Amy felt her heart twist. ‘Lizzie, I’m sure that isn’t true.’ She dropped onto her knees beside the bed and took the girl’s hand. ‘You and I are going to talk about that, but first we need to check you over to see why you’ve got this headache. When we’ve got the physical check out of the way, we’ll deal with the rest of it.’
Lizzie rolled onto her back, her eyes closed. ‘Go on, then. Get it over with. If I’m going to die, I might as well know.’
‘You’re not going to die, angelo mia.’ As kind and gentle as he always was with little Michelle, Marco examined her thoroughly and closely checked the rash around her mouth. ‘Amy, what exactly were you doing out with your friends last night?’ His tone was casual as he put the stethoscope back into his bag and swiftly checked her blood pressure.
‘I dunno.’ Lizzie didn’t open her eyes. ‘We were just hanging out. Having fun. Drinking. You heard Mum.’
‘What were you drinking?’
‘Stuff.’
‘Have you or your friends tried sniffing glue?’
Lizzie’s eyes flew open and colour flooded into her face. ‘No.’
‘Lizzie.’ Marco gently unwound the blood-pressure cuff and put it away, ‘I’m your doctor, not your mother. You need to be honest with me.’
‘Why? So that you can lecture me?’
‘So that I can help you.’
Lizzie looked at him for a moment and then covered her face with her hands and started to cry again. ‘They were doing it and I didn’t want to be different. They’re always saying I’m posh and stuck up. So I tried it. And I felt really happy and part of everything. And then afterwards I felt totally crap. Dizzy and sick. How did you guess?’
‘I’m a doctor. And I suspected it when you came to the surgery last week. You were short-tempered, your mother mentioned that your school work had gone downhill and I noticed that you had an oil stain on your jumper.’
Lizzie gaped at him. ‘What are you, a detective?’
‘Sometimes, yes.’ Marco gave a wry smile. ‘That’s exactly what my job is.’
‘What about the spots on my face?’
‘Same thing.’
Lizzie swallowed. ‘Not meningitis?’
‘Not meningitis,’ Marco said gently. ‘Glue sniffing.’
Lizzie groaned and closed her eyes. ‘It’s no big deal,’ she muttered. ‘I mean, I’ve only done it occasionally.’
‘It is a big deal. Sometimes it can kill, sometimes it causes organ damage.’ He talked to the teenager, dishing out cold, hard facts until Lizzie sat up and covered her ears with her hands.
‘All right, stop! I’ve messed up, I know I have, but—you have no idea what it’s like. Mum just hates me.’ She started to cry again and Amy gave a murmur of sympathy and slid a hand over the girl’s shaking shoulders.
‘I don’t think your mum hates you, Lizzie.’
‘What would you know, anyway?’ Lizzie wriggled away from her moodily. ‘You, with your perfect life.’
‘Actually, I know quite a lot about how it feels to be unloved,’ Amy said calmly, ‘because my mother didn’t want me at all.’
Lizzie looked at her. So did Marco.
‘Family life is complicated, Lizzie, but I know your mum loves you.’ Amy’s voice was firm. ‘She’s worried about you and she doesn’t know how to handle you, but she loves you. All the signs are there.’
‘What? She spends all her time with Michelle.’
Amy nodded. ‘Yes, that must be hard. Michelle is a toddler and toddlers are always time-consuming, and on top of that she has asthma. I can quite see how it might seem that your mum doesn’t have time for you.’
‘She doesn’t even notice me except when it’s to nag about something.’
‘If she’s nagging, then she’s noticing,’ Amy said quietly. ‘My mother didn’t care where I was or who I was with. When I was seven she sent me to boarding school. I would have given a great deal for her to nag me about something because at least it would have showed that she minded about something.’
Lizzie was silent. ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that.’ She looked at Amy. ‘We never talk or anything.’
‘Do you talk to her?’
Lizzie’s gaze slipped from hers. ‘No.’ She plucked at the duvet. ‘I don’t suppose I do. Not any more.’
