“You go with Emily and have a better look inside. I’ll check out here. If Imelda’s upset, she might have gone somewhere quiet to be on her own.” Melanie headed off around the deserted half of the terrace, away from the lights and music.
Was that what she did when she was upset, spent time alone? There was so much Jack didn’t know about her, so much he wanted to know. She still hadn’t confided in him everything about her past, but he sensed it weighed heavily on her. If she didn’t tell him soon he would have to ask. Worrying about her was driving him nuts.
Jack went back inside. Emily was nowhere to be seen so he stood on tiptoe, looking for his mother’s blue feathery hat in the crowd. When he drew a blank, he searched the room, checking the tables and alcoves where people were eating and drinking. The music was louder now, pounding in his temples. Together with the heat and pushing bodies it gave him a headache.
Nobody he asked had seen his mother. Even Pip and Franco didn’t know where she was. A chill of premonition passed through Jack. This was bad, he just knew it. He went after Melanie to see if she’d had better luck. An external flight of stairs led up to the roof terrace. Jack climbed them and passed through an ornamental gate draped with vines.
A few people were coming out of a glass-walled lookout room artfully constructed along the seaward-facing side of the villa. Jack stood in the open doorway and let his eyes adjust to the dim light. Melanie was perched on the edge of a chair, leaning towards someone.
Jack’s heart leaped with hope. “Have you found her?”
“Oh, Jack. Thank goodness. Your mum’s here.”
Jack moved closer. His mother was slumped down in a large wicker chair, her hat askew.
“Look outside,” Melanie said.
The view through the huge plate glass window included the beach where he and Melanie had just been. His mother must have had a bird’s eye view of Marco up to his tricks.
“Mum, are you all right? Mum?” Jack gripped her shoulder and shook. “Come on, wake up. Time to go back to the hotel.” She flopped in his grip but didn’t make a sound. Fear slashed through him. Six empty glasses sat on the table beside her. “Christ, how much has she had to drink?”
A plastic blister pack lay on her lap. He held it up and squinted. “These are her sleeping tablets.”
“Let me see.” Melanie pulled the pack from his hand and took it closer to the light. “This is strong stuff. Even if she’s only taken a normal dose, combined with the alcohol it could be dangerous. We need to get her to a hospital immediately.”
“No!” Jack felt like he’d been sucker-punched. “What has that bloody Italian gigolo made her do?”
Melanie was at his side in an instant. She curved a hand around his neck and pulled his head down to hers, pressing their cheeks together. “Shh. It’ll be okay.” Jack closed his eyes, lost for a moment in the reassurance of her touch. Too soon she stepped away. “Don’t jump to conclusions. Your mum probably took them by mistake. It’s easy to get confused when you’ve been drinking.”
“How do you know she took any sleeping tablets? She might just be sozzled.”
“I’m being cautious,” Melanie said gently. “I recognize the capsules because I’ve taken them myself. I know how strong they are.”
“You’ve taken them?” Surprise, then shock chased through Jack. A question hung in the air between them, and he wanted an answer. What had happened to Melanie? But now was not the time for a heart-to-heart. Jack needed to call an ambulance. He fumbled in his jacket pocket for his phone but it didn’t have a signal.
Emily ran into the room, her husband close behind her. “Someone said there’s a sick woman up here.” She stumbled to a halt and put her hand over her mouth when she saw Jack’s mother.
Doug had been using his phone to check stock market prices earlier. He must have a signal. “Phone for an ambulance, Em. Mum might have accidentally mixed alcohol and sleeping tablets.”
Emily snatched the mobile phone from her husband. “For once I’m grateful you have this thing glued to your hand.”
Jack carried his mother downstairs with Doug’s help. The ambulance arrived and she was strapped onto a gurney. Jack glanced around for Melanie but she hung back as people gathered to gawp. With the paramedics hustling him to climb in, he didn’t have time to go to her. He dug the Ferrari keys from his pocket and tossed them out. They clattered to the ground at Melanie’s feet. “I’ll wait for you at the hospital in Naples. Collect my things from the hotel and meet me there.” As the door closed, he caught a last glimpse of her ashen face.
He kept out of the way as the paramedic worked on his mother, fixing an oxygen mask over her mouth and taking her blood pressure. Monitors beeped and Jack hung on as the vehicle raced around corners. He ran a hand over his face. What if she had mixed the sleeping tablets and alcohol on purpose? Would she abandon him like that? She’d done so much for him over the years, and all she’d asked of him was a few grandchildren.
At the thought of children, Melanie flowed back into his mind. She’d touched him when he was upset, comforted him. That almost meant more to him than the kiss. A painful mix of emotions swirled in his chest. Life was fragile, happiness even more so. He wanted Melanie in his life as more than a friend. He had to persuade her to trust her feelings and give him a chance.
* * *
The ambulance disappeared in the distance, the flashing lights blinking along the coast road long after the sound of the engine had faded.
