The Sisters Page 22

  ‘Did you always know Leon was your father?’ she asked.

  Matthew packed the box and then looked at Carlotta. ‘I guess I knew but he’s such a fucking prick, he never recognised me as such until now.’

  Carlotta laughed dryly. ‘Well, at least we agree on what sort of a person he is. So what’s your big plan?’

  ‘I’m gonna go back and make him see what a great son I am. Trust me, he will be indebted to me forever.’

  For a moment Carlotta felt sorry for him, but just for a moment.

  ‘Matthew, who did you sell your shares to if it wasn’t Berconi?’

  ‘I can’t tell, sorry. I’ve signed the papers this afternoon. You just missed your new owner.’

  ‘Come on, Matthew, do me a favour and tell me,’ pleaded Carlotta.

  Matthew walked over to her and stood very close. ‘What will I get in return?’ he asked.

  Carlotta went to slap him but he caught her arm and pinned her down on the table. She felt books digging into her back. He pushed into her and she felt his stale breath on her face. ‘Maybe you might actually put out instead of lying there dead like your sister,’ he said, and tried to tug at her black pants.

  Carlotta struggled and then she felt him being pulled off her. She sat up straight and looked around. Matthew lay sprawled on the floor, the man with the bike from downstairs standing over him.

  ‘You OK?’ he asked.

  ‘I think so.’ She was suddenly dizzy and threw up.

  ‘Fuck bitch, clean it up,’ said Matthew.

  The man walked over to Carlotta and took her by the arm. ‘Come on,’ he said, and picking a gold pen up off the table he walked out of the apartment with Carlotta.

  ‘Did you just steal that pen?’ she asked, her head spinning.

  ‘No. It’s mine. I forgot it and came back for it. It means a lot to me. You need to see a doctor,’ he said, looking for a cab.

  ‘No, I’m fine, really,’ Carlotta said, and then she threw up again into the gutter.

  ‘That’s it, off to the hospital.’

  He hailed a cab and took a clammy and pale Carlotta to the emergency department at Bethlehem Hospital. Taking her mobile phone from her, he clicked through her contacts. ‘Do you know Grace de Santoval?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, she’s my sister. Do you know her?’

  ‘Kind of,’ said the man vaguely.

  After scrolling through until he found Violetta’s number he left a message when she didn’t answer. By the time Violetta arrived at the hospital, the man had gone, not leaving a forwarding address or contact number.

  The doctor ran tests and then came into Carlotta’s cubicle. He drew the curtains.

  Carlotta sat holding Violetta's hand. ‘So what’s going on?’ she asked the doctor.

  ‘Well, it’s not a flu as you thought.’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Carlotta.

  ‘You’re pregnant. I just got the blood tests back.’

  Grace rushed through the door, Violetta having called her.

  ‘What’s happened?’ asked Grace, her face clouded with concern. ‘What did the doctor say?’

  Carlotta burst into tears. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she cried.

  ‘Oh darling,’ said Grace, and held her as Violetta made a face to her sister.

  ‘Stop making faces, Violetta,’ said Carlotta from Grace’s chest.

  ‘How can you see that?’ asked Violetta.

  ‘I just know,’ Carlotta said, pulling away. ‘What the hell am I going to do?’

  ‘Who is the father?’ asked Grace.

  ‘Chris,’ said Carlotta forlornly.

  ‘Chris? Chris Koch? Pajaro Chris?’ asked Grace.

  ‘Yes, don’t judge me, you dated a bike courier,’ Carlotta said, and put her hand in her lap like a small child.

  ‘I wish you would all get over that! I’m not judging you, I get it. Chris is sexy,’ said Grace knowingly.

  Violetta snapped her fingers at her. ‘Well look at you, Miss Thang.’

  Grace shrugged. ‘He is.’

  ‘Well, he may be sexy but he doesn’t believe in relationships or marriage and he already has a daughter.’

  ‘Do you love him?’ asked Violetta.

  Carlotta sat in silence. ‘I don’t know. I like him. I just don’t know him that well and yet here I am pregnant by him. Jesus!’

  ‘What do you want to do?’ asked Violetta, ever practical. ‘You going to keep it or tell him or have an abortion or what?’

  ‘God, Violet, you’re so unemotional,’ said Grace.

