by Lucy Gordon
‘Take your hands off me at once, Bernardo, and never dare to do that again.’
‘You can’t go on alone,’ he said emphatically.
‘Then you can drive behind me. But please stay where I don’t have to look at you.’
He had no choice but to do it her way. Moving at her pace he had time to notice the interest she aroused, the workers who stopped in the fields to watch her pass, but without the friendly greetings they would once have given her. There was something eerie about their silent curiosity.
In the first house she went to it was much the same. Her patient was a very old woman, desperately ill and moving towards the end of her life. Thanks to Angie she was doing so peacefully and mostly without pain. Her family were grateful and showed it by treating the doctor with courtesy, but their manner was shadowed by reserve. Bernardo’s appearance evidently surprised them, making them nudge each other and exchange significant looks.
The second visit was to a young couple where the wife was having a difficult pregnancy. They were worried because their first child had been born with a facial deformity. Bernardo had seen the little girl once, for her parents kept her hidden and at six years old she was very shy. But she ran out as soon as Angie arrived, bouncing with excitement and evidently considering her a friend.
When Angie was packing her bag a strange thing happened. The wife suddenly threw her arms about her and gave her a big hug. Then she drew back and smiled into her face.
‘Amicu,’ she said. Friend.
There was a touch of defiance in her manner, as though she felt the need to declare her friendship before a critical world.
‘Where have you left your car?’ Bernardo asked as they left the house.
‘It’s at home. For trips like this I take Jason all the way. Benito stables him for me with his own mules.’
‘And what about the danger?’
‘There’s never been any danger.’
‘Don’t tell me those lads weren’t threatening you.’
‘Not openly, but they weren’t being nice.’
‘Right. I’m coming home with you, and we have to talk.’
‘I don’t think so.’
He ground his teeth. ‘Have supper with me.’
‘No, thank you.’
‘Then I’ll come to you.’
‘I haven’t invited you to supper. Good day to you, signore.’
She hopped nimbly onto Jason’s back and trotted away. Bernardo cursed but he didn’t make the mistake of following her.
Two patients to go, she thought as she neared the end of evening surgery. Her back was aching and she was tired after the heavy day. Not long now, then she could put her feet up.
But when she looked out into the waiting room she found another presence. Bernardo glanced up and met her eyes, his own challenging, telling her she couldn’t avoid him.
At last she waved off the last patient and locked her door, knowing that she couldn’t avoid this confrontation any longer. She would have liked to put it off because she didn’t know what she was going to say to him. When he’d appeared out of nowhere that afternoon her heart had leapt unreasonably. But she’d controlled her momentary joy, telling herself it meant nothing. She was simply relieved that he’d come to rescue her. Apart from that, she was hollow inside. That was what she tried to believe.
And now here he was, looking so exactly as she’d pictured him that it was as though her anguished dreams had come to life. For two months she’d battled against despair, one moment hardening her heart against him, the next moment telling herself not to become hard because she couldn’t afford to.
There were the nights when she’d cried herself to sleep, and the nights when she’d slept like a stone from the moment her head touched the pillow, because she’d worked herself into the ground. But no matter how long or how deeply she slept she always awoke feeling as though she’d been dredged up from the bottom of a deep pit. She grew so used to waking up feeling bad that at first she missed the signs that matters had changed irrevocably.
It was almost comical, she thought without amusement. She, a doctor, to be caught so easily. Seduced and abandoned like some idiotic Victorian maiden without knowledge or common sense.
And now he was here, and she didn’t know what she wanted to say to him.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked quietly.
‘Yes, everything’s fine with me. Can I offer you some coffee?’ She went into the kitchen without waiting for his answer. ‘And something to eat?’ She was looking in her freezer.
‘No, thank you.’
‘It’s no trouble.’ She was still rummaging, not looking at him.
‘Will you leave that for a moment and talk to me?’ he demanded.
