by Penny Jordan
No. Perhaps not. Nothing good ever came of a girl seeming too eager. She would content herself with reading one of the very interesting looking novels her father had in his bookshelf next to his desk. It seemed he’d liked spy stories, a genre which had never overly appealed to her. But she supposed if her father had liked them then maybe so would she. So she selected a medium-sized tome with the provocative title of One Spy Too Many and took it out onto the terrace. There she settled, soon engrossed in what turned out to be a real page-turner.
It was hunger pains which finally forced Veronica to lift her eyes from the book. That, and the light fading so much that she was forced to go inside if she wanted to continue to read whilst she ate. Either that or turn on the outside lights. But that always attracted insects.
Dinner was poached eggs on toast. More of a breakfast than a dinner meal but it was enough for now. She’d had a huge plate of pasta at lunchtime. She hadn’t come to Italy to get fat, though it would be easy…the food was so delicious.
When her period still hadn’t arrived by the time she’d finished the book late that night, Veronica resigned herself to her cycle temporarily having gone walkabout. When it had happened before she’d gone to the doctor in a panic, thinking she’d contracted some dreaded disease, but after an examination and some tests the doctor had told her that she was perfectly fine. The worst thing she could do, the doctor had said, was worry. His advice had been to eat healthily, take plenty of exercise and do things she enjoyed. Which had been a little hard back then when nothing had made her happy.
Not so on the Isle of Capri.
Veronica decided to follow that doctor’s instructions to a T. The next morning she rose early and went for a walk before breakfast. Nothing too adventurous, just down the road and back again. Then after breakfast she made her way carefully down the steep path to the Hotel Fabrizzi and asked Elena—who was sitting at a computer behind the reception desk in the coolly spacious foyer—if there was a map of Capri she could borrow. Elena showed her a stand on the wall which contained maps, as well as lots of brochures of tourist activities on Capri. Veronica sorted through them and took one of everything which interested her.
‘Thank you, Elena,’ she said.
‘You are welcome,’ came her warm reply. ‘Mamma said if I saw you to ask you to come to dinner tonight. Nothing like the other night. It will just be her and Papa.’
‘How nice of her. That would lovely. Is she here?’
‘She is busy doing the rooms with Carmelina at the moment. Can I say you will come?’
‘Of course. What time do you think?’
‘Seven. And don’t eat too much before you come. Mamma likes to feed her guests until they burst.’
Veronica laughed. ‘Yes. I did notice that last Friday night.’
‘Have you heard from Leonardo?’ Elena suddenly asked.
‘He rang me on Sunday night to thank me for letting him stay. But not since then.’
Elena frowned. ‘He was strange at lunch on Sunday.’
‘Strange? What do you mean?’
‘I do not know. He was not the brother I am used to. He was too quiet. I wondered if you had argued with him.’
‘No. Not at all.’
‘Mamma does not understand Leonardo. She and Papa keep pressing him to marry but he is not ready to settle down yet.’
‘Leonardo will never be ready to settle down,’ Veronica said, any foolish dreams she’d been harbouring totally shattered by voicing the truth out loud.
Elena’s eyes showed her surprise. ‘You know him well enough already to know that?’
‘We met briefly many years ago,’ Veronica explained. ‘I knew then what kind of man he was.’
‘He is a not a bad man,’ Elena defended hotly, dark eyes flashing.
‘No, but he is restless. And dissatisfied with his life. He never got over his retirement from competitive skiing. I hope your mamma and papa don’t think he’s going to marry me. Because he won’t.’
Elena sighed. ‘They must have hope, Veronica. Please don’t say any of this to them tonight.’
‘Okay. I’ll just play happy tourist.’
‘You are more than a tourist. You are Laurence’s daughter.’
Veronica left the hotel with her map and several brochures, troubled by her conversation with Elena. Perhaps because she’d finally accepted that loving a man like Leonardo was a sure path to misery.
Seeking distraction, she set herself the task of familiarising herself with all the established walks, as well as exploring the towns of Capri and Anacapri. Both were beautiful towns—quaint and historical—but she preferred Anacapri because it was smaller and out of reach of the day-trippers. She sat down at an al fresco table in the piazza there and had a lovely lunch—though not too big, given she was going to the Fabrizzis’ for dinner that night. After lunch she bought a bottle of water and set off for another walk which took her down a steep, winding path to the most delightful little beach. There she sat on a smooth rock for a couple of hours, sandals off, her hot feet cooling in the tepid water.
The walk back up was not so delightful, but she took her time, though vowing not to do quite so much the following day. Her period still hadn’t come but she’d decided not to worry about it. She couldn’t will it to come, could she?
Once back at the villa, she had a long shower, followed by a short nap before dressing for dinner. Nothing too fancy, just a pair of black cotton culottes and a black-and-white wrap-around top that had elbow-length bat-wing sleeves. She left her hair down, having freshly washed and styled it.
‘How lovely you look,’ Sophia gushed before giving her the obligatory hug. ‘But you have caught the sun, have you not?’
