by Lucy Gordon
But she had made her choice, and nothing was going to make her change it.
* * *
Franco was going to give the bride away. He arrived just as Lucio was about to leave for the church, slapped him on the shoulder and told him to be off. Then he ushered the bride out to his chauffeur-driven car, with Fiorella following.
‘Have you got the ring?’ he asked before they started.
For this marriage ceremony there were two matching rings, which the bride and groom exchanged.
‘Here,’ Fiorella said, holding it up. ‘Everything has been taken care of.’
Everything taken care of, Charlotte mused as the car headed for Siena. But there were still so many questions unanswered, questions that might never be answered because they would never be asked.
As soon as she entered the church she could see down the aisle to where Lucio was waiting for her. Enrico gave her his arm, the organ struck up and she began to advance. As she grew closer to Lucio she could see that his eyes never left her for a moment. There was a contented look in them that filled her with pleasure, and as she neared he reached out to her, taking her hand and drawing her to his side.
The first part of the service was formal, but at last it was time to exchange rings. Slowly Lucio slid the ring on her finger, saying quietly, ‘Take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity.’
Then it was her turn. Raising his hand, she slid the ring onto it, murmuring, ‘Take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity.’
Love and fidelity.
She meant the words with all her heart. Looking up into his face she saw there an intensity of emotion that gave her a surge of joy.
The moment came. She felt his lips on hers, not passionate as she had known them, but firm and gentle. A brief trip to the sacristy to sign the register, then a return to the church where they were proclaimed husband and wife as they began the journey along the aisle, hand in hand.
He is my husband and I am his wife. Now I belong to him and he...perhaps he belongs to me—perhaps—or at least to our son.
The rest of the day was a triumph. To Charlotte it seemed that almost everything she had wished for was coming true. Acceptance, a home, a new family.
At last it was time to retire to bed, now a shared room with Lucio. She climbed the stairs on his arm, followed him into their room and accepted his help undressing.
‘I’m worn out,’ she said sleepily. ‘Who’d have thought getting married was so exhausting?’
‘True,’ he said, yawning. ‘And I’ve got to be up early tomorrow to talk to Toni, my head steward. He’s got some ideas for next year that we’ll have to plan for now.’
‘Goodnight,’ she said.
His kissed her forehead. ‘Goodnight, my dear.’
This was their wedding night.
* * *
The months moved on. Now she was glad to live a slower, more relaxed life, her thoughts always focused on the future. Eight weeks until the birth, seven, six—
‘Oh, I can’t bear this,’ Fiorella squealed. ‘We want to welcome him into the world and he keeps us waiting.’
‘No, he doesn’t,’ Charlotte said with mock indignation. ‘He’s not late, it’s just us that’s impatient.’
‘We are all impatient,’ Elizabetta chimed in.
Charlotte regarded her fondly. By now she knew Elizabetta’s history. As a young woman she had been married, and pregnant. But the child had been born early, at only seven months. Within a few hours it was dead, and Elizabeth, too, had nearly died. Charlotte felt that many a woman in her position would have felt resentful of another woman’s luck. But Elizabetta was too generous and warm-hearted to feel bitterness towards her.
As autumn gradually appeared it was a pleasure to sit on the terrace, watching the setting sun, drinking in the warmth.
One evening she was sitting there feeling at one with life, with the world and everyone in it. In the distance she could see a car that she recognised as Toni’s. Doubtless he was on his way to make a report to Lucio. She would go inside and arrange with the kitchen staff to have his favourite coffee ready.
Exactly what happened next she was never sure, but as she passed across the tops of the steps that led down from the terrace to the ground, she felt her foot turn underneath her. She tried to grasp something to save herself but it was too late. She felt a bang as her head hit the stone railings, and the next moment she was tumbling down the stairs.
From somewhere far above she heard a scream. Then she blacked out.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE pain was everywhere, sweeping through her in waves. She had the strange sensation of sleeping while being racked by gusts of agony. She tried to reach out, pleading for help, but it was hard to move.
