Accidentally Expecting! Page 7

  Her lips twitched. ‘Oh, really?’ she said cynically.

  ‘Why don’t you believe me?’

  The mere idea of Dante meekly accepting rejection was absurd. It was a ploy, telling her that he was settling in for a long game, but if she admitted that she would be conceding a point in that very game. If there was one thing she knew she mustn’t do, it was let him win too easily.

  ‘Are you seriously asking me to believe that you’ll act like a perfect gentleman at all times?’

  ‘Ah, well, I might not have been planning to go quite that far,’ he hedged cautiously. ‘But nothing to offend you. Just friendly, I promise.’

  ‘Hmm,’ she observed.

  ‘Hmm?’ he echoed innocently.

  ‘Hmm.’

  In this mood, he was irresistible. On the other hand there was the promise of the biggest job of her life, maybe a trip to Hollywood eventually.

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t take too long.’

  They drove back to the villa and spent a contented hour at the computer, marrying his text and her pictures. The result was a triumph, with Ferne’s flair for the dramatic balancing Dante’s factual efficiency. He sent a copy to the owner, who promptly emailed back, expressing his delight.

  At the end of the evening Ferne went out onto the terrace and stood looking up at the stars, wondering what she was going to do. It should have been an easy decision. How could any man compete with such a career opportunity?

  She knew what would happen now. Dante would have seen her come out here, and he would follow her, trying to charm her into doing exactly what he wanted.

  Just friendly, indeed! Who did he think he was kidding?

  She could hear him coming now. Smiling, she turned.

  But it was Hope and Toni.

  ‘Dante has gone to bed,’ Hope explained. ‘He wouldn’t admit it, but I think he has a headache.’

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Ferne asked. Something in the older woman’s manner alerted her.

  ‘He tells us that he wants you to travel and work with him,’ Hope said.

  ‘He has asked me, yes. But I’m not sure if I should agree. Perhaps it’s time for me to be getting back to England.’

  ‘Oh no, please stay in Italy for a while,’ Hope said anxiously. ‘Please go with him.’

  Ferne’s first thought was that Hope was matchmaking, but then she got a closer look at the other woman’s expression and her amusement died. Hope’s face was full of strange fear.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘It’s something serious, isn’t it?’

  Again that disconcerting silence; Hope glanced at her husband. This time he nodded and she began to speak.

  ‘I’m going to confide in you,’ she said, ‘because we trust you, and we both think that you must learn the secret.’

  ‘Secret?’ Ferne echoed.

  ‘It’s a terrible one and it weighs on us. We try not to believe it, but the truth is-’ She took a deep breath and spoke with difficulty. ‘The truth is that Dante might be dying.’

  ‘What?’ Ferne whispered, aghast. ‘Did you say-?’

  ‘Dying. If that should happen, and we could have done something to prevent it and had not-But he will not have it spoken of, you see, and we don’t know what to do.’

  Ferne forcibly pulled herself together.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘He must know if he’s ill or not.’

  She could hear fearful echoes in her head. They were filled with warnings and told her that she was about to discover the dark secret that made Dante unlike other men.

  ‘On his mother’s side, he’s a Linelli,’ Hope explained. ‘And that family has a hereditary problem. There can be a weak blood vessel in the brain that can suddenly start to bleed. Then the victim will collapse, perhaps go into a coma, perhaps die.’

  ‘This has happened to several of them over the years,’ Toni said. ‘Some have died, but even the ones who survived have often been unlucky. His Uncle Leo suffered a major haemorrhage. His life was saved by surgery, but his brain was damaged. Now he’s little more than a child, and to Dante he’s an awful warning. He refuses even to consider that he might have inherited this illness and need treatment.’

  ‘But has there ever been any sign?’ Ferne asked. ‘Or are you just afraid because it’s hereditary? After all, not everyone in the family will have it.’

