The Pearl Sister (The Seven Sisters Book 4) by Lucinda Riley (11)

11

Ace stretched his arms wide and yawned, dropping the book onto the sofa. I sat up, mulling over the story I had just heard.

‘Wow,’ I murmured. ‘Kitty Mercer sounds amazing! Moving to the other side of the world, marrying a man she hardly knew and inheriting what sounds like a mother-in-law from hell.’

‘I suppose that’s what a lot of women did in those days, especially those who had a life they didn’t want to go back to.’ Ace looked off into the distance. ‘Like Kitty’s,’ he added eventually.

‘Yeah, her father sounds like a real jerk. Do you think she made the right choice, marrying Andrew over Drummond?’

Ace studied Kitty’s picture on the front cover. ‘Who knows? We make so many choices every single day . . .’

His face closed off then, so I didn’t push him on what decisions he’d made that had led to him hiding out here in the palace. ‘The question is,’ I said, ‘what’s she got to do with me? I don’t think we’re related – we look nothing alike.’ To illustrate the point, I held up the book to my head and tried to put on the same stern expression as her. Ace gave a chuckle then brushed a finger over my cheek.

‘You don’t have to look alike to be related. Take me – my father is European, and I’d bet you’re mixed race too. Haven’t you ever wondered?’

‘Course I have. To be honest, I always just accepted it – people would try to guess where I was from if I told them I was adopted. They’d say all sorts – South Asian, South American, African . . . It’s like everyone wants to put you in a box and stick a label on you, but I just wanted to be me.’

Ace nodded. ‘Yeah, I get that too. Here in Thailand they call us luk kreung – literally “half child”. But even though I know where my blood comes from, it doesn’t mean I understand who I am or where I belong. I feel out of place wherever I am. I wonder if you’ll feel like you belong in Australia?’

‘I . . . I don’t know.’ I was beginning to feel flushed and hot, all the questions he was asking me making my head spin. I stood up. ‘I’m going for a last swim and sunset,’ I said as I walked across the terrace to the stairs. ‘I want to take some photos.’

‘What do you mean, a “last” swim?’

‘I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m going to get my bikini.’

Arriving at the gate a few minutes later with my camera, I found Ace already hovering beside it in his swimming trunks, shades and baseball cap.

‘I’ll come with you,’ he said.

‘Okay.’ I tried not to show my surprise when he pressed the red button and I handed my camera to Po as Ace legged it at top speed towards the sea with me trailing behind him. We swam out a long way, much further than anyone else, and he held me in his arms and kissed me.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving before?’

‘To be honest, I’d lost track of the days. It was only when I looked at the plane ticket in my rucksack this morning that I realised.’

‘It’ll be strange without you, CeCe.’

‘I’m sure you’ll manage. C’mon,’ I said as we waded out, ‘I need to get my camera and take some pics of the sunset before it’s gone.’

I collected my camera from Po and went back onto the beach to capture the sunset, as Ace lurked in the foliage watching me.

‘You want photo? I take it,’ Po offered.

‘Would you mind being in it?’ I asked Ace. ‘With the sunset and stuff behind us? Just for the memory?’

‘I . . .’ There was a flicker of fear in his eyes before he reluctantly agreed.

I instructed Po on which button to press, and with our backs facing the beach, Ace put his arm around me and we posed in front of the setting sun on Phra Nang. Po snapped away eagerly until Ace put up a hand to stop him before pressing the code on the gate and disappearing through it. I followed in his wake, stopping to collect my camera.

‘Madam, I take to shop and print for you? My cousin, he run good place in Krabi town. I go there now, pictures back tomorrow morning,’ Po offered.

‘Okay, thanks,’ I agreed as I ejected the roll of film from the unit. ‘Make two sets of prints, yes?’ I gesticulated with my fingers, thinking it would be a good memento to leave for Ace.

‘No problem, madam.’ Po smiled at me. ‘My pleasure. Three hundred baht for two set?’

