Page 28 of The Seven Sisters

As I sipped it, I mused that it really was incredible to think that if I so wished, I could simply jump on a plane tomorrow and within twenty-four hours, I could be knocking on the door of my past.

A Casa das Orquídeas, Laranjeiras, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

I searched my mind for the exact details of the conversation I’d had with Pa before deciding on my university degree. There was no doubt he’d encouraged me to take up Portuguese as one of my languages, and I remembered how learning it had come as easily to me as my mother tongue, French. I wandered into the sitting room to find the small, triangular-shaped tile that had been in the envelope, pulled it out and studied the faded inscription on the back.

Looking at it now made far more sense, because I realised it was written in Portuguese. I could make out some of the letters, and a date – 1929 – but I couldn’t decipher the rest of it.

A sudden shiver of excitement ran through me, but I stifled it immediately. Surely it would be ridiculous to simply up and go to Brazil?

And yet, would it?

I pondered the thought over a second cup of tea. Once I had calmed down I decided that yes, perhaps sometime in the future I would make the journey. After all, I had a valid reason to go there, given that I translated Brazilian authors into French. I could arrange to visit the Brazilian publishers of Floriano Quintelas – the author who’d contacted me only recently – to see if they would recommend me to work with other authors who needed my services.

My mobile rang again. I stood up and went to retrieve it from the bedside table, and heard the voice alerting me to a message from the earlier missed call. I put the handset to my ear as I walked back to the kitchen, as another, all too familiar voice spoke to me.

‘Maia, hi, it’s me, Zed. I hope you remember who I am,’ he said with a casual chuckle. ‘Listen, I don’t know whether you’ve heard the dreadful news about my father; so terribly tragic. To be honest, we’re all just getting over the shock. I wouldn’t have called, but I heard about your father yesterday through a sailing friend of mine. Apparently, he just passed away too. Anyway, I have to come to Geneva in the next few days, and I just thought how good it would be to see you. Perhaps we can cry on each other’s shoulders. Life is bizarre, isn’t it? I’ve no idea if you’re even still living in Geneva, but I’ve got your home number somewhere. So when I arrive, I’ll give you a buzz, or even try my luck and call in at the famous Atlantis if I don’t hear back from you after this message. I’m so sorry about your father. Take care.’

A beep alerted me to the end of the message as I stood, rooted to the spot, the shock of hearing his voice for the first time in fourteen years rendering me immobile.

‘Oh my God,’ I breathed, as I processed the thought of Zed turning up here on the doorstep in a couple of days. I felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights; part of me wanted to crawl under the bed and hide, just in case he was already in Geneva and would arrive here any second and find me.

I realised that Marina or Claudia might well pick up the telephone at the house and innocently tell him that I was indeed at home. The thought of this sent shock waves through me. I had to go up to the house immediately and warn them not to tellanyonewho called that I was here.

But what if Zed simply appeared on the doorstep? He knew exactly where Atlantis was. I’d described its location in detail to him once.

‘I’ll have to go away,’ I whispered to myself, my legs finally obeying my command to carry me into the sitting room, where I paced restlessly, thinking which of my sisters’ offers I’d take up.

Not a single one appealed, so I wondered whether I should simply go back to London, and hole up with Jenny until it was safe to return.

But for how long? Zed might well be in Geneva for an extended period of time; I would have taken a bet that his father’s vast wealth lay in the hands and the vaults of the Swiss banks.

‘Why now?’ I wailed to the heavens. Just as I needed some time to regroup, to calm down, I knew I had to leave. Seeing him again would break me completely, especially given my current fragile state of mind.

I looked down at the coffee table and my fingers reached out instinctively to touch the smooth surface of the triangular tile. I stared at it as my brain processed the thought that had just appeared in my mind.

If I wanted to put distance between myself and him, with no one knowing where I was, then Brazil certainly fitted the bill. I could take my laptop with me and work there on my current translation. Why not?

‘Yes, Maia, why not?’ I asked myself.

*

An hour later, I walked into the kitchen and asked Claudia where Marina was.

‘She went into Geneva on some errands, Maia. Can I give her a message for you when I see her?’

‘Yes,’ I said, digging deep to find the courage to say the words. ‘Tell her that I’m leaving tonight, for a couple of weeks at least. And, Claudia, if anyone calls for me, either on the landline or in person, you can tell them I’ll be away for some time.’

Claudia’s usually impassive face registered an expression of surprise.

‘Where are you going, Maia?’

‘Just away,’ I said neutrally.

‘Good,’ she said.

I waited for her to continue, but she didn’t.

‘So, I’m going back to the Pavilion to pack,’ I said. ‘And perhaps you can let Christian know when he comes back that I need the launch to take me to Geneva at around three o’clock.’