Page 54 of The Sun Sister

‘I’m sure it won’t be long before you are in the same boat,’ he comforted her.

‘I’m not sure about that personally. Papa?’

‘Yes, Cecily?’

‘I...well, I was wondering whether, given the fact that marriage isn’t going to happen to me any day soon, you’d reconsider about me taking up some kind of’ – Cecily swallowed hard – ‘employment. Maybe there’s an opening at your bank?’

Walter wiped his moustache with his napkin, folded it neatly and put it by the side of his plate.

‘Cecily, we have been down this road many times before. And the answer is no.’

‘But why? Women are taking jobs all over New York City! They’re not waiting for some man to come along and sweep them off their feet! I have a degree and I want to use it. Is there nothing I could do at your bank? Whenever I meet you for lunch, I see girls coming out the entrance, so they must be doing something inside...’

‘You’re right, they are. They’re working in the typing pool, spending their days typing up the directors’ letters, then licking envelopes, sticking on postage stamps and sending them off to the mailing department. Is that what you want?’

‘Yes! At least I’d be doing something useful.’

‘Cecily, you know as well as I do that any daughter of mine couldn’t work in the typing pool at the bank. You – and I – would be a laughing stock. These girls are from a completely different background—’

‘I know that, Papa, but I don’t care about “background”. I just want to...fill my time.’ Cecily could feel tears of frustration pricking at the back of her eyes.

‘My dear, I understand how Jack’s betrayal has hurt you and destabilised you, but I’m sure that someone else will come along soon.’

‘But what if I don’twantto get married?’

‘Then you will become a lonely old spinster with a heap of nieces and nephews.’ His eyes betrayed a flicker of kindly amusement. ‘Does that sound appealing?’

‘No...yes, I mean, right now, Papa, I really don’t care. But what was the point in allowing me a college education if I can never use it?’

‘Cecily, that education has broadened your mind, given you insights into subjects that will allow you to speak confidently at dinner parties...’

‘Jeez! You sound like Mama.’ Cecily put her head in her hands. ‘Why won’t you let me use my degree in a more productive way?’

‘Cecily, I do understand about not being able to follow a path you’ve set your heart on. I studied Economics at Harvard simply because my grandfather did and the Lord only knows how many “greats” before him. When I graduated, all I wanted to do was travel the world and make my living away from the world of blatant commerce. I think I fancied myself as a great white hunter or some such,’ he chuckled ruefully. ‘Of course, when I told my father what I was planning, he looked at me as if I’d gone crazy, and the answer was no. I subsequently had to follow him into the bank, then take my place on the board.’

Cecily watched as her father paused to take a large gulp of his wine.

‘Do you think I actually enjoy what I do?’ he asked her.

‘I...well, I thought maybe you did, Papa. At least you’re working.’

‘If you could call it that. In reality, I meet and greet clients – take them out for lunches and dinners and make them feel loved – while it’s my big brother Victor who makes all the deals. I’m just the charming sidekick. And don’t forget, times have been harder since the Crash.’

‘I guess the bank survived, didn’t it? We still have enough money, don’t we?’

‘Yes, but you must understand that our household continues to run as it always has because of your mother’s inherited wealth, not mine. I understand your frustration, but nothing is perfect – life is a challenge to be faced, so we must simply make the best of it. And at least when you are married and run a household, you’ll be able to immediately spot any of your staff who are trying to pull the wool over your eyes,’ he smiled. ‘You are destined to be a wife, and I am destined to have to stand by Victor’s side and watch as he steers our family bank towards ruin. Now, if you’re finished, I shall send for Mary to bring in the dessert.’

As one grey day passed into another, Cecily thought a lot about the unusually honest conversation she’d had with her father. She had subsequently realised that he felt emasculated by his far wealthier wife. Their grand house on Fifth Avenue had been inherited by Dorothea from Cecily’s maternal grandfather, after whom Cecily had been named. Cecil H. Homer had been one of the first to manufacture toothpaste on an industrial scale in America and had subsequently made a fortune. His wife, Jacqueline, had divorced Cecil when Dorothea was just a child, citing ‘desertion’ on the legal papers – which, her mother always chuckled, in reality meant her father had deserted Jacqueline for a long slim tube of minty white cream rather than another woman. Thirteen-year-old Dorothea had been the sole heir to her father’s fortune when he’d died of a heart attack at his desk, and at twenty-one, she had become the legal owner of the Fifth Avenue house, plus a large estate in the Hamptons and a raft of cash deposits and overseas investments.

Marriage to Walter Huntley-Morgan had followed soon after – Walter had an excellent lineage, but it had fallen to his elder brother to run the family’s bank while her father came in ‘a good second’, as he wistfully put it.

But however much she tried to reason with herself that her father was right, that lifewasa challenge to be faced, all she knew was that she didn’thavea challenge, and she thought she might go mad with boredom. She was also aware of the fact that even in darkest January, there was always something going on in her New York circle, yet not a single invitation for a lunch or an afternoon tea had arrived on the silver plate in the hallway. And looking through the society section of theNew York Times, she eventually surmised why: it was unthinkable that an ex-fiancée and a current one could be invited to the same gatherings, and Patricia Ogden-Forbes had superseded her in the circle’s affections. Even her closest friends seemed to have abandoned her.

One afternoon, Cecily took a nip of bourbon from the decanter on the sideboard in the drawing room, then put a call through to her oldest and closest friend, Charlotte Amery. Having spoken to the housekeeper, who then went away to find Charlotte, she was informed that her friend was ‘otherwise engaged’.

‘But it’s urgent!’ she said. ‘Please tell her to return my call as soon as possible.’

Another two hours passed before their housekeeper Mary told her that Charlotte was on the line for her.