From a great distance came voices: Fiorella screaming, ‘Call an ambulance!’ Then Lucio crying, ‘Charlotte—oh, my God, what happened? Charlotte, speak to me, please. Charlotte! Charlotte!’
She tried to respond but his voice faded as she blacked out. But after a while she managed to open her eyes a little, and see strangers, wearing uniforms. One of them, a woman, was saying, ‘Lift her this way—careful, easy now. How did this happen? Did anyone see it?’
‘She fell down the steps of the terrace and hit her head.’ That was Enrico’s voice. ‘I saw it from a distance but, oh, heavens! I was too far away to help her.’
‘My baby,’ she whispered.
The strange woman’s voice replied, ‘We’ll soon have you in the hospital. Hold on.’
She was being carried. From somewhere came the sound of doors opening, then being slammed shut, engines roaring.
‘Lucio?’ she cried.
‘I’m here,’ he said, close to her ear. His hand grasped hers. ‘Can you feel me?’
‘Yes, yes...’
‘Can’t this ambulance go any faster?’ he shouted.
The woman’s voice said, ‘I’ve alerted the hospital. They’re ready for her. They’ll do their best to save the baby.’
‘They’ve got to save her.’ Lucio’s cry was almost a scream. ‘Don’t you understand? Her!’
She tried to open her eyes but the blackness was sweeping over her again. It blended with the roar of the engine to create a world in which there was only fear, pain, uncertainty.
Then she was being hurried along a hospital corridor on a trolley, lifted onto a bed. A doctor and nurse regarded her anxiously, and a fierce pain convulsed her.
‘The baby,’ she gasped. ‘I think it’s coming.’
‘No,’ Lucio groaned. ‘Please, Doctor, don’t let that happen. She’s so weak and hurt, it’ll be too much for her.’
‘If it’s really started,’ the doctor said, ‘then there’s not a lot— Stand back please.’
He leaned over Charlotte, asking her urgent questions, which she found it hard to answer with her consciousness coming and going.
‘Save my baby,’ she begged. ‘Please—save my baby— Aaah!’
Now there was no doubt that her labour had started, nearly six weeks early. The focus of her life, the child that was to unite her and Lucio on the road ahead, was in danger.
Nothing was in her control. The urge to push possessed her and she bore down, struggling against the pain, groaning.
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No, please—I can’t do this....’
‘I’m afraid you must,’ the doctor said. ‘But we’ll do everything we can to make it easier.’
‘What can I do?’ Lucio demanded harshly.
‘Be here and support her—that is, if you feel you can. Some fathers can’t bear to be present during childbirth.’
‘Then they ought to be shot,’ Lucio snapped. ‘Just try to get rid of me.’
He dropped to his knees beside Charlotte so that his face was close to hers.
‘Did you hear that? I’m staying here. We’re going to do this together—no, that’s not really true. You’re going to be doing all the hard work, I’m afraid. But I’ll be here, cheering you on.’
<
br /> ‘And him,’ she whispered. ‘Our little soccer star?’
‘And him. Right into the goal.’
‘Always on the winning side. Aaah!’
‘That’s it,’ said the doctor. ‘Push. Excellent.’
To brace herself against the pain she clenched her hand tighter than ever, so that Lucio gave a sharp groan at the fierceness of her grip.
‘Sorry,’ she gasped.
‘Never mind me,’ he said. ‘You just worry about yourself—and him.’
Her head was aching badly. A nurse tended it, wiping away a trickle of blood. In her confusion she believed that there could be no way out of this. She was trapped in a desert of agony and dread, and there seemed no escape. She had sworn to help Lucio in every way, and if the child died it would destroy him.
But then she felt Lucio holding her, sending a message of comfort and love that seemed to reach her down the corridors of eternity. She yearned towards him, not with her hands but with her heart and soul, knowing that now he was all she had in the world.
