘I rather like “Lucy”, I once had a lovely friend called that,’ I countered, not in the mood to tolerate Orlando’s snobbery.
‘Yes, but you, Asterope, are destined to fly up to the stars. As your mother did before you,’ he added mysteriously.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well now, apart from her birth certificate, I could find no record of a “Petula Brown” during my long and arduous search into your background. No internet paper trail whatsoever, which is strange, given her unusual Christian name. In the end, I wrote to the National Archives, and anyone else I could think of, to try and find out what had happened to her. And yesterday, I finally received a reply. Can you guess what it told me?’
‘I’ve really no idea, Orlando.’
‘That “Petula” changed her name by deed poll. Hardly surprising, being burdened with a name like that. She is no longer “Petula Brown”, but “Sylvia Gray”. Miss Star, the person who I believe is almost undoubtedly your mother is currently a professor of Russian literature at Yale University! Now, what do you make of that?’
‘I . . .’
‘According to her biography on the Yale University website . . .’ Orlando rifled through the file on the table and pulled out a sheet of paper, ‘Professor Sylvia Gray was born in London, then won a scholarship to Cambridge. Highly unusual, Miss Star, for a girl from the East End to achieve such a thing. She went on to complete an MA and a PhD and was there for the next five years before she was offered a position at Yale, “where she met and married her husband, Robert Stein, a professor of astrophysics at Yale. She now lives in New Haven, Connecticut, with her three children, four horses, and is at work on her new book”,’ Orlando quoted from the sheet of paper.
‘She’s an author?’
‘She’s published some critical texts through Yale University Press. There! Isn’t it amazing how genes will out?’
‘I hate horses. Always have,’ I mumbled.
‘Don’t be so pedantic. I thought you’d be overjoyed!’
‘Not particularly. After all, she gave me away.’
‘Yes, I had worked it out.’
‘She must have been in her first year at Cambridge, which meant she became pregnant at some point the previous summer—’
‘Orlando, please, slow down. I’m doing my best to take all this in, but it’s hard.’
‘Forgive me. As I said earlier, I should stick to fiction, not reality.’ He lapsed into silence then like a chastised child, as I tried to process what he’d told me.
‘May I speak?’ he said timidly.
‘Yes,’ I sighed.
‘There is something you should see, Miss Star.’
‘What is it?’
He handed me a printout. ‘She’s here in England next week. Lecturing at Cambridge, her old alma mater.’
‘Oh.’ I read it blindly, then put it down.
‘Isn’t it incredible? To come to where she is now, without the backing of privilege. It just shows you how the world has moved on.’
‘And you hate it.’
‘Admittedly,’ he said, ‘I’ve been against the march of progress. But as I was only discussing with my brother the other night, you have helped to change me. For the better, might I add. Investigating your origins . . . well, it has taught me a lot. Thank you, Miss Star. I am in so many ways indebted to you. Will you go?’
‘Where?’
‘To meet her in Cambridge, of course.’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t thought, I . . .’
‘Of course you haven’t.’ Orlando laced his long fingers together, finally taking the hint. ‘So now, how about I tell you what I have decided regarding my own future?’
‘All right.’
‘Well, I mentioned that Mouse and I had a long conversation the other night. And you will be glad to hear we made amends.’
‘I heard from Mouse, yes.’
‘Then you will also know that dear Mr Ho has offered us what is an astonishingly healthy amount of money for the shop. Which will enable both Mouse and me to clear the debts accrued against our various assets. And for me to find alternative premises for myself and my books. The good news is, I think I may have found such a thing already,’ he announced.
The Shadow Sister Page 46
