The Sun Sister (The Seven Sisters #6) - Lucinda Riley Page 0,243

a horse-drawn carriage around Central Park . . .’

‘You mean, like Santa Claus’s sleigh pulled by reindeer?’ Stella’s face lit up. ‘At least there’s snow here for him to land on.’ She clapped her hands together excitedly as Cecily added more coal to the fire now burning in the small grate. ‘Only . . .’ – Stella counted slowly on her fingers – ‘five more nights until he’s here!’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ agreed Cecily, remembering how unhappy Bill had been with her for telling Stella the Santa Claus story.

‘It simply isn’t her culture, and now she’ll expect presents to arrive down the chimney for the rest of her childhood,’ he’d said.

‘And what’s wrong with that? Africans are allowed to believe in Jesus, aren’t they? And more and more of them do.’

‘Which I don’t approve of either,’ Bill had shot back. ‘Destroying indigenous cultures that have been in place for hundreds of years is wrong, Cecily. Can’t you see that?’

Of course she could, but as this year was the first one that Stella had really been able to understand the concept of Santa Claus, the excitement and anticipation on her face had been enough to wipe out any guilt. It was simply a fairy story like any other and she couldn’t see the harm in it. Besides, Bill was a long way away in Kenya . . .

‘Mama, I need you to call a doctor to come see Lankenua. I can’t get her fever down and I’m worried she has pneumonia,’ Cecily said that afternoon as she barged into the drawing room where Dorothea was taking tea with a friend.

‘Excuse me one moment, Maud,’ she said to the woman as she ushered Cecily out of the drawing room and into the entrance hall.

‘Can you give me the number and I’ll call him,’ Cecily urged her.

‘Honey, we don’t call doctors for the servants. If they’re sick, they can go to the free clinic and see someone there.’

‘I do call doctors for my staff, Mama, especially given the fact I’ve brought Lankenua over here. She is my responsibility, can’t you see that?’

‘Please, Cecily, keep your voice down! Maud is a very rich widow who I’m trying to entice onto our Negro orphans committee.’

‘Well, Mama, you may very well have an orphan right under your own roof if we don’t call a doctor now!’

‘Okay, okay . . . the number for Dr Barnes is in the address book on your father’s desk.’

‘Thanks, and don’t worry, I’ll pay for it,’ she called after Dorothea, who was already hurrying back to her rich widow.

On the telephone to Dr Barnes’s secretary, Cecily omitted to mention it was a black maid she was calling him over to see. When she opened the door to him an hour later, she was relieved to see that he was a younger version of Dr Barnes – probably his son – and had a far kinder face.

‘Thank you so much for coming, Doctor. I’ll take you up to see the patient.’

Six flights of stairs later, Cecily pushed open the door to the attic room. ‘Her name is Lankenua, and she arrived just a few days ago from Kenya with me,’ Cecily said, studying the doctor’s face for his reaction.

‘All right then, let’s have a look at her, shall we?’

Cecily took Stella’s hand and they both moved out of the way so that Dr Barnes could examine Lankenua.

‘Before I touch her, I must ask you if you think it could be whooping cough? A number of cases have been reported recently, I suspect due to the number of immigrants entering the city.’

‘Oh no, it’s definitely not whooping cough, Doctor. It’s a very bad chest cold that I’m concerned may have turned to pneumonia.’

‘You sure sound as though you know what you’re talking about when it comes to sickness, Miss Huntley-Morgan,’ he smiled.

‘It’s Mrs Forsythe, actually. Well, one has to when one lives miles from the only doctor who serves an area the size of Manhattan,’ she said. ‘Lankenua also taught me about the plants her people use for sickness. Her mother was a wise woman and I reckon her remedies work.’

‘I’ll bet they do, Mrs Forsythe,’ Dr Barnes said as he drew his stethoscope out of his bag and listened to Lankenua’s chest. ‘Right, could you help me sit her up so I can listen to her back?’

‘Of course. When I called, I was expecting your father to arrive here.’

‘My father has retired and I’ve taken over the practice. I’m sorry if you are