  ‘True, but there was one frightening moment about two years ago. He had a headache so bad that he became confused and dizzy. This can mean a minor rupture of the blood vessel, and if that’s ignored it can lead to a major one. But he insisted that he was perfectly recovered, and nothing else has happened since. That might mean nothing is wrong, or it might mean that he’s been very, very lucky. He could go on being lucky for years, or…’ Hope broke off with a sigh.

  ‘But wouldn’t it be better to find out?’ Ferne asked.

  ‘He doesn’t want to know,’ Toni said sombrely. ‘He isn’t afraid of death, but he is afraid of surgery, in case he ends up like Leo. His attitude is that, if death comes, it comes.’

  ‘Doing the quick-step with fate,’ Ferne murmured.

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Something I’ve heard him say. I didn’t understand it before. But I can’t believe he’ll go so far. Surely he’ll be better having a diagnosis?’

  ‘He’s determined not to,’ Hope said in despair. ‘He doesn’t want the family pressuring him to have surgery, even though it might not be so much of a risk. Surgical techniques have greatly improved since Leo’s operation nearly thirty years ago, and Dante could easily come out of it well and whole, but he won’t take the chance. He wants to get the best out of life while he can, and then, well…’

  She gave a despairing sigh. Ferne was transfixed. This was worse than anything she’d feared.

  ‘If only we knew for sure, but there’s no way to be quite certain,’ Hope resumed. ‘Unless there’s a definite symptom, like a dizzy spell. Have you ever seen him grow faint without warning?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ferne said, remembering with horror. ‘He seemed to get dizzy when he was coming down the ladder when he saved the dog. But it seemed natural after what he’d been through-all that smoke.’

  ‘It probably was natural,’ Hope agreed. ‘And his headache tonight is probably natural, just a delayed reaction to what he went through. But we always wonder. It’s hard to say anything for fear of enraging him.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve seen that,’ Ferne murmured. ‘I wanted him to see a doctor, and he was very angry. He made me promise not to say anything to the family, or I would have told you before. He got so furious that I had to give in. I could hardly believe that it was him.’

  ‘He’s going off alone,’ Hope said. ‘Please, Ferne, go with him.’

  ‘But what could I do? I’m not a nurse.’

  ‘No, but you’d be there, watching out for him. If anything worrying happens, you won’t dismiss it as a stranger would. You can summon help, perhaps save his life. And you might even persuade him that he doesn’t have to live this way.’

  ‘He won’t listen to me,’ Ferne said. ‘He’ll probably suspect me from the start.’

  ‘No, because he’s invited you to go with him, so it will all seem natural to him. Please. I beg you.’

  Ferne knew the decision had been made. This woman who had come to her rescue and asked so little in return was now imploring her.

  ‘You don’t need to beg me,’ she said at last. ‘Of course I’ll do it. You must tell me all you can about this illness, so that I can be of most use.’

  For answer, Hope flung her arms about Ferne’s neck in a passion of thankfulness. Toni was more restrained, but he laid a powerful hand on Ferne’s shoulder and squeezed tightly.

  But Ferne was shaking, wondering what she’d let herself in for.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A SOUND from inside the house made them look up quickly, but it was only Primo, come to say goodnight before taking O
lympia back to their apartment. Ferne took the chance to slip away among the trees. She needed to calm her thoughts and, more than that, calm her emotions.

  For now there was a howling wilderness inside her, and she wanted to scream up to the heavens that it couldn’t be true. It mustn’t be true, for if it was true she couldn’t bear it.

  She’d wanted to know Dante’s secret, and here it was. He was probably dying, and he knew it. At any moment of the day or night he could collapse without warning. That was the fact he lived with, refused to duck from, even laughed at. That was the quick-step he was dancing with fate.

  Now she understood why he’d gone back into the burning house when anyone wiser would have stayed away. Inwardly he’d been yelling, ‘Go on, then, do your worst!’ to the gremlins who haunted him, trying to scare him, not succeeding.

  If he’d died that day, he’d have called it a blessing compared with the fate he dreaded: permanent disability, being as dependent as a child, pity. To avoid that he would do anything, even walk into the fire.