‘Talking to you is dangerous, Bernardo. We talked two months ago, remember?’
He drew a sharp breath. ‘I went because I couldn’t bear to stay.’
‘Thank you!’
‘You don’t understand-perhaps I was wrong to go, but it seemed the best for both of us.’
‘And so you sent Bondini to buy me out.’
‘Lorenzo told me how he behaved. I never meant him to bully you. I’ve seen him since and made him sorry. He won’t be back.’
He waited for her to answer but she was busy with supper.
‘Lorenzo told me something else too,’ he said at last.
‘Lorenzo seems to have been busy.’
‘He’s my-my brother. He cares about us.’
‘Yes,’ she said in a softened voice. ‘He came to see how I was, and then he got word to you. He’s a kind man.’ She glanced up suddenly, taking him by surprise. ‘Not like you.’
‘You know what I am,’ he said harshly. ‘I’m a devil. I can’t help myself. You should have avoided me when you had the chance. But you can’t avoid me now.’
‘Now? What’s so different about now, Bernardo?’
‘You mean-you’re not-?’
‘Pregnant? Yes, I am. I’m carrying your child. But nothing’s changed.’ She faced him. ‘Do you understand that? Nothing.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘N OTHING’S changed,’ she repeated when he didn’t answer.
‘You can’t say that,’ he said flatly. ‘Everything has changed.’
She tried to turn away but he took hold of her shoulders and kept her facing him. Even with such slight contact, the remembered feel of her body unnerved him, and he kept his hands there, sensing her warmth through her shirt. If she’d shown the slightest sign of softening he would have drawn her into his arms and kissed her ardently. And then, even he, who was uneasy with words, would have tried to tell her of the bittersweet happiness that had possessed him ever since he’d suspected that she was to bear his child. He was an old-fashioned man and, above all, a Sicilian. To create a child with the beloved woman was a joy that wiped out all else, making old fears and torments at least manageable. He couldn’t have expressed these things, but he would have done his awkward best if he’d seen anything in her face to encourage him. But there was nothing, and his heart sank.
‘Everything has changed,’ he repeated, like a man trying to convince himself.
The buzzer on the microwave sounded, and she drew away from him. ‘Well, one thing has altered,’ she conceded. ‘The people here don’t know what to make of me any more. They got used to my foreign tongue and my new-fangled ways and they closed their eyes to my reprehensible trousers. But now,’ she added lightly, ‘I think a few of them feel I may have gone just a little too far.’
It was when she talked like this that he felt all at sea. Colourful dramatics he could have coped with, but ironic English understatement left him floundering. Only one thing got through to him with the force of a punch in the stomach. She, not he, was master of this situation.
‘Are they treating you badly?’ he asked, recalling the curious looks she’d received that afternoon.
‘Not really. I’m not showing yet and they’re not certain. But they look at me and wonder.�
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‘But how did the rumour start at all, so soon?’
‘Mother Francesca knows, and Sister Elvira came in suddenly last week, while we were talking. I remembered afterwards that Sister Elvira is a cousin of Nico Sartone.’
‘That explains everything.’
‘Yes, he must be thrilled to have a weapon against me at last. I could strangle that man. He doesn’t care whom he hurts as long as he can get back at me. People who need my help are slowly becoming nervous of asking for it in case their neighbours disapprove. Not all of them, though. He thought he could turn the whole town against me, and he was wrong.’
‘Yes, it’ll be a pleasure to wipe the smile off his face,’ Bernardo growled.
‘How are you going to do that?’
He frowned. ‘We are going to do it.’
‘How?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’
‘Not to me,’ Angie said stubbornly.
He stared at her. ‘The sooner our marriage takes place the better.’
There. It had happened. He wanted to marry her. But there was no surge of gladness such as should have blessed this moment. Instead, the other self-the awkward one who had to make everything difficult, and whom Bernardo could evoke in her with fatal ease-became not merely indignant but stubborn. Just who did he think he was?
