Page 48 of The Sun Sister
I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. This lady sure didn’t mess around.
And who does that remind you of, Electra...?
‘Yeah, a bit.’ I decided I should fight fire with fire.
‘Well now, I can assure you I’m not here to ask you for money. I have enough of my own.’
‘Right. Good,’ I said, listening to her American accent, which was very refined. In other words, she was a classy gal. ‘Shall we sit down?’ I indicated the couch, but Stella Jackson made straight for one of the two upright chairs and settled herself in it.
‘Are you going to ask me the big question?’
‘Which one would that be? Like’ – I shrugged – ‘there are so many.’
‘Where did you come from maybe?’ She eyed me.
‘That would do for starters,’ I agreed, trying to take a small polite sip of my drink, then failing and taking a gulp.
‘You are descended from a long line of princesses, or the equivalent of them anyway, in Kenya.’
‘Isn’t Kenya in Africa?’
‘Well done, Electra. You’re right, it is.’
‘And were you born there yourself?’
‘I was, yes.’
‘So how did you – or was it my mom – wind up here?’
‘Now, that is a long story.’
‘I’d like to hear it if you’re prepared to tell it.’
‘Yes, I am, of course I am. It’s what I came here to do. Before I start, maybe I will take a glass of water.’
‘I’ll get you one right now.’ As I stood up and walked to the kitchen to take some bottled water from the refrigerator and pour it into a glass, my head spun, but it wasn’t from the vodka. The lady sitting on my couch was just nothing like I’d expected. The burning question in my head was how come, when she looked so well off, had I ended up being adopted? And where and who was my mother?
‘Thank you,’ Stella said as I handed her the glass and she took a sip. ‘Now, why don’t you sit down?’
I did so tentatively.
‘You look afraid, Electra. Are you?’
‘Maybe,’ I admitted.
‘I understand. Now, it’s been a long time since I recounted this tale. Bear with me, won’t you?’
‘Yeah, of course I will.’
‘So, where shall I begin?’
I watched my grandmother’s fingers tapping on her thigh. It was such a familiar gesture – I did it all the time when I was thinking – that the last shred of doubt I’d had about this woman’s claim to be my blood vanished.
‘Pa always said one should start from the beginning.’
Stella smiled. ‘Then your dear pa is quite right, and I shall...’
New Year’s Eve 1938
