Vikram waited until Rosa was fully rested and looking her old self.
“Rosa, I need to talk to you about something important.”
She had her back to him, clipping on her gold jewellery at the dressing table. “Can’t we talk at dinner, Uncle? I am starving.”
He wanted to agree but knew that once he told her she may not like being in such a public place.
When he did not answer immediately, she swung around, her face anxious. “Uncle, what is the matter?”
Vikram shifted on his seat, his fingers fiddling with the lace curtain.
“You are having second thoughts about this whole trip?”
He laughed, but he saw irritation rise in her, so he blurted it out. “Darling Rosa, hear me out, please: I am your father, Grace is your mother and you have a twin sister.”
He was so angry at himself for the vulgarity of the delivery, his heart breaking when he saw Rosa’s face change from relaxed and happy to bewildered. He reached her in a stride, grabbing both her hands.
“I have been selfish and uncaring in the way I have told you. I was only thinking of myself. Forgive me, dear Rosa.”
Rosa jerked her hand away. “What do you mean, twin sister?”
“I am your father, Rosa.”
“What talk is this?” Rosa’s face was contorted in pain.
Vikram searched for her hand again, but she pulled away from him. “Rosa, listen to me. I brought you from Ireland all those years ago. I was told Grace had died and that they could not keep you because of the colour of your skin. I only found out recently you were one of twins.”
“But what about Mama?”
“Grace gave birth to you, but it is Rhya who has been a mother to you, Rosa.”
“Where is this twin sister? Is she brown or does she fit in more with this landscape?”
“I only found out in a letter from the judge sent on after his death by the solicitor. Your twin’s name is Emma and I imagine she is white.”
“Twins?”
“Yes, Rosa.”
“Lucky for me they got rid of me to India, where I could feel at home.”
“I am glad that I at least had you, and that you, Rosa, grew up with a loving mother.”
Rosa stopped, tears replacing the indignation. “Mama knew this.”
Vikram ran his hand along Rosa’s face. “Rhya has been the best mother to you.”
“When was she going to tell me? On her deathbed?”
“Rosa, if you are angry at anybody, it has to be me.”
“This is all rot.”
“It now appears that your twin sister survived and was brought up by Martin Moran.”
Rosa flopped on the bed, tears coursing through her thick make-up, making her mascara smudge under her eyes. “Vik, this is really too much to take on, too much. Mama would not approve of you telling me.”
“I will have to worry about that another time. Rosa, please don’t turn your back on me. We can get through it together.”
“Am I going to meet this twin sister?”
“I sincerely hope so. I left a note for her in Parnell Square.”
Rosa stood up. “I would like to go for dinner now.”
Vikram nodded, and he waited while she fixed her make-up, letting her go out of the hotel room first, which she did with an angry swish of her sari pallu.
At first they said nothing over dinner and ate little, but they sat side by side, each deep in thought.
It was Rosa who broke the silence.
“I am sorry Vik, this must be so hard on you. I just don’t want to lose my best friend when I gain a father. You are too important to me.”
He squeezed her hand. “Never, darling Rosa, never.”
*
Emma rushed in the door of the hotel, not altogether sure what she was going to face. The handwritten note from Vikram Fernandes had been brief and polite, informing her he would like to see her and could she call down to the Gresham at her convenience.
Angie had come in on top of her, holding the note aloft, once she got out of the taxi on Parnell Square. “Don’t take off your coat, I think you will want to read this,” she said, gabbing on about the polite Indian man who had nearly collapsed on the steps.
Emma set down the street straight away. She rushed, sweat forming on her temples. Why did a journey so short now seem so long? What would she say to this man who was her father? She opened the belt of her coat, running her hands along the turquoise linen dress she had decided to wear that morning. It was one of Grace’s dresses. She had picked it because she liked the swing of the skirt, the softness of the linen and the way it kicked out from under the tweed coat, which was also her mother’s.
Emma asked the receptionist to call his room, but there was no answer. The woman behind the desk smiled and beckoned to an Indian woman buying postcards.
“This is his niece, she will be able to help you.”
Rosa, dressed in a royal-blue sari with a red and gold border, came over to her. “Can I help you? You are looking for Mr Fernandes?” Rosa took the woman in: the soft grey eyes, the auburn hair curling around her neck. So like Grace in the photograph she had seen.
“I am Emma Moran.”
“Grace was your mother?”
“Yes.”
“Vikram will be so glad to meet you. You look like her.”
An Indian man was watching them from across the lobby. He did not need to be told who she was. Every bit of her was Grace: the way she stood, the turquoise dress, the tweed coat. It could have been his Grace. Emma turned slightly, flicking her hair, the movement making the aurora borealis stones of her necklace glint. Vikram’s heart lunged and he could not move. The necklace had cost him a huge amount of his pay packet: the necklace Grace had adored. He could only stare at these two beautiful women, his daughters. Rosa swivelled, looking around for him, but he found himself stepping back so he would not be seen. For this moment, he wanted to be alone, so he could look upon these two women and remember his Grace. They both had so much of her, so much of the loveliness that made up the woman he adored and who he had let down so badly. Could these two ever forgive him for what he had done?
A waiter passing by saw Vikram lean against a pillar and stopped to ask him if he was all right. Vikram allowed himself to be assisted to a chair.
Emma saw him first. He noticed she half smiled and nervously tugged at her hair before tapping her sister on the shoulder, pointing across the lobby to him.
Rosa rushed across, her voice high in alarm. “Vik, what is the matter? Look who is here.”
