‘Next week.’
‘Good. That gives us time to start choosing some furniture for our new home.’ CeCe came over to me and gave me a spontaneous hug. ‘I can’t wait to show it to you.’
‘Isn’t it incredible?’
CeCe opened her arms wide to embrace the cavernous space, her voice echoing off the walls as she walked to the expanse of glass frontage and slid open one of the panels.
‘And look, this balcony is for you,’ she said, as she beckoned me to follow her. We stepped outside. ‘Balcony’ was too humble a word to describe what we were standing on. It was more like a long and beautiful terrace suspended in the air above the River Thames. ‘You can fill it with all your herbs and those flowers you liked fiddling around with at Atlantis,’ CeCe added as she walked to the railing and surveyed the grey water far below us. ‘Isn’t it spectacular?’
I nodded, but she was already on her way back inside so I drifted after her.
‘The kitchen is still to be fitted, but as soon as I’ve signed, you can have free rein to choose which cooker you’d like, which fridge, and so on. Now that you’re going to be a professional,’ she said with a wink.
‘Hardly, CeCe. I’m only doing a short course.’
‘But you’re so talented, I’m sure you’ll get a job somewhere when they see what you can do. Anyway, I think it’s perfect for both of us, don’t you? I can use that end for my studio.’ She pointed to an area sandwiched between the far wall and a spiral staircase. ‘The light is just fantastic. And you get your big kitchen and the outdoor space, too. It’s the nearest thing to Atlantis I could find in the centre of London.’
‘Yes. It’s lovely, thank you.’
I could see how excited she was about her find and, admittedly, the apartment was impressive. I didn’t want to burst her bubble by telling her the truth: that living in what amounted to a vast, characterless glass box overlooking a murky river could not have been further from Atlantis if it tried.
As CeCe and the agent talked about the blonde-wood floors that were going to be laid, I shook my head at my negative thoughts. I knew that I was being desperately spoilt. After all, compared to the streets of Delhi, or the shanty towns I’d seen on the outskirts of Phnom Penh, a brand-new apartment in the city of London was not exactly a hardship.
But the point was that I would have actually preferred a tiny, basic hut – which would at least have its foundations planted firmly in the ground – with a front door that led directly to a patch of earth outside.
I tuned in vaguely to CeCe’s chatter about a remote control that opened and closed the window blinds and another for the invisible surround-sound speakers. Behind the agent’s back, she signed ‘wide boy’ to me and rolled her eyes. I managed a small smile in return, feeling desperately claustrophobic because I couldn’t open the door and just run . . . Cities stifled me; I found the noise, the smells and the hordes of people overwhelming. But at least the apartment was open and airy . . .
‘Sia?’
‘Sorry, Cee, what did you say?’
‘Shall we go upstairs and see our bedroom?’
We walked up the spiral staircase into the room CeCe said we would share, despite there being a spare room. And I felt a shudder run through me even as I looked at the views, which were spectacular from up here. We then inspected the incredible en-suite bathroom, and I knew that CeCe had done her absolute best to find something lovely that suited us both.
But the truth was, we weren’t married. We were sisters.
Afterwards, CeCe insisted on dragging me to a furniture shop on the King’s Road, then we took the bus back across the river, over Albert Bridge.
‘This bridge is named after Queen Victoria’s husband,’ I told her out of habit. ‘And there’s a memorial to him in Kensington—’
CeCe curtailed me by making the sign for ‘show-off’ in my face. ‘Honestly, Star, don’t tell me you’re still lugging a guidebook around?’
‘Yes,’ I admitted, making our sign for ‘nerd’. I loved history.
We got off the bus near our apartment and CeCe turned to me. ‘Let’s get supper down the road. We should celebrate.’
‘We haven’t got the money.’ Or at least, I thought, I certainly haven’t.
‘My treat,’ CeCe reassured me.
We went to a local pub and CeCe ordered a bottle of beer for her and a small glass of wine for me. Neither of us drank much – CeCe in particular couldn’t handle her alcohol, something she’d learnt the hard way after a particularly raucous teenage party. As she stood at the bar, I mused on the mysterious appearance of the funds that CeCe had suddenly come into the day after all of us sisters had been handed envelopes from Pa Salt by Georg Hoffman, Pa’s lawyer. CeCe had gone to see him in Geneva. She had begged Georg to let me come into the meeting with her, but he’d refused point-blank.
‘Sadly, I have to follow my client’s instructions. Your father insisted that any meetings I might have with his daughters be conducted individually.’
So I’d waited in reception while she went in to see him. When she’d emerged, I could see that she was tense and excited.
‘Sorry, Sia, but I had to sign some stupid privacy clause. Probably another of Pa’s little games. All I can tell you is that it’s good news.’
As far as I was aware, it was the only secret that CeCe had ever kept from me in our entire relationship, and I still had no idea where all this money had come from. Georg Hoffman had explained to us that Pa’s will made it clear that we would continue to receive only our very basic allowances. But also, that we were free to go to him for extra money if necessary. So perhaps we simply needed to ask, just as CeCe presumably had.
‘Cheers!’ CeCe clinked her beer bottle against my glass. ‘Here’s to our new life in London.’
‘And here’s to Pa Salt,’ I said, raising my glass.
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘You really loved him, didn’t you?’
‘Didn’t you?’
‘Of course I did, lots. He was . . . special.’
I watched CeCe as our food arrived and she ate hungrily, thinking that, even though we were both his daughters, his death felt like my sorrow alone, rather than ours.
‘Do you think we should buy the apartment?’
‘CeCe, it’s your decision. I’m not paying, so it’s not for me to comment.’
‘Don’t be silly, you know what’s mine is yours, and vice versa. Besides, if you ever decide to open that envelope he left for you, there’s no telling what you might find out,’ she encouraged.
She’d been on at me ever since we’d been given the envelopes. She had torn hers open almost immediately afterwards, expecting me to do the same.
‘Come on, Sia, aren’t you going to open it?’ she’d pressed me.