by Penny Jordan
Marco paid the taxi driver and. still carrying her basket, put his free hand under her elbow, for all the world as protective as though he were a committed husband. But he wasn't, and Emily knew she must not give in to her longing to turn to him and get him to reassure her that she had no need to worry, and that everything was going to be all right.
The hospitals reception area could well have been that of an expensive hotel. Emily recognised, looking at the two receptionists who were stunningly attractive and very smartly dressed.
It was Marco, and not she who stepped forward and gave her name. But any thought she had of objecting to his high-handed manner or to his taking charge disappeared when she heard him telling the receptionist very firmly. ‘Please inform Emily’s obstetrician. Mr Bryant-Jones, that we are here.’
‘My appointment with him isn't until after I've had my scan.’ Emily reminded Marco. She could see that he was about to say something, but before he could do so a smiling nurse came up to them, asking. Emily? We’re ready for you now if you'd like to come this way.'
‘I shall be coming with her.' Marco informed the nurse imperiously.
‘Yes of course. It's this way.' the nurse replied pleasantly.
‘This isn't where I had my last scan.' Emily commented anxiously.
‘No. Mr Bryant-Jones has requested a three-D scan this time.'
‘A three-D scan—what's that?' Emily asked apprehensively.
'Nothing to worry about,' the nurse reassured her cheerfully. 'It's just a special imaging process that gives us a clearer, more in-depth picture of the baby, that's all.’
‘But why...I mean, why do you need that?’
Emily wasn't aware that she had stopped walking until she felt Marco reach out and take hold of her hand. Anxiously she looked up at him, mutely telling him that she didn't feel able to go any further.
‘Here we are.’ the nurse announced, opening a door several yards up the corridor and holding it open, waiting for Marco and Emily to catch up with her. ‘I’ll hand you over to Merle, now.’ she told Emily as another nurse came forward to direct her over to the waiting bed.
‘Once you've put on your gown, the ultrasonographer will start the scan. I’ll be putting some gel on your tummy, like the last time.’ she told Emily kindly.
‘You don't need to be here for this. Marco.’ Emily told Marco firmly as she pulled the curtains round the bed and got undressed. For once, the thought of the potential indignity of wearing the universal hospital gown, with its open back fastening, didn't bother her. All she could think about was her baby.
Why wouldn't anyone tell her anything? Part of her was relieved that Marco was ignoring her request and not making any move to leave, but another part of her felt even more anxious. If there was something wrong with their baby. Marcos pride...It didn't matter what Marco thought. She would have her baby, no matter what.
When Emily had changed into her gown and she drew back the curtains, she looked both vulnerable and afraid. Just looking at her caused a sensation in Marco that felt like a giant fist squeezing his heart and wringing from it an emotion so concentrated that it burned his soul.
The nurse helped Emily lie down on the bed next to the scanner and covered her legs with a blanket, then she started applying the necessary gel.
Given she was around twenty weeks pregnant, her stomach was only gently rounded. Emily held her breath anxiously as the ultrasonographer a very professional-looking young woman passed, the probe over her bump, whilst studying the resulting images on the screen in front on her.
‘Why am I having to have this kind of scan?’ Emily asked her.
‘See—look, your baby is yawning.’ The ultrasonographer smiled, ignoring her questions. Emily stared at the screen, her heart giving a fierce kick of awed joy as she stared avidly at the small but perfect form.
‘Maybe he's not a he but a she.'
Emily had been so engrossed in watching the screen that she hadn't realised that Marco had come to stand behind her and was looking over her head at the image of their baby.
‘Oh. I think we can safely say that he is a he.' the girl told him with a broad smile and pointing, before suddenly going silent as she moved the scanner further up the baby's body. Then her smile gave way to a frown of concentration.
Why wasn't she saying anything? Emily worried. Why was she staring at the screen so intently? Her heart thumped with fear.
‘What is it?' Emily asked anxiously. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘When it is finished you'll be able to go and get dressed.' the girl told her smoothly. You've got an appointment to see Mr Bryant-Jones. I think?’
‘Yes.' Emily confirmed. Look, if there's something wrong with my baby...'
‘Mr Bryant-Jones will discuss the scan with you.' The girl was using her professional mask to hold her at a distance. Emily recognised shakily. She looked at Marco. She could see in his eyes that he too was aware of the heavy weight of what the girl had not said hanging in the room. What was it? What was wrong? The tiny being shed seen on the scan had been yawning and stretching—to her eye he looked completely perfect. Maybe she was worrying unnecessarily. Maybe this was just a routine check.
Her fingers trembled as she re-dressed herself. On the other side of the curtain, she could hear Merle, the nurse, telling Marco that as soon as Emily was ready she would escort them down to see the obstetrician...
