Page 23 of The Seven Sisters
‘May I take a look at it?’
‘Of course. Here.’ I picked up the letter and handed it to her, watching intently as she read it.
Eventually, she looked up at me, her expression calmer now. She nodded in understanding.
‘I can see why you’ve reacted as you have, but I honestly think that your father was simply sharing with you hisowntruth.’
I sat down abruptly on the sofa and put my head in my hands.
‘Maia.’ Marina shook her head and sighed. ‘As the letter from your father says, we all make mistakes. We simply do what we think is right at the time. And you, out of all the girls, have spent your life putting the feelings of others first. Especially your father’s.’
‘I just never wanted to let him down.’
‘I know,chérie, but all your father wished for each one of you was that you were happy and felt secure and loved. Please, today of all days, don’t forget that. But perhaps it’s time, now that he’s gone, for you to think about yourself and whatyouwant.’ Marina shook herself briskly and rose. ‘Now, Electra has announced she’s leaving, as has Tiggy. CeCe called Georg Hoffman first thing this morning and has gone off with Star to visit him at his office in Geneva. And Ally is busy on her laptop in the kitchen.’
‘Do you know if any of them have read their letters yet?’ I asked, trying to pull myself together.
‘If they have, they haven’t shared the information with me,’ Marina confirmed. ‘Perhaps you’d like to join us up at the house for lunch, before Electra and Tiggy leave?’
‘Of course. And I’m sorry, Ma, for ever doubting you.’
‘It’s completely understandable, given the letter. Now, you take some time alone to calm down, and I’ll see you up at the house at one o’clock.’
‘Thank you,’ I whispered as Marina headed out of the room. Before she reached the front door, she paused and turned back to face me.
‘Maia, really, you are the daughter I wish I’d had. And just like your father did, I love you as such.’
*
After she left, I sat on the sofa and sobbed my heart out. It was as if a torrent of long-buried emotions were begging to be released and, to my shame, I lost control of myself in a tidal wave of self-pity.
I knew I was crying forme. Not for Pa and his unexpected death and the pain he must have suffered during it, but for my own pain at his loss and the awful realisation that I had proven myself unworthy by not trusting him enough to tell him the truth.
What kind of a person was I? What had I done?
And why was I feeling all these things now, things that in so many ways were not connected with Pa’s death?
I’m behaving like Electra, I told myself, hoping that would bring me up short. But it didn’t. And the tears just wouldn’t stop. I lost track of time, and when I finally looked up, I saw Tiggy standing in front of me, her face a picture of concern.
‘Oh Maia, I just came here to say that Electra and I are leaving shortly and we wanted to say goodbye. But I can’t leave you like this . . .’
‘No,’ I snuffled. ‘Sorry, I . . .’
‘What do you have to apologise for?’ she said as she came to sit next to me and took my hands in hers. ‘You’re a human being too. I think you sometimes forget that.’
I saw her glancing at the letter from Pa still sitting on the coffee table and I grabbed it protectively.
‘Was it very upsetting?’ she asked.
‘Yes . . . and no . . .’
I knew I couldn’t explain myself to her. And of all the sisters who could have been here at this moment, Tiggy was the one I’d mothered most, who had relied on me and for whom I had always been there. The role reversal was not lost on me.
‘You missed lunch, by the way,’ she said.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Please, can you stop apologising? We all understand, we all love you. And we know what Pa’s death means to you.’
