Mediterranean Rebel's Bride

by Lucy Gordon

  ‘Go on,’ he said.

  Polly took a shaky breath.

  ‘She was living in Yorkshire, in what George grandly called Ranley Manor, while I lived in south London, near the hospital where I worked. One evening she turned up at my door, holding Matti. George had thrown her out and I was the only close relative she had. That night she only told me that Matti wasn’t George’s child. The rest came later. At first we were quite happy. She was a good cook, and I ate better than I’d done for ages. Then she told me that she was “a little worried” about a symptom. I knew the truth straight away. I rushed her to the doctor but she’d already delayed too long. We explained that she needed treatment, but not how bad things were. She couldn’t have borne to know the worst just then.

  ‘The hospital did everything possible, but it was too late. She wouldn’t give up hope. She’d say, “I’m getting better, Pol. I really am.” The hardest thing—’ She stopped, because the memory that was coming towards her was horrible. She couldn’t face it. She could only flee in dread.

  ‘What was the hardest thing?’

  ‘No, it—it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Yes, it does,’ he said softly. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘Please don’t ask me to,’ she wept.

  ‘Polly, you’ve got to deal with it, or it’ll fester inside and poison you.’

  ‘I can’t—’

  ‘Yes, you can—while I’m keeping you safe.’

  He bent his head and kissed her tumbled hair.

  ‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘Tell me now.’

  ‘She trusted me so much because I was a nurse. She’d say, “I’m all right with you, aren’t I, Pol? You’re a nurse, you won’t let me die.” She’d make me keep saying it, because if I said it she knew it was true. I didn’t know what to do—’

  ‘But you said it, didn’t you?’ he said sombrely. ‘You said what she wanted to hear.’

  ‘I had to,’ she said passionately. ‘I didn’t care if it was true as long as it gave her a little peace, and I lied and lied and lied.’

  ‘Of course. You couldn’t have done anything else. Did she believe you?’

  ‘For a while. But in the end she knew, and I could see the fear growing in her eyes. At night she used to sob in my arms. By day she’d put on her bright smile and play with Matti. She was a good mother to him. She liked nothing better than to be with him, playing with him, and when she was too weak to play talking to him. That’s why he started talking so soon.’

  She drew back a little.

  ‘I’ve told you the worst of her, but you should know the best too. She was a brilliant mother, and he’ll always have that—the knowledge that his mother liked his company best in all the world. That’s why her death is so terrible for him. He knows he’s lost the loveliest thing he ever had.’ She added, almost pleading, ‘You should understand that feeling because you feel it too.’

  ‘Not any longer.’

  ‘But for him it’s true, and it always will be.’

  ‘What happened at the end?’ he asked, not answering her directly.

  ‘She had to go into hospital for the last three weeks. I’d take Matti in, and we’d spend as much time together as we could. When she died I took her back to Yorkshire, to be buried with her parents.’

  ‘And then you came here?’

  ‘Not at first. Matti and I went home, locked the door and stayed there for a couple of weeks. During that time I read the letter that gave me a rough idea where to find you.’ A shudder went through her. ‘I thought I had everything under control, and then suddenly—’

  ‘It hit you out of the blue,’ he said softly. ‘When that happens it’s terrifying, especially if you’re a person who likes to be in control.’

  ‘I guess you could say that about both of us,’ she murmured.

  ‘Yes, and it’s worse for us because we’ve got no practice in being helpless,’ he said with a touch of grim humour, adding, ‘Although I may be learning.’

  She gave a choke of laughter

  ‘That’s better,’ he said, holding her face between his hands. ‘No, you’re not really laughing, are you? You’ve borne too much alone, but you’re not alone now. I’m here, and I understand you as nobody else does—just as you understand me as nobody else does or ever will. We’re a great team.’

  She tried to smile, but it came out wonky. The sight touched him painfully, and he drew her closer, kissing her cheeks, her eyes, her lips, thinking of nothing except consoling her.

  Polly remained still in his hands, feeling the light touch of his lips with the force of a thunderclap.

