His voice faded a long way away until it had no meaning. The world tilted and turned black and Lisa gave an inarticulate cry before toppling on to the grass next to her daughter. Unperturbed, Jessica continued to bang her head.
Renato swiftly bent down and gathered her in his arms. He put her tenderly back on the seat and began to rub her hands as he murmured her name.
The moment she regained consciousness, Lisa snatched her hands away from him and began a mad scramble to push Jessica back into her pushchair. Infuriated, Jessica screamed and kicked out, spitting when her mother got too near.
'Please stop!' The Italian was appalled by her distress. He stood up and caught hold of her arms. 'Leave Jessica alone and wait a moment. Obviously I've made a mistake. Naturally I'd assumed that… You look exactly as my wife did and I simply thought you were again pregnant. I didn't mean to offend you.'
'I'm not!' she shouted. 'I can't be. I won't, not again. What would I do? No, you're wrong, totally wrong.'
'I'm sorry,' he repeated helplessly. 'Of course you know best. It was a foolish error.'
'What right have you got to march up to me and start telling me how to look after my daughter before insinuating that I'm pregnant again? Who the hell do you think you are!'
He saw the tears brimming over in her eyes and wished that he could take away some of her pain. He was right, they both knew that, but he'd have given anything not to have been the person who made her face the fact.
Her distress affected Jessica who began hitting her chin against the leg of the park seat with ruthless determination, as though only through pain could she shut out her mother's emotional turmoil.
Renato picked the little girl up and put her in her pushchair. He didn't look at her or speak to her and she went limp, flopping helplessly while he did up the straps.
'I'm going home.' Lisa's voice was strained. 'I hope you enjoy the rest of the afternoon.'
'Let me walk back with you.'
'Even if I wanted you to, which I most certainly don't, Bishop or some other hanger-on would see us and then I'd have that to cope with. I'm beginning to think you're nothing but trouble.'
'What else have I done to you?'
'Only caused Neal and me to have our first quarrel.' 'For that I am not sorry.'
'If what you say is true, I certainly can't afford any more of them. Good day, Mr Bellini.'
He didn't reply but she was aware that he watched her as she left the park, and her ridiculous desire to turn round and rush back to him for some kind of reassurance that he couldn't possibly give made her all the more furious with herself.
Now that she knew the truth, something that she would certainly have worked out for herself had it not been for the fact that she'd been irregular ever since Jessica's birth, there was no room for anyone else, even if the handsome Italian had been as interested in her as he appeared.
All she could do was hope that she hadn't been mistaken in Neal and that he'd stay with her once he found out about the child. Until now she'd never doubted his feelings, but a pregnant mistress was a mile away from a young, fashionably dressed one whom he was proud to escort round London.
As she remembered only too well from Toby, pregnant women were not the epitome of most men's dreams, and the prospect of telling Neal the news was the most daunting challenge she'd had to face since leaving Toby.
It was Tuesday night before he contacted her again, by which time she'd gone through so many imaginary conversations in her mind that she was totally exhausted. He sounded slightly offhand over the phone but said that he had tickets for a surprise treat the following Thursday and he'd collect her at six-thirty.
She was ready half an hour early, totally disinterested in their destination because all she could think about was when she'd get the chance to tell him about the baby, and what he'd have to say.
'Guessed where we're going?' he queried when she opened the front door.
'No.'
'Where's all the legendary female curiosity?'
'I thought that was cats!' she said shortly. He looked considerably taken aback. 'We're going to the opera, darling.' They were always going to the opera and although she loved it she couldn't think why this visit should be particularly exciting.
'I've got tickets for Chenier.'
'Was it difficult?'
'It certainly was! Didn't you read the reviews? They say it's stunning.'
'I haven't looked at a paper for days. Is it Domingo?'
'It's your favourite, Carreras.'
For a brief moment she forgot her dilemma. 'How fantastic, I've never heard him sing live!'
'Let's hope he's as good as they say.'
