by Sarah Morgan
Aware that Max was looking at her, she braced herself. ‘So what’s the best thing about Sam’s house?’
‘Their guinea pig. It’s called Rambo and it’s so cute.’
Liv laughed and then impulsively she bent down and kissed her son, the son who had noticed the guinea pig instead of the huge bedrooms or the soft white sofas and wall-to-wall luxury.
‘You’re a nice person,’ she said gruffly, but her eyes were drawn to the patch of damp on the wall. She’d painted over it repeatedly but it always came through again and now that the weather had turned cold…
Suddenly she wished she could wave a magic wand and make the world perfect for her son. Why was it that no one told you that parenthood came with non-stop guilt and anxiety? Especially single parenthood.
Telling herself that she was doing all right, Liv watched as her son played a make-believe game with his toys. He was bright, happy and well adjusted. She worried too much.
Everything was fine.
Max lifted his head and looked at her wistfully. ‘And Sam’s dad’s buying him a goal for Christmas so he can practise. You should see it, Mum. It’s just awesome. It’s huge, with a big white net—I’ve seen the picture. Could we have a goal?’
‘Not in a fourth-floor flat,’ Liv said dryly, squashing down the guilt that swamped her once again. He was a little boy. He needed a garden. Somewhere he could kick a ball when she was too tired to take him to the park.
‘If we had loads of money, would we buy a house? I heard you telling Anna that if you had a bathroom like hers, you’d lie in it all day. Why don’t you lie in ours all day?’
Because of the chipped tiles, the draught from the window and the stubborn black mould that refused to die. ‘Because I have to work. I’ve explained that to you. I work to make the money we need.’ Liv lifted an onion out of the vegetable basket. ‘Now, enough of this conversation. If I don’t get on with the supper it will be bedtime.’
The tyrannosaurus attacked again, scattering other dinosaurs over the kitchen floor. ‘You could do the lottery or something.’
‘It’s a waste of money. We wouldn’t win.’
‘You could get married. Emma’s mum got married again and now they’re really rich because her new dad is loaded!’
Liv gasped. ‘Where did you hear that expression?’
‘Emma told me.’ Max stopped playing and looked at her anxiously. ‘Is it swearing?’
‘No, but it’s not very polite.’ Her mind slid back to the conversation she’d had with Anna earlier that day and she frowned, pushing away thoughts of Stefano Lucarelli. ‘And it isn’t how much money someone has that counts, it’s whether you like them or not that matters.’
‘Well, Emma’s mum has been married twice now, and you’ve only been married once.’
‘It isn’t a competition, sweetheart.’
‘Why did you stop being married?’
Liv closed her eyes briefly. Why did the hardest questions always come when she was tired? ‘We’ve talked about this before, Max.’ She peeled the onion. ‘Sometimes these things just don’t work out. And when that happens, it’s no one’s fault.’ Yes it was. It was her fault. She hadn’t been exciting enough for Jack. Her eyes suddenly started pricking and she told herself it was just the onion.
‘You should definitely try being married again,’ Max said sagely. ‘You’re always telling me I have to keep trying things. You always say you can’t tell if you like something if you’ve only tried it once.’
‘That’s food,’ Liv said dryly, reaching for a chopping board. ‘Marriage isn’t like broccoli. Marriage is a very big thing. You have to really, really love someone to do that. And they have to love you, too. They have to think you’re special.’
‘You are special, Mum.’ Max looked at her, his eyes huge. ‘I don’t know any other girls who love football and cars and no one makes pizza like you do. All my friends think you’re cool.’
‘Well, maybe I am cool to a bunch of seven-year-olds.’ But bigger boys wanted something very different. They wanted someone sexy and she was—
Ordinary.
Liv stood for a moment, distracted by her own thoughts. Across the road she could see lights from the other flats and in one window she could see a man and a woman sitting down to eat with two lively, excited children.
Then she glanced at Max. Her little boy, his face a mask of concentration as he lined up his dinosaurs. She paused for a moment, swamped by a feeling of such intense love and anxiety that she almost couldn’t breathe.