  ‘Out of the blue,’ he’d said. ‘Terrifying—’

  His words had been strangely prophetic. There’d been no warning of this, no time to steel herself against temptation and the shock of desire. She could only sit there, helpless in his hands, a prey to the sweetest feelings she had ever known, while he kissed her as if oblivious to what he was doing.

  She wasn’t sure whether he tilted her face further towards him or whether she raised it herself, but his lips found hers and lay against them. For a moment her breath seemed to stop. There was something almost terrifying about being given something she wanted so much—like being transported to heaven without warning.

  He kissed her again and again, while her heart pounded and she tried to think. But thinking was impossible. She wanted to move against him, to fit her head against his shoulder and let her lips caress his. Above all she wanted to entice him to explore her, as she longed to explore him.

  Then perhaps they could lie back in each other’s arms, neither quite knowing who’d made the first move, side by side, inciting each other to pleasure.

  She wanted everything. Not just the love of his body but the love of his heart. And that she couldn’t have. He’d offered friendship, but that was all. He was way out of reach and she would be foolish to read anything into this sweet moment. But it was hard when she wanted him so badly, and she could feel herself weakening. In another moment she would hurl caution to the winds and tell him she was his.

  And then she would die of shame.

  That thought gave her the strength to press her hand against him, making him raise his head and study her face, frowning.

  ‘I’m fine now—honestly,’ she said.

  ‘You don’t look fine,’ he said gently. ‘You look as if you’re collapsing inside.’

  She couldn’t answer, only gave him a shaky smile. She tried to speak, to say wise and virtuous words about being sensible and stopping now. But they wouldn’t come, and he drew her close again.

  This time it was different. As his mouth touched hers again she knew she had no more strength. She could never make herself put a distance between them because she could never make herself want to.

  There was a grunt from the cot.

  She felt the breath go out of him. He tensed and looked up. The little cry came again.

  The moment was over. She rose and went to Matti, not lifting him but leaning over and stroking his cheek until he quietened down.

  Ruggiero watched them for a moment, then slipped quietly out of the room without speaking.

  Polly awoke to find herself alone and the crib empty. Looking out of the window, she saw Hope and Minnie down in the garden, taking it in turns to spoon breakfast into Matti’s mouth.

  She was glad of the chance to think. Last night ideas and sensations had chased themselves around her brain in an endless circle that started and finished in the same place—with the feel of his lips on hers.

  Out of it all only one thing was clear. Twice she’d come to the edge of betraying herself, and now she must recover lost ground. The chaos inside her must remain her secret.

  By the time she went down for breakfast she had her mask securely in place. But it was needless. There was no sign of him.

  ‘There you are,’ Hope called, coming in from the garden. She was followed by Minnie, carrying the child.

  ‘I crept in to take him so that you could sleep longe
r,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, I saw you out of the window.’

  They settled on the terrace with coffee and rolls. Matti was completely recovered, shouting cheerfully at the top of his voice.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Hope wanted to know.

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry for all the commotion.’

  ‘Don’t apologise. I just hope Ruggiero looked after you properly.’

  ‘Oh, yes, he did.’ After a moment she’d recovered her composure enough to say, ‘Is he around?’

  ‘He left for work. He’ll be back tonight for supper.’

  Glad to get away from her, she thought. It would be embarrassing for them to see each other too soon.

  Toni appeared and greeted them. Matti waved his arms and made a sound that might, with a little imagination, be understood as, ‘buongiorno’.

  ‘He’s becoming bilingual already,’ Toni said in delight.

  ‘When I’ve gone he’ll forget all his English,’ Polly said.

  ‘Not in this house,’ declared Hope, patting her hand. ‘That I would never allow. But you’re not going for a long time yet. Don’t tell me Brian is causing trouble? Let me talk to him and explain.’

  ‘Oh, no—he’s fine about everything.’

  ‘Good, then it’s settled. You’ll stay a while yet.’

  It had a pleasant sound. If only she could be sure that Ruggiero hadn’t left early to avoid her.