‘Then perhaps you should try. She might surprise you.’
Lizzie pulled a face. ‘She’s going to kill me when she finds out I’ve been sniffing glue. Are you going to tell her?’
‘You’re going to tell her,’ Marco said gently, closing his bag, ‘along with all these other things that you’ve been telling us. I think she needs to know how you feel, don’t you?’
‘It won’t make a difference.’
‘Why don’t you tell her and we will find out?’
Lizzie curled her arms round her knees, suddenly looking very young and lost. ‘Will you stay while I talk to her?’
Amy nodded immediately. ‘I will.’
‘I didn’t really want to do it, you know? The glue stuff.’ Lizzie’s eyes filled. ‘But those girls were like so cool and kind of superior and they look at you like you’re nothing if you don’t go along with what they say. I just wanted to fit in but at the same time I always knew that I didn’t.’
‘If they don’t respect your right to make your own choices, maybe they’re not good friends,’ Amy said quietly, and Lizzie nodded.
‘I know.’ She wiped her nose on her sleeve. ‘I think I just wanted Mum to notice me and when I hung out with them, Mum noticed. She hates them. So what happens now?’
‘To start with, you talk to your mother. Hopefully she can give you the support you need.’ Marco rose to his feet. ‘If necessary I can refer you to the hospital for some help but I don’t think you’ll need it. Eat healthily, get plenty of sleep and let’s see how you go. I’ll go and call your mum.’
‘Poor Lizzie. And poor Carol.’ Marco drove towards home, a frown on his face.
‘They’ll be all right. They love each other and they’ll work it out.’ Amy glanced out of the window. ‘Where are we going? This isn’t the way home.’
‘I want to talk to you.’ He pulled up in a small car park that overlooked the jagged coastline. ‘Here, we shouldn’t be disturbed.’
Amy felt her heart sink. ‘Marco, we’re not going over this again.’
‘No. We’re exploring something entirely different. You are going to tell me about your childhood.’
‘That’s irrelevant. And it’s not my favourite subject.’
‘But you mentioned it just now to help a very confused, sad teenager. Doesn’t our marriage deserve the same consideration?’
‘Talking about the past won’t make any difference to the future, Marco.’
‘At least let me understand why you’re walking away.’ His voice was rough and his eyes were tired. ‘At least give me that much, Amy. None of this makes sense to me. I’m sure that all your beliefs about marriage and children come from your own experiences. Clearly your mother didn’t want children, but why does that affect your own perception of parenthood?’
‘My mother did want children. But she wanted her own children.’
Marco was silent for a moment. ‘This I don’t understand.’
‘I’m not her child,’ Amy said wearily. ‘I’m adopted, Marco. She adopted me because she was infertile and she couldn’t have children. I was supposed to be the solution to her problem. Instead, I made the problem a thousand times worse.’
The only noise in the car was the sound of Marco breathing. ‘You are adopted?’
‘That’s right. And now can we move on? There’s really nothing else to say and it makes no difference to our relationship.’
‘It makes a difference to me.’ His voice was a low growl and he slid a hand behind her neck and forced her to look at him. ‘Ti amo. I love you. You love me.’
Amy swallowed and spoke with difficulty. ‘That doesn’t make a difference either.’
> ‘How can you say that!’ Visibly frustrated, his mouth tightened. ‘Of course it’s relevant. Our love is strong enough to survive anything.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘That isn’t true. You want children. I can’t give you children. I’ve seen firsthand what that can do to a relationship.’
‘So tell me.’ His voice was soft but the pressure of his hand prevented her from looking away. ‘Tell me what it can do, I want to know. I want to know what you have seen that I am so blind to.’
‘My father wanted children. My mother couldn’t have them. So she adopted me, thinking that that would solve the problem. It didn’t. My father never saw me as his and my mother blamed me for that. She believed that had I been different, he would have loved me.’ Amy kept her voice level as she recited the basic facts. ‘If I’d been prettier, cleverer, more outgoing—the list was endless. By the time she finally sent me to boarding school, I was so afraid of doing and saying the wrong thing, I barely spoke.’