‘Deal.’ I walked away wondering why he was being so helpful and thought that maybe his guilty conscience was still plaguing him. Perhaps, just occasionally, human beings wanted to make up for past misdemeanours.

That evening, I wondered if it was me who was not myself, but the conversation that usually flowed over dinner was now stilted and unnatural. Ace was weirdly quiet and didn’t even laugh at my jokes, which he normally did no matter how bad they were. As soon as I put down my knife and fork, he yawned and said we should get an early night, and I agreed. In bed, he reached for me silently in the darkness and made love to me.

‘Night, CeCe,’ he said as we settled down for him to sleep and for me to lie awake.

‘Night.’

I listened for the change in breathing pattern to let me know that he was asleep, but I didn’t hear it. Eventually, I heard him sigh and a tentative hand reached out in the darkness to find me.

‘You asleep?’ he whispered.

‘You know I rarely am.’

‘Come here, I need a hug.’

He drew me to him and held me so tight that my nose was pressed against his chest and I could barely breathe.

‘I really meant what I said earlier. I’ll miss you,’ he murmured in the darkness. ‘Maybe I will come out to Australia. I’ll give you my mobile number. Promise to text me a forwarding address?’

‘Yeah, of course.’

‘We are a pair, aren’t we?’

‘Are we?’

‘Yes, both at a crossroads, not knowing where we go next.’

‘I s’pose.’

‘Well, it’s true for you at least. Sadly, I know exactly where I’ll be going. Eventually . . .’

‘Where?’

‘It doesn’t matter, but I just want to tell you, that if things were different . . .’ I felt his lips gently caress the top of my head. ‘You’re the most real person I’ve ever met, Celaeno D’Aplièse. Never change, will you?’

‘I don’t think I can.’

‘No,’ he chuckled. ‘Probably not. I just want you to promise me one more thing.’

‘What’s that?’

‘If you . . . hear things about me in the future, please try not to judge me. You know that things are never quite what they seem. And . . .’ I knew he was struggling to find the words. ‘Sometimes, you have to do stuff to protect those you love.’

‘Yeah, like I did for Star.’

‘Yes, sweetheart, like you did for Star.’

With that, he kissed me again and rolled over.

* * *

Of course, I didn’t sleep a wink that night. All sorts of emotions – some of them new – were racing around my head. I only wished I could confide in someone, ask their opinion about what Ace had said to me. But the fact was, Ace had become my ‘someone’ . . . my friend. I turned the word over in my mind. I’d never had a proper friend before who wasn’t my sister, and perhaps I didn’t know how friendship even worked. Was I his friend too? Or had he simply been using me to ease his loneliness . . . and had I been doing the same? Or were we more than just friends?

I gave up lying sleepless in the bed and crept out to the beach, though it was even too early for sunrise. My heart started to pound as I thought of leaving the security of the little universe Ace and I had created together. I’d miss him – and this paradise – a lot.

Po was just returning to his post for the daytime shift as I walked back to the gate to enter the palace for the final time.

‘Got your pictures, madam.’ He reached into his nylon rucksack to retrieve some brightly coloured photo envelopes. He leafed through four of them, checking the contents, and I wondered if this was a service he offered on the side to other residents of Phra Nang Beach to make a few extra baht.

‘These yours,’ he confirmed, tucking the other two packs back into his rucksack.

‘Thanks,’ I said, reminding myself to pay him and give him a decent tip when I left, then I walked up the path to my room to pack.

An hour later, I hoisted my rucksack onto my back and shut the door behind me. I stomped miserably down to the terrace where Ace was pacing up and down. I was chuffed to see that he looked as depressed and agitated as I did.

‘You off?’

‘Yeah.’ I drew the envelope of photos out of my back pocket and put it on the table. ‘They’re for you.’

‘And here’s my mobile number,’ he said, handing me a piece of paper in return.

We stood there awkwardly, staring at each other. And I just wanted the moment to be over.

‘Thanks so much for . . . everything.’

‘No need to thank me, CeCe. It’s been a pleasure.’

‘Right then.’ I made to heave the rucksack onto my shoulders again, but then he opened his arms.

