‘What happened?’
‘My stepmother and my sisters loathed me—I knew that from the instant I walked into the house.’
A house that must have felt so very alien to her, in a country that must have felt grey and cold and miserable.
‘In a nutshell, he pitched me into a Cinderella scenario. They treated me like I was an inferior being.’ She made a small exasperated noise. ‘It sounds stupid, because it is so difficult to explain, but they made me feel worthless. I ate separately from them, my clothes were bought from charity shops, while my half-sisters’ were new, I ended up with loads of extra chores so I could “earn my keep”, and there were constant put-downs, constant reminders that I was literally worthless.’ Another shrug. ‘It all sounds petty, but it made me feel like nothing—worse than invisible. I was visible, but what they could see made them shudder.’
‘It doesn’t sound petty—it sounds intolerable.’ Anger vibrated through him, along with disbelief that people could be so cruel. ‘Was your father involved in this?’
‘He was more of a bystander than a participant. He was away a lot on business. I did try to explain to him that I was unhappy, that I felt my stepmother didn’t like me, but he simply said that I must be imagining it or, worse, he would accuse me of base ingratitude. Which made me feel guilty and even more alone.’
No wonder Sunita found it hard to take people at their word. Her own father, who had promised to care for her, had instead treated her like muck and allowed others to do the same.
‘I’m sorry. I wish I could turn back time and intervene.’
‘You can’t change the past. And even if you could perhaps the outcome would be worse. Because in the past I got out, I escaped, and I’ve come to terms with what happened. I can even understand a little why my stepmother acted as she did. She was landed with a strange girl—the daughter of a woman her husband had been unfaithful with, the woman who probably was the love of his life. The gossip and speculation in the community must have been beyond humiliating for her and my half-sisters. So they turned all that anger and humiliation on to me.’
‘That doesn’t excuse their behaviour, or explain your father’s.’
‘I think my father was weak and he felt guilty. Guilty over the way he’d treated my mother...guilty that he had betrayed his wife in the first place. And that guilt translated into doing anything for a quiet life. That worked in my favour later on. I got scouted by a model agency when I was sixteen and my father agreed to let me leave home—my stepmother was happy to see me go, sure I’d join the ranks of failed wannabes, so she agreed. I never looked back and I never went back. I never saw them again. The second I could, I sent my father a cheque to cover any costs he might have incurred over the years. As far as I am concerned we are quits. I don’t even know where he is.’
So much made sense to Frederick now—her lack of trust, her fears over Amil, her need to be in control. Admiration burned within him that she had achieved so much, was such an amazing parent herself.
These were all the things he wanted to say, but didn’t quite know how. So instead he did what he had promised himself he wouldn’t do and he kissed her—right there in the middle of the rainforest, with the smell of the monsoon in the air, and the pounding of the waterfall in the distance. He kissed her as if his life and soul depended on it.
Her resistance was brief—a nanosecond of surprise—and then, as if she too were tired of words, of this walk down a memory lane that was lined with sadness, her resistance melted away and her lips parted beneath his.
He tasted the sweet chili tang left by the sandwiches and heard her soft moan. Their surroundings receded. The call of a hornbill, the rustle of the monkeys in the trees above all melted away and left only them, encased in a net of yearning and need and desire.
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