Sicilian's Baby of Shame

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘Do you want to eat with me?’ He offered her a choice.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then I shall have Karmela bring you supper and come and unpack your things.’

  ‘I think I can manage that,’ Sophie said. ‘There’s not much.’

  ‘We’ll sort that out soon.’

  ‘I don’t want you dressing me.’

  ‘Fine.’ Bastiano shrugged. ‘Is there anything you need?’

  ‘No.’ Sophie shook her head and then, when she guessed he might feel it was his job to entertain her, she gave a tight smile. ‘I might just have a bath and go to sleep.’ There was, though, one question that she had for him. ‘How did you find out,’ Sophie asked, ‘about the baby?’

  ‘I told you, I found out you had come here looking for work.’ He omitted to mention the frantic feeling that had prompted him to call Alim.

  ‘I wanted something that was live-in.’

  ‘How did your parents take it?’

  ‘As I expected them to. We haven’t spoken for a long time but last week they asked me over for dinner...’

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘Not really. The priest was there to tell me about a lovely couple who would give my baby everything that I couldn’t.’

  He didn’t need to guess what her response had been.

  ‘I’m tired, Bastiano.’ She really was. Yes, tonight she was supposed to have been working, but now she felt as if she had been unplugged from a fading battery and her energy had simply run out. ‘Can this wait until morning?’

  ‘Of course.’

  To show Sophie how it all worked, he clicked on the intercom and was put straight through to Karmela.

  ‘Could you send a light supper to the guest room?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course,’ came the response. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘I’ll just check.’ He looked at Sophie, who shook her head. ‘That will be all.’

  ‘She’ll be over soon,’ he told Sophie.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘We can speak tomorrow night.’

  ‘Tomorrow night?’

  ‘I have to work. I lost a day today.’

  ‘Sorry about that.’

  Her sarcasm was wasted, for he had already gone.

  It wasn’t just Sophie who needed to be alone.

  Bastiano too wanted to process the events of today. As soon as he had found out about the baby he had jumped in his car. The usual three-hour trip had taken two and he had been more focused on the practical—getting her out of the hell hole where she had lived and, yes, putting things right as speedily as could be arranged.

  He poured a drink and lay on the bed, trying to wrap his head around the fact that he would soon be a father.

  And that, had he not found out for himself, he might never have known.

  He heard a car pull up outside and guessed that Sophie’s supper was there.

  Bastiano had no appetite.

  A baby!

  He had never considered fatherhood. When he had vaguely considered taking a wife his thought process had halted there.

  In fact, he had heard a few weeks ago that Raul and Lydia were expecting and had silently thanked his lucky stars for the escape.

  Bastiano lay there brooding for an hour at least, watching his bachelor life disappear before his eyes.

  A knock on the door had him look up and there stood Sophie, her hair wet from a bath or shower and wrapped in a guest robe.

  ‘Did you pack my pyjamas?’

  ‘I packed everything that was there.’

  ‘No, my pyjamas were under the pillow.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t go looking under your pillow! Who the hell wears pyjamas anyway?’

  ‘I shared a bathroom with Pino,’ Sophie said.

  ‘Fair enough.’ He nodded to his wardrobe. ‘Take a shirt if you want one, though I’ve got my own bathroom and I shan’t be peeping through the door.’

  She smiled.

  And not for the first time today.

  But, then, that was what she did. Even in the middle of a row, there were some smiles.

  And he returned it.

  ‘I meant a clean one,’ Bastiano said as she picked up his shirt from the floor.

  ‘This will be fine. I hate starch.’ And then she asked him something. ‘It’s your birthday?’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Karmela said something when she brought my meal. You should have said.’ Sophie gave a sweet smile. ‘I’d have sent you flowers. But then again it might have given a mixed message.’

  ‘Ha-ha,’ Bastiano said, but as she walked off he had a parting shot. ‘There will be no mixed messages from me.’

  Good, Sophie thought, because sex was the last thing she needed to complicate things.

  ‘Buon Compleanno.’ Sophie shrugged and turned for the door, but it was Bastiano who had the last word.

  ‘I still want you.’

  No, he didn’t deal in mixed messages.

  To his own surprise, Bastiano’s desire for her remained.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  SOPHIE HAD NO excuse for not sleeping well.

  The supper had been delicious, her bath relaxing and the bed, when she had finally lain down on it, had felt like a cloud.

  It was Bastiano who had unnerved her, though in the nicest of ways.

  It had never entered her head that this far into pregnancy, and with so much to sort out, there would be such fierce attraction between them.

  Sophie swung her feet to the floor and instead of cheap lino she felt the warmth of a thick rug. His home was so warm that there was no need to pull on a robe.

  It was early, just before six, and she decided to go and get some milk and bring it back to bed.

  She didn’t expect to find him in the kitchen, dressed only in trousers and waiting for the percolator to fill.

  ‘I thought you’d have your coffee brought to you in bed.’

  ‘Not when I am here,’ Bastiano said. ‘I hate conversation in the morning.’

  Sophie helped herself to some milk.