  ‘Well, it’s her life. I’ve had a termination. I wasn’t ready,’ she said easily.

  ‘I don’t know anything yet. I just want to stop feeling sick,’ Carlotta said.

  ‘Come on, chicken, let’s go home,’ said Violetta.

  ‘I don’t have a home,’ cried Carlotta as they left the doctor’s office. ‘I don’t. I’m twenty-five years old and I live in my mother’s apartment. How can I raise a baby? I don’t even have a real job. At least you two have done something to help Pajaro. I have done nothing except get myself knocked up by the General Manager. I’m a cliché.’

  ‘I knew something was going to happen today,’ said Grace quietly. ‘I knew it as soon as I woke up. You’ve been on my mind all morning, Lotty.’

  Violetta nodded passionately. ‘I knew it also. You have been bugging me also, Carlotta.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Carlotta wearily.

  ‘No, don’t apologise, I guess we’ve found the connection again,’ said Violetta.

  ‘Perhaps we never lost it, we have just reignited it,’ Grace said, with tears in her eyes.

  Her sisters smiled at her and they all held hands for a moment.

  As they stopped at Birdie’s apartment, the sisters helped Carlotta out. She then threw up all over the pavement. Violetta held her hair back as Grace dug a tissue from her bag and handed it to her sister.

  They went upstairs and put her on the couch. ‘I feel so sick,’ she moaned.

  Violetta heard the buzzer and answered it. ‘Chris is here,’ she said to Carlotta. ‘What do you want me to say?’

  ‘Tell him I’m infectious and I can’t see him for at least nine months.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No, tell him to go away,’ said Carlotta. ‘I have to get my head straight first before I include him.’

  Violetta did as she asked and then rang Jeff. ‘Hey, I have a friend who’s pregnant. No, it’s not me! No, a friend and she’s really sick. Is there anything she can take or do? Really? Wow, OK, I’m going. Hey… I love you,’ she whispered.

  Picking up her bag, she walked over to Carlotta. ‘I’m going to the drugstore for a moment, need anything?’

  ‘I suppose it’s too late for condoms now.’

  Violetta was still laughing when she walked outside and saw Chris sitting on the seat outside the building.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, not surprised to see him.

  ‘Is she OK?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘What’s wrong with her?’ he asked.

  ‘I can’t tell you that, Chris,’ said Violetta, as she walked towards the drugstore down the street.

  Chris walked beside her. ‘I really like her,’ he said.

  ‘Does she know that?’ Violetta stopped walking and faced him.

  ‘I think so,’ he said. ‘Oh fuck it, I love her.’

  ‘You should tell her,’ said Violetta.

  She started to walk again and turned into the drugstore. Picking up a basket she roamed the aisles with Chris beside her. Violetta started to put items into the basket as she walked. Chris wandered beside her, babbling about Alexia and Carlotta and his wife and she listened and finally walked to the counter. The girl rang up the goods and put them in a bag. ‘That will be sixty-seven thirty,’ she said.

  Chris pulled out his wallet and handed over his credit card. ‘I’ll get it,’ he said.

  Violetta shrugged. She took the bag and looked at Chris. ‘If you love her the
n you need to be prepared to do whatever it takes, Chris. And I mean whatever it takes,’ she said, and left the store.

  Chris signed the slip and took the receipt and walked outside. He saw Violetta in the distance, quickly walking towards the apartment. He looked down at the receipt.

  Gastrolyte, motion sickness bands, Tylenol, pregnancy vitamins. He re-read the list and then realised what she had been trying to tell him. He sat down on the bench outside the store. ‘Oh shit,’ he said to himself. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’

  31

  Violetta drove out to the rehabilitation centre. She felt guilty for not seeing Birdie earlier, although Spencer was with her most of the time. He said she was doing really well, although she still had no memory of Leon. Her doctor at the centre had told Spencer to keep up the pretence vaguely till she was better, but he could give no indication as to whether she would ever remember.

  Violetta’s phone rang and she smiled when she saw it was Jeff.

  ‘Hello,’ she said.

  ‘Hello there. Where are you?’

  ‘I’m going to see Mom.’

  ‘Good for you,’ he said. ‘Say hi to her for me.’

  ‘I will.’ She smiled at his thoughtfulness.