He was. He was so good that he broke Lisa's fragile composure with the sheer beauty and poignancy of his voice. From his rendition of Un di all'azzuro spazio she was lost. Totally caught up in the world of the idealistic poet who believed in love and the power of the human spirit. When he sang the beautiful Comme un bel di maggio shortly before his death, Lisa began to cry. By the time he and his lover, Madeleine, went to their execution together, their voices soaring as they proclaimed their love, she could no longer see for tears.
As the audience rose to its feet in recognition of the skill of the artists, Lisa looked at the slender Spaniard and wondered if he realised what pain his gift could bring to people. Tonight he'd forced her to face the fact that true love, the burning, consuming passion that he and Rosalind Plowright had portrayed so vividly, did exist. She knew that. It was possible to love deeply and intensely, and she was carrying the child of a man she liked and respected, but now—after this evening—she knew that wasn't enough. She cried not only for the doomed lovers but also for herself.
'An expensive way of making you miserable!' joked Neal when they were on their way home. 'You've cried non-stop tonight'. Presumably that means you enjoyed it?'
Her head was throbbing and her eyes felt hot and swollen. 'Yes, it was… I can't describe it, but I'll never forget tonight, never.'
'He's certainly improved. I don't usually care for him. Too much passion and not the best actor on the opera circuit. Mind you, he excelled tonight. I doubt if anyone could have done it better. I'll find out when he'll be here again.'
'No!'
He turned to her in surprise. 'No?'
'Nothing could be like tonight. Besides, I'd rather not. He makes me feel things too intensely.'
'Fine, I'm a Pavarotti man myself. Now if you'd heard him sing Rodolfo…'
She stopped listening. She was still with the lovers. What must it feel like to love a man so much you wanted to die with him? she wondered. She'd never choose to die with Neal. In fact, she couldn't imagine wanting to die with anyone she knew, but she could imagine what it would be like to love intensely. She would be alive.
'We're here,' said Neal. 'It was only a story, you know. The magic of the theatre. You don't get many singing poets in real life! I took you because I thought it would give you a lift, not to sink you into total depression. We'll go up and get ourselves a drink. You can go now, Mike. I'll drive Mrs Walker home.'
'Very good, sir. Goodnight.'
'Do you like opera, Mike?' she asked as she walked past him. 'No. A lot of overweight people running round the stage singing words I don't understand isn't my idea of pleasure!'
'It wasn't like that,' she said slowly. 'It wasn't like that at all.'
Mike watched her go into his employer's flat and shook his head sadly. There was no room in Neal's life for idealists, whatever their sex, and no doubt Lisa would eventually discover that. He wished she'd never met the man. He felt that was a far greater tragedy than anything she might see on the stage.
Once inside the flat some of the magic of the performance began to die away as Lisa realised that now was the moment when she'd actually got to tell Neal. She couldn't put it off any longer because she needed to know where she stood and what arrangements she must make for her future.
'Whisky?' He was already taking down two gla
sses.
'I'm not in the mood for a drink. I have to talk to you.' 'Talk away. I wonder if… '
'It's very important.'
He put his glass down and turned slowly to face her. 'I'm listening,' he said softly, but his expression was watchful, his eyes alert.
'I don't think you're going to be very pleased about this. In fact, I'm sure you're not, but… '
'Get to the point,' he said tersely. 'This isn't easy for me! You see… ' 'Is it another man?'
'No, nothing like that!'
Crossing the room he sat down beside her. 'In that case I don't think you need worry. I'm quite sure I can cope with any other emotional crisis you may have dreamt up.'
'I haven't dreamt this up! she said irritably, disliking his patronising tone. 'Actually, I'm pregnant.'
His face showed nothing. He looked at her for a moment or two and then stood up and went to collect his drink. When he returned there was a faint smile round his lips and a look that she could almost believe to be triumph in his eyes.
