had died in the hospice where Vanessa had got to know her well.
‘That’s so very sad,’ Ellie lamented, flicking her red hair back off her troubled brow, her green eyes full of compassion. ‘We could have done so much to help her...if only we had known—’
‘But Annabel didn’t want you to know. She was aware that you had already spent years nursing your grandmother through her decline and she was determined not to come into your life and become another burden and responsibility. She was very independent.’
The three women sat down at the table in a quiet corner of the restaurant and rather blankly studied the menus presented to them.
‘I understand you’re studying to be a doctor,’ Vanessa said to Ellie. ‘Annabel was so proud when she heard about that.’
‘How did she find out?’ Ellie pressed. ‘It has been years since she last contacted our grandmother.’
‘One of your mother’s cousins was a nurse and recognised Annabel a couple of years ago when she was hospitalised. She brought her up to date with family developments. Annabel also made her promise not to approach you.’
‘But why? We would have understood how she felt!’ Ellie burst out in frustration.
‘She didn’t want you to see her like that or to remember her that way. Having always been a rather beautiful woman she was a little vain about her looks,’ Vanessa explained gently.
Polly’s mind was wandering. Thinking of her sibling’s studies, she was very conscious that she had never achieved anything of note in the academic stakes and had done nothing to inspire a mother with pride. But then one way or another, life had always got in the way of her hopes and dreams. She had stayed home to take care of their ailing grandmother while Ellie had gone off to university to study medicine and she was proud that she had not been selfish. After all, her kid sister had always been very clever and she had a true vocation to help others. She knew just how guilty Ellie had felt about leaving her to cope alone with their grandmother but, really, what would have been the point of both of them losing out on their education? At school, Polly had been an average student, only plodding along while Ellie streaked ahead.
‘I did so hope that you were in touch with your younger sister and that you would bring her with you today,’ Vanessa James remarked, startling both women into looking across the table at her with wide eyes.
‘What younger sister?’ Polly exclaimed with wide blue eyes the colour of gentian violets.
Vanessa surveyed them in dismay before telling them about how their sibling had gone into foster care when Annabel could no longer look after her. She was four years younger than Polly and apparently their grandmother had refused to take her in.
‘We had no idea we had another sister,’ Ellie admitted heavily. ‘We really know nothing about our mother’s life...well, only what Gran told us and that wasn’t much and none of it was flattering. She certainly never mentioned that there were three of us!’
‘When Annabel was young she led quite an exciting life,’ Vanessa volunteered ruefully. ‘She was a highly qualified nanny and she travelled a great deal and lived abroad for long periods. She worked for some very wealthy families and earned an excellent salary, often with lots of perks thrown in. But obviously when she had children of her own she couldn’t take them to work with her, which is why you ended up in your grandmother’s care. But when you were both still quite young, Annabel did return to London, where she tried to set up a childcare facility. She poured all her savings into it. She was planning to bring the two of you home to live with her. But, sadly, it all went wrong. The business failed, the relationship she was in fell apart and she discovered that she was pregnant again.’
‘And she gave birth to another girl? What’s our sister called? Why are we only hearing about her now?’ Polly gasped, only a little touched by the news that the mother she had never known had actually once planned to raise her own children. Indeed that struck her as a very remote possibility because it had seemed to her as a child that she had a mother who ran away from responsibility. Even worse, her outlook was coloured by the reality that she and Ellie had been brought up by a woman who bitterly resented the responsibility of having to raise her granddaughters at a time in her life when she had expected to take life at an easier pace.
Their sister’s name was Penelope Dixon and Vanessa had no further information to offer. ‘I did approach social services but as I’m not a blood relative I wasn’t in a position to push. One of you would have to make enquiries. Penelope could have been adopted but I understand that if that proves to be the case you could leave a letter on file for her should she ever enquire about her birth family.’
Their meals were brought to the table. Vanessa withdrew three envelopes from her bag. ‘Your mother has left each of you a ring and I must ask you to take charge of your youngest sister’s ring for her—’
‘A...ring?’ Polly repeated in a renewed daze of astonishment.
‘And with each a name. I assume, your fathers’ names...although Annabel was very evasive on that score,’ the older woman revealed uncomfortably. ‘I should warn you now that I’m not sure that Annabel actually knew who your fathers were beyond any shadow of doubt.’
Polly paled. ‘Oh...’ she said, in a voice that spoke volumes.
‘She wasn’t specific but I did receive the impression that when she was living the high life, looking after her rich employers’ children, she may...er...possibly have been a little free with her favours,’ the other woman advanced in a very quiet voice of apology.
‘Sorry...? You mean...?’ Polly began uncertainly.
‘She slept around,’ Ellie translated bluntly with a grimace. ‘Well, thank you for being honest enough to tell us that before we get excited about those names. But with that particular disease, I know that Annabel may have had problems accessing her memories and she may have become confused when she tried to focus on the past.’
The instant Vanessa handed Polly her envelope, Polly ripped it open, patience never having been one of her virtues. A heavy and ornate gold ring with a large stone fell out and she threaded it on her finger but it was far too large. It was, she finally registered, a man’s ring, not a woman’s. She peered down at the stone, which flickered with changeable hues of red, orange and yellow.
‘It’s a fire opal, very unusual but not, I understand, particularly valuable,’ Vanessa proffered. ‘It’s also an antique and foreign made.’
‘Right...’ Polly muttered blankly, returning to extract the small sheet of paper enclosed in the envelope and frown down at it.
Zahir Basara... Dharia.
‘My...my father may be of Arabic descent?’ Polly murmured in sheer wonderment, because, in the most obvious terms, she looked as though she had not a drop of more exotic climes in her veins and indeed had been asked several times if she was from Scandinavia. ‘I have heard of Dharia—’
‘Your mother was a nanny in the royal household there...right up until the royal family died,’ Vanessa volunteered.
And Polly immediately wondered if there was a connection to her birth name, which had been Zariyah and which was on her passport. Her grandmother had always called her Polly, having disliked her foreign name.
‘I’ve got an emerald!’ Ellie announced as if she had just opened a Christmas cracker, her whole demeanour suggesting that she had no intention of taking either ring or name too seriously.
‘And the name?’ Polly pressed with rampant curiosity, hoping that it would be the same as her own putative father’s because at least that would suggest that the relationship had been more than a passing fling.
‘Possibly a name of Italian extraction. I’ll keep it to myself for now though.’ Ellie dug the envelope into her bag with an air of finality but she was unusually pale. At Vanessa’s instigation she also took charge of the envelope intended for their sister, Penelope. ‘Maybe our mother collected