One moment she was there beside him, the next the steps had disappeared from under her feet and she was falling, tumbling end over end, hitting what seemed like every step until finally her head reached the tarmac and she crumpled on the ground in a heap.
Her scream was cut off abruptly, and Massimo hurled himself down the steps to her side, his heart racing. No! Please, she couldn’t be dead…
She wasn’t. He could feel a pulse in her neck, and he let his breath out on a long, ragged sigh and sat back on his heels to assess her.
Stay calm, he told himself. She’s alive. She’ll be all right.
But he wouldn’t really believe it until she stirred, and even then…
‘Is she all right?’
He glanced up at Claire, kneeling on the other side of her, her face chalk white with fear.
‘I think so,’ he said, but he didn’t think any such thing. Fear was coursing through him, bringing bile rising to his throat. Why wasn’t she moving? This couldn’t be happening again.
Lydia moaned. Warm, hard fingers had searched for a pulse in her neck, and as she slowly came to, she heard him snap out something in Italian while she lay there, shocked and a little stunned, wondering if it was a good idea to open her eyes. Maybe not yet.
‘Lydia? Lydia, talk to me! Open your eyes.’
Her eyes opened slowly and she tried to sit up, but he pressed a hand to her shoulder.
‘Stay still. You might have a neck injury. Where do you hurt?’
Where didn’t she? She turned her head and winced. ‘Ow…my head, for a start. What happened? Did I trip? Oh, I can’t believe I was so stupid!’
‘You fell down the steps.’
‘I know that—ouch.’ She felt her head, and her hand came away bloodied and sticky. She stared at it. ‘I’ve cut myself,’ she said, and everything began to swim.
‘It’s OK, Lydia. You’ll be OK,’ Claire said, but her face was worried and suddenly everything began to hurt a whole lot more.
Massimo tucked his jacket gently beside her head to support it, just in case she had a neck injury. He wasn’t taking any chances on that, but it was the head injury that was worrying him the most, the graze on her forehead, just under her hair. How hard had she hit it? Hard enough to…
It was bleeding faster now, he realised with a wave of dread, a red streak appearing as she shifted slightly, and he stayed beside her on his knees, holding her hand and talking to her comfortingly in between snapping out instructions.
She heard the words ‘ambulanza’ and ‘ospedale’, and tried to move, wincing and whimpering with pain, but he held her still.
‘Don’t move. The ambulance is coming to take you to hospital.’
‘I don’t need to go to hospital, I’m fine, we need to get to the hotel!’
‘No,’ Massimo and Claire said in unison.
‘But the competition.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said flatly. ‘You’re hurt. You have to be checked out.’
‘I’ll go later.’
‘No.’ His voice was implacable, hard and cold and somehow strange, and Lydia looked at him and saw his skin was colourless and grey, his mouth pinched, his eyes veiled.
He obviously couldn’t stand the sight of blood, Lydia realised, and reached out her other hand to Claire.
She took it, then looked at Massimo. ‘I’ll look after her,’ she said. ‘You go, you’ve got lots to do. We’ll be all right.’
His eyes never left Lydia’s.
‘No. I’ll stay with you,’ he insisted, but he moved out of the way to give her space.
She looked so frail suddenly, lying there streaked with blood, the puffy layers of the dress rising up around her legs and making her look like a broken china doll.
Dio, he felt sick just looking at her, and her face swam, another face drifting over it. He shut his eyes tight, squeezing out the images of his wife, but they refused to fade.
Lydia tried to struggle up again. ‘I want to go to the hotel,’ she said to Claire, and his eyes snapped open again.
‘No way.’
‘He’s right. Don’t be silly. You just lie there and we’ll get you checked out, then we’ll go. There’s still plenty of time.’
But there might not be, she realised, as she lay there on the tarmac in her ridiculous charity shop wedding dress with blood seeping from her head wound, and as the minutes ticked by her joy slid slowly away…
CHAPTER TWO
THE ambulance came, and Claire went with Lydia.
He wanted to go with her himself, he felt he ought to, felt the weight of guilt and worry like an elephant on his chest, but it wasn’t his place to accompany her, so Claire went, and he followed in his car, having sent the rest of the team on with a message to his family that he’d been held up but would be with them as soon as he could.
He rang Luca on the way, in case he was there at the hospital in Siena that day as he sometimes was, and his phone was answered instantly.
‘Massimo, welcome home. Good flight?’
He nearly laughed. ‘No. Where are you? Which hospital?’
‘Siena. Why?’
He did laugh then. Or was it a sob of relief? ‘I’m on my way there. I gave two girls a lift in the plane, and one of them fell down the steps as we were disembarking. I’m following the ambulance. Luca, she’s got a head injury,’ he added, his heart pounding with dread, and he heard his brother suck in his breath.
‘I’ll meet you in the emergency department. She’ll be all right, Massimo. We’ll take care of her.’
