Читать книгу Secrets from the Past - Barbara Taylor Bradford - Страница 11

My sister Jessica had always been very special to me since my childhood. Even when she was teasing me or being bossy, I never felt angry, nor did I ever bear a grudge, because I knew there was no malice in her.

I once asked my mother why everyone seemed to love Jessica so much, and my mother answered that Jessica was a good person, that people instantly perceived this, knowing she had a heart of gold.

Since I was quite little at the time, I immediately had an image of a gold heart, similar to my mother’s locket, and for ages I was certain my sister had one just like it embedded in her chest.

Later, when I was grown up and earning a living, the first present I bought Jessica was a gold locket, which she still treasured. If I was with her, and if she happened to be wearing it, we exchanged a knowing smile.

Although Jessica looked like my father, had his dark hair and eyes, it was from our mother that she inherited certain qualities: her grace, her loving manner and optimistic nature. Jessica had an aura of happiness surrounding her; I didn’t know anyone as upbeat as Jess. She always seemed to be in a good mood, holding the belief that tomorrow would be far better than today.

When I hurried into the hallway, Jessica was hanging up her long camel overcoat and a red wool scarf in the closet, and she swung around when she heard my footsteps.

Immediately, she took hold of me and hugged me close. ‘Hi, darling, it’s good to be here. I’ve missed you.’

My spirits lifted as usual. ‘And I’ve missed you too, Jess. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to Boston?’

‘Only because I didn’t want you to be disappointed if I couldn’t make it to New York,’ she answered, and beamed her dazzling smile at me. ‘As it turned out, things went quickly, and here I am for the weekend.’ Grabbing the handle of her suitcase, she rolled it behind her, walking towards her room.

The moment she entered she began to chuckle. ‘I see you cleaned up after me – thanks for that, Pidge. What a mess I left behind in November. So sorry about that.’

I laughed with her. ‘I understood. Your mind was focused on your problems in Nice.’

I sat down on a chair and watched my sister as she unpacked her carry-on bag, hanging up a black trouser suit, two white silk shirts and a black sweater. As usual, she travelled light, the way our father had trained us. Although it worked with us, he was never able to make the slightest impression on our mother, who considered six suitcases to be the minimum for a weekend.

‘I missed a call from Cara earlier today. Apparently she found some of Dad’s pictures, and some of Mom she was really taken with, that I might want to use in my book,’ I confided.

‘Yes, they are great,’ Jessica said without turning around, placing underwear and small items in a chest of drawers. ‘We’ve been looking at Dad’s collections in his studio, and there’s a treasure trove there. We’ve left everything the way it is, since you’re the best judge, Serena. We want you to review everything.’

‘I will when I come to Nice.’

Straightening, Jessica turned around. ‘For Dad’s memorial dinner on April twenty-second, I know that. But can’t you come before then?’

I detected something in her voice, a flicker of concern behind her eyes, and wondered if everything was all right. Had Cara become depressed again? She had been very low since her fiancé had died. I was about to voice this thought, and changed my mind. I said, ‘I’ll get there as soon as I can, Jess, I promise.’

‘How’s the book coming along?’ she asked, closing the drawer.

‘I’m pleased with most of it. There’s just one chapter that needs work,’ I answered, and rose. ‘I’m going to make coffee. Do you want something to eat? Are you hungry?’

‘Not really, but I’d love some coffee, Pidge.’ She threw me a smile before going back to the carry-on and the last of her unpacking. ‘I’ll meet you in Mom’s den in a few minutes.’

‘Okay.’ I didn’t bother to correct her. She still referred to it as our mother’s den, sometimes even called it Mom’s sitting room, and it had been both. It was now my office, but even I associated it totally with our mother. It was the room in the apartment where I spent the most time.

‘I’d forgotten all about this album!’ my sister exclaimed ten minutes later, when I walked into my office carrying the tray holding coffee and cups and saucers.

‘Leaf through it, Jessica, it’s great! I can’t believe the way we all look,’ I answered, and placed the tray on the coffee table. Glancing at her, I added, ‘Even Dad was impressed with us that night of your gala. He took great pictures.’

Jessica was already turning the pages, staring at all the photographs and laughing out loud at times, exclaiming about some of the images of herself and Cara and me.

I poured coffee for us both and sat down in a chair opposite her. ‘That’s a lovely picture story Dad did, the way he took shots of you at every stage of the remodelling of the auction house. And you look great. We all do. Especially Mom.’

‘That’s true. Why were you interested in this particular album?’ she asked, finally closing the album, putting it back on the coffee table.

‘I was actually searching for the 1999 one,’ I explained. ‘Because I want to know what we were all doing then. You see, I need more information for that one chapter that needs rewriting. Do you remember anything much about that year?’

Jessica took the cup of coffee I was offering, and sat back on the sofa. ‘I certainly do. Aside from it being my first year in business, I got a divorce from Roger. Cara finished building her second large greenhouse. Dad was off in Kosovo – somewhere in the Balkans, anyway, covering a war. And you and Mom were not too happy with each other.’

Her last statement startled me and I sat up straighter, stared at her. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ I shook my head. ‘Mom and I weren’t quarrelling.’

‘That’s true, you weren’t, but she wasn’t too happy with you, Serena. Have you forgotten how angry she was with you?’

I was speechless for a moment, but my mind raced. After a long moment, I said, ‘Mom was never angry with me, ever, Jess. You must be mixing me up with Cara.’

‘No, I’m not. Mom was definitely angry with you in 1999. I know because I witnessed it. Do you want me to tell you about it?’

I could only nod.