  ‘How much prenatal care have you had?’

  Always he surprised her. Sophie hadn’t thought it the type of question he would ask so casually.

  ‘I thought you didn’t like conversation in the morning?’

  ‘Some things have to be checked.’

  ‘Not much,’ she admitted.

  ‘We have a doctor that visits daily. I’ll get him to call in on you, though I think you should have the baby in Rome.’

  ‘Rome?’ Sophie gave an incredulous smile at his suggestion. ‘Isn’t there a hospital here?’

  ‘Yes but you’re not having the baby in Casta.’ Bastiano shook his head.

  ‘I’ll decide where I’m having my baby.’

  ‘Our baby,’ he countered, but then he halted. He did not want to descend into a row but there was no way she was having the baby here. ‘I’ll have the doctor visit.’

  ‘Well, let me know when,’ Sophie said. ‘I want to go into Casta. I need a few things for me as well as the baby. I was thinking of going to the market today.’

  ‘In Casta?’ He gave her an appalled look but Sophie just shrugged.

  ‘You’re turning into a snob, Bastiano.’

  ‘I turned into one long ago,’ Bastiano said. ‘You are not dressing my baby from the Casta market. We’ll speak tonight.’

  He really didn’t like conversation in the morning, Sophie thought, because without another word he took his cup and left her alone in the huge kitchen. Sophie headed back to bed and lay there watching the morning arrive over the ocean.

  Yesterday’s rain had gone, revealing a mild Sicilian winter’s day.
/>   Her favourite kind.

  It didn’t matter that she had hardly anything to wear because the morning was spent wrapped in a thick white robe.

  The doctor came and he put her at ease straight away.

  ‘It is busy over there!’ He gave an eye-roll in the direction of the main building as he examined her. ‘It is nice to have a straightforward pregnancy to take care of.’

  ‘It doesn’t feel very straightforward.’

  ‘There is one baby, a healthy mother and a nice-sized baby. That’s good news to me.’

  She was thrilled to find out that the baby was a good size given her meals had been somewhat sparse.

  ‘What do you deal with over there?’ Sophie asked as he took blood to test. Since Karmela had mentioned a confidentiality clause, she had been dying to know what went on over at the Old Convent, but the doctor wasn’t about to reveal anything.

  ‘That would be telling tales. Believe me, young Sophie, you don’t want to know.’

  ‘But I do.’

  After he had taken some blood, they discussed her having an ultrasound.

  ‘Bastiano asked me to refer you to a colleague in Rome.’

  ‘I haven’t decided where I’m having the baby yet.’

  ‘Well, without stating the obvious, I suggest you both work it out because babies keep to their own schedules. You could go into labour tonight and then the choice will be out of both your hands.’ He gave her a lovely smile. ‘Don’t worry if you do, though, I’ve delivered a lot of babies.’

  ‘It would be you who would deliver me?’

  ‘It would be my privilege to.’

  Sophie liked him.

  He had salt-and-pepper hair and was patient with her endless questions; he didn’t make her feel stupid or small.

  And he was the first person who seemed genuinely pleased about the baby.

  The rest of the morning was spent being pummelled by the resident masseuses, after which she sat on a lounger by the pool, so warm in her robe it was no surprise that she dozed off.

  ‘Hey.’

  She woke to his voice and looked up to a suited Bastiano.

  ‘Is there no such thing as privacy?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘Privacy is not going to get us very far,’ Bastiano said. ‘I’m not going to be back until late tonight; work has piled up. What did the doctor say?’

  ‘That everything is going very well.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘He took some blood.’

  ‘And?’

  Sophie knew exactly what he was there for. Bastiano wanted to ensure that his instructions had been carried out.

  Well, two could play at that game.

  ‘He said that I am to go for an ultrasound in Casta tomorrow and that he would be thrilled to deliver me.’

  She was surprised that he laughed.

  So was he.

  ‘You are such a liar.’ Bastiano said.

  He idly picked up the tie of her robe and as he did, the back of his hand brushed the baby bump beneath and then he turned so that his palm rested on the thick fabric.

  ‘Sophie, please don’t have the baby here. I couldn’t stand it if anything went wrong.’ He could feel the swell beneath his palm and then he looked up at Sophie and knew he simply could not bear it if something happened to either of them. ‘If I can wrap things up here we can move into a hotel for a few weeks. Get married there...’

  ‘In a hotel?’

  ‘It’s just a formality.’ Even Bastiano knew he had said the wrong thing and he cursed himself as she removed his hand. The closeness that had almost appeared slipped back like the tide. ‘Okay, we can get married in a church, I’m sure there are a few to choose from in Rome! I just don’t want it to be born a bastard.’

  ‘It’s the twenty-first—’

  ‘I’m aware of the century,’ Bastiano interrupted. ‘I want us married before the baby arrives.’

  ‘I don’t want to marry you,’ Sophie said. ‘I don’t want a husband who doesn’t love me.’

  And she loathed that she fished, that she actually threw him a line, one that she hoped would see him pull her into his arms and tell her that of course that wasn’t the case.

