The Sun Sister (The Seven Sisters #6) - Lucinda Riley Page 0,280

husband turning up out of the blue after over twenty years.’

‘It does and it doesn’t, Stella. I’d often wondered what I’d feel if he came to find me, but now it’s almost as if the past two decades haven’t happened. He bears me no ill will and I bear him none either.’

‘Kuyia!’ Stella smiled. ‘You look kinda dreamy. Do you still love him? It sure looks like you do.’

‘I don’t know. It’s just been nice to have some company for a change. And we always did get on well.’

‘How romantic, him coming to find you after all this time.’

‘Actually, he came to set things straight. One of the first things he asked me was whether I wanted a divorce! And whether I’d mind if he sold Paradise Farm, where we used to live in Kenya. He’s nearly seventy, plus he has a heart condition, so he’s hardly Prince Charming riding in on his white charger.’

‘Well, you sure look like he might be,’ Stella teased her, then yawned. ‘I need to get some rest now, I’m so very tired.’

‘Rosa’s on the pull-out, so you can have the bed. Goodnight, honey.’

‘Night.’ Stella gave Cecily a quick hug, before she picked up her carry-on and walked wearily down the stairs to bed.

Cecily thought about what Stella had said as the four of them sat at the breakfast table the next morning. Stella and Bill had hit it off immediately, Stella listening fascinated to Bill’s stories of the place where she was born and his knowledge of and connections with her ancestral tribe, the Maasai. Even Rosa seemed enraptured, and the sight of the three of them together, looking for all the world like a family, brought a lump to Cecily’s throat. That afternoon, they went to a movie theatre and watched The Love Bug. Rosa was almost doubled up with laughter, which was infectious, and even though Bill fell asleep for half of it, the trip was pronounced a success. They went on to a diner so that Bill could have his first American burger.

‘I like the combination of the bun and the cheese, but this beef doesn’t hold a candle to the Boran cows of Kenya. And as for that . . .’ – Bill pointed at Rosa’s hot dog in disgust – ‘it’s full of nothing but maize and breadcrumbs.’

That evening, Cecily said goodnight, then left Stella and Bill chatting in the living room and walked to her own bedroom, which sat at the back of the apartment and overlooked the garden below. She undressed, then lay under the cool sheets, marvelling at the change Bill’s arrival had wrought on the family. Rosa had been far more manageable, Stella had been charmed by Bill, and as for her . . . having coped alone for so long, even the simple fact there was a man about the place was massively comforting. The small things he’d done, like pouring the gin, oiling the kitchen door that squeaked horribly and even getting stuck into the weeding, had been a soothing balm to Cecily’s normally self-reliant soul.

‘There’s no need, Bill,’ she’d said. ‘The doctor told you to take it easy.’

‘I hardly think pulling a few nettles out of this little patch of garden will finish me off. Besides, I am simply not a sitting-down sort of a person, as you well know.’

More than anything, Cecily had enjoyed the laughter – when Bill had been on form in the past, he’d always been able to put a smile on her face with his witty comments.

‘Oh, how I wish I could go back to Kenya,’ she sighed, as she took out the book she’d just bought by Ernest Hemingway, entitled The Green Hills of Africa, thinking that this was probably the closest she was likely to get.

On Sunday, with Bill saying he was going stir-crazy, Cecily declared that they were all going on a trip to Jones Beach. This was greeted by shrieks of joy from Rosa, whom she’d taken there once before with Stella for her first ever swim in open water.

The June day was hot and the beach was crowded, but Cecily sat in her deckchair and watched Bill, Stella and Rosa splashing around in the water. Afterwards, they went for a late lunch at the Boardwalk Café, which had the most beautiful ocean view.

‘Is this good enough for you?’ Cecily asked Bill as he stood on the terrace, looking out over the Atlantic.

‘I’d hardly say it was the deserted pristine white sands of