The Sun Sister (The Seven Sisters #6) - Lucinda Riley Page 0,252

mention the excessive force used by the police to “keep things under control”. Mayor O’Dwyer has been a great friend to our community—’

‘Only so he can get our votes!’ Beatrix cut in.

‘That’s as may be, but he’s made certain promises, and we’re holding him to them. He’s due to speak at the Abyssinian Baptist Church next week and we’ll be there to remind him what’s at stake,’ Rosalind continued. ‘It would be great to have you there, Cecily, you’d be such an asset to our group.’

‘I . . . Let me think about it, okay?’

‘What’s there to think about?’ said Beatrix. ‘It’s a matter of right and wrong, life or death. You should know that better than anyone, having lived in Africa. Please stand with us, Cecily. We need the whites to support our cause too.’

‘All right,’ she agreed, ‘I’ll be there. And now I really must get home. Bye now.’

‘We’ll be in touch with where to meet!’ called Rosalind.

Archer opened the car door for her and she slid onto the back seat.

‘Sorry I took so long.’

‘No problem, Miss Cecily. How was your evening?’ he asked as they set off back for Manhattan across the Brooklyn Bridge.

‘It was . . . well, utterly amazing!’ Cecily breathed.

The following Wednesday, as directed, Cecily dressed in her plainest clothes. Leaving Stella in the care of Lankenua, who was now looking far healthier, she directed Archer to drive her to Harlem.

‘Excuse me, Miss Cecily?’ he said as he handed her into the rear seat of the Chrysler.

‘You heard me, Archer: Harlem, outside the Abyssinian Baptist Church, 132 West 138th Street,’ Cecily read the address from the note she had written down when on the telephone to Rosalind.

‘Do your parents know you’re going there?’ he said after a pause.

‘Of course,’ Cecily lied, feeling irritated that even as a married woman, Archer still treated her like a child.

‘As you wish, Miss Cecily.’

Cecily looked out of the window as they made their way uptown towards Harlem, where, despite her bravado when giving Archer the address, she had never been before. As the skyscrapers of Fifth and Madison receded and they drove slowly up Lenox Avenue, she noticed that the faces on the street were various shades of black and brown rather than white. She suddenly felt like a fish out of water in her own city. Black children sat on the stoops of derelict houses watching the Chrysler cruise past, the windows of many of the stores were boarded up, and rusting, overflowing trash cans were gathered on street corners. Despite the fact it was 1947, it felt like the Depression hadn’t even begun to end here just yet.

Archer brought the car to a halt. Along the street, Cecily could see an imposing gothic church, where a large crowd of protesters had already gathered outside. He stepped out to open the door for her.

‘I’ll park up at the end of the street, on the corner of Lenox Avenue, just across from here,’ he pointed. ‘If there’s any trouble, you come a-runnin’ and I’ll be waitin’, okay? You sure you’ll be all right?’

‘Yes, Archer, thank you, I’m meeting up with friends,’ she said with far more confidence than she felt, as she walked away from him towards the crowd.

She surveyed the mass of people, many of whom were holding handwritten placards bearing slogans such as ‘EQUAL RIGHTS!’ and ‘HOUSING FOR ALL!’. Her heart in her mouth, Cecily walked hesitantly towards the crowd, who were all facing a raised platform that had been set up as a stage on the sidewalk outside the church.

‘There you are!’ Rosalind’s familiar voice cut through the clamour. Cecily turned to see her new friend approaching her, dressed in a pair of slacks and a man’s coat. ‘I’m so glad you came,’ Rosalind said. ‘The others were already taking bets on whether you’d turn up or not. This is my husband Terrence,’ she said, gesturing to the tall black man beside her.

‘Pleasure to meet you, Cecily,’ he said, shaking her hand and smiling warmly at her. ‘We appreciate your support.’

Cecily wasn’t surprised to see that she was one of very few white people present, but she was greeted with smiles as the other protesters stepped out of her way politely. A few were holding flasks of coffee to ward off the cold, and Cecily saw that one woman had a baby strapped to her chest.

‘How long will this go on for?’ she whispered to Rosalind.

‘Oh, just an hour or so,’ Rosalind replied cheerfully. ‘It’s