  But Bastiano had long ago decided that his love was a dangerous gift and so he was rather caustic in his reply. ‘It stopped being about you when you forgot to take your Pill.’

  ‘Why couldn’t I get pregnant by some bastard who just wrote me a cheque?’

  ‘Do you really see us co-parenting, Sophie?’ he asked. ‘Do you think I am going to smile and nod at your new lover when I pick my child up for an access visit?’

  ‘You could try.’

  ‘If you wanted that then you should have found some new-age guy. I’m traditional. I’m Sicilian, for goodness’ sake!’

  ‘I want our child to grow up in a loving—’

  ‘I can be loving.’

  ‘I’m not talking about sex,’ Sophie said.

  Bastiano was.

  He wanted to break the embargo and peel off her robe. Quite simply he was certain this was a dispute best settled in bed.

  It was black-and-white to him.

  ‘I want more from marriage,’ Sophie said. ‘I ran away because it wasn’t love...’

  ‘You ran away from a man who relied on your mother to cook for him,’ Bastiano said, ‘and now you have to settle for a virile billionaire. Boo-hoo.’

  He stood and she lay there staring out at the ocean rather than look at him.

  They were getting nowhere, Bastiano knew.

  He had tried reason, he had tried religion, now he decided it was time to fall back on ways of old.

  ‘How about we go out for dinner tonight?’

  ‘I thought you had work.’

  ‘I’ll cancel it. We’re going to go out tonight.’

  ‘Are you asking me or telling me?’ Sophie checked, and she saw the tightening of his jaw.

  She was acting like a sulking princess, Sophie knew.

  ‘We never did have our night out.’

  ‘No,’ Sophie said, ‘I was too busy stealing your ring...’

  ‘Sophie...’ He halted but then he pushed himself to speak on. ‘I know you didn’t steal it.’

  ‘Do you, now? And how’s that?’ She desperately wanted him to reply that it was because he knew she would never do that kind of thing. But he didn’t.

  ‘We’ll speak tonight at dinner. I have a lot of work to get through but I should be through by five so be ready.’

  ‘Five?’ Sophie frowned. ‘So early?’

  ‘If I could have my PA reschedule the sun I would,’ Bastiano said.

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘I’ll see you at five,’ he told her. ‘And please,’ he added, ‘do not buy anything from the market to wear! Your regular rags will do!’

  He left her smiling.

  In her worst mood, somehow he had made her smile.

  And, he made her skin prickle.

  Oh, the attraction had not faded for her, not a fraction, yet surely it must have for him.

  It didn’t feel as though it had.

  A car drove her down the hill and it was indeed market day, for Casta was busy and it was nice to wander around.

  There were signposts for the infirmary, where Bastiano was adamant that their baby would not be born. She passed a school and smiled at the sound of children’s laughter.

  There was the old courthouse, where Bastiano had told her Maria’s will had been read.

  It really was gorgeous, with an old hotel that had seen better days and a street lined with shops and cafés.

  And it was exciting too because there were a couple of famous faces behind dark glasses in the café that Sophie we
nt into, no doubt on day release from the Old Convent.

  The owner greeted her warmly. ‘Passing through?’

  ‘No, I’m staying at the Old Convent.’ Sophie smiled.

  ‘Ah, a guest of Signor Conti.’ The owner smiled. ‘Then we need to find you a nice seat.’

  He called to a waitress and she was guided to a table near the back. ‘For you,’ the owner said, and he brought her a large glass of hot blackcurrant without Sophie even looking at the menu. ‘It is our house special and good for you,’ he told her. ‘And don’t worry, no one will trouble you here, we’ll keep an eye open.’

  It took a moment or two to register that they thought she must be a client.

  Bastiano really had done wonders, Sophie thought, for, unlike home, the town was a buzzing and happy place to be.

  Sophie headed over to the church that had caught her eye when she had first passed through town.

  It must be here that he had fought with Raul, Sophie guessed, and she slipped around the back to the graveyard and read the inscriptions on the tombstones.

  Gino Di Savo.

  Raul’s father, Sophie knew, and saw that he had died some ten years ago.

  Next to him lay Maria, and Sophie wondered about the mind of a woman who would seduce a seventeen-year-old.

  And then she turned and Sophie found what she was looking for. There she found out Bastiano’s mother’s name.

  Philomena Conti.

  Sophie felt her nostrils tighten when she saw the simple grave.

  And then she saw the date of her death and Sophie did not even try to hold back the tears.

  Philomena had died on the day that Bastiano was born.

  Had Karmela not let on that it was his birthday yesterday, she might never have known. She understood the man a little more, and he was kinder than even she had given him credit for—even in their rows about their baby he had not scared her by telling her that his mother had died giving birth.

  It was a sobering thought indeed.

  And it was time, Sophie knew, to stop fighting.

  * * *

  She did have something to wear.

  One thing.

  Sophie stood in the little silver knickers she had purchased on the day Rosa had persuaded her try on the dress.

  The over-dress she could not even get over her bust, but the silver-grey underdress slid on.