  The suspicion increased that evening, when he was late, arriving halfway through the meal and including her in a general greeting. Afterwards he spent most of his time talking to Luke and Minnie, which was only courteous as they were leaving next day, but Polly couldn’t help feeling that there was another reason.

  She wondered if she was getting paranoid. It might have been only her fancy that when their eyes happened to meet he looked away quickly. Or it might not.

  When it was Matti’s bedtime everyone came upstairs. Hope bathed him, but then Toni, who’d been watching with a gentle smile on his face, stepped forward.

  ‘He wants his nonno to put him to bed,’ he said, speaking English but using the Italian word for grandfather. ‘That’s right, isn’t it?’ he asked the tot. ‘Because Nonno’s your favourite.’ In a confiding voice he added to Polly, ‘He told me that. Mind you, I think he tells everyone the same.’

  ‘I think he does,’ she agreed, laughing.

  With practised hands he fitted Matti’s nappy onto him, eased him into his night suit and laid him gently into the cot. Hope and Ruggiero were standing just inside the room, watching and enjoying the sight of Toni, completely happy.

  ‘Buona notte, piccino,’ he said. ‘Buona notte.’

  Everyone waited hopefully.

  ‘Say it,’ Toni pleaded. ‘You managed buongiorno this morning.’

  Matti merely gurgled.

  ‘Goodnight, my little one,’ Toni chuckled.

  From his pocket he produced a small furry toy, which he tucked into the bed under Matti’s hand.

  ‘He used to say hallo,’ Polly observed, smiling. ‘It was the first word he managed. Now he says ciao!’’

  ‘He learns very quickly,’ Hope said.

  ‘Of course,’ Ruggiero said in mock offence. ‘He’s my son. What else would you expect?’

  He followed his father forward to kiss the child, looked at him for a moment, then left.

  Minnie announced that she was going to bed, ready for an early start in the morning. There was a round of ‘goodnights’ and Ruggiero drifted away with the other men.

  At last only Hope was left alone in the room with Polly. She was peering at the little toy that Toni had left there.

  ‘Toni’s really happy, isn’t he?’ Polly observed. ‘I don’t know when I’ve seen a man who doted so much on a child.’

  Hope nodded. ‘And his happiness makes me happy too,’ she said. ‘Little Matti has a special meaning for him.’

  ‘Yes, Ruggiero told me that only he and Carlo are Toni’s sons, and that Carlo is unlikely to have children because of his wife’s health.’

  ‘There’s time for Ruggiero to have others,’ Polly said.

  ‘But will he? What does he tell you? Can he fall in love again?’

  ‘Maybe. Or perhaps he’ll have to find another kind of love—more contented but less glorious. And that could be hard. How could you be sure that—? How would you know that the time had come to give up hoping, and try to live without hi—the other person?’

  ‘It’s possible,’ Hope said, watching her. ‘If there has to be a parting, it helps if you know you’re doing what is best for him. But be quite certain that all hope is lost. Don’t give up without a fight. Now, cara, I must go to bed.’ She kissed Polly’s cheek. ‘Don’t stay up late.’

  Ruggiero was late home again the next evening, and would have missed Matti’s bedtime if Polly hadn’t unaccountably forgotten all about it. It was Toni who remembered, and asked if they shouldn’t be moving.

  ‘There’s no rush,’ Polly said. ‘He seems to be sleeping happily in your arms, so he won’t lose anything if he stays up until his father comes home.’

  Toni and Hope’s eyes met, and a glance of understanding passed between them.

  ‘You’re a wise woman,’ Hope said.

  She didn’t expand on this, but the warm approval in her voice was enough to remind Polly of the marriage joke from before, and she become self-conscious. It was clear that the Rinucci family was mounting a take-over bid for her—which would have been delightful if Ruggiero himself had wanted the same. But she was in confusion about what he wanted from her, and even what she wanted from him.

  Could she marry him and live as second-best while another woman still held first place? She had a feeling that the question was growing dangerously near.

