Page 253 of The Missing Sister

‘Because of the drawing that has hung on the wall at Atlantis, my employer’s house in Geneva, for many years. He had told me who it was.’

‘Did she die? Giving birth to me, I mean?’

Yet again, I could see the man’s indecision at revealing what he knew and didn’t know.

Just as Ambrose brought the tea in, Georg stood up and went to retrieve his leather case. I watched as he removed a padded brown envelope from inside it. He sat down in Ambrose’s chair and laid the package on his knee.

‘Do you take sugar, Georg?’ Ambrose asked.

‘I do not drink tea, thank you. Merry, this package is for you. I believe it will answer all the questions that I cannot. But before I give it to you, I entreat you now to come with me and join your children and the sisters on theTitan. You will be fulfilling their father’s long-held dream, and I cannot leave here without begging you to come. A private jet sits on the runway at Dublin airport, waiting for us to board and fly to meet the boat.’

‘I’m so tired,’ I sighed. ‘I just want to go to bed.’

I turned to Ambrose as I sipped my tea, at nearly fifty-nine years of age, still looking to him for guidance.

‘I know, my dear, I know,’ Ambrose replied, ‘but what is the price of a night’s sleep, as opposed to discovering your true heritage?’

‘But it’s all so surreal, Ambrose.’

‘That is simply because so far, your experience of the sisters has been so fractured. Plus the fact that you have had so much to contend with recently, but even your own children are on the boat. They are sailing towards Greece, the land that you never visited, but always wished to, and from what Georg has said, where you may find the answers that you seek. I too, as the man who first laid eyes on you at only a few hours old, then watched you grow into a remarkable young woman with a passion for philosophy and mythology, beg you to go and discover yourownlegend. What do you have to lose, Mary?’

I stared at him, wondering how much had been discussed between him and Georg before I’d arrived. Then I thought of my children, already ensconced in this strange, disparate family, somewhere on the sea sailing towards Greece, the land that had always held such a special, magical place in my mind...

I reached for Ambrose’s hand. And took a deep breath. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’ll go.’

An hour and a half later, I was on the kind of private jet I’d only ever seen in movies or magazines, sitting in a leather-covered seat, with Georg opposite me on the other side of the slim aisle. At the front of the plane, I could see the two pilots getting ready for take-off. Georg was on his mobile, speaking to someone in German. I only wished I could understand what he was saying, because it sounded urgent.

A male steward appeared and asked us both to fasten our seat belts and turn off our mobiles. The plane began to taxi, and then within the space of perhaps only a few seconds, the jet picked up speed and we were suddenly airborne. I gazed out of the window, wondering what madness it was that yet again, I was abruptly leaving the land where I had been born and raised. The lights of Dublin twinkled below me, and then almost immediately there was darkness as we began to cross the Irish Sea. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the fact I was flyingtomy family – Jack and Mary-Kate – and not away from it, like the last time I had left Ireland.

There was a ding from above me, then the steward arrived and told us we were free to take off our seat belts.

I watched Georg as he reached for his leather case. He pulled out the brown padded envelope.

‘This is yours, Merry. Inside, I hope you will find the answers to the questions you have asked me. For now, I will leave you to take some rest.’

As he handed it to me, I saw the glimmer of tears once again in his eyes. He then summoned the steward. ‘Mrs McDougal wishes to have some privacy and sleep. I will move forward.’

‘Of course, sir.’

‘Goodnight, Mary. I will see you when we land,’ Georg nodded.

The steward duly pulled out two panels from either side of the cabin, which formed a partition between the back and front of it. He then handed me a blanket and a pillow and showed me how to form the seat into a bed.

‘How long is the flight?’ I asked him as he placed a glass of water in the holder beside me.

‘Just over three hours, madam. Would you like anything else at all?’

‘I’m fine, thank you.’

‘Please press the bell beside your seat if you need anything. Goodnight, madam.’

The panel doors slid closed behind him and I found myself in total privacy. I experienced a moment of sheer panic, because I was flying to God knows where and had a brown package on my knee that apparently contained the secret of my true heritage.

‘Ambrose trusted Georg, and so must you, Merry,’ I murmured to myself.

So here I was, suspended somewhere between heaven and earth. The Greek gods had chosen Mount Olympus, the highest mountain in Greece, as their home, perhaps wishing for the same feeling. I looked out of the window at the stars, which seemed so much brighter up here, shining down like astral torches.

I turned my attention to the parcel on my lap and stuck a finger under the seal to pull the large envelope open. I reached inside and took out a thick and somewhat battered brown leather book, and an accompanying cream vellum envelope. Placing the book on the little table in front of me, I looked down at the envelope and read the three beautifully scripted words on the front of it: