by Lucy Gordon
‘My love, I know what I’m asking of you is hard, but do it for me. Do it for us.’
Without speaking, he slipped to his knees and laid his face against her, his hand gently touching her stomach. Ferne caressed him, also in silence. Nothing more was needed. He had given his answer.
Hope was in ecstasies as they reached the villa that evening, greeting them both, but especially Ferne, with open arms.
‘Welcome to the family,’ she said. ‘Oh yes, you’re a Rinucci now. You’re going to have a Rinucci baby, and that makes you one of us.’
Ferne couldn’t help smiling at the way she’d been taken over. Then Hope went even further.
‘I’m so looking forward to another grandchild,’ she said blissfully.
‘But Dante isn’t actually your son, is he?’ Ferne said, startled.
‘Oh, son, nephew, what does it matter? He’s a Rinucci, and now so are you.’
Next day, she took over the preparations for Dante’s tests, telephoning a contact at the local hospital. He moved fast, and Dante was admitted that day for a lumbar puncture and a CT scan. From behind a window, Ferne watched as he prepared for the scan; he kept his eyes on them until the last minute, as he was swallowed up in the huge machine.
After that the minutes seemed to go at a crawl until they were given the results. During that endless time, Ferne realised that she had always known what the truth would be.
‘The tests show that you’ve already had one mild rupture quite recently,’ the doctor said. ‘You were lucky. You came through it. You might even go on being lucky. Or you could have a major rupture in a few weeks and possibly die.’
Dante didn’t reply, but sat in terrible stillness, as though already dead. After a lifetime of avoiding this moment, he was forced to confront it.
‘But surgery can make it all right?’ Ferne’s voice was almost pleading.
‘I wish I could say that it was as simple as that,’ the doctor replied. ‘The operation is very difficult, and there’s a high death-rate. But if he goes into a coma first then the rate is even higher.’ He addressed Dante directly. ‘Your best chance is to have it now before things get worse.’
Dante had been sitting with head sunk in hands. Now he looked up.
‘And if I live,’ he said, ‘can you guarantee that I’ll still be mentally normal?’ He choked into silence.
Gravely the doctor shook his head.
‘There’s always a chance of complications,’ he said. ‘I wish I could give you a guarantee, but I can’t.’
He walked out, leaving them alone, holding each other in silence. After all the dancing with fate, all the arguments, there was only the bleak reality left. With the operation or without it, the possibility of death was high. And, with it, there was a real chance of something Dante considered far worse.
Why should he choose to walk into the unknown? Ferne knew that there was only their love to make the risk worthwhile, but was that enough? Now he was really dancing to the edge of the abyss, but not with fate, with herself, trusting her to stop him plunging over. But even she had no power to do that.
At that moment she would not have blamed him for walking away.
‘What am I going to do?’ he asked desperately. ‘Once I would have said that dying didn’t worry me, and it would have been true. But now there’s you-and her.’ He pointed downwards, and a wry smile twisted his mouth. ‘Who’d have thought that having something to live for could be so scary?’
She waited for him to say more. The only words that mattered would come from him.
‘I’ve used my illness as a way of avoiding responsibility,’ he said after a while. ‘I didn’t see it like that at the time. I thought I was doing the sensible thing. Now it just looks like a form of cowardice. My whole life has been a sham because I couldn’t face the reality.’
He looked at her in agony, whispering fiercely, ‘Where do you get your courage? Can’t you give some to me? Because I don’t have any. Part of me still says just walk away and let it happen as it will.’
‘No!’ she said fiercely. ‘I need you with me. You’ve got to take every chance of staying alive.’
‘Even if it means becoming like Leo? That scares me more than dying.’
She drew back and looked into his face.
‘Listen to me. You ask me to give you courage, but can’t you understand that I need you to give me courage?’
‘Me? A clown, a chancer?’
‘Yes, a clown, because I need you and your silly jokes to shield me from the rest of the world. I need you to make fun of me and trip me up, and take me by surprise and get the world in proportion for me. You made me strong and whole, so that now I need to be able to reach out and hold your hand for my protection, not yours.’
He searched her face intently, trying to discern the answer to mysteries. At last he seemed to find what he needed, for he drew her close, resting his head on her shoulder.
‘I’ll do whatever you wish,’ he said. ‘Only promise to be there.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
T HE doctor emphasised that there was no time to lose, and a date was set for the next day.
They spent that evening at the villa, where the family had gathered to wish Dante well. He had apparently recovered his spirits, even making a joke of his new deference to Ferne.
‘I don’t believe this is Dante,’ she said. ‘It’s so unlike him to keep agreeing with me.’
‘He’s turning into a Rinucci husband,’ Toni said. ‘However strong we look to the rest of the world, at home we all obey orders.’
Nobody knew which of the wives murmured, ‘So I should hope,’ but the others all nodded agreement, and the husbands grinned.
‘But he’s not a husband,’ Hope pointed out. ‘Perhaps it’s time that he was.’
‘You’ll have to ask Ferne,’ Dante said at once. He smiled up at her with a hint of the old, wicked humour. ‘I just do as I’m told.’
