Page 249 of The Sun Sister

‘I am, yes.’

‘Surely you can get help with that?’

‘No, Bill, I’m afraid I can’t. I believe I never did tell you the real reason I had to move out of my parents’ house on Fifth?’

‘No, you just wrote to me with a change of address, if I remember rightly. What happened?’

‘My mother came into the bedroom one morning and found me asleep in bed, with Stella huddled up next to me. There had been a big storm and she was frightened. Mama was outraged and disgusted that I could be there in my bed asleep with a Negro child. The words that fell out of her mouth that day, Bill, I don’t think I’ll ever forget them. She insisted that Lankenua and Stella leave, calling my behaviour “obscene”, so I had no choice but to leave with them. The three of us went to stay with a friend who lives right here in the next street. My mother stopped the allowance I’d received from my trust fund from that day, but thankfully, Kiki, my godmother – do you remember her?’

‘Why, of course I do! How could one forget Kiki?!’ chuckled Bill.

‘Well, she left me a generous legacy, which meant I’ve just about been able to make ends meet over the years and buy this place. I supplement what income I get from Kiki’s shares with Stella’s contribution from her wages and what I earn from teaching and taking in some bookkeeping.’

Bill stared at her open-mouthed. ‘Good Lord, you silly woman! Why on earth didn’t you tell me what had happened? Surely you must have known that I would help?’

‘That’s very honourable of you to say so, Bill, but if you remember at the time, you were running a big overdraft whilst you built up your cattle farm again.’

‘True, but shortly after that things turned around. I began to grow some crops and I’ve been quite financially comfortable ever since. You know I would have helped, Cecily, if only you’d asked.’

‘Bill, to all intents and purposes, I left you,’ she said gently. ‘I wasn’t going to expect any financial help from you after that, was I?’

‘Well, well. I stand – or, in fact, sit – here amazed. There was me in Kenya for all these years, believing that you were living a life of luxury and ease here in New York. I was –am– your husband, Cecily, whatever had passed between us. You should have come to me.’

‘I didn’t and that’s that. Besides, somehow we survived.’

‘So, the rift between you and your parents has never been resolved?’

‘No, never. I heard from my sister Mamie – who left her husband some years back and is the one member of my family who still speaks to me – that Mama tells all her friends I caught a fever in Africa which left me deranged.’

‘And what about your father? You always described him as being rather a good sort.’

‘He wasn’t...isn’ta bad man, no, just a weak one. But that morning, he saw what was happening – he watched the three of us as we left and didn’t say a word to Mama in our defence, even though I know he was fond of Stella, and of me too. He wrote me a while after, saying that I was to come to him if I ever needed help. I’m afraid my pride wouldn’t allow it, even at the toughest of financial moments.’

‘You never thought of coming home to Africa?’

‘Time passed, Bill, and I built a life with Stella here.’

‘Do you ever miss it?’ he asked abruptly.

‘Kenya, you mean?’

‘Yes. I presume that you didn’t and still don’t. After all, there was no reason why you couldn’t have visited during Stella’s school holidays.’

‘Bill, you talk as if we are old friends, as if there was never any feeling between us,’ Cecily said. ‘I...just needed to move on. To try and forget Africa,andyou...I realised that you’d never really loved me, because if you had, surely you would have come to New York to persuade me to return home. I wrote and asked you to visit often enough. You never did, so for the sake of my sanity, I had to get on with my life.’

‘Not for a minute did I evensuspectthat you wanted me to do such a thing. If only I’d known...’

‘Then what, Bill?’ said Cecily, despairingly. ‘Wasn’t it obvious that I loved you? Those kinds of feelings don’t just switch off because you get on a boat or a plane and arrive in another country. After Kiki died, I remember being desperate to speak to you – it was Christmas Day, and I phoned Muthaiga Club, only to be told you’d gone on safari. You had my parents’ telephone number in New York, why didn’t you call?’

‘Who knows?’ Bill sighed. ‘At the time, I did feel rather as if you’d deserted me. Pride perhaps?’

‘Or, more likely, you simply forgot. It’s okay to just get real, you know. We are twenty-three years down the track after all. You can no longer hurt me.’

‘Oh God, Cecily, what a mess,’ Bill groaned and ran a hand through his thick hair. It was such a familiar gesture that Cecily only just restrained herself from reaching out a hand and placing it on his.

‘Seriously, Bill, why have you come?’

‘Because...I felt it was time that I –we– formalised our...well, mutual arrangements. I’m not getting any younger, as you can see, and the doctor says there’s something up with my ticker. Even though it’s not life-threatening, I have been told to take life a little more slowly. So I’m thinking of selling Paradise Farm and buying myself something a bit more manageable. As wearestill married, I felt I should at least ask your permission to do so. After all, Cecily, you made not only the house but the garden your own, and almost everything in the house is yours. Do you want it back?’