‘Amy.’ Marco breathed her name and then gave a groan and pulled her against him. ‘I had no idea. Why did you never tell me this before?’
‘Because I try and forget it. I have a different life now. It isn’t relevant.’
‘If it’s destroying our relationship, it’s relevant. And your father paid you no attention either?’
‘My father’s ego was badly damaged by the lack of children. He thought it made him less of a man. He had an affair with his secretary and she became pregnant almost immediately. There was no question of keeping it a secret because my father wanted everyone to know that he’d fathered a child, as if it were somehow confirmation of his masculinity. So he divorced my mother and married the secretary. They had four children in quick succession, each one another bitter blow to my mother. I rarely ever saw her. During term time I was at school and in the holidays I stayed with my grandmother in Penhally.’
‘I can’t believe that she never tried to build a relationship with you.’
‘You don’t understand.’ Amy gave a faint smile. ‘She didn’t really want me, Marco. I was just a solution to her problem. She needed to produce a child and she couldn’t. So as a last resort she produced me. I’m sure the authorities would have thought that they were a perfect couple to qualify for adoption. Nice home, good income and my mother was very, very excited about having me. But not because she wanted me. Because she thought I’d save her marriage.’
‘And when you didn’t, she sent you away.’
‘That’s right.’
‘So now I begin to understand you.’ Marco stroked a hand down her cheek. ‘You think that perhaps I am like your father and I need children to prove my manhood, no?’
‘I know you’re nothing like my father.’ She felt exhausted. And sick again, really, really sick. ‘But I also know that you want a family and you deserve one.’
‘Did your parents love each other?’
‘Why is that relevant?’
‘It’s totally relevant.’ His eyes held hers. ‘You see, you are the one I want to spend my life with. And maybe our life together will come with problems, because life always does. Perhaps for us it will be infertility. But we will still be together and that is what I want. That is what I choose. A life with you.’
‘Marco—’
‘No, it is your turn to listen to me. All this time you have focused only on the fact you can’t have children, not on our relationship.’
‘Because it matters!’
‘Of course it matters, I’m not pretending that it doesn’t matter. I’m just saying that it can’t be allowed to destroy what we have.’
‘You don’t understand—’
‘No, you are the one who doesn’t understand,’ he said firmly. ‘You don’t understand how much I love you. If you understood that, you wouldn’t ever think of leaving me again.’
‘You really love me? Why?’ Amy’s eyes filled. ‘I can’t give you want you want.’
‘Amy, tesoro.’ He gave a gentle smile and lowered his mouth to hers. ‘You are what I want. How can I make you see that? I want my life to be with you and I will take whatever problems come along with that.’
She stared at him, her heart beating hard against her chest. ‘We got married in a hurry.’
He gave a wry smile. ‘Amy, I had successfully avoided commitment for thirty-nine years until I met you. Are you seriously suggesting that I didn’t know my own mind? I married you because you were the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and it took me very little time to work that out.’
‘You said that you wanted me to be the mother of your children.’
He grimaced. ‘Sì. In the circumstances I can see how you would have arrived at your totally false belief that our marriage couldn’t work. But what I was trying to say was that you were the only woman for me. The only woman I wanted to marry. The only woman I wanted to have children with.’ His voice softened. ‘Or not have children with, if that is what fate dictates for us. I love you.’
Amy stared at him, not daring to believe that he meant it. Then she felt her eyes fill. ‘I didn’t believe that you loved me.’
‘I married you,’ Marco said softly. ‘Wasn’t that proof enough of my love?’
‘You didn’t come after me when I left.’
He breathed out heavily. ‘To begin with I was in shock. I couldn’t believe what had happened because we went from being happy to you leaving in the blink of an eye. I would have come but then Annabel died and Nick needed me here. Time passed—’
‘And I didn’t come back because I just couldn’t see how our relationship could survive. After everything I saw at home. Even now, I can’t really believe that we can be different from my parents.’