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
EMILY could feel her anxiety bathing her skin in perspiration as they were shown into the obstetrician’s office. Mr Bryant-Jones was smiling, but not as widely as he had done the first time she had seen him.
‘Ah. Emily, good. Good.’ He was looking past her towards Marco, but before Emily could introduce him Marco stepped forward, extending his hand and saying curtly. ‘Prince Marco of Niroli. I am the baby's father.’
‘Ah. Yes.... Excellent’
Mr Bryant-Jones, why have I had to have another scan?1 Emily demanded. unable to wait any longer. ‘And this three-D scan, what is that—? Why...?’
Please sit down, both of you: The obstetrician wasn't smiling any more. He was looking at the scanned images he had on his desk, moving them around. 'I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but it looks as though your baby may have a heart defect:
'A heart defect? What exactly does that mean? Will my baby—?' Emily couldn't get any further; her pent-up emotions were bursting out and making it impossible for her to speak.
‘The baby will have to be between twenty-two to twenty-four weeks before we can make a full diagnosis. At this stage, all we can tell from the scans is that there is a likelihood that your baby could have a foetal heart abnormality.’
‘You said there could be a heart abnormality.’
Marcos voice seemed to be reaching Emily from over a great distance, as though she weren't really here and taking part in this dreadful, dreadful scene, as though she and her baby had gone away somewhere private and safe where nothing bad could touch them.
'What exactly does that mean?' Marco questioned the obstetrician.
‘lt means that the baby's heart does not seem to be forming as it should. Now this can be a small problem, or it can be a far more serious one. We cannot tell which, as yet. That is why you will need to see a cardiac specialist. There is a very good one here in this hospital, who collaborates with our specialist neo-natal unit. My recommendation would be that we arrange for you to visit him as soon as it can be arranged:
‘Is...is my baby going to die?’ Emilys voice shook with fear.
‘No.’ the obstetrician assured her. But depending on how severe the abnormality is there could be a series of operations throughout his childhood and teenage years and maybe, if things are extreme, there will be the necessity for a heart transplant at some stage. Severe heart malfunctions do limit the kind of life the sufferer can live. If this is the case, your son will need dedicated care; boys like to run and play vigorous games, but it might be a possibility that hell not be able to do that.’
Her child could be a boy who might not be able to run and play like other children, a boy who could be subjected to operation after operation to keep him alive! But he would have a life, and she would give every hour, every second, of her life to him and his needs. Emily vowed fiercely.
Marco looked across at Emily; he could see the devastation in her eyes. He wanted, he realised, to take her in his arms and hold her there. He wanted to tell her that there was nothing to fear and that he would keep both of them safe, her and their child. He wanted to tell her that he was there for them whatever happened and he always would be and that they were the most, the only important things in his life. The news they had just received had at a stroke filled him with an emotion so complex and yet so simple that it could not be denied.
Love...
What he was feeling for Emily right now was love: a man's love for his woman, the mother of his child, for his companion and soul mate, without whom his life would never be complete.
Earlier, while watching the scan take place, he had experienced the most extraordinary sense of enlightenment, of knowing that he had to be part of his sons life. Now had come the knowledge that nothing could ever be more important to him than guarding this precious, growing life and the woman who was carrying it.
Not power, not wealth, nothing; not even the throne of Niroli.
Marco knew that others would not understand; he barely understood what he was experiencing himself. But somehow, it wasn't necessary for him to understand, or to be able to analyse; it was simply enough for him to know. Maybe he had been travelling towards this place, this crossroads in his life, for longer than he realised; maybe there had been many signposts along the journey that he had not seen.
However, now not only had the crossroads been reached they had been traversed simply and easily, without any kind of hesitation or doubt. He could not be Niroli's king and his child's father—certainly not this child's father, whose young life might always hang precariously on a thread, and who should never be subjected to the rigours of kingship. This boy would need his fathers loving presence. And he would have it. Singularly, neither he nor Emily was strong enough for their child, but together they would be.
‘I have to return to Niroli.'
They were back home in Emily’s kitchen. The necessary appointment had been made with the cardiac specialist, and now Emily inclined her head slightly as she listened to Marco.
‘Yes of course.' she agreed. She had been expecting him to say this, and she knew too that there would be no demands from him now that she should return with him so that his son could grow up on the island. The royal family of Niroli were arrogant and proud, too arrogant and proud to want to accept that one of their bloodline could be anything less than perfect. No. Marco would not want a sickly, ailing child around to remind him of that. She could feel the pain of the rejection on behalf of her baby, but she stifled it. It was Marco who was not worthy of their child, not the other way around. Not worthy of her child and not worthy of her love.