‘I have,’ Veronica confessed. ‘I was silly and took off my hat while I was at a beach. The breeze and the water tricked me into thinking I was cool.’
‘A little sun doesn’t do any harm,’ Alberto said, and came forward to give her a hug also.
Veronica wondered if she’d ever get used to all the hugging, then realised she wouldn’t have to. Soon, she’d be back home in Australia and back to her less demonstrative lifestyle.
It was a rather depressing thought.
‘We do not have any guests in the hotel tonight,’ Sophia told her. ‘We can eat in the dining room, if you wish. Or on the big table in the kitchen.’
‘Oh, please, in the kitchen.’
Sophia beamed at her, her wide smile very satisfied. ‘Good. Come. Alberto wishes to give you some of Alfonso’s prized limoncello before we eat.’
‘It is very good,’ Alberto said. ‘You will like.’
She did like. And she said so.
‘Alfonso also makes his own wine,’ Alberto added.
‘He’s very clever, then,’ Veronica said.
The table in the kitchen was quite large. Sophia had set just one end with Alberto at the head and herself and Sophia flanking him. The food,, as Veronica had expected, was simply delicious, but not too over the top, just a meatball and spaghetti dish, all washed down with what she suspected was some of Alfonso’s home-made wine. Dessert was a coconut cake which was very tasty. The coffee afterwards was strong, but Veronica didn’t say anything, just added cream and sugar and gave up the idea of sleeping until the wee hours of the morning.
Not that it mattered. She didn’t have to go anywhere tomorrow.
The meal ended around nine, Veronica surprised that not once had Sophia and Alberto brought up the subject of their son. In turn, she resisted the temptation to question them about her father, deciding she wanted just to enjoy their company and forget about everything else for tonight. They asked her about her job, which she explained, confessing that she worked six, sometimes seven days a week. They looked horrified, claimed she must be in need of a holiday, then made a lot of suggestions about how she should spend the rest of her time o
n Capri. They insisted she see the Blue Grotto again, but warned her to go very early in the day or very late, so that she didn’t get caught up with all the day-trippers. Also on the list was the chairlift up the mountain, both of which she agreed to do.
After another round of hugs, and a promise to join the whole family for lunch next Sunday, Veronica left to walk home slowly, thinking what lovely parents Leonardo had. Much nicer than Jerome’s parents.
Jerome…
For the first time in three years, Veronica was able to think about Jerome without feeling one bit upset, or even bitter. Finally, she was able to look at what he had done more objectively. Yes, it had been wicked of him to lie to her about loving her when he had loved another woman—a married doctor with whom he had worked. Even more wicked to plan to marry her and have children with her because he wanted a family, because the so-called love of his life refused to leave her husband and children and marry him. At the same time, she hadn’t wanted to give Jerome up. She’d wanted to have her cake and eat it too. Veronica would never have found out the horrible truth if the woman hadn’t broken down at Jerome’s wake and confessed everything.
Veronica still hated Jerome and his lover, but they no longer had the power to destroy her life. She was free of them at last.
She had her father to thank for that. Her father and, yes, Leonardo.
A sigh came to her lips, a sigh for a dream which she accepted was just a dream. Leonardo wasn’t going to change. Leopards didn’t change their spots. He was taken with her because she was different, that was all. And maybe she was taken with him because he was different from the Australian boyfriends she’d had. Not just better looking but more passionate. More…exotic. And definitely more erotic.
A shiver ran down her spine when she thought of how much she loved the ways he made love to her. Nothing seemed wrong to her when she was in his arms.
Another sigh wafted from her lips, this one the sound of resignation.
There was no use pretending she could resist the temptation to spend another weekend with him, especially if she could spend it with him in Venice. She would insist on that. If she was going to risk another broken heart, then she could at least have it broken in Venice.
Her mind made up, she decided to tell him the good news when he rang her on Sunday evening.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
BY THE TIME Friday morning came, Veronica really started to worry about her missing period. It was no use. She couldn’t help it. She knew the odds of her being pregnant were very small, but not impossible. Her stomach somersaulted at the thought.
Because what if she was pregnant? Lord, what a disaster!
Logic told her she was panicking for nothing, but logic didn’t always figure in life. She kept telling herself that she didn’t feel pregnant. There was no light-headedness, or being sick in the mornings, or swollen nipples. Of course, all those symptoms usually came later, not after just one week.
Sighing, she arose and dressed, still not having fulfilled her bucket list of activities for Capri. This morning she planned to go on the chairlift up the mountain, then later in the afternoon she would take a trip out to the Blue Grotto. Sandwiched in between she would walk, walk and walk some more. If nothing else, all the walking should make her sleep tonight. She didn’t want to lie there worrying about having Leonardo’s baby growing inside her body.
It would have been a marvellous day, Veronica thought as she finally trudged up the steps to the villa just after six, if that last horrific thought hadn’t plagued her mind every five minutes. Not that having a baby was horrific. It was having Leonardo’s baby that horrified her. Because the stupid man would offer to marry her. And the last man on earth she wanted to be married to was a playboy—hardly a recipe for happiness for ever. Okay, so she was in love with the man. Stupidly. Hopelessly. And, yes, if there was to be a child, she would be severely tempted to say yes if he proposed. After all, she had personal experience of growing up without a father and she wouldn’t wish that on any child.