He deserved so much more. He deserved a loving father who would kick a football with him.
Damn Jack. Damn Jack and his slick, womanising ways.
She put the onion on the chopping board and stabbed the knife through it.
Why should Max suffer because his father hadn’t been adult enough to face up to his responsibilities?
‘Mummy, you’re chopping that onion like you hate it or something.’
Liv’s gaze slid from the blade in her hand to the minute slices of onion that now lay on the chopping board. Pulverised. She gave a weak smile. ‘I’m making supper.’ There was no point in regretting the past. ‘We can play football together this weekend, if you like.’
‘Cool. I’ve been picked for the match on Friday. I was a reserve but now Ben can’t play so I’m in the team.’
Liv’s face lit up. ‘That’s fantastic! Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘It’s only the second team, not the first.’ He looked at her and his little shoulders lifted in a tiny shrug. ‘And I knew you wouldn’t be able to come. You’ll be working.’
Liv swallowed. ‘Max—’
‘It’s OK,’ he said firmly. ‘It isn’t your fault. We’re a team, isn’t that what you always say? You go to work, I go to school.’
‘Actually I’m not working on Friday,’ Liv said brightly. ‘I—I have the afternoon off.’
‘Really?’
No. ‘Yes.’ Somehow, whatever it took, she was going to make it happen. She was going to her son’s football match. ‘What time is kick-off?’
‘Two o’clock.’
‘I’ll be there.’ How, she didn’t know. But she was going to be standing on that school field even if it meant changing her job.
Exhaustion washed over her making her head foggy. As usual her day had started before five and one glance at the washing, ironing and the pile of Max’s toys in the living room was enough to tell her that she wouldn’t be in bed before midnight.
She envied mothers who could be at home for their children. Yes, she loved her work but the constant pressure of trying to be in two places at once was grinding her down.
Welcome to single parenthood.
Max scrambled off the chair and hugged her tightly, his arms round her legs, his head pressed against her stomach. ‘You’re the best mum in the world. I know it’s hard for you because you have to work. That would be one of the good things about having a dad. He could do the work bit and you could just come and watch me.’
Liv felt a lump in her throat. ‘There’s more to being a dad than signing cheques, Max.’ And some men didn’t even manage that bit, she thought wearily as she bent to kiss the top of his head. He smelled of shampoo. ‘Spaghetti bolognese all right for supper?’
‘Yum.’
Dismissing fantasies of herself standing on the school field, while someone else worried about the family finances, Liv squashed down the guilt, gave him a quick kiss and released him. Reality, she reminded herself. That was what she had to concentrate on. ‘So what was the funniest thing that happened to you today?’ Taking the lid off a can of tomatoes, she emptied it into the pan. ‘Make me laugh.’
‘Sam told me a great joke.’
‘Go on.’
‘What’s the best thing to give a seasick elephant?’
‘I don’t know. What is the best thing to give a seasick elephant?’
‘Plenty of room.’
‘Max!’
*
* *
The following morning brought a flutter of snow and a sharp drop in the temperature.
‘Isabella? Tutto bene?’ Stefano brought the Ferrari to a smooth halt, his attention on the phone call. Snow dusted the pavements and the roads were slick with ice. It was going to be a busy day in the emergency department and he knew this would be his only chance to make this call. ‘You called me?’
‘Every day for the past two weeks!’ His sister exploded into Italian. ‘Where have you been? You don’t call—you don’t come home! Have you forgotten your family? Don’t we matter to you any more? You don’t have a heart, Stefano!’
‘That’s the sort of comment I expect from my girlfriend, not my little sister.’ Stefano sprang from the car, his long, black, cashmere coat swirling around his strong legs as he strode across the consultants’ car park. Knowing exactly which buttons to press to annoy her, he smiled wickedly. ‘Why are you at home? You should be taking your children to school.’
Ever predictable, Isabella bristled with indignation. ‘I dropped them at school and now I’m on the way to the office. Remember the family business, Stefano? The business you turned your back on? Well I am here, keeping our father happy while you stroke your ego by playing doctors and dating actresses with bodies as thin as spaghetti and brains as soft as ravioli.’
Already bored with the conversation, Stefano pushed his way through the swing doors that led to the emergency department. ‘Are you ringing me to nag me about my choice of career or my choice of women?’
‘I’m ringing you because despite your many faults, you’re still my brother and like all men you need reminding about family responsibility. When did you last call Papa?’
Stefano strode along the corridor, oblivious to the sideways glances he received from the female nurses. ‘I don’t have any news.’
‘News? What is “news”?’ Isabella didn’t bother hiding her exasperation. ‘He just wants to hear your voice, Stefano!’
‘Talking about nothing because you enjoy the sound of your own voice is more of a girl thing than a man thing,’ Stefano drawled. ‘And I’ve been busy. I’m working.’
‘Well, find the time to call. And make sure you come home for Christmas. We’ll all be in Cortina from the twenty-third of December.’
Stefano was well able to picture the scene: a noisy group of family and old friends descending on the enormous family chalet in the exclusive mountain resort of Cortina D’Ampezzo, in the Italian Dolomites.
‘Isabella—’
‘I know you’re busy, but this is family time, Stefano. Be there.’
‘I will be there, but I don’t know when or for how long.’ Or how much of his well-meaning, interfering family he’d be able to stand.
‘All the cousins will be there—’ it was Isabella’s turn to tease ‘—including the lovely Donatella. She’s still single, Stefano.’
‘Fortunately for both of us, my taste in women doesn’t run to children,’ Stefano said wryly and Isabella giggled.
‘She’s twenty-one, Stefano, hardly a child. And she’s been trying to remind you of that fact for a few years now. Surely you haven’t forgotten last Christmas? The push-up bra and the low-cut top? I thought Papa was going to have a stroke. Anyway, she wants to sit by you for Christmas Eve dinner.’
‘Donatella finds me so intimidating that she can barely speak in my company,’ Stefano reminded her in an acid tone. ‘If you throw her in my way at Christmas it would be cruel to both of us. Isabella, drop this subject.’
‘She’d be a traditional Italian wife, Stefano.’ Isabella was clearly enjoying herself. ‘She would stay at home and cook you pasta.’
‘Unfortunately for Donatella one of my requirements in a life partner is that they’re able to sustain an intelligent conversation for at least eight seconds. Sadly, she can’t. Or at least, she can’t when she’s with me.’
Isabella snorted with laughter. ‘You’re so harsh. Frankly I can’t see why she’s so crazy about you. I mean, I know you’re filthy rich and good-looking but you’re unbearable to people who aren’t as bright as you are and when you’re really bored, which usually takes far less than eight seconds by the way, you can be horribly cutting.’
Taken aback by that blunt assessment of his attributes, Stefano was about to answer when his sister made an impatient sound.
‘Anyway, it’s nonsense to say you need a woman with a brain. According to that actress of yours, you don’t waste any time talking to women.’
Stefano glanced at his watch. ‘I’m a busy man, Isabella. Was there something else you wanted to say?’
‘She gave such an embarrassing interview to all the papers. What did you ever see in her? No—don’t answer that, it’s obvious. Why are men so shallow?’
Stefano gave a deadly smile. ‘Because women wear pushup bras and we are easily distracted,’ he purred. ‘I’m so pleased you called me. Your conversation is always so…intellectual.’
‘Don’t try and intimidate me.’ But Isabella was laughing. ‘I rang you for a chat because I love you, even though you sometimes forget that you have a family and you’re basically horrible. I’ll see you at Christmas, Stefano. I’m sure Donatella is already choosing her dress.’
Stefano closed his eyes briefly. ‘Maledizione—’
‘Don’t swear in front of your sister!’
There was a sharp rap on the door and Stefano looked up with a frown, irritated by the interruption. Greg Hampton, one of the casualty officers, stood in the doorway and Stefano’s mouth tightened. Unlike Phil who had managed to impress him, this particular junior doctor’s attitude was far too casual for his liking. ‘I’ve got to go. Ciao.’ He terminated the call and dropped his phone into his pocket. ‘Sì? There is a problem?’
‘Can you check an X-ray for me before you get dragged into Resus? Everyone else is still tied up with the RTA that came in an hour ago.’
Stefano slung his coat over the back of the chair, ignored the mound of paperwork on his desk and strode towards the door. ‘Who is the patient?’
‘That’s the bad news.’ Greg pulled a face. ‘A screaming, uncooperative kid with a bruised finger. I sent her for an X-ray.’
Stefano dealt him a measuring glance, less than impressed by the younger doctor’s dismissive tone.
They arrived at the main area and Stefano automatically glanced at the computer screen on the wall. It listed every patient in the department and enabled the staff to track their progress. That one glance was enough to tell him that he was in for a busy morning despite the fact it was barely light.
His mind still half on the conversation with his sister, his gaze shifted to the smaller computer next to the screen that was displaying an X-ray of a finger. He hit a button, zoomed in closer and stared at the image. Why did his family see the need to interfere with his life? If it wasn’t his love life, it was his profession. ‘No fracture. How was the finger on examination?’
Greg shrugged. ‘I haven’t examined her yet.’
‘You sent her for X-ray without examination?’ Stefano transferred his gaze from the X-ray to the doctor and Greg frowned slightly.
‘The child was really difficult. Didn’t seem to want to be distracted by anything. Trust me—no one could have done anything with this kid, and as for the mother…’ with an exaggerated shudder, he picked up the notes ‘…she was your average nightmare. Reminded me why I didn’t do paediatrics. Caring for kids is all about the mothers, isn’t it? What’s the point of seven years’ training if I have to waste my skills on a load of hysterical women?’
‘What skills?’ Stefano spoke softly and Greg’s smile lost a fraction of its arrogance.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You told me that you don’t want to waste your skills,’ Stefano said silkily, ‘but I am still waiting to see a demonstration of these skills in which you have so much pride and which you seem so reluctant to waste in my department, Dr Hampton. They weren’t in evidence when you needed to examine the c
hild.’
Greg cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t manage to examine the child.’
‘Precisely.’ Stefano watched with cold detachment as the less experienced doctor flushed to the roots of his hair, suddenly a great deal less sure of himself.
‘The kid was freaking out.’
‘Then it is your job to “un”-freak them,’ Stefano advised helpfully. ‘After all, what is the point of seven years of training if you cannot get close enough to your patient to carry out an examination?’
‘I ordered an X-ray,’ Greg said stiffly, and Stefano raised an eyebrow.
‘So you sent her to X-Ray with no examination and you were planning to discharge her without examination? You have good medical defence insurance, I hope? A skilled lawyer? Because if that is the way you practise medicine, you will need both.’
Greg’s face was scarlet. ‘I assumed that the X-ray would tell me what I needed to know.’
‘An X-ray is simply one part of the overall picture. Never again even consider discharging a patient without carrying out the appropriate examination. You are a doctor, not a car mechanic. The decisions you make affect people’s lives.’ Stefano let the doctor squirm for a few more moments and then he flicked off the X-ray.
‘Mr Lucarelli—’
‘One more thing.’ Stefano’s icy tone cut through the doctor’s feeble attempt to redeem himself. ‘In this department, if a mother tells you that she has a bad feeling about her child, you will listen to what she has to say with both ears open and your mouth closed. Understood?’
Greg stared at him. ‘Yes.’
‘Good.’ Stefano watched him with cool appraisal. ‘Most mothers are uncannily accurate when it comes to assessing the health of their children. Remember that. They sense things that we doctors, even with years of training, can take longer to detect. Now, given that you have been unable to examine the patient, show me where she is and I will do it for you.’
Stiff and defensive, the casualty officer led the way down the corridor and into one of the small cubicles.