The Sun Sister (The Seven Sisters #6) - Lucinda Riley Page 0,259

he was at home, Walter would pull Stella into his study and play more and more sophisticated maths games with her. It was obvious he was fond of the little girl and on more than one occasion, Cecily had been tempted to tell him the truth of their relationship.

There had been no word from Bill – either by letter or telephone, or even when she had sent a telegram to Muthaiga Club. Ali assured her when she called that the sahib was well, but out on the plains with his cattle, which Katherine also confirmed.

‘Maybe he has simply forgotten me already,’ she muttered as she replaced the receiver after another unanswered call.

Before Cecily knew it, it was the end of March, and spring was forcing out a long New York winter. She was thinking less and less of Paradise Farm, and although she had managed to finally catch Bill on the telephone twice, there had been a distance in his voice that she could not attribute to the long-distance call. Stella, too, had stopped asking when they were going ‘home’. All that marred their happy routine was that Dorothea had returned from Chicago and had brought home a brittle and tense atmosphere.

A final winter blizzard was sweeping through the streets of New York, rattling the windowpanes. Cecily and Stella were tucked up in her bed in their dressing gowns with hot chocolate and A Tree Grows in Brooklyn opened on Stella’s lap. Stella read aloud in her high, clear voice, but trembled whenever the blizzard buffeted the house.

‘I’m scared, Kuyia,’ she whispered. ‘What if the wind blows everything away?’

‘Everyone is safe and sound inside their homes. This house has been here for a very, very long time and has withstood a hundred blizzards. Now, do you want to read a bit more or go to sleep?’

As with every night, Stella stubbornly continued, but Cecily could see her eyes drooping, and eventually she succumbed to sleep. Cecily watched her eyelashes flutter delicately against her dark skin, her features completely at peace. Reaching out to stroke her hair, Cecily allowed her own eyes to close as she joined Stella in a dream world.

There was a knock on the door, and Cecily woke with a jump, disorientated. She saw the morning light streaming in through the bedroom windows, looked at Stella lying next to her and realised they must have fallen asleep.

‘Come in,’ she called, expecting Evelyn with her breakfast tray.

It wasn’t Evelyn who opened the door, but Dorothea.

‘Cecily, I just wanted to tell you that today I’m going to . . .’

Her mother stopped dead as she saw Stella’s dark little head next to Cecily’s on the pillow.

Dorothea put her hand to her mouth and gave a squeal of horror. ‘What is she doing in bed with you?’

‘I . . . Stella was scared of the storm, so she got in with me and we read a story and—’

Dorothea marched across the room and pulled the covers off Stella. Then she grabbed the little girl, who was still half asleep, roughly by the arm and hauled her out of the bed.

‘You come with me, miss, right now! Up to the attic where you belong! I’ve had enough of this ridiculous behaviour of yours, Cecily. And this – putting the Negro child of your maid in your own bed – just about crowns it!’

‘Please!’ Stella cried as she tried to wriggle from Dorothea’s grasp. ‘You’re hurting me!’

‘Let her go now, Mama!’

Cecily was also out of bed and tugging at her mother’s arm to let Stella free.

‘I will do no such thing! I don’t care what you do under your own roof in that godforsaken country you call home, but here under mine, dirty little Negroes live up in the attic where they belong!’

‘How dare you call Stella dirty! She is every bit as clean as I am!’ Cecily screamed. ‘I gave her a bath myself last night!’

‘You gave her a bath?! Dear Lord, Cecily! Has all that sun touched your brain? She is the nigger daughter of your maid!’

‘You call her a nigger again and I swear I will—’

‘Ouch!’ cried Dorothea as Stella’s small white teeth bit into the soft flesh of Dorothea’s wrist and she finally let go of her. Stella ran towards Cecily, who closed her arms about her protectively.

‘That child is nothing but a wild savage! Look!’ Dorothea proffered her arm. ‘She’s drawn blood! I swear, Cecily, I want her and her mother out of my house as soon as