  This was why he chose light relationships. He couldn’t allow himself to fall in love, nor would he risk a woman falling in love with him. He was at ease with her because she fended him off with laughter and seemed in no danger of serious feelings, which was just what he liked; it was safer for them both.

  But he’d miscalculated, she thought in anguish. The news of his being in danger had brought a rush of emotion to her heart. Deny it though she might, the misery of knowing that he might be brutally snatched from her at any moment was tearing her apart.

  She should fly this place now, run from him while she might still have even a little control over her feelings. Instead she had agreed to stay in his company, to watch over him, vulnerable to his charm which seemed even more potent now that she understood the tragedy that lay behind it.

  She would probably fall in love with him despite her determination not to. And how would she bear what might happen next?

  Flee! said the voice in her mind. Forget what you’ve promised.

  ‘I can’t,’ she whispered, resting her head against a tree.

  To go was to abandon him to whatever was waiting, leave him to face it alone. The fact that he’d chosen it that way would make it no less a betrayal.

  ‘No,’ she murmured. ‘No, no, no!’

  Suddenly she knew she couldn’t keep her promise to Hope. She’d been mad to say yes, and there was still time to put it right. She would hurry back now…

  ‘There you are,’ came Dante’s voice. ‘Why are you hiding?’

  She turned to see him walking towards her. He had the rumpled look of a man who’d recently been asleep.

  ‘I came out for some air,’ she said. ‘It’s lovely out here at night.’

  ‘It is beautiful, isn’t it?’

  He didn’t put his arms about her, but leaned against the tree, regarding her quizzically.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, fine,’ she said hastily. ‘What about you? How’s your head?’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with my head. Why do you ask?’

  ‘When you went to bed early, Hope thought-’

  ‘Hope’s a fusspot. My head is fine.’

  Was his voice just a little bit too firm? She shouldn’t have raised the subject. It was a careless mistake, and she must be more careful.

  ‘You can’t blame her for fussing,’ she said lightly. ‘You of all men, going to bed early! What kind of earthquake produced that?’

  ‘I’m probably still suffering a touch of smoke inhalation. Even I’m not superman.’

  ‘Now, there’s an admission!’ she said in as close to a teasing voice as she could manage.

  She longed to take his face between her hands, kiss him tenderly and beg him to look after himself. But anything like that was forbidden. If she stayed she would have to guard every word, watch and protect him in secret, always deceive him. The sooner she was out of here, the better.

  ‘Dante,’ she said helplessly. ‘There’s something I must-’

  ‘Oh yes, you were trying to tell me something this afternoon, weren’t you? And I never gave you the chance. Too full of myself as always. Tell me now.’

  It would have to be faced soon, but before she could speak blessed rescue came in the form of a commotion. Ruggiero’s toddler son, Matti, came flying through the trees as fast as his short legs would carry him. From behind came Ruggiero’s voice, calling to him to come back, which he ignored.

  ‘I used to escape at bedtime just like that,’ Dante said, grinning. ‘Some rotten, spoilsport grown-up always grabbed me.’

  He seized Matti and hoisted the toddler up in his arms, laughing into his face.

  ‘Gotcha! No, don’t kick me. I know how you feel, but it’s bedtime.’

  ‘It was bedtime hours ago,’ Ruggiero said breathlessly, reaching them. ‘Polly looked in on him and he made a run for it.’

  ‘Parents can be a pain in the neck,’ Dante confided to the tot. ‘But sometimes you have to humour them.’

  Reluctantly Matti nodded. Dante grinned and handed the child to his father.

  ‘You really know how to talk to him,’ Ruggiero said. Then, fearing to be thought sentimental, he added, ‘I guess it’s because you’re just a great kid yourself, eh?’

  ‘Could be,’ Dante agreed.

