Page 20 of The Seven Sisters
‘Okay, so this is a very nice sculpture and it’s sitting on the terrace. But what does it actually mean?’ asked CeCe impatiently.
‘Once again, that is not for me to say,’ said Georg. ‘Now, Marina is pouring some champagne on the main terrace, as per your father’s instructions. He wanted all of you to toast his passing. And then after that, I will give you each an envelope from him, which I hope will explain far more than I am able to tell you.’
Once again, we followed him back through the gardens, all of us stunned into silence. Arriving on the terrace, we did indeed find two chilled bottles of Armand de Brignac champagne and a tray of crystal flutes. As we settled ourselves, Marina clucked around us and poured some for each of us.
Georg raised his glass.
‘Please join me in celebrating your father’s remarkable life. I can only tell you that this was the funeral he wished for: all his girls gathered together at Atlantis, the home he was honoured to share with you for all these years.’
Like robots, we all lifted our glasses. ‘To Pa Salt,’ I said.
‘To Pa Salt,’ the rest of my sisters chorused.
We all took an uncomfortable sip, and I looked up to the heavens and then out to the lake and mountains beyond and told him I loved him.
‘So, when do we get these letters?’ asked Ally eventually.
‘I’ll go and get them now.’ Georg stood up and left the table.
‘Well, this has to be the most bizarre wake I’ve ever attended,’ said CeCe.
‘Trust Pa Salt,’ Electra said with a wan smile.
‘Can I have some more champagne?’ asked Ally.
And Marina, noticing we’d all drained our glasses, topped us up.
‘Do you understand it, Ma?’ asked Star nervously.
‘I know nothing more than you do,chérie,’ she replied, her usual enigmatic self.
‘Well, I just wish he was here,’ said Tiggy, her eyes suddenly filling with tears, ‘to explain in person.’
‘But he isn’t,’ Ally reminded her quietly, ‘and somehow I feel this is fitting. For something so awful, he made it as easy as possible. And now we must take strength from each other.’
‘You’re right,’ agreed Electra.
I looked at Ally and wished that I could find the right words – as she always seemed able to do – to rally our sisters.
By the time Georg returned, the champagne had relaxed us all a little. He sat back down and placed six thick cream-coloured vellum envelopes on the table. ‘These letters were lodged with me approximately six weeks ago. And in the event of your father’s death, I was instructed to hand one to each of you.’
We all eyed them with equal amounts of interest and suspicion. ‘May I have a refill of champagne, as well?’ asked Georg in a voice that sounded strained.
I realised then how difficult all this had to be for him too. Telling six grieving daughters of their father’s unusual legacy would have taxed even the most pragmatic individual.
‘Of course, Georg,’ Marina said, as she poured a glass for him.
‘So,’ said Ally, ‘are we meant to open them now, or later, when we’re alone?’
‘Your father made no stipulation on this point,’ Georg replied. ‘All he said was that you should open them whenever each of you is ready and feels comfortable to do so.’
I studied my letter. My name was written in the beautiful script I knew intimately as my father’s writing. Just the sight of it made me want to weep.
We all looked at each other, trying to work out how everyone else felt.
‘I think I’d prefer to read mine privately,’ said Ally.
There was a general murmur of agreement. I knew that, as usual, Ally had instinctively read our collective feelings correctly.