Stooping, Melanie grabbed the car keys from the ground. She clutched them to her chest and Emily put an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry about the Ferrari. We’ll leave the keys with Pip. She can arrange for it to be picked up. We’ll take you back to the hotel to collect your things and then go to the hospital together.”
Melanie was relieved. She couldn’t have driven the sports car back to Naples, even if she were insured to drive it. Now Imelda was safely in the ambulance, Melanie’s legs were shaking so badly she could hardly walk.
Emily and her husband dropped Melanie outside her hotel and arranged to collect her in an hour. Feeling shell-shocked, she went to her room and packed her things in a daze. Clasping the key to Jack’s room like a talisman, she then rode the lift up to the next level.
His room was a little farther down the hall from the lift than hers. She unlocked the door, dropped her bag on the floor and glanced around, feeling as though she’d entered a forbidden sanctuary. The room was virtually the same as hers, except his bed linen was trimmed with cream lace instead of white, and the three paintings on the walls featured different Italian landscapes.
And the room smelled of Jack. A tender feeling unfurled inside her, leaving her chest tight and her breath barely there. What must he be feeling now? She didn’t want to care this much. She didn’t want to hurt for him as if their feelings were so entwined she couldn’t separate his pain from her own.
They were only friends. Nothing more. Yet her memory kept replaying the agonized look on his face when he saw Imelda slumped in the chair. The flash of vulnerability she’d seen in his eyes had overwhelmed her caution. She’d given in to the need to comfort him.
She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders before searching for his suitcase. Like her, Jack had only unpacked the clothes that needed to be hung up. His underwear was still neatly folded inside the bag. She took a mental step back and adopted the detached mode she used when she handled guests’ forgotten possessions during her hotel work.
With a quick efficiency born of long experience, she removed two shirts from hangers, buttoned, folded and packed them. Then zipped the jacket he’d worn on the flight yesterday into the suit carrier.
In the bathroom, she scooped up his toiletries from the tiled surface beside the basin and arranged them in the small waterproof bag. In the hotels where she’d worked, people often left sleepwear behind in the bed, so she checked under the bedcovers for pajamas. She patted the covers, and a piece of paper crinkled beneath the bedspread. Something Jack had been reading in bed must have become caught between the layers when the maid serviced the room.
She pulled out the paper from under the fabric and, for a second, confusion held her immobile. This was the picture Ryan had drawn for her, wasn’t it? How had it found its way into Jack’s bed? Then she noticed slight differences. The three figures were similar to those in her picture, except the man had a ball at his feet. Underneath the characters, Ryan had written Jack, me and Mummy as he had on her picture. But he’d also signed his name on Jack’s picture. And the words My Family were written in neon colors.
Melanie stared at the drawing, her thoughts a muddle of conflicting emotions. She was pleased Ryan felt close enough to Jack to draw him the same picture he’d given to her. At the same time, a shadow of unease fell over her. Despite her attempt to keep Jack as a friend and avoid any romantic entanglement, Ryan clearly saw them as a family unit.
She must summon the courage to tell Jack about her past before he discovered it for himself. She would much rather be the one to tell him than have him read some of the terrible things on the internet. Already she’d let small details slip and she knew he was curious. The longer she let this situation continue, the more hurt Ryan would be if Jack behaved like some of her previous employers and sacked her when he found out who she was.
Chapter Six
Melanie thought she was too worried about Imelda to relax. In the event, as soon as she climbed in the back of Emily and Doug’s car, she fell asleep immediately. Only too soon the city lights and bustle of Naples dragged her from her blissful stupor to face reality.
Doug quickly found the hospital. While he parked the car, the two women raced into the accident and emergency entrance. The waiting room was busy, and they seemed to wait forever before a nurse answered the receptionist’s call to assist them. A tall, austere woman in a nurse’s uniform led them through a door into a quiet corridor and, in halting English, asked what relationship they had to Imelda. After Emily explained, the woman beckoned her forward but put her hand up to Melanie and shook her head. “No. You stay, signorina.”
“Must be family only. I’ll tell Jack you’re here.” Emily threw an apologetic glance over her shoulder as the nurse led her away. The double swing doors flapped shut behind Emily with a smack of finality, leaving Melanie standing alone.
Family only. Jack’s family. Melanie didn’t belong in Jack’s family. Her chest felt hollow as she stared at the door, consciously breathing the horrid antiseptic smell in and out, fighting a sense of unreality, as though she’d become detached from her world and didn’t belong anywhere.
She wandered back to the waiting room, her shoes squeaking on the rubberized floor. In contrast to the corridor, the waiting room was busy with a continuous procession of Italians coming and going. She looked around at the rows of plastic seats, not sure where to sit. A man holding a bloody towel to his head glared at her. Another man argued with the receptionist, his gravelly Italian harsh as he jerked his arms in angry gestures. A woman sat in a corner with a floppy child cuddled in a blanket, tears streaming silently down her face.
“Mi scusi!” The bark of a man’s voice startled Melanie out of her contemplation. She hastily stepped aside to make way for an orderly pushing a patient on a gurney.
