I know reading this letter will be a struggle for you. I beg you to have the patience to finish it. I’ll also guess that you will read this without crying, because emotion is a land you keep inside. Yet I’m fully aware of how deeply you feel.
I am certain you will have been strong for Star. You arrived at Atlantis within six months of each other and the way you have always protected her has been a beautiful sight to witness. You love deeply and fiercely, as I have always done. A word of advice from one who knows: take care that this is not to the detriment of yourself. Don’t be afraid of letting go when the time comes – the bond you share with your sister is deep and unbreakable. Trust in it.
As you will already have seen, I have left you girls an armillary sphere in my special garden. Under each of your names is a set of coordinates that will tell you exactly where I found you. There is also a quotation, which I hope you feel is apt. I certainly do.
In addition, I urge you to go and see my dear friend and lawyer Georg Hoffman as soon as you can. Don’t worry, what he has to tell you is very good news, and in itself provides a link with your past that will be enough to send you on your way if you want to find out more about your birth family. If you do take the leap, I’d advise you to find out more about a woman called Kitty Mercer, who lived in Broome on the northwestern coast of Australia. It was she who began your story.
I realise that you have often felt overshadowed by your sisters. It is vital that you don’t lose faith in yourself. Your talent as an artist is unique – you paint as your imagination demands. And once you have found the confidence to trust in it, I am sure you will fly.
Lastly, I want to tell you how much I love you, my strong, determined adventurer. Never stop searching, CeCe, for both inspiration and peace, which I pray will come to you eventually.
Pa Salt x
Pa had been right about one thing – it had taken me almost an hour to read the letter and decipher every single word. Yet he was wrong about something else – I had almost cried. I’d sat up in that tree for a long time, until I’d realised that my backside was numb, and my legs had got pins and needles, so I’d had to climb down.
By the grace of God, I am who I am, had been the quotation he’d had engraved onto the armillary sphere. Given that – both then and now – I actually had no idea who I was, it hadn’t inspired me, only depressed me further.
When I’d been to see Georg Hoffman in his Geneva office the next morning, he’d said that Star couldn’t come in with me, so she’d had to wait outside in reception. He’d then told me about my inheritance and handed me an envelope containing a black and white photograph of an older man standing with a teenage boy by a pickup truck.
‘Am I meant to know them?’ I’d asked Georg.
‘I’m afraid I have no idea, Celaeno. That was the only thing that arrived with the funds. There was no note, just the address of the solicitor who wired the money from Australia.’
I’d been planning to show the photograph to Star to see if she had any ideas, but in order to encourage her to open her own letter from Pa, I’d resolved that I wouldn’t tell her what Georg Hoffman had said until she did. When she had eventually opened hers, she hadn’t told me what it said, so she still didn’t know about the photograph, or where the money to buy the London apartment had actually come from.
You used to tell me everything . . .
I rested my chin on my hands and leant over the balcony, hit again by a big dose of the ‘miseries’, as Star and I used to call it when we felt low. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a solitary figure standing at the water’s edge near the rocks, staring up at the moon. It was the guy from a couple of weeks ago who’d woken me up on the beach. As I hadn’t seen him since, and because Railay was such a small community, I’d presumed he’d left. But here he was, alone again in the dark of night. Maybe he didn’t want to be seen . . .
I watched him for a while to see where he went, but he didn’t move for ages, and I got bored, so I went inside and lay down on the bed to try and sleep. Whoever he was, I just knew he was as lonely as me.
3
On Christmas Eve – which just happened to be a full moon to boot – I automatically did what Star and I used to do every year with our sisters, and looked up into the night sky to search for the bright, magical star that Pa always told us was the Star of Bethlehem. I’d once googled the star he’d pointed to and, with Ally’s help, discovered that it was in fact the North Star – Polaris. In Switzerland, it was high in the sky all year round, but tonight I couldn’t even find it. Then I remembered that Google also said it was harder to see the further south you went. I gazed heavenward and thought how sad it was that we weren’t kids any more, and that we could discover the truth by pressing a few keys on a computer.
But tonight, I decided, I would believe in magic. I fixed my gaze on the brightest star I could find and thought of Atlantis. Besides, even if Christmas wasn’t celebrated in Buddhist culture, Thailand still made an attempt for its international guests by hanging up tinsel and foil banners, which at least put everyone in a good mood.
Just before midnight, I wandered out of the noisy bar and walked down towards the rocks to get the best view of the full moon. And there, already standing in the shadows, was the mystery man – once again in the dark, and once again alone. I felt really irritated because I wanted this moment to be special and to have the space to myself, so I turned tail and walked away from him. Then, when I was far enough away, I looked up and spoke to my sister.
‘Merry Christmas, Star. Hope it’s a good one, and that you’re well and comfortable. I miss you,’ I whispered to the sky. I sent up a little wish to Pa, and then Ma too, who probably missed Pa just as much as any of us. After that, I sent up a kiss to all of my sisters – even Electra, who didn’t really deserve a kiss because she was so selfish and mean and spoilt . . . But it was Christmas, after all. I turned back, my legs feeling a bit wobbly beneath me, due to the extra beer that had been pressed into my hand at the bar earlier.
As I was passing the mystery man, I stumbled slightly and a pair of hands reached out to the top of my arms to steady me. ‘Thanks,’ I muttered. ‘There was an, er . . . rock in the sand.’
‘That’s okay.’
As his hands left my arms, I looked up at him. He’d obviously been in for a swim as his long black hair had been released from its ponytail and hung wet about his shoulders. He had what Star and I had nicknamed a chest beard – although it wasn’t a very impressive one – and the line of black hairs travelling from his navel to his shorts formed a shadow in the moonlight. His legs looked quite hairy too.