‘Come here.’ He pulled me to him and gave me an enormous hug, his chin resting on the top of my head. ‘Promise to keep in touch?’

‘Yeah, course.’

‘And you never know, I just might make it to Australia,’ he said as he carried my rucksack to the gate.

‘That would be great. Bye then.’

‘Bye, CeCe.’

Po pressed the red button to let me out, and I gave him the cash for the photos then offered him the tip. Surprisingly he refused it, shaking his head and looking at me with that guilty expression of his.

‘Bye bye, madam.’

I walked down Plebs’ Path to Railay, feeling too upset to go and say goodbye to Jack and the gang. Not that I expected they’d miss me. As I passed the bar, I saw Jay loitering on the edge of the veranda with a Singha beer, an accessory that seemed to be glued permanently to his fingers. I made to walk straight past him – I wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

‘Hiya, CeCe,’ he intercepted me. ‘You off?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Not taking your new boyfriend with you?’ I saw a glint in his booze-soaked eyes and a smile that managed to be more like a sneer on his lips.

‘You got it wrong, Jay. I don’t have a boyfriend.’

‘Nah, course you don’t.’

‘I’ve got to go, or I’ll miss my flight. Bye.’

‘How’s that sister of yours?’ he called after me.

‘Fine,’ I shouted back, as I continued to walk.

‘Send her my best, won’t you?’

I pretended not to hear and marched on across the sand towards the long-tail boats waiting to ferry passengers back to Krabi town.

* * *

As the plane left the runway at Suvarnabhumi airport heading for Sydney, I thought that the upside of my head having been so full of Ace in the last few hours was that at least I hadn’t dwelt on either the twelve-hour plane journey or what I might find when I got there. I had also managed to buy what the airport pharmacist had called ‘sleepy pills’ to aid my journey. I’d taken two for good measure just as boarding was announced – but if anything, I now felt more awake and alert than I normally did and wondered if those pills contained caffeine rather than a sleeping potion.

Thankfully, the plane was relatively empty and I had two spare seats next to me, so as soon as the seatbelt sign was switched off, I stretched across them and made myself comfortable, telling my brain that I was exhausted and drugged and would it please do me a favour and go to sleep.

It obviously wasn’t listening and after some restless tossing and turning, I sat up and accepted the plane food offered by the Thai stewardess. I even had a beer to calm my thoughts. That didn’t work either. So as the cabin lights dimmed, I lay back down and forced myself to think of what lay ahead.

After landing in Sydney in the early morning, I was headed for a town called Darwin right up on the northern tip of Australia. From there, I had to take another plane to the town of Broome. What had really irritated me about this when I’d booked my flights was that I had to fly straight over both places down to near the bottom of Australia, then all the way back up again. This meant extra hours in the air, never mind the time spent in transit at Sydney airport.

I’d looked up Broome on the internet at the airport and, from the photos, it looked like it had a really cool beach. These days it was a tourist spot more than anything else, but long ago, due to what I’d learnt from Kitty Mercer’s biography, I knew it had been the centre of the pearling industry. I wondered if that was where my legacy had come from . . .

If there was one thing that the past few weeks had taught me, it was that the cliche of money not buying happiness was absolutely true. I thought of Ace, who was obviously super rich, but lonely and miserable. I wondered if he was missing me. Tonight, I was really missing him . . . Not in a soppy way, like I couldn’t live without him or anything, or longed for the touch of his hand on mine. I mean, the sex had been fine, and much better than any I’d had before, but the bit I’d enjoyed the most was the closeness, just like I’d had with Star.

Ace had filled the yawning gap she had left behind. He’d been my friend, and even my confidant up to a point. That’s how I miss him, I thought, just the fact that he’d been there beside me. I knew that in the real world outside the palace, our paths would never have crossed. He was a rich City boy, used to blonde female twigs who bought designer handbags and wore five-inch stilettos.

It had been a moment in time: two lonely people cast adrift on a beach, helping each other through. He would move on, and so would I, but I really hoped we’d always be friends.