Melanie found a seat tucked away beside the wall and wrapped her arms around her ribs. She’d forgotten how much she hated hospitals. The smell and feel of the place dredged up memories she’d buried. Five years ago, she’d spent every waking hour for weeks inside one hospital or another while Ryan recovered from the accident and then underwent surgery on his arm and shoulder.
Just when the news of her husband’s crimes hit the newspapers, she’d been stuck in the worst place possible. She would never forget the accusing looks the medical staff gave her. As if she had betrayed their profession along with her husband. But to a certain extent they were right. She should have known what he was up to. After all, she hadn’t just been his wife but the practice manager of the surgery as well. She should have known about the money problems and noticed a pattern to the deaths of the elderly patients on her husband’s list.
The man arguing with the receptionist turned and started shouting at a nurse. Melanie rubbed her temples against the first sign of a headache. Maybe she should go outside and search for Emily’s husband. But Jack had told her to meet him here. If she left, he wouldn’t know where to find her. Although he must be so worried about his mother, Melanie doubted she was at the forefront of his mind. Maybe she should find a hotel for the night and come back tomorrow.
“Melanie! Where are you?” The alarm in Jack’s voice cut through the hum of the waiting room. For a few seconds, all conversation ceased while people stopped what they were doing and looked around. She stood and saw him just inside the door, scanning the room.
“Here, Jack.”
His gaze flew to her. He strode over, pulled her into a hug that crushed the breath from her body and kissed the top of her head. “Are you all right? Emily shouldn’t have left you on your own.”
“I’m fine. I can survive a few minutes alone.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
“I’m just a little disoriented. It’s been a long day.”
He stroked her hair and studied her face. “Come on. Let’s go back and see Mum.”
“They wouldn’t let me in because I’m not related to her.”
Jack grunted in annoyance as he grasped her hand and pushed through the doors the nurse had closed in her face. “They won’t stop you this time. You’re with me now.” After negotiating stairs and corridors, they reached the right room. Jack released her hand and glanced through the glass panel in the door before opening it. Emily sat at Imelda’s bedside, holding her hand, even though the older woman was asleep.
“Melanie.” Emily smiled apologetically. “Sorry to leave you on your own.” She wrinkled her nose. “Jack wasn’t happy the nurse stopped you coming up.”
“I wasn’t happy you abandoned her.” Jack closed the door quietly behind them. “You should have been a little more creative, Em. Told them she was my wife or fiancée or something.”
“I’m fine.” Melanie tried to make light of the situation, but in truth, the hospital had really started to get to her before Jack appeared. “What’s more important is how Imelda’s doing?”
“She woke up just before the ambulance arrived here,” Jack said, grimacing. “You were right. She was trying to take some painkillers for her headache. Luckily, she only took one sleeping tablet before she noticed she had the wrong ones. She was furious we’d made such a fuss and embarrassed her. You should have heard the commotion she made when the doctor insisted she stay here overnight for observation. Poor man. From the look on his face, I think he seriously considered throttling her and be done with it.”
Melanie was reassured by the return of Jack’s exasperated tone. She rubbed his arm, almost wishing she really were his wife or fiancée so she could put her arm
s around him and give him comfort.
“The doctor reckoned she’ll be fine to catch our scheduled flight home tomorrow afternoon,” Jack said. “We can’t do any more here tonight. Come on, Em.” He squeezed Emily’s shoulder. “Let’s find a hotel for the rest of the night and come back in the morning.”
Emily and Melanie went to the door and paused as Jack dropped a kiss on his mother’s forehead before he followed. When they reached the waiting room, Emily’s husband Doug was asleep on a plastic chair between a woman holding a crying baby and a grumbling man with his arm in a sling. Emily touched his hand. He opened his eyes, stood and nodded to Jack. Without saying a word, he led them back to the car.
Before they climbed in, Jack looked around the streets near the hospital. “Let’s try over there.” He pointed at a narrow old building with a blue neon Hotel sign over the door. “That’s ideal. We don’t want to waste time in the morning.”
They took their bags from the trunk and left the car parked where it was. Jack insisted on carrying Melanie’s bag as well as his own, so she folded his suit protector over her arm.
A string of small blinking lights surrounded a tatty arched door badly in need of a paint job. When they stepped over the threshold into an ancient reception area, the noise of the road outside the hospital died. A stale smell pervaded the air. The reception desk was in a dark nook in the wall, an old-fashioned table lamp with a green glass shade providing the only illumination. No doubt the muted lighting hid the worst signs of wear. She just hoped the place was clean.
The stress of the day suddenly caught up with her, and Melanie flopped into a musty velvet chair beside a telephone kiosk. Emily took the matching armchair beneath the window opposite, while the two men approached the reception desk.
Jack put down the bags and looked around. “Buon giorno!” He repeated his greeting three times before an elderly man hobbled out from the shadows of a corridor. His English was very limited, but Jack managed to book rooms.
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