‘Us? Get married?’ she echoed, as though experimenting with a new language. ‘Why would we do that?’
He was floundering again. Angie’s eyes were full of a cool, faintly hostile, appraisal that baffled him. ‘Because we are having a baby,’ he said.
‘We’re not doing anything. I’m having a baby. Oh, you fathered it biologically, but no part of it has been yours since you upped and left the next morning, without a word.’
‘I was wrong to do that, and I’m sorry. I should have thought of this-I suppose I just assumed that, since you were a doctor-’
‘Stop! Don’t say any more. You’re making it worse with every word. You blame yourself for not thinking I might get pregnant, but not for the way you hurt me. Have you any idea what it did to me to wake and find you gone? And that charming little note-“little” being the operative word. Was that really all I deserved?’
He reddened. ‘I’m not good with words-’
‘You’re all right with words, Bernardo. It’s feelings you’re no good at. You wouldn’t marry me for love, but now I’m a brood mare, that’s different, isn’t it?’
He tore his hair. ‘All I meant was-your pregnancy seems to solve the problems.’
She regarded him in pity. ‘I said you were no good with feelings and you’ve just proved it. If I married you for such a reason our problems would just be beginning. I would gladly have married you for love, but I don’t want a man who feels I contrived a child to trap him. Without love, the deal’s off.’
The bitter words seemed to be coming out of their own accord. Part of her longed to bite them back and fall into his arms. He wanted to marry her. No matter how it had come about, wouldn’t a sensible woman take what she could and build on it?
But the ‘other’ Angie wasn’t a sensible woman. She was an awkward, prickly, troublesome creature who reacted like a hedgehog when her pride was affronted. She was the one who’d jumped at Baptista’s suggestion of coming out here, and she wouldn’t be banished back into her box now she’d served her purpose.
So now she was the one who regarded Bernardo out of furious eyes and said, ‘Marry you? What do you think I am?’
‘I don’t understand anything you say. You’ve won, isn’t that enough?’
‘No, it’s not enough. We’re further apart now than before you mentioned marriage because if you think I’ve “won” then you believe you’ve lost. I didn’t even realise we were fighting. I thought we were trying to find the way to each other. And that night-’ her voice shook as memories came back to her, but she controlled it and kept her distance ‘-after that night, it almost seemed as if we’d found the way. You told me what was troubling you. All right, maybe I pushed too hard, but you might have trusted my love.
‘But I forgot, you can’t cope with someone who loves you because it means coming close.’ Tears were sliding down her cheeks, but she ignored them, speaking softly and with heartbreak. ‘You’ve spent the last twenty years rejecting anyone who tried to get near you, and now you can’t see a pair of open arms without turning your back. So go ahead, turn it again. My arms aren’t even open any more, because there’s no point.’
‘You don’t really mean that,’ he said quietly.
‘You think not? Why shouldn’t I? Remember what you said in your note? “I only know how to give pain.” It was true, but I was too stupid to realise it. We should have stayed strangers.’
‘We can never be strangers again,’ he said quietly.
‘Why, because I’m having your child?’
‘Not only that. Because of things we can’t forget. I’ve tried to forget them, tried night after night to blot out everything you are to me, but I can’t do it. If this hadn’t happened I was coming back anyway to beg your forgiveness and ask to start again.’
‘Words,’ she said with a sigh.
‘Meaning that you don’t believe me?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said huskily. ‘I only know that it’s too late for words. I once wanted to marry you so much. Now I know that marrying you would be fatal. Please Bernardo, just go away.’
‘I’ll go, but it isn’t final. Nothing has been settled tonight. I won’t give you up so easily.’
She watched as he went to the door and gave her one look before departing. She dried her tears and found that she was simply too tired to feel anything. The emotions they’d shared that night should have wrung her out, but they didn’t because she was already wrung out. All she could think of was getting to bed, going to sleep, and not having to think or feel anything, ever again.
