The Sun Sister (The Seven Sisters #6) - Lucinda Riley Page 0,270

I believe that technically, you are still my wife. Secondly, over the years, you have issued a number of invitations for me to come and visit you here in New York,’ Bill said. ‘I finally decided it was time I took you up on your offer.’

‘Would you mind awfully stepping out of the sun? I can hardly see your face.’

‘My apologies,’ said Bill, and moved to pull out the chair on the other side of the wrought-iron table. It was only now that she could see that his hair was still thick, but almost completely white. His handsome face was covered in deep lines that told of too much sun and the stresses of a life lived through two world wars. He looked older, yes, Cecily thought, yet as her eyes swept down his still-muscled body, he was as physically strong as he’d always been.

‘You don’t by any chance have a cold beer, do you?’ he asked.

‘I don’t, no. Just homemade lemonade.’

‘I’ll take some of that, thanks.’

Cecily stood up and went inside to fetch the lemonade from the refrigerator. Even though she remained outwardly calm, her heart was pounding hard against her chest. Bill – her husband – was here in New York, sitting on her terrace. The thought was so surreal, she slapped her cheek to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

‘There you go,’ she said as she put a glass in front of him. He picked it up and gulped it down in one.

‘That tastes good,’ he smiled at her. ‘I came straight here from the airport. Isn’t it amazing how times have moved on? It used to take weeks to travel to New York. Now, it’s a few stops on an aeroplane and Bob’s your uncle, here I am. The world becomes smaller every day.’

‘It sure does,’ Cecily agreed, feeling his gaze upon her. ‘What? Do I have a smudge on my cheek?’

‘No, I was just thinking how you’ve hardly changed a jot since I last saw you. Whereas I . . .’ he sighed, ‘am an old man these days.’

‘It has been twenty-three years.’

‘Has it really? How time flies. I’m almost seventy, Cecily.’

‘And I’m fifty-three years old, Bill.’

‘You most certainly don’t look it.’

A long silence passed between them as they stared at the small patch of garden, neither of them sure what to say next.

‘Why are you here, Bill?’ Cecily said eventually. ‘You stroll in as cool as a cucumber, like we just said goodbye yesterday. At least you could have called to say you were coming, rather than giving me the shock of my life!’

‘I do apologise, my dear. As you might remember, telephones and I have never sat easily together, but you are perfectly right. I should have forewarned you of my arrival first. It’s very peaceful here, isn’t it?’ he commented. ‘I’ve always had this vision of New York as a rather frenetic type of a place.’

‘Walk a few blocks uptown and you’ll find that it is.’

‘I notice you’ve brought a little of Africa to Brooklyn.’ Bill pointed to the hibiscus, growing with abandon up the trellis.

‘Yes, Katherine shipped me some seedlings and, miracle of miracles, a few of them managed to survive the journey and flourish. How is she?’

‘Back on the farm now and the same as ever,’ Bill shrugged. ‘You’ll obviously have read about the Mau Mau rebellion?’

‘Yes, she wrote to tell me what was happening. She and Bobby left with the kids for safety in Scotland while it was all going on.’

‘As did thousands of white settlers; everyone feared the worst, although I did hear that reports of the slaughter of the whites by their former employees were greatly exaggerated in the newspapers. In total, only thirty-five of us lot died during the whole bloody awful show. The odd farm was torched, but most of the bloodshed took place between the Kikuyu themselves. Lord knows how many died as cousin turned on cousin in the struggle for power. And our government didn’t help either – they were brutal in how they dealt with suspected Mau Mau perpetrators; many innocent men were hanged. However, as I’m sure you know, Kenya finally won its independence in 1963. Colonial rule is no more.’

‘So you stayed on throughout? I often thought of you and wondered if you would. I wrote you a couple of times care of Muthaiga Club, but I never got a reply. To be honest, I had no idea if you were alive or dead.’

‘Forgive me, Cecily. Even if I did not