Page 221 of The Sun Sister

Neither her mother nor her father seemed to have aged a bit and after an emotional reunion on the quayside, Archer ushered the party towards the waiting car.

‘Why, who is this?’ asked Dorothea, for the first time spotting Stella, who was hiding shyly behind Lankenua.

‘This is Stella, my very special friend, aren’t you, honey?’ Cecily smiled down at her.

‘I didn’t realise we had an extra body to ferry home,’ Dorothea said. ‘The maid can sit up front with Archer, but this child...’

‘She can sit on my knee, Mama, there’s plenty of room for three and a half of us in the back, after all,’ Cecily said firmly, taking Stella’s hand.

On the ride home, Cecily ignored her mother’s bristling disapproval, and instead peered out of the window with Stella, pointing out various buildings, as the little girl ooh-ed and aah-ed at the skyscrapers above them.

Back at the house on Fifth Avenue, Cecily was greeted by the whole family, who had assembled in the drawing room. Priscilla stood beside her husband Robert, with seven-year-old Christabel at their side. Hunter had his arm slung around Mamie, who was holding a toddler in her arms, while two more young children were hiding shyly behind their parents. A huge pine tree decorated with candles and baubles stood in pride of place, and the family’s cheerful red stockings hung over the fireplace.

‘Mary, take the maid and her child up to their room so Miss Cecily can get acquainted with her family,’ Dorothea ordered their housekeeper.

Reluctantly, Cecily let go of Stella’s hand, realising she should have told her mother that Stella was to sleep on the same floor as her, but she hadn’t known how to explain it.

‘Cecily!’ Mamie and Priscilla came over to shower her in hugs and introduce little Christabel, Adele, ‘Tricks’ and Jimmy. Cecily hugged them all in turn, and whilst the girls seemed awed at finally meeting their mysterious aunt, three-year-old Jimmy was more focussed on his toys which were sprawled all over the rug.

‘You look swell, Cecily,’ Priscilla said approvingly. ‘You’ve turned into a real beauty since you’ve been away.’

‘Are you saying I wasn’t when I left?!’ Cecily giggled.

‘Oh now, don’t you go twisting my words! You never could take a compliment, could she, Mamie?’

‘No.’

Cecily looked at Mamie, who, with her pale face, deep red lipstick and cropped dark hair, looked ridiculously fashionable. Priscilla was as pretty and wholesome as ever, if a little weightier than when Cecily had last seen her.

‘And how are you both?’ she asked them.

‘Bored to tears with motherhood, but what can a girl do?’ Mamie drawled as she lit a cigarette at the end of her holder. ‘I can’t seem to stop having the damned things.’

‘She’s only teasing, Cecily, aren’t you?’ said Hunter, coming to stand next to his wife.

‘Don’t you just wish I was?’ Mamie sighed dramatically.

‘Now, you’re to sit down here, and tell us absolutely everything about the last seven years of your life,’ Priscilla said as she steered Cecily to the couch.

‘I’m not sure I’ll be able to do that tonight,’ she said. ‘It’s been such a long journey, but I’ll do my best to begin.’

‘Of course she can’t,’ said Dorothea. ‘I must say, honey, I’m just surprised you haven’t returned to us the same colour as your maid and that child of hers with all that sun.’

‘I wore a big hat, Mama, that’s all.’ Cecily winced inwardly at her mother’s words.

‘Well.’ Dorothea took a glass of champagne from the tray. ‘Welcome home, sweetheart. We’ve all missed you, haven’t we?’

‘Yes, we have,’ Walter nodded, also taking a glass. ‘And next time you tell us you’re leaving for a few weeks to visit some far-flung place, we simply won’t let you go!’

‘It was hardly my fault that the war began, was it?’ countered Cecily.

‘No, of course it wasn’t. Were there food shortages out there?’ Walter asked.

‘Yes, there were, but I had my own vegetable garden, so we ate quite well.’

‘Vegetable garden?’ Priscilla looked at her sister in amazement. ‘You dug up your own carrots and cabbages?’

‘I did indeed, with the help of Lankenua’s son, Kwinet. And then, of course, if we got very hungry, I’d just go to the end of the garden, shoot an antelope and put it on a spit over the fire.’