Page 246 of The Sun Sister

‘She was a real cute baby, oh boy, was she cute,’ Stella smiled, her eyes filling with tears. ‘Forgive me, Electra, this is your moment to grieve, not mine. I don’t know what’s come over me, I’m usually not the crying kind.’

‘Neither am I. But recently, my waterworks have been spouting all over the place. I guess it’s good to let it out.’

‘Yes, it is. And thank you for being so grown up about what I’ve told you so far.’

‘Hey, I get the feeling that the worst bit is yet to come.’

‘You’re right, it is, I’m afraid.’

‘So?’ I asked as I poured myself some more tea just for something to do. The suspense was killing me.

‘Well, I completed law school whilst Cecily cared for Rosa, then got myself a job in New York working for a housing association and lobbying the mayor’s office and anyone I could find for better conditions for the tenants. I’d deal with small disputes, defend women with four kids who were living in one room with no sanitary facilities...but what I really wanted to be doing was the big stuff. Then I was offered a chance to join the NAACP – that’s the National Association for the Advancement of Coloured People – in their legal team. We worked with lawyers across the nation, giving advice on how to address civil rights violations.’

‘Excuse me? What does that actually mean?’

‘Say, if a black man had been arrested and it was obvious the evidence against him had been cooked up by the cops, we would investigate, then sit with the defence in court to advise them. Oh Electra, it was a job I’d dreamt about for years and it was all consuming. I had to travel all over the country to brief lawyers in cases.’

‘Which meant you weren’t home often.’

‘I wasn’t, no, but Cecily encouraged me, never once made me feel guilty about the fact she was back home, taking care of Rosa whilst I pursued my career. All went well and I began to make a name for myself in the civil rights world. Then, when Rosa was five, everything changed...’

June 1969

‘Bye bye, be a good girl now, won’t you?’ Cecily said as she waved at Rosa, then left the airy classroom that she and Rosalind had painted a bright yellow, so it always looked cheerful and welcoming. It wasn’t her teaching day today, so she headed straight back to her apartment to catch up on work. When Stella had given birth to Rosa, Cecily had cut back on her teaching days in order to be at home with the new baby. Freelance bookkeeping, which she could do at home, brought in a welcome amount of extra cash.

Cecily arrived home feeling weary. Maybe it was simply that she was getting old – she’d be fifty-three this year – or maybe it was just that Rosa was so very demanding compared to Stella. Everything was a struggle – even the simplest act of putting on her shoes could turn into a fight if Rosa wasn’t in the mood to wear them.

‘Or maybe I’ve just forgotten what it’s like to have a five-year-old,’ she sighed as she let herself into the apartment and saw the carnage wreaked by Rosa’s earlier tantrum visible all over the living room floor.

After collecting the toys into a basket and stowing them away, she made her way downstairs to tackle the dishes. Lankenua had left Brooklyn a couple of years ago on her own fiftieth birthday. Her husband had done well for himself, starting out as a mechanic and eventually saving up enough to open his own shop in New Jersey. Cecily hoped that the reason she’d left was simply because she no longer needed to work and wanted to spend time at home taking care of her husband. She suspected, however, that Lankenua too had struggled with Rosa, and besides, the wages she had been able to pay her had been paltry. She knew Lankenua had stayed as long as she had out of love.

‘Oh Lord,’ Cecily sighed, wondering if she should leave the pots for the daily who would be in soon, but pride won over sense. Dirty pans were a sign that things were getting out of control. Having finished washing the dishes and opened the door to let the daily in – a euphemistic phrase given she could only afford her once a week – Cecily made herself a good strong pot of coffee and went into the garden to sit down for a few minutes before she began work. She looked out at the weeds that were springing up with abandon as usual in the warm June weather. She’d get to them later, she thought. Digging in the earth always calmed her, even though this patch was a pathetic postage stamp compared to the magnificent garden she had created back in Kenya.

She heard the doorbell ring upstairs, but didn’t respond to it – it was almost certainly the mailman and the daily would open the door if it was a package. The sun was so warm, she was almost drifting off when she heard a voice from behind her.

‘Hello, Cecily.’

It was a deep, familiar voice that she couldn’t quite place. She opened her eyes and noticed something was blocking out the sun.

She looked up at what was causing it, and for a moment thought she was hallucinating because there was her husband Bill, the sun behind him forming some kind of angelic light around him.

‘Oh my!’ she said, because there really wasn’t anything else to say. ‘What on earth areyoudoing here?’

‘First and foremost, I believe that technically, you are still my wife. Secondly, over the years, you have issued a number of invitations for me to come and visit you here in New York,’ Bill said. ‘I finally decided it was time I took you up on your offer.’

‘Would you mind awfully stepping out of the sun? I can hardly see your face.’

‘My apologies,’ said Bill, and moved to pull out the chair on the other side of the wrought-iron table. It was only now that she could see that his hair was still thick, but almost completely white. His handsome face was covered in deep lines that told of too much sun and the stresses of a life lived through two world wars. He looked older, yes, Cecily thought, yet as her eyes swept down his still-muscled body, he was as physically strong as he’d always been.

‘You don’t by any chance have a cold beer, do you?’ he asked.

‘I don’t, no. Just homemade lemonade.’

‘I’ll take some of that, thanks.’

Cecily stood up and went inside to fetch the lemonade from the refrigerator. Even though she remained outwardly calm, her heart was pounding hard against her chest. Bill – her husband – was here in New York, sitting on her terrace. The thought was so surreal, she slapped her cheek to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

‘There you go,’ she said as she put a glass in front of him. He picked it up and gulped it down in one.