Marco desperately wanted to tell Emily how he felt—but this was not the right time. Unfortunately, he had a duty to inform his grandfather first of his intentions. Once he had done that, then he could tell Emily how much he loved her. Did she love him? His heart felt as though there were a knife twisting inside it. But even if she didn't love him he still intended to be a full-time father to his son.
‘I’ll be back in time for the appointment with the cardiac specialist.’
Emily bowed her head. She mustn't let her own feelings swamp her. She had to be strong—for her son. Was it something she had done, or not done, that had caused his heart defect? she had asked the obstetrician.
‘No. Mr Bryant-Jones had told her sometimes the condition ran in families, but sometimes it just happened', without there being any reason.
‘What do you mean you no longer wish to succeed to the throne?'
‘I mean. Grandfather, that I am abdicating my claim to the Crown. I intend to make a formal speech to that effect, but I wanted you to be the first to know.'
Marco told his grandfather calmly.
‘You are giving up the throne of Niroli for the sake of a woman and her child’
Marco could hear the disbelief in his grandfather's voice.
‘My woman and my child. And, yes. I am giving up the throne for them. For them, and for our people.’
'What do you mean by that?’
‘It would never have worked. Grandfather. I could never step into your shoes. Marco saw that the old man was looking slightly gratified.
‘For me they would be constraining, too limiting.’ he finished firmly. We have done nothing but argue since I first arrived. You block every attempt I make to make reforms—‘
‘Because they are not right for our people.’
‘No. because they are not right for you.’
‘What you want to do would cause a schism that would split the island.’
‘If you continued to oppose me then yes there is that possibility. Niroli needs a king who will bring it into the twenty-first century—I firmly believe that. But I also believe now that Nirolis king can never be me. That does not mean that I don't care about my homeland and my people. I do—passionately—but I now know that I can do more for it and for them by working from outside its hierarchy.’
'By spreading anarchy, you mean?'
‘By setting up a charitable trust to help those who most need it.’ Marco corrected him evenly.
There was a certain irony in the fact that, whilst he had refused to wear the heavily decorated formal uniform his grandfather had had made for him on his arrival in Niroli he was wearing it now to take his formal leave. Marco admitted as he waited for the king’s equally elderly valet to finish fastening him into the jacket with its heavy gold braid. But somehow it seemed fitting that, on this one occasion, he should defer to tradition.
The world's media had been alerted to the fact that he intended to make a public speech; TV and radio crews had already arrived and the square below the palace balcony, from which he had chosen to address the people, was already full.
How different he felt now compared with the way he had felt when he had first returned. Then, he had been filled with a fierce determination to fulfil his destiny; it had ridden him and possessed him.
This morning he had woken up with a sense of release, a sense of having gained back a part of himself he was only just becoming aware he had been denying.
The valet handed him his plumed hat. He could hear the shrill sound of trumpets. Walking slowly and majestically, he headed for the balcony, timing his entrance to when the military band broke into the Nirolian national anthem. Then he stepped forward...
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
EMILY stopped outside. A shop window to look at her reflection and push her hair off her face. It was a sullenly hot day and her back was aching. She had been to see a client, but had hardly been able to focus on what the man had been saying to her because of her dread of what the cardiac specialist might say. Part of her wanted to rush the appointment and the specialists opinion of her baby's future forward, whilst another part of her wanted to push it away. She was standing outside an electrical store that sold televisions. Its windows were filled with a variety of large screens. She glanced absently at them and then froze in disbelief when she realised she was looking at Marco. A camera homed in on his face, and then panned to the crowd in the square beneath him.
What was happening? Emily could think of only one thing: Marco must already be formally taking his position as the new King of Niroli. She wanted to ignore the screens and walk on past the shop, but instead she found that she was going inside.
This is a most extraordinary event; she could hear a TV news commentator saying excitedly. The royal family of Niroli is one of the richest in the world. They live according to their own set of rules. Of course the current King of Niroli is Giorgio. However, there have been rumours for some time that he is about to step down in favour o
f his grandson. Prince Marco. Now we have learned that Prince Marco has said that there is something he wants to tell his people. It can only mean one thing. What a change this will be for the island. There are already mutterings that Prince Marco wants to make too many changes too quickly, and that these could stir up unrest...’
Whilst the commentator talked over the last notes of the Nirolian national anthem. Emily focused feverishly on Marco's face. This could be the last time she would ever see him.
‘
People of Niroli...: he said in Italian. Tears stung Emilys eyes as she read the English subtitles at the bottom of the screen. She could hear the strength of purpose in Marcos voice as he went on. What I have to tell you today causes me great joy and also great sadness. Great joy because when I leave you I shall be making the most important commitment a man ever can make, a commitment to the future through the next generation. Great sadness, because, in order to do