She knew now that the problems she faced with the town would get worse, and they did. There wasn’t a soul in Montedoro who didn’t know that Bernardo was the father of her child, but they’d suspended judgement until he returned.
‘They were so sure he was going to “make an honest woman” of me,’ Angie said bitterly to Heather, who came to call, full of concern.
‘You mean he isn’t?’
‘Oh, he wants to. It’s me that won’t make an honest man of him.’
‘You two have got yourself in a pickle, haven’t you? It’s the sort of situation that needs Baptista to sort it out, like she did for me.’ Heather patted her own pregnancy bump. She was three months ahead of Angie, who didn’t show at all as yet.
‘I don’t think even Baptista could do much with this situation,’ Angie said wryly.
‘Not unless Bernardo asked her,’ Heather agreed. ‘And he won’t do that. You know what he’s like.’
As the town realised that Bernardo’s return didn’t herald an immediate marriage they began to look uneasily at Angie. She was too popular to be totally condemned, but now nobody knew what to make of her. Bernardo had said he wasn’t giving up, but he too seemed to keep his distance, until the night she returned late from being called out, and found him leaning against her front door. Too tired to argue, she let him in.
‘Where is Ginetta?’ he asked, looking around at the empty house.
‘Her mother forced her to stop working for me.’
He remembered suddenly how his mother’s servants had all been middle-aged. No mother would let her daughter work for the town prostituta.
‘Then you should have got a replacement,’ he said. ‘It’s too much for you to do all on your own.’
‘I’m not alone. One or two of the nuns drop in to help me. They’ve been wonderful. But some of the others-’ he thought she sighed a little ‘-won’t come near me now.’
‘We are not like other people,’ Marta had said to her son. ‘We are set apart because of your father. There are those in this town who will never come near me. You-yes. Me-no.’
Now he tr
ied to remember if anyone had shunned him as an unmarried father, and he couldn’t. It was she who was shunned, even if not wholly, because these people knew that they needed her. They would take from her, but not give to her. Rage consumed him, and it made him cruel.
‘Why should that worry you?’ he asked coldly. ‘You don’t depend on this for your bread.’
He was ashamed before the words were out of his mouth. A sick, weary look washed over her face as she said, ‘That’s true.’
‘Forgive me,’ he said gently. When she didn’t answer he went on his knees beside her and took her hands. ‘Forgive me. I should never have spoken to you like that.’
She smiled, but he knew she was still withdrawn from him. ‘I’ll make you something to eat,’ he said.
‘I don’t really-’
‘You will eat it,’ he said firmly. ‘You must keep up your strength. And perhaps-’ he laid his hand briefly on her shoulder ‘-perhaps you will also do it to please me.’
In another moment she would have rested her cheek on his hand, but it was gone before she could move.
She heard dishes clattering in her little kitchen and soon delicious smells began to waft towards her. Of course Bernardo could cook, she thought. It was all part of his determination to need nobody else. Right now she was glad of it.
She began to remove her outdoor clothes, and he was there at once, taking them from her and hanging them up. He neither smiled nor uttered pleasant words, but his hands were as gentle as they were firm. When they were finished he said, ‘Sit down.’
‘Let me lay the table.’
‘I will lay the table. You will do as you are told.’
It was blissful to be waited on. She sat in sleepy content while he spread the checked cloth on the little table, set out knives and forks, salt, pepper, plates and wine glasses.
‘No wine for me,’ Angie said. ‘Not while I’m pregnant.’
‘What do you drink?’
‘Tea. You’ll find it in the container over there.’
He served up pasta with sardines, which she found delicious. He ate with her but actually consumed very little as his eyes were mostly on her, to ensure that she ate every mouthful. When he wasn’t watching her he was darting to the stove to oversee the cooking of the meat-balls for the next dish. And he made the tea.