‘We are different. No two people are the same, remember that. And no relationship is the same. Have a little faith.’ He brushed away her tears. ‘If we weren’t already married, this is the moment when I would propose. And you would say yes.’
‘Would I?’ She felt hope unfold inside her like the petals of a flower. ‘What if—?’
‘Life is full of what ifs. Let’s deal just with what is. I love you. You love me. We stay together. And don’t even think of arguing because I’m not going to listen. And don’t think of leaving because I’ll come after you.’
‘Oh, Marco.’ She flung her arms round his neck and felt his hand smooth her back.
‘You are tired, tesoro. I need to take you home.’
‘I love you.’
‘I know. And I love you, too. And now you are going to rest because this has all been very traumatic for you. You are looking so, so tired at the moment.’
‘It’s probably just the worry. I’ve been dreading the thought of leaving you again.’
‘You’re not leaving. Not ever.’
‘Do you mean it? You think everything can work?’
‘I know it can.’
Amy leaned against him, feeling truly loved for the first time in her life. The feeling warmed her and she gave a soft smile.
If only she didn’t feel so completely exhausted, everything about her life would be perfect.
The following morning Amy woke up with a churning stomach and only just made it to the bathroom before being violently sick.
‘Amy?’ Marco followed her into the bathroom, stroked her hair away from her face and then sat down on a chair and lifted her from the cold tiles onto his lap. ‘Are you hot? Have you eaten something?’
‘Obviously. Or maybe this is why I was so tired yesterday,’ she murmured, sinking against his chest. ‘I must have picked up a bug.’
‘You weren’t just tired yesterday,’ Marco said gently. ‘You are always tired.’
Amy felt a sudden flicker of unease. It was true. She was always tired.
What was the matter with her?
Was this another of life’s cruel tricks? Had she finally found someone who truly loved her, only to become seriously ill?
‘It’s just a bug,’ she said firmly. ‘I feel bet
ter now I’ve been sick. I’ll get dressed in a minute. We don’t want to be late for surgery.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t take a surgery, feeling like this.’
She closed her eyes, wishing her stomach would settle. ‘I’ll be fine.’
‘Amy.’ Marco slid a hand over her forehead, checked her temperature and then gave her a smile. ‘Spend the morning in bed. I’ll be back to see you at lunchtime.’
She knew she ought to argue, but she just felt too tired to utter a protest so she allowed him to tuck her into bed and lay there, sleeping all morning until he reappeared.
‘Do you feel any better?’ He sat down on the bed next to her and stroked her face, his fingers cold from his short walk from the car. ‘Have you been sick again?’
‘No, just the once this morning.’ She sat up. ‘How was surgery?’
‘Fine.’ He hesitated. ‘Amy, I’m going to say something and I hope you won’t be upset.’
Her stomach dropped. ‘You’ve changed your mind?’
‘About what?’ He looked baffled and she blushed.
‘About spending your life with someone who can’t have babies.’
His mouth tightened. ‘I’m spending my life with you, that’s what I want. But what I have to say does have to do with babies and I’m afraid you may misinterpret—’ He broke off and let out a long breath. ‘Amy, I want you to do a pregnancy test.’
‘What?’ She stared at him. ‘Are you mad? Haven’t you listened to a single thing I’ve said to you?’
‘Look at your symptoms. Every day you’re exhausted—’
‘We’re working hard!’
‘You were sick this morning.’
‘So? I’ve picked up a bug!’ She pushed her hair away from her face and glared at him, her insides churning again. ‘You’re imagining it, Marco, just because you want it to happen. Wishful thinking. This is just what I was afraid of! You say it doesn’t matter, but it matters, Marco. I can see that it matters to you.’
‘No!’ His voice was sharp. ‘I knew this was going to be difficult because I knew you would make that association, but it isn’t true. This isn’t about our relationship. I’m a doctor, Amy, and I’m looking at your symptoms.’
Brides of Penhally Bay - Vol 1 Page 32