At this point either the beer or the ‘sleepy pills’ kicked in, because I was conscious of nothing more until the stewardess woke me up to tell me we were landing in Sydney in forty-five minutes.

Two hours later, I took off again on a far smaller plane to retrace my earlier flight path back up across Australia. As we left Sydney behind, I looked down and saw emptiness. Nothing, literally nothing, except for red. Yet it was a red that wasn’t really red . . . the closest I could come to describing the colour of the earth beneath me was the paprika spice that Star sometimes used in her cooking.

Immediately I wondered how I could replicate the colour in a painting. After a while I realised I had ages to think about this, because the paprika earth went on and on and on beneath me. It was mostly flat, the landscape reminding me of a gone-off tomato soup: browning at the edges, with the odd thin dribble of cream that had been poured on the top of it to indicate a road or a river.

Yet as we neared Darwin, with my final destination close by, I felt a sudden clutch at my heart that sent it beating faster. I felt oddly exhilarated and tearful, in the way I did when I watched a moving but uplifting film. It was like I wanted to slam my fist through the Perspex window, jump out and land on that hard, unforgiving red earth that I felt instinctively was somehow a part of me. Or, more accurately, I was a part of it.

After we’d landed, the elation I’d felt was soon replaced by abject fear as I boarded what looked like some kind of plastic toy plane, it was so tiny. No one else around me looked worried as we bumped and bounced in the air currents and then descended into somewhere called Kununurra, a town I’d never heard of and which certainly wasn’t Broome. When I made to get off, I was told that this was just a stop and Broome would be the next port of call, as if we were on a bus or a train. The scary flying bus took off again and I took another sleepy pill to calm my nerves. When we finally touched down on an airstrip that looked not much longer than the average Geneva driveway, I actually crossed myself.

Out on the concourse of the tiny airport, I looked for the information centre and saw a desk, behind which sat a girl who had skin just about the same colour as mine. Even her hair – a mass of ebony curls – looked similar.

‘G’day, can I help you?’ She smiled at me warmly.

‘Yeah, I’m looking for somewhere to stay in town for a couple of nights.’

‘Then you’ve come to the right place,’ she said, handing me a heap of leaflets.

‘Which one do you recommend?’

‘My favourite is the Pearl House on Carnarvon Street, but I’m not meant to give personal preferences,’ she added with a grin. ‘Shall I find out if they have a room?’

‘That would be great,’ I replied, feeling my legs twitching beneath me – they’d obviously had enough of carrying me thousands of miles across the globe. ‘Could it be on the first floor? Or the second? Just not on the ground.’

‘No worries.’

While she made a call, I told myself that I was being ridiculous; spiders could climb upwards, couldn’t they? Or along drainpipes into showers . . .

‘Yeah, Mrs Cousins has got a spare room,’ she said as she put the phone down, wrote out the details and handed them to me. ‘The taxi rank is just out front.’

‘Thanks.’

‘You French?’ she asked.

‘Swiss, actually.’

‘Come here to see your relatives?’

‘Maybe,’ I said with a shrug, wondering how she knew.

‘Well, my name’s Chrissie and here’s my card. Call me if you need some help and maybe I’ll see you around.’

‘Yeah, thanks,’ I said as I walked off towards the exit, amazed at both her friendliness and her perception.

I was already sweating by the time I climbed into a taxi and the driver told me it was only a short journey into town. We stopped in front of a low building overlooking a large green, the wide road lined with a mixture of small shops and houses.

The hotel was basic, but as I entered my room, I was glad to see it was spotless and, having done a thorough inspection, spider-free.

I went to check the time on my mobile, but the battery was obviously completely dead. All I could go by was that dusk was falling, which probably meant it was around six o’clock at night. My body was telling me it was time for sleep, even if my mobile couldn’t.

I stripped off my plane clothes, climbed between the sheets and eventually fell asleep.

* * *

I woke up to see a really bright sun glaring in from the naked window. I showered, dressed and hurried downstairs to see if there was anything to eat.

