The Shadow Sister by Lucinda Riley EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Lucinda Riley
- Language: English
- Genre: Women’s Historical Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
I will always remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I
heard that my father had died . . .
With my pen still suspended above the sheet of paper, I looked up at the
July sun – or, at least, the small ray of it that had managed to trickle
between the window and the red-brick wall a few yards in front of me. All
of the windows in our tiny apartment looked onto its blandness and, despite
today’s beautiful weather, it was dark inside. So very different from my
childhood home, Atlantis, on the shores of Lake Geneva.
I realised I had been seated exactly where I was now when CeCe had
come into our miserable little sitting room to tell me that Pa Salt was dead.
I put down the pen and went to pour myself a glass of water from the tap.
It was clammy and airless in the sticky heat and I drank thirstily as I
contemplated the fact that I didn’t need to do this – to put myself through
the pain of remembering. It was Tiggy, my younger sister, who, when I’d
seen her at Atlantis just after Pa died, had suggested the idea.
‘Darling Star,’ she’d said, when some of us sisters had gone out onto the
lake to sail, simply trying to distract ourselves from our grief, ‘I know you
find it hard to speak about how you feel. I also know you’re full of pain.
Why don’t you write your thoughts down?’
On the plane home from Atlantis two weeks ago, I’d thought about what
Tiggy had said. And this morning, that’s what I had endeavoured to do.
I stared at the brick wall, thinking wryly that it was a perfect metaphor
for my life just now, which at least made me smile. And the smile carried
me back to the scarred wooden table that our shady landlord must have
picked up for nothing in a junk shop. I sat back down and again picked up
the elegant ink pen Pa Salt had given me for my twenty-first birthday.
‘I will not start with Pa’s death,’ I said out loud. ‘I will start when we
arrived here in London—’
The crash of the front door closing startled me and I knew it was my
sister, CeCe. Everything she did was loud. It seemed beyond her to put a
cup of coffee down without banging it onto the surface and slopping its
contents everywhere. She had also never grasped the concept of an ‘indoor
voice’ and shouted her words to the point where, when we were small, Ma
was once worried enough to get her hearing tested.
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