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“Or Christina,” he says with meaning.
My curiosity piqued, I pick up the parcel. The weight isn’t heavy, but it’s substantial. I’m pretty damn sure Evie Warren was nowhere near a courier today. When I checked in with Tom this morning, he informed me the Warrens were having a wedding lunch at their property at the Vaal River. I also can’t fathom why Christina would send me anything. At the thought of her, my chest tightens.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Mateo asks, probably as curious as I am.
Tearing away the seal, I lift the lid to reveal layers of tissue paper. My mother’s engagement ring lies under the first layer. Something tears into my chest, something that feels a lot like regret. There’s more inside the box. I fold back the rest of the paper, and then time stops. In the center of the box sits the biggest diamond I’ve laid my eyes on. The color is so pure the stone seems otherworldly. I’ve seen it before. I know how the weight of it feels in my hand. It’s the diamond Warren had stolen from us.
CHAPTER 19
Christina
Six months later
The day is sweltering hot, the Cape Town sun blazing on my head as I carry a tray with empty glasses back to the bar. Despite only wearing a bikini top and cut off denim shorts, perspiration coats my skin. Flip-flops protect my feet from the sparkling white sand that gets burning hot at noon. The Llandudno beach is packed. It’s peak holiday season, which means big money in tips.
I weave my way around the towels and deck chairs spread out on the sand and deposit the tray on the counter. Eden is washing glasses in the shade under the thatch.
“It’s hot,” she says, wiping an arm over her brow. “Can I go for a swim?”
“Sure.” I smile. “Don’t go in too deep.”
She shakes soap bubbles from her hands, making music with the bangles on her wrists. “Can we have a barbecue, tonight?”
“I’ll go to the harbor after work to see if they have any catch of the day left.”
“Cool,” she says, stripping down her shorts and sprinting over the hot sand to the water.
Packing the dirty glasses in the sink, I keep one eye on her. She’s changed a lot in six months. My sister has always been independent from a young age—being at home alone so often, she didn’t have a choice—but her self-assurance is blooming. Since I dyed my hair back to my natural color, we look more like sisters. She’s only ten years younger than me, but people often ask if I’m her mother.
I suppose I grew old before my age. It’s not lines of ageing that people see on my face. On the outside, I still look youthful, but certain things leave invisible marks, marks that cloak us with the hefty experience that only comes with age.
We’re happy in Cape Town. Eden goes to school in Camps Bay, and I’m completing my matriculation in night school. During the day, I work in the bar. In winter, when the beaches run empty, I’m planning on working as a guide at the elephant park, which is popular with tourists in June and July.
I bought the bar on the beach with the money Tom gave me, knowing very well that the money came from Roman. It’s the only thing I took from him, well, except for the one night I stole in his bed. As for the rest, I prefer to pay my own way. It’s good to be independent. It makes me feel stronger. Every day, I’m getting a little better.
Tom relocated with his family to Australia. It took me a long time to convince him that I’ll be fine on my own. I’m grateful for what he’s done for me. In truth, having him around wasn’t easy. It brought back too many memories. I think that was what finally persuaded him to pack up and go, when he realized a small part of me will always despise him as much as I came to appreciate him.
I’m not sure if Eden and I will stay here forever. Mixing drinks is fun for now. Cape Town is beautiful. It’s much more laid back than Johannesburg. I never thought I’d miss the buzz of the economic capital, but Joburg is much like Africa. Once you have it in your blood, it becomes part of your roots. I miss the electrical thunderstorms and the smell of eucalyptus trees. I miss the diversity and the busy streets that pulse with life like veins through the city, but I don’t examine everything I miss too deeply. Some things are simply too painful to admit.
Making sure I still have a good view on Eden, who is surfing the waves, I take the rum from the shelf. When I turn from the fridge with the pineapple juice, my gaze falls on a man making his way down the steep path from the clifftop parking.