'You don't mind?'•
'Mind?' Now he was smiling broadly, putting his right arm round her with such exaggerated care she wondered if he thought she was carrying the child on her back. 'Darling Lisa, I'm overjoyed! This is wonderful news. I may have a son at last. I can't tell you what this means to me. I'm a very lucky man.'
Anyone would think they were a normal married couple, she thought in astonishment. He hadn't mentioned his wife or his family, hadn't suggested that she might have to hide herself away once the baby began to show. All he'd done was congratulate her and look exceedingly pleased with himself. She should have been highly relieved but instead she was faintly uneasy.
'What about Naomi? Won't this make things awkward at home?' 'Naomi?'
She might as well have named his pet dog he looked so puzzled. 'Your wife!'
He laughed softly. 'Don't worry about Naomi. She isn't important. You’re important. You and the baby. I don't want you overdoing things. You'll have to let Janice do more for Jessica because until the baby's born I'm not having you wrestling with that little animal, trying to carry her around while she kicks you in the face.'
Lisa flinched at his words but swallowed down her resentment as she forced herself to come out with her second worry. 'What if our baby's the same as Jessica?'
'Don't be ridiculous! As though you and I would produce anything like that. No, Jessica's her father's child. He's totally insane with his vile temper and perverse pleasures. You don't need to worry about that. I'm sure the specialist will put your mind at rest on that point.' 'Jessica isn't insane,' she said tightly, unable to keep silent any longer. 'She's sick. It's an illness. I thought you understood that.' 'The end result's the same.'
'I don't like it when you talk about her like that. I love her.' 'Highly commendable. You'll love our child even more.'
'I won't! I'll love it exactly the same.'
'I'm not going to quarrel over Jessica at a moment like this. Just remember that this one's my child, too, and I don't want your daughter causing a miscarriage.'
'I'm glad you're pleased,' she said, wondering why she was disturbed by his reaction. 'Exactly where do we go from here?'
'What do you mean?'
'I'm not going to feel quite so lively for our non-stop social whirl in the future. What will you do?'
'Go on my own.'
'While I stay in the mews cottage?'
He frowned. 'What on earth did you think would happen? You surely didn't imagine I was going to turn you out in order to put in a replacement? I love you, Lisa. You as a person, not just you as an attractive appendage. You obviously don't realise how much you mean to me. I thought I'd made it plain enough; perhaps I'm not very good with words.'
'I shall enjoy your new curvaceous figure! Seriously, I'm very proud and absolutely certain that this time it will be a boy.'
'Even if it is, you won't be spending much time with him. What with your work, your family and your social life, when will you get to see him? Friday afternoons from three to five?'
'Why are you so uptight about this?' he asked, pulling her on to his lap.
'Because I'm afraid. Afraid it will be like Jessica; afraid I won't be able to cope on my own; and afraid that eventually I'll lose you.'
'Now it's my turn to ask you something. Do you love me?'
She could easily have lied. It would have been so simple to have given him the answer he wanted and known that she was consequently totally secure, but she couldn't do it. Perhaps it was because of the opera, perhaps she was being unrealistic, but knowing that their entire future might be based on her reply she had to be totally honest, and with a sudden and inexplicable memory of Renato Bellini picking Jessica up at the park she found herself unable to lie.
'No, Neal. I don't think I do.'
He tightened his grip on her. 'I don't think you do either, but I don't mind. You'll come to love me in time, and I'm perfectly willing to wait. What do you feel for me?' he added casually.
'I'm very fond of you, and I admire the way you're always so organised and confident.'
'And sexually?'
'I enjoy our lovemaking.' 'Is that all?'
'I don't think the earth will ever move for me again! Toby destroyed something in me when he… It's good between us, Neal.' 'You've been brutally frank!' he said wryly. 'Not many women in your position would have been that honest.' 'Would you rather I'd lied?'
'Certainly not. I already knew the truth. I think you're very brave, but since I'm totally obsessed by you I'm not in the least discouraged. My ego doesn't allow me to admit defeat. All you need is time, and we've got plenty of that.'