She had no idea how long the birth took. She only knew that nothing else existed in the world. Then, after a while, the pain ceased to attack her and faded to a constant ache. Swamped by exhaustion she vaguely sensed that something was gone from inside her.
‘My baby,’ she whispered. ‘Please—’
Lucio leaned close.
‘Our daughter was born safely,’ he murmured. ‘She’s been put into an incubator, and she’ll be there for several days.’
‘She’s...going to live?’
‘It’s too soon to be certain, but they’re hopeful.’
‘You said...daughter.’
‘Yes,’ he told her gently. ‘We have a little girl.’
She wanted to say something but the world faded again. Surely Lucio had wanted a son, and she had disappointed him? What would he say? What would he feel?
Now she was on fire. Heat was all around her, inside her, destroying thought and consciousness. Destroying her. Voices again, talking about fever. But one voice dominated them all.
‘Charlotte, listen to me. Can you hear me, wherever you are? You must, you must hear me.’
‘Yes, yes...’
He seemed to become more agitated.
‘You’ve got to hang on. You’ve got a fever but they’re giving you something for it, and you’re going to be all right. You understand that? You’re going to be all right, but you’ve got to fight. I’m here. We’ll fight together. You can’t go off anywhere now, not when you’ve made me love you so much. That would be really inconsiderate, wouldn’t it? And I know you’d never do that.’
His voice grew more gentle.
‘Or perhaps you don’t know how much I love you. I’ve never said it but you’re clever enough to understand without words. Mostly I didn’t understand it myself. I don’t think I really knew until now, but you knew. Sure you did, because you know everything. You saw through me from the start, and let’s face it, you’ve had me dancing to your tune.
‘But you can’t do that and then just vanish. You can’t just abandon me. Charlotte, my love, can you hear me? Can you hear me?’
His voice seemed to follow her into the engulfing darkness, holding on to her, never leaving her, so that at last she felt the darkness yield and give her back to him.
* * *
‘Open your eyes, darling. That’s it! Look, everyone, she’s awake!’ Lucio’s face, haggard and unshaven but full of joy, hovered above her. ‘Can you see me?’
‘Yes, I knew you were there,’ she murmured.
‘I’m still here. I always will be.’
‘Our baby—?’
‘She’s fine. She’s beautiful. The doctors say you’re both doing well, but if you knew how scared I’ve been.’
She could believe it. He looked terrible, like a man who hadn’t slept for a year.
Suddenly she remembered him as he’d been at their first meeting in Rome, just over seven months ago; wickedly handsome, vibrant, sophisticated, dominating the company with the power of his looks and personality, alive to every challenge, in control of every situation.
Now, even through several days’ growth of beard, she could see lines that hadn’t been there before. And his eyes told a story of agony. It was like looking at a totally different man. Who had done this cruel thing to him?
She had.
‘There was no need to be scared,’ she told him.
‘How can you know that? If you could have seen how you looked—as though you’d already gone far ahead to a place where I couldn’t reach you.’
‘It’s all right,’ she whispered. ‘That was never going to happen.’
‘You can’t be sure—’
‘Yes, I can. I would never have left you.’
Fiorella came forward, her eyes warm and loving.
‘Bless you, dearest Charlotte! Oh, it’s so good to see you getting better! We were all so worried.’
Lucio had turned away to say something to a nurse. Fiorella lowered her voice.
‘I thought he was going to go crazy. He’s been here for days, refusing to leave you, except for a moment to see the baby. I had to bring food in to him because he wouldn’t even go to the canteen.’
‘Poor Lucio. He looks terrible.’
‘Yes, but he’ll be all right now his mind can be at rest about you.’
‘He’s seen the baby?’
‘Yes, they couldn’t bring her in here because she’s in an incubator, but she’s strong enough to leave it now so they’ll bring her to you. If only you could have seen his face when he saw her for the first time. He wanted to take her in his arms but she had to stay in the incubator, and he was so upset. Lucio, tell Charlotte—oh, he’s gone.’
