‘Star, what a treat to have you back here with me,’ Ma crooned as she kissed me on both cheeks and stood back to look at me. ‘I will not say you are too thin, because you are always too thin,’ she said with a smile as she led me towards the house. ‘Claudia has made your favourite – apple strudel – and the kettle is already boiling.’ She indicated the table on the terrace. ‘Sit there and enjoy the last of the sun. I’ll take your holdall inside and have Claudia bring out the tea and pastry.’
I watched her disappear inside the house, and then turned to take in the abundantly stocked gardens and pristine lawn. I saw Christian walking up the discreet path to the apartment built over the boathouse, which was tucked into a cove beyond the main gardens of the house. The well-oiled machine that was Atlantis still continued, even if its original inventor was no longer here.
Ma reappeared, Claudia following with a tea tray. I smiled up at her, knowing that Claudia spoke even more rarely than I, and would never start a conversation.
‘Hello, Claudia. How are you?’
‘I am well, thank you,’ she replied in her heavy German accent. All of us girls were bilingual, speaking French and English from the cradle at Pa’s insistence, and we only spoke English to Claudia. Ma was French through and through. Her heritage was visible in her simple but immaculate silk blouse and skirt, her hair drawn back into a chignon. Communicating with them both meant we girls grew up being able to swap languages instantaneously.
‘I see you still haven’t had a haircut,’ Ma smiled, gesturing to my long blonde fringe. ‘So, how are you, chérie?’ She poured the tea as Claudia retreated.
‘Okay.’
‘Well, I know that you are not. None of us are. How can we be, when this terrible thing happened so recently?’
‘No,’ I agreed as she passed me my tea and I added milk and three teaspoons of sugar. Contrary to my sisters’ teasing about my thinness, I had a very sweet tooth and indulged it often.
‘How is CeCe?’
‘She says she’s fine, though I don’t really know whether she is.’
‘Grief affects us all in very different ways,’ Ma mused. ‘And often, it prompts changes. Did you know that Maia has flown to Brazil?’
‘Yes, she sent me and CeCe an email a few days ago. Do you know why?’
‘I must presume it has something to do with the letter your father left her. But whatever the reason, I am happy for her. It would have been a dreadful thing for her to stay here alone and mourn him. She is too young to hide herself away. After all, you know so well how travel can broaden one’s horizon.’
‘I do. But I’ve had enough of travelling now.’
‘Have you, Star?’
I nodded, suddenly feeling the weight of the conversation on my shoulders. Normally, CeCe would be beside me to speak for us both. But Ma remained silent so I had to continue on my own.
‘I’ve seen enough.’
‘I’m sure you have,’ Ma replied with a soft chuckle. ‘Is there anywhere you two haven’t visited in the past five years?’
‘Australia and the Amazon.’
‘Why those places in particular?’
‘CeCe is terrified of spiders.’
‘Of course!’ Ma clapped her hands together as she remembered. ‘Yet it seemed there was nothing she was afraid of as a child. You must recollect how she was always jumping off the highest rocks into the sea.’
‘Or climbing up them,’ I added.
‘And do you recall how she could hold her breath under water for so long, I’d worry she had drowned?’
‘I do,’ I said grimly, thinking back to how she had tried to persuade me to join her in her extreme sports. That was one thing I had put my foot down about. During our travels in the Far East, she would spend hours scuba diving, or attempting to scale the vertiginous volcanic plugs of Thailand and Vietnam. But whether she was below the surface of the water or high above me, I would lie immobile on the sand reading a book.
‘And she always hated wearing shoes . . . I had to force her into them as a small child,’ said Ma with a smile.
‘She threw them into the lake once.’ I pointed to the calm water. ‘I had to persuade her to go and get them.’
‘She was always a free spirit,’ Ma sighed. ‘But so brave . . . And then, one day, when she was maybe seven, I heard a big scream from your room and I thought that perhaps CeCe was being murdered. But no, just a spider the size of a twenty-centime piece on the ceiling above her. Who would have thought it?’ She shook her head at the memory.
‘She’s also afraid of the dark.’
‘Well, that is something I did not know.’ Ma’s eyes clouded over and I felt I had somehow insulted her mothering skills – this woman who had been employed by Pa Salt to care for us adopted babies, who became children and then young women under her watch; to act in loco parentis when Pa was abroad on his travels. She had no genetic link to any of us. And yet, she meant so very much to us all.
‘She’s embarrassed to tell anyone she has bad nightmares.’
‘So that’s why you moved into her room?’ she said, understanding after all these years. ‘And why you asked me if you could have a night-light shortly afterwards?’
‘Yes.’
‘I thought that it was for you, Star. I suppose it only shows we can never know those we have brought up as well as we think we do. So, how is London?’
‘I like it, but we’ve only been there a short time. And . . .’ I sighed, not able to put my devastation into words.
‘You are grieving,’ Ma finished for me. ‘And perhaps you feel that wherever you are just now wouldn’t matter.’
‘Yes, but I did want to come here.’
‘And, chérie, it is a pleasure to have you, especially all to myself. That has not happened often, has it?’
‘No.’
‘Do you wish it to happen more, Star?’
‘I . . . yes.’
‘It is a natural progression. Neither you nor CeCe are children any longer. That does not mean you cannot stay close, but it is important for you both to have your own lives. I am sure CeCe must feel that too.’
‘No, Ma, she doesn’t. She needs me. I can’t leave her,’ I blurted out suddenly as all the frustration and fear and . . . anger at myself and the situation bubbled up inside me. Despite my powers of self-restraint, I could not hold back the sudden enormous sob that rose up from the depths of my soul.
‘Oh chérie.’ Ma stood up and a shadow crossed the sun as she knelt down in front of me, taking my hands. ‘Don’t be ashamed. It is healthy to let it out.’
And I did. I couldn’t call it crying, because it sounded far more like howling, as all the unspoken words and feelings locked inside me seemed to pour out in a torrent.
‘Sorry, sorry . . .’ I muttered, when Ma pulled a pack of tissues from her pocket to mop up the tidal wave of tears. ‘Just . . . upset ’bout Pa . . .’