  Ferne, watching from the shadows, thought that there was more to it than a joke. Dante was part-child, part-clown, part-schemer, and part something else that she was just beginning to discover. Whatever it might turn out to be, he was a man who needed her protection. Somewhere in the last few moments the decision had been made.

  ‘Now we’re alone again,’ he said, ‘what were you going to say?’

  Ferne took a deep breath and faced him with a smile.

  ‘Just that I really enjoyed working with you. When do we leave?’

  Be careful what you say in jest: it may return to haunt you.

  That thought pursued Ferne over the next few days.

  She’d teased Dante about being a perfect gentleman at all times, and he’d responded with an encouraging dismay. But as time passed she began to realise that he’d taken her seriously and was being, as he’d promised, ‘just friendly’.

  He bought a car, a solid, roomy vehicle designed for serious travel, and quite unlike the frivolous choice she might once have expected him to make. They headed south to Calabria, the rugged, mountainous territory at the toe of the Italian peninsular. One of Dante’s techniques was to seek out places that had been on the market for a long time and offer his services.

  ‘There are three villas there that my research tells me have been for sale too long,’ he said. ‘Let’s try our luck.’

  Their luck was in. The owners were getting desperate and were eager for Dante to add their properties to his books. They spent several days working up a sales pitch for each house, complete with glorious pictures. At the end of it, Ferne was exhausted.

  ‘I seem to spend my life climbing stairs and walking mile-long corridors,’ she complained. ‘If I’d known it was going to be this tiring, I wouldn’t have come.’

  Dante himself didn’t seem at all tired, and was clearly in such blazingly good health that she wondered if she was crazy to be watching out for him. He had a fund of funny stories which he directed at her over dinner, reducing her to tears of laughter, after which he would take her hand to lead her upstairs to their separate rooms, kiss her on the cheek and bid her goodnight.

  No man could have behaved more perfectly. No man could have been more restrained and polite. No man could have been more infuriating.

  For this she’d turned down the chance of a lifetime?

  Mick Gregson hadn’t been pleased.

  ‘What were you thinking of?’ he’d bawled down the phone. ‘This man carries influence in film land. If he’d liked your work, you could have done anything you wanted.’

  But I’m doing what I want, had been her silent thought.

  ‘Ferne, I
can’t go on representing you if you’re going to act like this.’

  ‘That’s your decision, Mick, and of course I respect it.’

  They had parted bad friends.

  Now she was on the road with a man who’d promised ‘just friendly’, and who seemed infuriatingly determined to keep his word.

  There was no justice.

  But one thing had changed-now she understood the true reason for Dante’s restraint. He wouldn’t make advances to her because his personal code of honour forbade him to ask for love when he might die without warning.

  Here was the explanation for the way he slipped quickly in and out of relationships, never getting too close to any woman. It was his way of being considerate.

  And he was right, she assured herself. If she wanted more from him, that was her problem.

  ‘Where do we go next?’ she asked as they turned north again, leaving Calabria behind.

  ‘A place near Rome that I’ve promised to take a look at. There are some two-thousand-year-old ruins, plus a huge villa that the owner insists on calling a palazzo, that’s “only” six centuries old. It may not be easy to shift.’

  ‘If it’s antique and historical, won’t the atmosphere of romance help to sell it?’

  ‘An atmosphere of romance is all very well in theory, but people tend to want decent plumbing as well. I know the owner, Gino Tirelli, and he assures me that it’s in a good state of repair-but he might, just possibly, be biased. Luckily I’m not due there until next week, so we can give ourselves a few days by the sea.’

  ‘That sounds lovely. This heat is really getting to me.’

  ‘Of course, we could always go sight-seeing in Rome. There are some really interesting historical buildings.’

  ‘The sea, the sea,’ she begged faintly.

  He laughed. ‘The sea it is, then. Let’s go.’

  A few hours’ driving brought them to the Lido di Ostia, the beach resort about fifteen miles from Rome. It was a sunny place of level, pale-yellow sands that were adorned not only with umbrellas and loungers but the other trappings of civilization: wine bars and cafés.