The Sun Sister (The Seven Sisters #6) - Lucinda Riley Page 0,23

the dictionary back, I was about to leave the room when I was stopped in my tracks by the strongest smell of Pa’s cologne. I’d know its fresh lemony scent anywhere. A shiver went up my spine as I thought of what Ally had said earlier about feeling that Theo was there with her . . .

With a shudder, I hastily left the study, slamming the door behind me.

Ally was back in the kitchen, doing stuff with bottles.

‘Why is that milk in a jug?’ I asked. ‘I thought you breastfed Bear.’

‘I do, but I expressed this earlier so Ma can feed Bear when he wakes tomorrow morning.’

‘Ugh.’ I shuddered again as I watched her pour the milk into a bottle. ‘If I ever have a kid, which is doubtful to begin with, I couldn’t go through all that.’

‘Never say never,’ Ally smiled at me. ‘By the way, I saw a photo of you in some magazine a few weeks ago with Zed Eszu. Are you and he an item?’

‘Christ, no,’ I said, dipping my fingers into the biscuit tin and taking out a piece of shortbread. ‘We go out to play together in New York sometimes. Or to be more accurate, we stay in.’

‘You mean you and Zed Eszu are lovers?’

‘Yeah, why? Do you have a problem with that?’

‘No, not at all, I mean . . .’ Ally turned to me, looking nervous. ‘I . . .’

‘What, Ally?’

‘Oh, nothing. Anyway, I’m off to bed to try and sleep while I can. You?’

‘Yeah, I’m gonna join you,’ I said.

It was only when I’d downed a tooth mug of neat vodka from my holdall and clambered into my childhood bed, feeling nicely woozy, that I remembered the outline of the door behind the wine rack down in the basement. Maybe I should go now and investigate . . .

‘Tomorrow,’ I promised myself as my eyes fell shut.

The next morning, I woke to the screech of Bear’s crying, then reached for my earplugs, hoping to catch another couple of hours, but it was too late. I was wide awake. I threw on my old robe that still hung on the back of the door, then padded out of my room to find some company. The crying was coming from Ma’s suite at the end of the corridor, so I knocked gently on the closed door.

‘Entrez.’

I went inside and had the rare sight of Ma still dressed in her robe too.

‘Close the door behind you, Electra. I don’t want Ally to wake up.’

‘Well,’ I retorted as I watched her pace the room with Bear grizzling over her shoulder, ‘he sure woke me.’

‘Now you know what it was like for the older girls to be woken by you every night,’ Ma smiled at me.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ I asked as I watched her pat Bear’s back rhythmically.

‘Wind, nothing more. He is not good at getting it up.’

‘Was that why I screamed?’

‘No, you brought up your wind easily. You just enjoyed the sound of your own voice.’

‘Was I really that bad a baby?’

‘Not at all, Electra, you just didn’t like being alone. You would fall asleep in my arms, but the minute I put you down in your cot, you would wake up and cry until I picked you up again. Can you pass me that muslin, please?’ Ma pointed to a white fabric square sitting on the coffee table.

‘Sure,’ I said as I handed it to her. I glanced around me at the pretty flowered curtains, the cream damask couch, the photos on the mahogany bureau and the occasional tables placed around the room. Pink roses sat on the coffee table and I thought how the room mirrored who Ma was: elegant, understated and immaculate. I walked over and picked up a framed photograph of Ma in pearls and an evening gown and Pa in a dinner jacket and bow tie.

‘Where was this taken?’

‘At the opera in Paris. We saw Kiri Te Kanawa singing Mimi in La Bohème. It was a very special evening,’ Ma explained, still pacing the soft cream carpet with Bear.

‘Did the two of you often go out together?’

‘No, but we did share a love of opera, especially Puccini.’

‘Ma?’

‘Yes, Electra?’

Even at twenty-six, I didn’t know whether I had the courage to ask the question that had been burning on my tongue since I was small.

‘Were you and Pa . . . well, were you romantically involved?’

‘No, chérie. I am only in my mid-sixties, you know. Your father was old enough to be