  ‘Are you free tonight?’ he asked.

  Violetta's heart sunk. ‘No, I have to shoot tonight. I hate this TV show now. Why? What did you have in mind?’

  ‘I have a fundraiser dinner to go to, I thought you might be my date,’ he said gallantly.

  ‘Well, I could go, if you don’t mind the TV crew being there,’ she laughed.

  ‘I don’t think that would be such a great idea. Quite conservative, these folks,’ said Jeff, trying to hide his disappointment.

  ‘I know, it’s shit,’ said Violetta, thinking. ‘Maybe I can see you afterwards?’

  ‘Sure, call me when you finish. Where are you going tonight?’ he asked lightly.

  ‘I am taking them to an experimental jazz session in The Village,’ laughed Violetta.

  ‘Wow, that will go over well with your audience.’

  ‘I know, there is so much to do in New York. I never realised till I started this show.’

  ‘Well, have fun and don’t forget your trumpet and pork pie hat. Happy be bop!’ said Jeff, as he rang off.

  Violetta sighed and sat back in the car. She would have loved to see Jeff; it was so hard to coordinate times and the fact she was still shooting meant she had to keep their relationship quiet.

  As the car pulled up to the centre where Birdie was staying Violetta felt nervous. Birdie, however, was thrilled to see her. She looked great. She had lost some weight from being in hospital but she was walking and talking freely.

  ‘The doctors said I can go home to Spencer soon,’ Birdie said as they sat in the privacy of her room.

  ‘That’s great, Mom. And how’s your memory?’ asked Violetta carefully.

  ‘It’s fine,’ said Birdie, bewildered. ‘I remember everything. Try me.’

  Violetta thought for a moment. ‘Tell me about when you brought us home from hospital. Do you remember that?’

  ‘Of course I do. You and Grace were quiet but Carlotta screamed the whole way home,’ she laughed and Violetta smiled.

  ‘What did Dad think about that?’ she asked carefully.

  ‘Oh, your father was very patient with you all. Carlotta’s crying never bothered him. She was colicky, I think.’

  Violetta nodded. ‘And do you remember when you told him you were pregnant?’

  ‘Of course. He was so happy,’ smiled Birdie. ‘He wanted a big family. Triplets are hard to carry for any woman and he was so attentive and lovely.’

  ‘Did you miss working at Pajaro after you had us?’ asked Violetta.

  ‘I don’t know what that is,’ said Birdie, her face clouding. ‘Spencer asked me the same thing but I don’t know what Pajaro means.’

  She looked upset and, seeing Birdie’s face, Violetta stopped her line of questioning.

  ‘It’s OK, Mom, it’s fine, don’t think about it,’ she said soothingly.

  Birdie reached out her hand and held Violetta’s in hers. ‘How is your life darling?’ she asked.

  Violetta squeezed her mother’s hand gently. ‘It’s fine, Mom.’

  ‘And your job? You like it?’

  ‘I love it,’ she said truthfully.

  ‘And is there a young man on the horizon?’ Birdie asked.

  Violetta thought about Jeff. Well, he wasn’t young; at 39 there was a 14-year age gap between them. ‘I am seeing someone,’ she said shyly.

  ‘Lovely. Who is he?’ Birdie asked, her eyes brightening.

  ‘He’s a doctor.’

  ‘How nice for you. You need someone clever, you were always the smartest of the Trinity.’ said Birdie, sitting back in her armchair.

  ‘That’s not true, Mom. I didn’t even finish college. Grace is the smart one,’ said Violetta, laughing.

  ‘Yes, Grace is clever but you are smart. Street smart, is what they call it. You have the smarts, Grace has the elegance and Carlotta has the courage. You have all the best bits of me,’ she said proudly.

  ‘What do we have of Dad’s?’ asked Violetta, searching her mother’s face.

  ‘You have his kindness. Carlotta has his patience. And Grace has his taste for the finer things in life. That child knew her Degas from her Delacroix by the time she was five,’ she said, laughing.

  ‘Do you think we look like Dad?’ asked Violetta. She saw the resemblance of her mother in her sisters’ faces but where was Spencer in them, now that Leon was not their father?

  ‘You look like Spencer’s mother,’ said Birdie, staring into the distance.