‘Then you’ll be a perfect Rinucci husband,’ she said in a shaking voice.
‘But when is the wedding?’ Hope asked.
‘As soon as I come out of hospital,’ Dante said.
‘No,’ Hope said urgently. ‘Don’t wait so long. Do it now.’
Everyone knew what she meant. It might be now or never.
‘Can it be arranged so quickly?’ Ferne asked.
‘Leave it with me,’ Hope said.
She had contacts all over Naples, and it was no surprise when after a few phone calls she announced that an emergency service could be arranged for the next day. The wedding would be in the afternoon, and Dante would enter the hospital straight afterwards.
It was all achieved in double-quick time, and Ferne was left worried that Dante felt he was being hustled into marriage. Her fear increased when he was quiet on the way home.
‘Dante?’
‘Hush, don’t speak until you’ve heard what I have to say. Wait here.’
He went into the bedroom and searched a drawer, returning a few moments later with two small boxes. Inside one, Ferne saw two wedding-rings, large and small. Inside the other was an engagement ring of diamonds and sapphires.
‘They belonged to my parents,’ he said, taking out the engagement ring. ‘I never thought the day would come when I’d give this to any woman. But then, you’re not any woman. You’re the one I’ve been waiting for all this time.’
He slipped it onto her finger, dropped his head and kissed the spot. Ferne couldn’t speak. She was weeping.
‘And these,’ he said, turning to the other box, ‘are the rings they exchanged on their wedding day. They loved each other very much. He got up to mad tricks, and she tried to stick with him whenever she could. She was afraid that he’d vanish without her.
‘I used to blame her for that. I felt resentful that she took risks without thinking of me, left behind. But I understand now. I’ve come to understand a lot of things that were hidden from me before.’
His voice shook so much that he could bare
ly say the last words. He bent his head quickly, but not quickly enough to hide the fact that his cheeks were wet. Ferne held him tightly, fiercely glad that in her arms he felt free to weep, and that she too had come to understand many things.
That night they made love as if for the first time. He touched her gently, as though afraid to do her harm. She responded to him with passionate tenderness, and always the thought lay between them: perhaps never again; perhaps this was all there would be to last a lifetime. When their lovemaking was over, they held each other tenderly.
Next morning a lawyer called with papers for Dante to sign, and also some for Ferne.
‘They’re in Italian. I don’t understand a word,’ she said.
‘Just sign them,’ he told her. ‘If I become unable to manage my own affairs, this will give you complete control.’
She was a little puzzled, since surely as his wife her control would be automatic? But perhaps Italian law was more complicated. She signed briefly, and returned to her preparations.
There was no lavish bridal-gown, just a silk, peach-coloured dress that she already knew he liked. In a dark, formal suit, he looked as handsome as she’d ever seen him. Standing side by side, looking in the mirror together, they made a handsome couple.
Both of them tried not to look at the suitcase he would take with him, which contained his things so that he could go on to the hospital when the wedding was over.
At last the lawyer departed and they were alone, waiting for the taxi.
‘I think it’s here,’ she said, looking out of the window. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Just a moment.’ He detained her.
‘What is it?’
‘Just one more thing I have to know before we go ahead,’ he said quietly. ‘I want to marry you more than anything on earth, but I can’t face the thought of being a burden in your life. Will you give me your word to put me in a home if I become like Uncle Leo?’
‘How can I do that?’ she asked, aghast. ‘It would be a betrayal.’
‘I can’t marry you to become a burden on you. If you don’t give me your word, the wedding’s off.’
‘Dante…’
‘Understand me, I mean it. One way or another, I’ll leave you free.’
‘And your child?’
‘We just signed papers that will give you complete control, whether we’re married or not. So you’ll have everything that’s mine to support you and our child.’
‘Did you think I was talking about money?’ she asked with a touch of anger.
‘No, I know you weren’t, but you have to know that my arrangements will look after you both, even without a wedding.’
She sighed. Even now he was setting her at a little distance.
‘Do I have your word,’ he asked again, ‘that if I become incapable…?’ He shuddered.
‘Hush,’ she said, unable to endure any more.
‘I don’t want people to see me and pity me. I don’t want my child to grow up regarding me with contempt. Do I have your word that if this goes wrong you’ll put me away?’ He took her hand in his. ‘Swear it, or I can’t marry you.’
‘What?’ She stared, appalled at this unsuspected ruthlessness.
‘I’ll call it off right now if you don’t give me your word. I can’t go through with it unless I’m sure. You’ve never really understood what that dread means to me, have you? And I’ve never been able to make you.’
‘I know it means more to you than I do!’ she said wildly.
This should have been their most perfect moment, when they could be happy in their love despite all the problems. But she was saddened at his intransigence.
Perhaps he saw this, because his voice became gentler.
‘Nothing means more to me than you,’ he said. ‘But try to understand, my love; you’ve done so much for me. I beg you to do this one thing more, to give me peace.’
‘All right,’ she said sadly. ‘I swear it.’