While they were talking Lucio had left the room. They discovered why a moment later when he returned carrying a small bundle close to his chest. Fiorella slid out of the way so that he could sit on the bed, and discreetly glided out of the door, leaving them alone.
‘Here she is,’ he said. ‘Our child.’
Gently he laid the tiny being against her mother’s bosom, then turned his body, putting his arm behind her shoulders, supporting mother and child. Charlotte gazed down, entranced, at the tiny face. The baby’s eyes were closed and she was deeply asleep, blissfully oblivious of the outside world and the anguish that her arrival had caused.
So we meet at last, Charlotte thought. You’re going to make everything different.
Lucio’s arms were keeping her safe. His rough, unshaven face was scratching her cheek. She turned her head to share a smile with him, receiving his answering glow before they both returned their gazes to the baby.
‘Thank you,’ he murmured. ‘Thank you with all my heart.’
‘No, thank you,’ she whispered. ‘You and she have given me something I never thought I’d have. Now I know I’ll have it forever.’
Fiorella appeared in the doorway.
‘I left because I thought you three would like to be alone for a while,’ she said. ‘But I must just see her.’ She came over to the bed. ‘She’s so beautiful.’
‘All this time,’ Charlotte reflected, ‘we were wrong about it being a son.’
‘Only because we assumed that a strong baby must be male,’ Lucio said. ‘That was very old-fashioned of us. We forgot that females can be strong, too. The doctor says she’s fit and vigorous, and she’s come through that premature birth with all flags flying.’ He grinned. ‘You never know. She might grow up to play soccer yet. Or maybe she’ll settle for ruling the world, the way she already rules ours.’
‘But didn’t you really want a son?’
‘I told you, I didn’t mind either way.’
‘Yes, but I thought—’
‘I know what you thought, that I was just being polite about it. You kept telling me I wanted a boy and I just accepted what you said.’ He laid a finger against the baby’s cheek. ‘I guess I’ll just have to get used to being bossed around by my womenfolk.’ He gave
Fiorella a wicked grin. ‘After all, I’ve had lots of practice.’
‘It’ll come in useful.’ Fiorella chuckled. ‘And what are you going to call your little girl?’
‘We haven’t thought about it yet,’ Lucio said. He laid a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. ‘Do you have any ideas?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I want to call her Maria.’
Fiorella made a sudden movement, pleased but uncertain.
‘You will name her after my girl?’ she breathed. ‘That is wonderful but, Charlotte, are you sure? Why do you do this? If it is kindness for me, I thank you, but please do not force yourself.’
‘I’m not forcing myself,’ she said. ‘It’s what I want to do.’
She looked at Lucio, who was watching her in stunned silence. Fiorella also saw his expression, understood it and slipped quietly out of the room.
‘Forgive me if I don’t know what to say,’ he murmured. ‘This is the last thing I expected. I don’t know why you—but is Fiorella right? Is this an act of generosity because, if it is, you can’t think I’d ever ask you to—’
‘I know you wouldn’t,’ she said when he stumbled to a halt. ‘This is what I want.’
‘But why? Are you afraid of her? Do you think I love her and not you?’
‘My darling, you’ve got it all wrong. I don’t fear Maria as a rival. I did once, but now I know that she was one part of your life, and I’m another. Keep her in your heart. Go on loving her. She doesn’t threaten me. I don’t want to get rid of her, either from your life or mine.’
He was staring at her as though he couldn’t believe what he heard. Far back in his eyes she saw joy warring with something that was almost fear.
‘And my love for you,’ he stammered, ‘tell me you believe in it, I beg you.’
‘I didn’t believe it for a long time. I knew you wanted to be a father, have the family we can make together.’ She touched his face. ‘I knew she was pregnant when she died. You told me when you came back from your stag night. You weren’t in your right mind and you thought you were talking to her. Gradually I realised what you meant.’
He groaned and hung his head. ‘I wondered next day—I couldn’t be sure.’