  Violetta made a mental note to ask Spencer for pictures.

  Birdie looked back to Violetta. ‘I think we need to make a donation to the hospital where they looked after me.’

  ‘OK,’ said Violetta. ‘I can ask Spence … I mean Dad to look into it.’

  ‘Or perhaps we can have a fundraiser dinner? Maybe that would be nice. I would like to get out of these terrible pants,’ she said, gesturing down to her sweat pants.

  Violetta laughed. ‘OK, I will organise it if you like,’ she said, smiling at her mother’s vanity.

  ‘Wonderful. Now tell me about this job you have,’ demanded Birdie.

  ‘I work at Pajaro,’ said Violetta, and Birdie nodded her head intently. ‘And I am a fashion designer there. We have just done a new range, actually, in stores in two weeks.’

  ‘How lovely. What is the story you are telling? Fabrics?’ asked Birdie.

  Violetta put her head to one side. Perhaps Birdie remembered more than she realised.

  ‘We have gone through the best sellers and made them relevant for now, chosen easy care, washable fabrics. Kept the colours in the classics with a few on trend colours also.’

  ‘Sizes?’ asked Birdie professionally. ‘Not everyone is a size six, you know.’

  ‘I know, I have put in an extra size now. So we go up to a size sixteen.’

  ‘Good for you, just because you are big boned doesn’t mean you don’t want to look fabulous,’ said Birdie imperiously.

  ‘I agree, Mom,’ Violetta said, trying to hide her smile.

  When Birdie had started Pajaro she had included larger sizes but Leon had thrown them out later, claiming they used up too much fabric, and Pajaro had lost a large portion of its customer base.

  Birdie leaned her head back on the chair and Violetta realised her mother was tired after their conversation. ‘Come on, Mom, come and lie down,’ she said.

  She led Birdie to the bed and covered her with the cashmere throw that Spencer had brought in. As Birdie started to drift into sleep, she looked up at her middle daughter.

  ‘Your father and I are very proud of you, darling,’ she said.

  Violetta felt a stinging behind her eyes. She had waited a long time to hear those words and they meant more to her than she realised.

  ‘Thanks, Mom, I love you and Dad so
much.’

  And she kissed her mother on the cheek. As she left Birdie’s room, she thought about what she had said. It was true, and even if Spencer wasn’t proven to be her father, he was more of a dad to her than Leon had ever been and that was enough to heal the past.

  Back in the city, Violetta dragged the TV crew to the loud and extraordinary jazz session, which Lesley had enjoyed and Violetta had suffered through. Jazz wasn’t her thing even at the best of times, but it was a night out and she had sat in the corner, pretending to listen intently. While they filmed her she planned the fundraiser for the hospital in her mind. When the crew left, Violetta slipped out the side door and rang Jeff who didn’t answer.

  She texted him.

  Free now. Where are you?

  A message came back.

  Still at dinner, about to leave. Meet me at my apt?

  Look forward to it. Address?

  She still hadn’t been to his place. He was very secretive about it. Maybe he was ashamed, she had thought. So she was surprised when the address was texted to her.

  Violetta hailed a cab. She was looking forward to seeing Jeff again.

  As the cab pulled up at an elegant building on the Upper West Side, Violetta paid and walked towards the doorman who opened the door.

  ‘Dr Carson said to come up. Apartment 32 on the eighth floor,’ he said.

  Violetta got into the elevator and started to laugh. She was still laughing when the doors opened and Jeff was standing waiting for her in the foyer in a black tux. He looked so handsome that Violetta’s heart skipped a beat.

  ‘Wow,’ she said, circling him. ‘That is a fine looking dinner suit, doctor,’ she flirted.

  Jeff blushed. ‘I bought a new one.’

  ‘From where? And without my help? I am shattered,’ she said, putting her hands on her slim hips.

  ‘Tom Ford? Is that any good?’ he asked, worried.

  ‘The best.’ She shrugged. ‘You look divine,’ she said, and went onto her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

  ‘Thank you. You look lovely also.’

  Violetta looked down at her outfit. Black tight pants, flatboats, a Proenza Schouler red and blue cardigan, and a large Marni coat to protect herself from the December winds.

  ‘I look boring.’

  ‘You are never boring, nor do you look that way.’