He made to stand up, but Rosa pushed him back into the chair.
“Rest, Vik. Miss Moran will not mind.”
He took her hand, so like her mother’s, her touch soft and gentle. Emma was speaking to him, but he did not hear the words. There was something about her, the way she looked at him, her clothes, her standing. He heard his own voice, but he was not sure of what he said until she shyly called him Vikram. Rosa made to go, saying she would leave them to talk, but Vikram called her back.
“Anything I have to say is also for your ears. Please stay, dear Rosa.”
Emma looked at Rosa, who bent close to Vikram and kissed him on the cheek. Fussing, Rosa asked a waiter to push chairs together and bring tea for three. Emma took her in. Her long black hair was glossy, her skin soft brown, her eyes like her father’s. If any of the sisters was to wear the gold dress, it should be this sister who stood so straight and carried with her a dignity that could only enhance such a beautiful gown. All the times she had wished she had a sister, all the times she had wanted to turn back the clock, to rewrite history, when all along this girl was celebrating the same milestones but growing up with their father. Emma felt a stab of jealousy of this exotic woman, but before it flared deeper she sat down and asked the question that had been burning through her. Speaking slowly and firmly, she directed her question at Vikram.
“What took you so long?”
His head hanging, his shoulders down, he began to cry. “I was told Grace was dead, I never knew anything else.”
“Violet told you that.”
“She was a poisonous woman.”
“I am sorry if I sounded harsh.”
“You have every right. It does not matter what you say, there is nobody harsher on Vikram Fernandes than Vikram Fernandes.” He wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. “I regret every day that I did not break my way upstairs in that damned house in Parnell Square. I should not have believed them, I should have roared and shouted the place down until I got as far as Grace. I am sorry, Emma.”
He reached out and took Emma’s hand.
“I would like to get to know you, Emma. Maybe someday you will look on me as a father.” He kept his hold on her hand, while reaching for Rosa’s hand. “I swear, if I had known you existed, I would never have left you. Twins should not grow up apart.”
Emma was not sure what to do.
“We must find Grace’s grave and show her we three have at least been reunited. We have all suffered so much because of the damned lies of others,” Vikram said quietly.
Emma spoke quickly. “She is buried in Knockavanagh, Wicklow.”
Vikram squeezed his daughters’ hands tightly. “Can we go first thing?”
“Why didn’t Mama tell me all this time? Why didn’t you?” Rosa asked, tears blotting her words.
“Rhya is so afraid you will hold it against her,” said Vikram.
Emma, not sure she should be listening in, made to stand up and leave, but Vikram put his hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back in the seat.
“It is going to take us all time to adjust,” he said, holding out his hands again to his two daughters. They took one each. “This is a special moment, darling Rosa and Emma. We have to get to know each other.” He placed Rosa’s hand in Emma’s. “Sisters and twins, you should never have been kept apart for this long. Now you must make up for lost time.”
They were both embarrassed, but neither pulled away. Rosa was the first to reach further, pulling her sister into a tight hug.
“I never knew you existed until today, but I would very much like to become friends.”
Emma felt the tears seep through her, but she made no attempt to stop them and let herself be taken in the warm embrace of this woman who was so like her but looked nothing like her.
Vikram watched his daughters and thought the only thing that could make him happier would be if Grace could be there to bear witness. He could not rewrite the past, but maybe from today he could help write the future with these fine women who were his daughters.
Next they sat as Vikram told the full story, with Emma filling in the gaps. At various stages, Vikram stopped to sip tea, the strain of the new information evident on his face as well as the retelling of the old scandal. Vikram, as he told his side of the story, was a gracious and kind man, very particular in his telling, fair even when Violet’s name came up in the mix.
“I believe your father did not know of Violet’s scheming.”
“He says he didn’t, but who knows? Maybe he chose to ignore it, for his own reasons,” Emma said.
“Often the good person can never see the bad and that is as damaging as the bad man intent on doing wrong. Emma, I want to travel to Knockavanagh first thing in the morning. Will you come with us? We can go together.”
She hesitated, and Vikram, knowing the women in his household, felt she was holding back on something.
“Please Emma, don’t hold back. I can take everything. What else could cause pain? I am stronger than I look.”
Rosa, realising it was getting late, said, “Maybe we’ve heard enough for tonight. Tomorrow we can talk more.”
But Vikram was insistent. “Emma?”
She shuffled her feet as if she wanted to leave. Clenching her hands together, Emma spoke in a low voice.
“There was a fire. I am sorry to tell you Grace died in a fire at the asylum.” Emma, after blurting it out, felt her throat dry. Her face was swollen with tears.
Vikram let out a cry and fisted the coffee table hard so that people sitting nearby looked at them. Rosa put her face in her hands and began to sob.
Vikram reached out to his two daughters when he saw the raw grief in their faces. For now, he set aside his own pain and loss.
“What is another boulder on our shoulders? We are strong enough to carry them all, if we carry them together,” he whispered, patting their heads as if they were children once again.
Even now, he thought, he was a lucky man: the father of two fine women. They were the same height, had the same softness in the eyes, their voices the same pitch. Their skin colour was different, but in everything else they were as one.
After a few minutes, he tapped gently on the coffee table to make an announcement.
“We will travel together tomorrow to visit the grave. I want to stand with our daughters on either side of me to pay our respects to the woman I loved all my life, your mother.”
The two girls, both wiping their eyes, nodded, unable to say anything more.