‘Promise on everything you hold dear and sacred, on the life of our child, on whatever love you have for me-promise me.’
‘I promise. If it comes to that-’ she paused, and a tremor went through her ‘-I’ll do as you wish.’
‘Thank you.’
The wedding was in the hospital chapel. All the Rinuccis who lived in Naples were there. The women of the family lined up to be the bride’s attendants. The men scrapped for the privilege of waiting on Dante.
Toni gave her away, escorting her down the aisle with pride. Dante watched her approach with a look that took her breath away, and that she knew she would remember all her life. As she reached him and laid her hand in his, the problems seemed to melt away. Even the promise he’d imposed on her could not spoil this moment. She was marrying the man she loved, and who loved her. There was nothing else in the world.
Holding Dante’s hand in hers, she declared, ‘I, Ferne, take you, Dante, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honour you all the days of my life.’
She knew he wasn’t quite ready to understand that. She could only pray for the miracle that would give her the chance to show him.
Then they exchanged rings, the ones that had belonged to his parents, who’d chosen never to be parted. One after the other they recited the ritual wedding-vows, but then the priest looked a silent question, asking if they wished to add anything of their own. Dante nodded, took her hand and spoke in a clear voice for everyone to hear.
‘I give you my life for whatever it’s worth-not much, perhaps, but there’s no part of it that isn’t yours. Do with it whatever you will.’
It took her a moment to fight back the tears, but then she said in a shaking voice, ‘Everything I am belongs to you. Everything I will ever be belongs to you, now and always-whatever life may bring.’
She said the last words with special significance, hoping he would understand, and she felt him grow still for a moment, looking at her, questioning.
Then it was over. It was time to turn and make their way out of the little chapel, followed by the family.
Instead of a wedding feast they all accompanied Dante to his room, where a smiling nurse showed them in. There was a bottle of champagne to stress that this was a party, but before long the laughter and congratulations faded, as they all remembered why Dante was there.
One by one they bid him goodbye, all of them knowing that it might be final. Hope and Toni embraced him heartily, then left them alone.
‘You must rest well,’ the nurse told him. ‘So go to bed now, and drink this.’ She held up a glass. ‘It will help you sleep.’
‘I want to stay with him,’ Ferne said.
‘Of course.’
She helped him undress, and suddenly it was as though a giant machine had taken over. It had started, and nobody could say how it was going to end.
‘I’m glad you stayed with me tonight,’ he said. ‘Because there’s still something I need to say to you. I want to ask your forgiveness.’
‘For what?’
‘For my selfishness. I’ve had a good look at myself, and I don’t like what I see. You were right when you said I shouldn’t have let you get so close without telling you the truth.’
‘We were supposed to keep it light,’ she reminded him.
‘But that wasn’t under our control. You and I could never have met without loving each other. I loved you from the start, but I wouldn’t admit it to myself. Instead I selfishly found excuses, pretending that it wasn’t what it was, and I led you into danger.’
‘Don’t talk of it as danger,’ she interrupted him. ‘You’ve been the best experience of my life, and you always will be, whatever happens. Do you understand that? Whatever happens.’
‘But say you forgive me,’ he said. ‘I need to hear you say it.’ He was already growing sleepy.
‘I’ll forgive you if you want, but there is nothing to forgive. Please-please try to understand that.’
He smiled but d
idn’t answer. A moment later, his eyes closed. Ferne laid her head down on the pillow beside him, watching him until her own eyes closed.
This was their wedding night.
In the morning the orderlies came to take him to the operating theatre.
‘One moment,’ Dante said frantically.
As she leaned over him, he touched her face.
‘If this should be the last time…’ he whispered.
It hit her like a blow. This might really be the last time she touched him, looked into his eyes.
‘It isn’t the last time,’ she said. ‘Whatever happens, we will always be together.’
Suddenly he reached out, as though trying to find something.
‘What is it?’
‘Your camera,’ he said. ‘The one you always keep with you.’
Now she understood. Pulling it out, she fixed it to take a picture after a few seconds’ delay, and set it up a little distance away. Then she took him into her arms, looking into his face.
His own eyes on her were quiet with a peace she had never seen in them before.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We’ll always be together. I may not be there again, but my love will be, until the end of your life. Tell me that you know that.’
She couldn’t speak, only nod.
Then it was time. The orderlies wheeled him away. Suddenly it was all over; she might never see him alive again.
‘Suppose he dies?’ she said to Hope, distraught. ‘Dies in an operation that he only had because I made him? He might have lived for years without getting sick. If he dies, I’ll have killed him.’
‘And if it goes well, you will have saved his life and his sanity,’ Hope said firmly.
How slowly the hours passed. Many times she took out the camera and studied the last picture she’d taken. It was tiny, but she could see Dante’s face turned towards her with an expression of adoration that startled her. Had it been there before, and had she just never noticed? Would it be the last of him that she ever saw?
What had she done to him?
She seemed to see her life stretching before her, with an empty place where he should have been. There was her child, asking where her father was, and not understanding that her mother had sent him to his death.