And in truth Leonardo would probably be a good father. But he would be a hopeless husband. And undoubtedly unfaithful. That was something she could not bear, not after her experience with Jerome. If and when she married, she wanted her husband to be so besotted with her that he would not even look at another woman.
Veronica retrieved the key from the geranium pot, let herself in, dumped her hat and bag on the lounge then walked over to the kitchen area. There, she put on some water for coffee before heading for the bathroom, where a visit to the toilet showed nothing of note.
Naturally.
Cursing under her breath, she flushed the toilet, washed her hands and went back to make herself the coffee. Cradling the mug in her hands, she wandered out to the terrace in the hope of finding some peace with the soothing water view. She didn’t. For the first time since coming here, she found no pleasure whatsoever in gazing out at the Mediterranean. Her mind was too full of worry to find pleasure in anything. She was severely tempted to ring her mother and talk things out with her. They were very close, and rarely kept their problems from each other. Not only that, her mother was much less emotional than she was, and not given to dramatising situations or making mountains out of molehills.
The intelligent part of Veronica’s brain told her that the odds of her being pregnant were very low. But she needed someone else to reassure her that she was panicking unnecessarily. So, as she sat there sipping her coffee, she worked out what time it was in Australia. All you had to do, she’d discovered after putting the question into her father’s computer, was take off two hours from the current time, then change the a.m. to p.m. and vice versa. By eight tonight, it would be six in the morning in Australia, the time her mother usually rose come rain, hail or shine.
It was just after seven here now, and Veronica decided to get herself something to eat. By the time she picked up the phone an hour later, a nervous tension was gripping her stomach. She didn’t want to worry her mother with what was possibly a non-existent problem but she desperately needed her advice.
‘Veronica?’ her mother answered. ‘I didn’t expect to hear from you. What’s up?’
Trust her mother to twig straight away that there was something wrong.
‘Nothing, I hope.’
‘That sounds ominous.’
‘Sorry, I’m not trying to alarm you. I just want to run something by you. Mum, you know how I’m always very regular. With my period, I mean.’
‘Yes…’ her mother said warily.
Veronica sighed. ‘Well, I’m late.’
‘Ah.’
‘Yes, ah. I don’t think I’m pregnant, but it is possible if ovulation was delayed.’
‘Are you telling me you had unprotected sex with a playboy?’
She sounded aghast. And highly disapproving.
Veronica steeled herself. ‘Yes. I’m afraid so.’
‘Oh, for pity’s sake! How come? I would have thought this Leonardo Fabrizzi would be more careful than that.’
‘The first time, it just sort of happened. I mean…we both got carried away.’
‘That doesn’t sound like you.’
‘It’s not. But I did. Then when Leonardo came to his senses he asked me if an unwanted pregnancy was on the cards. I told him it wasn’t. At the time I assumed I’d already ovulated. The trouble was he assumed I was on the pill.’
‘And you let him think it.’
‘Yes.’
‘After which he was happy not to use a condom, like any man.’
‘Yes,’ she said again, but this time with a deep sigh.
‘Oh, dear…’
‘You think I’m pregnant, don’t you?’
‘Not necessarily. But it’s well known that a girl is always extra vulnerable to a man at the time she ovulates. It’s Mother Nature.’
Veronica began to feel sick.
‘He is.’
‘You’d have to be very unlucky to be pregnant. Look, why don’t you buy a pregnancy testing kit and find out one way or another?’
‘I can’t do that. Not here on Capri. Everyone knows everyone on this island. It would soon get around and Leonardo’s parents might hear.’ She shuddered at the thought. ‘Anyway, it’s way too early to get a reliable result.’
‘Not necessarily. I saw a show on TV that said those tests can tell pretty early these days.’
‘I suppose I could catch a ferry over to the mainland and buy one there.’
‘Buy two. That way, you can take a test a few days apart and be sure.’
‘That’s a good idea. Thanks a lot, Mum. You always know what to do.’
‘Not always. But at least it would put your mind at rest. Now, are you still coming home early, or has that idea gone by the board?’
‘I’m not sure now. I haven’t changed the flight yet.’
‘Let me know what you decide. And what the results of the test are. What do you think you’ll do if you are pregnant?’
‘Come straight home.’
‘And do what?’
‘I don’t know yet. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
NEGATIVE. IT WAS NEGATIVE!
Veronica stared at the testing stick for a long time before dropping it on the bathroom floor then burying her face in her hands. Oh, thank God, thank God.
After a few sobs of relief, Veronica dropped her hands from her face, picked up the stick and threw it into the small bin under the vanity.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want a baby. Just not Leonardo’s. At least, not right now. If by some miracle he was genuinely in love with her and wanted a future with her then, yes, having his baby would be the best thing in the world. She’d always wanted children, but only after she was married. No way did she want to go down the single mother road, like her own mother.