  At last she heard his car arrive and went out to meet him.

  ‘Matti was just complaining that you weren’t here to put him to bed,’ she called.

  ‘Really? With the rest of you dancing attendance he actually noticed that I was missing?’ he asked lightly.

  Reinforcements appeared in the shape of Hope, with Toni and Matti behind her.

  ‘At last,’ Hope said.

  ‘I’ve been away from work too long, and I have vital stuff to catch up with,’ he said, a tad defensively.

  ‘You have vital work here, with your son,’ his mother said firmly. ‘Get on with it and stop shilly-shallying.’

  ‘Yes, Mamma. No, Mamma.’

  ‘And don’t be cheeky.’ She bustled inside before he could answer.

  ‘Will you please tell Mamma that I’m thirty-one, and grown-up now?’ Ruggiero demanded wrathfully of his father.

  ‘When you grow up, I’ll tell her,’ Toni promised. ‘Now, take care of your son.’

  Polly stayed back while Ruggiero put Matti to bed, watching but not interfering. He did everything properly now, including giving the child a final hug, tucking him up and kissing his cheek.

  But she knew that something still hadn’t fallen into place. He was like an actor who’d learned the lines and played the role perfectly, but his heart was missing.

  She’d expected him to avoid the subject, but when he joined her in the garden later that night he surprised her by going straight to it.

  ‘I’m still making a mess of it,’ he said, coming to sit beside her on the porch step and sounding frustrated. ‘Why? Tell me.’

  ‘You’re being too businesslike,’ she said gently. ‘And he knows. You can’t fool him.’

  ‘There must be a way to get it right.’

  ‘There isn’t one right way. There’s a dozen. And you can’t find them. You have to let them find you. It’ll creep up on you, and then suddenly you’ll realise that this is what works for you and him.’

  He made a wry face, full of self-condemnation.

  ‘That sounds easy, but it just doesn’t happen.’

  ‘You’re trying too hard—watching yourself all the time to see if you’ve got it right, watching him to see if he’s
reacting as you want. Stop ticking boxes and let him show you the way.’

  ‘I was hoping you’d show me the way.’

  She shook her head. ‘He’s a much better guide than I am. He’s such a warm-hearted little thing. He’ll love you if you let him.’

  ‘Maybe that’s my problem. I’m no good with love—of any kind. I get confused. Why don’t you give up on me? I’m a lost cause.’

  ‘Basta!’ she said, aiming a mock punch at his good shoulder. ‘Enough, all right?’

  ‘We’ll make an Italian of you yet.’

  ‘Yeah, sure. Basta is my one Italian word, and that’s only because Matti has latched onto it. You should try saying it to him. He won’t take any notice, any more than you would, but you’ll be on each other’s wavelength in no time.’

  ‘I’ll make a note.’

  ‘Don’t make a note,’ she said, tearing her hair. ‘He’s not an item on your works schedule.’ She took a deep breath, conscious of him giving her a quizzical look that was unsettling. ‘I’ll make things go right for you two or die in the attempt.’

  He gave a laugh. ‘Don’t do that. How would I manage without you?’

  ‘You’re going to have to one day.’

  ‘Yes, I am, aren’t I?’ he said, sounding almost as though he’d just discovered it. ‘It just seems so natural, you being here—’

  Ruggiero shook his head, puzzled at himself.

  ‘I’ve never relied on anyone before. When I was a little kid, just learning to walk, holding onto an adult, I used to snatch my hand away at the first chance because I had to do it alone. Of course I fell flat more often than not. Carlo was the clever one. He’d hold on until he was quite sure. But I had to kick the world in the teeth to show I didn’t need anyone’s help.’

  ‘Even then?’ she murmured, teasing.

  ‘Even then. But with you it’s always felt right. The day we met I was clinging to you for safety, even though I didn’t know it.’

  ‘In between pushing me away,’ she agreed, smiling.

  He grinned. ‘I sent you flying with a great clout, didn’t I?’

  ‘Yes, I seem to remember you did!’