‘Can I get some breakfast?’ I asked the lady on reception.

‘That was cleared away hours ago. It’s almost two in the afternoon, love.’

‘Right. Is there anywhere local I can get something to eat?’

‘There’s the Runway Bar down the road that does pizza and what have you. Best you can do this time of day. There’s more places open later.’

‘Thanks.’

I went and stood outside the hotel. Even for me, the sun felt searingly hot, as if it had moved a few thousand miles closer to the earth during the night. Everyone else who had a brain was obviously inside hiding from it, because the street was deserted. Further down, I saw four bronze statues next to a car park and went to take a look. Three were of men in suits, all old judging by the wrinkles, and the fourth – wearing a jumpsuit, heavy boots and a round helmet that covered his entire face – looked like an astronaut. There were plaques with tiny writing on them, probably describing what made these men so special, but I was beginning to feel sick in the sun and I knew I needed food. By the time I arrived at the Runway Bar, sweat was pouring off me from the humidity.

I went to the counter and immediately ordered water, gulping back the whole bottle as soon as it was handed to me. I decided on a burger, and took one of the free maps detailing the attractions in the town before finding a seat at a faded plastic table.

‘Youse a tourist?’ asked the young guy who brought the burger over to me.

‘Yeah.’

‘You’re brave, love. We don’t get many of you here at this time of year. It’s the Big Wet, ya see. My advice is don’t go far without an umbrella. Or a fan,’ he added. ‘Though both are pretty useless in the wet season.’

I ate my burger in about four mouthfuls, then studied the map of the town again. As usual, the letters in the words jumbled before my eyes, but I soldiered on and eventually found the place I was looking for. Going back to the counter to pay and grab some more water, I pointed out the spot on the map to the waiter.

‘How far away is this?’

‘The museum? From here, it’s about a twenty-minute walk.’

‘Okay, thanks.’ I turned round to leave but he stopped me.

‘It’s closed this arvo, though. Try tomorrow.’

‘I will. Bye.’

It felt like everything in Broome was closed in the afternoon. Back in my room, I remembered my dead mobile and plugged it in next to the bed to charge. While I was in the bathroom, I was surprised to hear it pinging again and again and I scurried back to look at it.

‘Wow!’ I grunted under my breath as the screen displayed messages from Star and my other sisters. I opened the text page on my phone and scrolled down, and the messages kept on coming. I saw there were a number of missed calls too.

I started on the texts first.

Electra . . .

Electra had texted me . . .

In a total panic as to why all my sisters were suddenly contacting me, I concentrated on deciphering Electra’s text.

There was no kiss or a ‘call me’ at the end of her text, but neither did I expect it.

‘Something’s up,’ I muttered to myself as I scrolled down and saw a text from a number I didn’t know.

I leapt to my rucksack and got out the scrap of paper on which Ace had written down his mobile number and saw it matched the number on my screen.

‘Oh God, Cee . . .’ I scraped the palms of my hands distractedly up and down my cheeks. ‘What have you done? Christ!’ I mentally retraced my footsteps since leaving Thailand, searching for clues as to what it could have been.

You’ve been on a plane for most of the time . . .

Nope, there was nothing. Nothing I’d said, or even thought about Ace that was bad. Quite the opposite, in fact. I stood up and paced across the small, tiled room, then I went back to my mobile and dialled the voicemail number, to be told in a strong Australian accent that it wasn’t the right one, but without telling me what the right one was. I threw the phone onto the bed in irritation.

Even though it would cost a fortune, I had to find out what had happened. The best way was to go straight to the horse’s mouth, which was Ace.

Wishing for once I was a drinker – a few shots of whisky chased down by a tequila slammer or four might have calmed the trembling in my fingers – I tapped in Ace’s number. Squaring up my body as though I was about to have a physical fight, I waited for it to connect.

A different Australian voice informed me that ‘this number is unavailable’. Thinking that maybe I’d got it wrong, I tried another ten or even fifteen times, but still the answer was the same.