'I don't deserve you.'
Neal took a sip of his drink. 'I only wish we could get married, but divorce is out of the question. Naomi and I go back a long way.'
'I never thought about marriage,' she said quickly and with absolute truth. 'I know how fond you are of Naomi. I wouldn't dream of… '
'I can't stand the sight of her,' he said dispassionately. 'However, let's not talk about that. We must work out what gynaecologist you're going to use and where you'll live once the baby's born. This place won't be big enough for four and I don't suppose you're willing to consider putting Jessica…'
'No!'
'Well, there's plenty of time to get the details sorted out. Now, how about a kiss to celebrate?'
It was very late indeed before Lisa left the flat.
Three weeks later, two days after Jessica's second birthday, she took her to see Dr Weissler in London. He was generally accepted as the up and coming specialist on autistic children but as far as Lisa could gather this was the first time he'd actually seen a patient while in England for a series of lectures. She was too thankful and nervous to stop and ask herself how Neal could influence such a man, accepting his usual explanation of money. Renato Bellini could have told her that Dr Weissler wasn't in need of money, but he was in need of assistance to cover up the unfortunate scandals that had dogged his career. Scandals involving close friendships with highly expensive call-girls in most of the capital cities of the world.
Although he was there under duress, Dr Weissler was charm itself, with a calming manner and a pleasantly dry sense of humour that appealed to Lisa. He discussed Jessica's birth and the weeks preceding it at some length before asking numerous questions, and only after that did he actually seem to pay any attention to the child herself. In reality he'd been watching her all the time. He'd seen how she refused Lisa's attempts to pick her up or nurse her, and watched the way she flattened herself against the wall as she undertook a never-ending circular journey round the room like a hamster on a wheel.
'Did she start to walk on time?' he queried, calling Jessica's name softly and noting the lack of reaction.
'She was on her feet at twelve months. I was amazed.' 'And her speech?'
'She doesn't talk.'
'No attempts at communication?'
'She makes noises but they're just sounds. Like
a very small baby might make.'
'No speech at the present?' he repeated.
Lisa took a deep breath. 'Sometimes she does say words, but at the wrong time. I always say, "No, hot!" to stop her burning herself on the stove—not that she takes any notice—and sometimes now when I say "No" she says "hot" although she isn't very good with the letter "H" so it comes out as"'ot". But obviously she thinks "No hot" is one word.'
'Does she connect it with the stove or any other equipment where hot is applicable?'
'Definitely not.' 'Anything else?'
'She says, "Kettle on".'
'Why do you think she says that?'
'She likes the sound of it. I often say, "I think I'll put the kettle on", and she seems to like the last couple of words.'
'Tell me, is she particularly attached to anything or anyone?' 'Certainly not anyone but she's obsessed with that box she's clutching now. It's strange. Originally it contained a beautiful pair of earrings, but when I opened it up she wasn't interested in the shiny earrings themselves, just the box. Now it goes everywhere with her. She likes the iron door-stop in our living-room as well, but thank heavens that's too heavy for her to carry around!'
'How does she cope with pain? For example, when she falls?'
'I don't think she knows the meaning of pain. She'll bang her head against things until she's covered with bruises unless I stop her.'
'I'd better take a look at her. Jessica, would you come here a moment?'.
Lisa never forgot the next twenty minutes as Jessica hurled every possible object off the specialist's desk, kicked him in the face, spat at his nurse, screamed on one piercing note until Lisa's ears were hurting and then arched and rolled her rigid body as though in a fit, even biting Dr Weissler's hand when it came close to her mouth.
Eventually he finished and Jessica scuttled under his desk and began to chew on her thumb while crooning the 'Toreador Song' from Carmen, rocking to and fro as she did so.
'She likes music?' he asked, apparently unperturbed by all she'd done.
'Yes. She only has to hear anything once and that's enough.' 'These children quite frequently have what we term islets of exceptional skill in the midst of their apparently uncoordinated lives.
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