He grunted agreement, switched off the phone and followed the ambulance, focusing on facts and crushing his fear and guilt down. It couldn’t happen again. Lightning didn’t strike twice, he told himself, and forced himself to follow the ambulance at a sensible distance while trying desperately to put Angelina firmly out of his mind…
* * *
Luca was waiting for him at the entrance.
He took the car away to park it and Massimo hovered by the ambulance as they unloaded Lydia and whisked her inside, Claire holding her hand and reassuring her. It didn’t sound as if it was working, because she kept fretting about the competition and insisting she was all right when anyone could see she was far from all right.
She was taken away, Claire with her, and he stayed in the waiting area, pacing restlessly and driving himself mad with his imagination of what was happening beyond the doors. His brother reappeared moments later and handed him the keys, giving him a keen look.
‘You all right?’
Hardly. ‘I’m fine,’ he said, his voice tight.
‘So how do you know this woman?’ Luca asked, and he filled him in quickly with the bare bones of the accident.
‘Oh—she’s wearing a wedding dress,’ he warned. ‘It’s a competition, a race to win a wedding.’
A race she’d lost. If only he’d taken her arm, or gone in front, she would have fallen against him, he could have saved her…
‘Luca, don’t let her die,’ he said urgently, fear clawing at him.
‘She won’t die,’ Luca promised, although how he could say that without knowing—well, he couldn’t. It was just a platitude, Massimo knew that.
‘Let me know how she is.’
Luca nodded and went off to investigate, leaving him there to wait, but he felt bile rise in his throat and got abruptly to his feet, pacing restles
sly again. How long could it take?
Hours, apparently, or at least it felt like it.
Luca reappeared with Claire.
‘They’re taking X-rays of her leg now but it looks like a sprained ankle. She’s just a little concussed and bruised from her fall, but the head injury doesn’t look serious,’ he said.
‘Nor did Angelina’s,’ he said, switching to Italian.
‘She’s not Angelina, Massimo. She’s not going to die of this.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Yes, I’m sure. She’s had a scan. She’s fine.’
It should have reassured him, but Massimo felt his heart still slamming against his ribs, the memories crowding him again.
‘She’s all right,’ Luca said quietly. ‘This isn’t the same.’
He nodded, but he just wanted to get out, to be away from the hospital in the fresh air. Not going to happen. He couldn’t leave Lydia, no matter how much he wanted to get away. And he could never get away from Angelina…
Luca took him to her.
She was lying on a trolley, and there was blood streaked all over the front of the hideous dress, but at least they’d taken her off the spinal board. ‘How are you?’ he asked, knowing the answer but having to ask anyway, and she turned her head and met his eyes, her own clouded with worry and pain.
‘I’m fine, they just want to watch me for a while. I’ve got some bumps and bruises, but nothing’s broken, I’m just sore and cross with myself and I want to go to the hotel and they won’t let me leave yet. I’m so sorry, Massimo, I’ve got Claire, you don’t need to wait here with me. It could be ages.’
‘I do.’ He didn’t explain, didn’t tell her what she didn’t need to know, what could only worry her. But he hadn’t taken Angelina’s head injury seriously. He’d assumed it was nothing. He hadn’t watched her, sat with her, checked her every few minutes. If he had—well, he hadn’t, but he was damned if he was leaving Lydia alone for a moment until he was sure she was all right.
Luca went back to work, and while the doctors checked her over again and strapped her ankle, Massimo found some coffee for him and Claire and they sat and drank it. Not a good idea. The caffeine shot was the last thing his racing pulse needed.
‘I need to make a call,’ Claire told him. ‘If I go just outside, can you come and get me if there’s any news?’
He nodded, watching her leave. She was probably phoning the radio station to tell them about Lydia’s accident. And she’d been so close to winning…
She came back, a wan smile on her face. ‘Jo’s there.’
‘Jo?’
‘The other contestant. Lydia’s lost the race. She’s going to be so upset. I can’t tell her yet.’
‘I think you should. She might stop fretting if it’s too late, let herself relax and get better.’
Claire gave a tiny, slightly hysterical laugh. ‘You don’t know her very well, do you?’
He smiled ruefully. ‘No. No, I don’t.’ And it was ridiculous that he minded the fact.
* * *
Lydia looked up as they went back in, and she scanned Claire’s face.
‘Did you ring the radio station?’
‘Yes.’
‘Has…’ She could hardly bring herself to ask the question, but she took another breath and tried again. ‘Has Jo got there yet?’ she asked, and then held her breath. It was possible she’d been unlucky, that she hadn’t managed to get a flight, that any one of a hundred things could have happened.
They hadn’t. She could see it in Claire’s eyes, she didn’t need to be told that Jo and Kate, her minder, were already there, and she felt the bitter sting of tears scald her eyes.
‘She’s there, isn’t she?’ she asked, just because she needed confirmation.
Claire nodded, and Lydia turned her head away, shutting her eyes against the tears. She was so, so cross with herself. They’d been so close to winning, and if she’d only been more careful, gathered up the stupid dress so she could see the steps.