‘Shit! So, what do I do now . . . ?’ I asked myself.

Phone Star . . . she’ll know.

I paced some more, because it would mean breaking the silence, and I knew that hearing her voice for the first time in weeks might break me too. Still, I knew I had no choice. There was no way I was going to be able to sleep tonight without knowing what I’d done.

I dialled Star’s number and it rang eventually, which was something. Then I heard my sister’s voice, and did my best to swallow a gulp of emotion as she said hello.

‘It’s me, Sia . . .’ I said, reverting automatically to the pet name I used when I spoke to her.

‘Cee! Are you okay? Where are you?’

‘In Australia . . . in the middle of nowhere.’ I managed a chuckle.

‘Australia? But you always refused to go there!’

‘I know, but here I am. Listen, do you know why I’ve got all these texts from everyone?’

There was a silence on the other end. Finally, she said, ‘Yes. Don’t you?’

‘No. I really don’t.’

Another pause, but I was used to those from her and I waited for her to choose her words. The result was disappointing.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I see.’

‘See what? Seriously, Sia, I really don’t know. Can you tell me?’

‘I . . . yes. It’s to do with the man you were photographed with.’

‘Photographed with? Who?’

‘Anand Changrok, the rogue trader who broke Berners Bank and then disappeared off the face of the earth.’

‘Who? What?! I don’t even know an “Anand Changrok”.’

‘A tall, dark-haired man who looks oriental?’

‘Oh. God. Shit. . . it’s Ace!’

‘You do know him then?’ said Star.

‘Yes, but not what he’s done. What has he done?’

‘He didn’t tell you?’

‘Of course he didn’t! Otherwise I wouldn’t be calling you to find out, would I? And what do you mean, he “broke” a bank?’

‘I don’t know the details, but it’s to do with illegal trading. Anyway, by the time his fraud was discovered, he’d already left the UK. From what I read in The Times yesterday, intelligence services all over the world have been looking for him.’

‘Jesus Christ, Sia! He never said a word.’

‘How on earth did you meet him?’

‘He was just some guy on Phra Nang Beach – you remember, the really -’ I stopped myself from saying ‘ace’ – ‘beautiful one with the limestone pillars.’

‘Of course I remember.’

I thought I heard a slight catch in her voice as she said this.

‘But how come everyone in the world seems to know that I knew him?’ I continued.

‘Because there’s a photograph of the two of you on a beach with your arms around each other on the front of every single newspaper in England. I saw it this morning at the newsagent’s next to the bookshop. You’re famous, Cee.’

I paused to think, and an entire stream of memories downloaded in my brain: Ace’s refusal to come out in public by day, his insistence that I never tell anyone where I was living . . . and, most of all, Po, the security guard who’d taken the photograph . . .

‘Cee? Are you still there?’

‘Yeah,’ I said eventually, as I thought how Po had been keen to take photos of me and Ace together. By handing him my camera on our last night, I’d also handed him the perfect opportunity. No wonder he’d been so eager to take my roll of film to his ‘cousin’ in Krabi town . . . He’d obviously made copies too, which would explain the extra photograph wallets I’d seen in his rucksack. Then I remembered Jay, the exjournalist, and wondered if the two of them had been in cahoots.

‘Are you okay?’ Star asked me.

‘Not really, no. It was all a mistake,’ I added limply as I also remembered the envelope of photos I’d left for Ace on the table. If there was ever an act that had come from the best part of my soul that could be interpreted as having come from the worst, that was it.

‘Cee, tell me where you are. Seriously, I can get on a plane tonight and be there for you by tomorrow. Or at least the day after.’

‘No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine. You okay?’ I managed.

‘Yes, apart from the fact that I miss you. Really, anything I can do to help, just tell me.’

‘Thanks. Gotta go now,’ I said before I broke down completely. ‘Bye, Sia.’

I pressed the button to end the call then switched off my mobile. I lay down flat on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I couldn’t even cry – I was way past tears. Once again, it looked like I’d managed to mess up a beautiful friendship.