She swallowed hard and looked back up at Claire’s worried face. ‘Tell her well done for me when you see her.’
‘I will, but you’ll see her, too. We’ve got rooms in the hotel for the night. I’ll ring them now, let them know what’s happening. We can go there when they discharge you.’
‘No, I could be ages. Why don’t you go, have a shower and something to eat, see the others and I’ll get them to ring you if there’s any change. Or better still, if you give me back my phone and my purse, I can call you and let you know when I’m leaving, and I’ll just get a taxi.’
‘I can’t leave you alone!’
‘She won’t be alone, I’ll stay with her. I’m staying anyway, whether you’re here or not,’ Massimo said firmly, and Lydia felt a curious sense of relief. Relief, and guilt.
And she could see the same emotions in Claire’s face. She was dithering, chewing her lip in hesitation, and Lydia took her hand and squeezed it.
‘There, you see? And his brother works here, so he’ll be able to pull strings. It’s fine, Claire. Just go. I’ll see you later.’ And she could get rid of Massimo once Claire had gone…
Claire gave in, reluctantly. ‘OK, if you insist. Here, your things. I’ll put them in your bag. Where is it?’
‘I have no idea. Is it under the bed?’
‘No. I haven’t seen it.’
‘It must have been left on the ground at the airport,’ Massimo said. ‘My men will have picked it up.’
‘Can you check? My passport’s in it.’
‘Sì.’ He left them briefly, and when he came back he confirmed it had been taken by the others. ‘I’ll make sure you get it tonight,’ he promised.
‘Thanks. Right, Claire, you go. I’m fine.’
‘You will call me and let me know what’s going on as soon as you have any news?’
‘Yes, I promise.’
Claire gave in, hugging Lydia a little tearfully before she left them.
Lydia swallowed. Damn. She was going to join in.
‘Hey, it’s all right. You’ll be OK.’
His voice was gentle, reassuring, and his touch on her cheek was oddly comforting. Her eyes filled again.
‘I’m causing everyone so much trouble.’
‘That’s life. Don’t worry about it. Are you going to tell your family?’
Oh, cripes. She ought to phone Jen, but she couldn’t. Not now. She didn’t think she could talk to her just yet.
‘Maybe later. I just feel so sleepy.’
‘So rest. I’ll sit with you.’
Sit with her and watch her. Do what he should have done years ago.
She shut her eyes, just for a moment, but when she opened them again he’d moved from her side. She felt a moment of panic, but then she saw him. He was standing a few feet away reading a poster about head injuries, his hands rammed in his pockets, tension radiating off him.
Funny, she’d thought it was because of the blood, but there was no sign of blood now apart from a dried streak on her dress. Maybe it was hospitals generally. Had Angelina been ill for a long time?
Or maybe hospitals just brought him out in hives. She could understand that. After Jen’s accident, she felt the same herself, and yet he was still here, still apparently labouring under some misguided sense of obligation.
He turned his head, saw she was awake and came back to her side, his dark eyes searching hers.
‘Are you all right?’
She nodded. ‘My head’s feeling clearer now. I need to ring Jen,’ she said quietly, and he sighed and cupped her cheek, his thumb smoothing away a tear she hadn’t realised she’d shed.
‘I’m sorry, cara. I know how much it meant to you to win
this for your sister.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said dismissively, although of course it would to Jen. ‘It was just a crazy idea. They can get married at home, it’s really not an issue. I really didn’t think I’d win anyway, so we haven’t lost anything.’
‘Claire said Jo’s been there for ages. She would probably have beaten you to it anyway,’ he said. ‘She must have got away very fast.’
She didn’t believe it. He was only trying to make it better, to take the sting out of it, but before she had time to argue the doctor came back in, checked her over and delivered her verdict.
Massimo translated.
‘You’re fine, you need to rest for a few days before you fly home, and you need watching overnight, but you’re free to go.’
She thanked the doctor, struggled up and swung her legs over the edge of the trolley, and paused for a moment, her head swimming.
‘All right?’
‘I’m fine. I need to call a taxi to take me to the hotel.’
‘I’ll give you a lift.’
‘I can’t take you out of your way! I’ve put you to enough trouble as it is. I can get a taxi. I’ll be fine.’
But as she slid off the edge of the trolley and straightened up, Massimo caught the sheen of tears in her eyes.
Whatever she’d said, the loss of this prize was tearing her apart for her sister, and he felt guilt wash over him yet again. Logically, he knew he had no obligation to her, no duty that extended any further than simply flying her to Siena as he’d promised. But somehow, somewhere along the way, things had changed and he could no more have left her there at the door of the hospital than he could have left one of his children. And they were waiting for him, had been waiting for him far too long, and guilt tugged at him again.
‘Ouch!’
‘You can’t walk on that ankle. Stay here.’
She stayed, wishing her flight bag was still with her instead of having been whisked away by his team. She could have done with changing out of the dress, but her comfy jeans and soft cotton top were in her bag, and she wanted to cry with frustration and disappointment and pain.
‘Here.’
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