Italian Surgeon to the Stars (14 page)

I clenched my fists. I knew it was unfair of me to rise to her bait. We were both upset by the evening’s events and in no frame of mind to talk sensibly and reasonably.

‘Yes, well, thanks to you almost giving Dad a heart attack, no one will be touching me tonight,’ I said. ‘I was going to go back to Alessandro’s place and…and…hang out.’

‘See?’ My mother stabbed her finger at me. ‘You can’t even say the word “sex”. You’re so prudish! I sometimes wonder how you can possibly be my daughter.’

My temper was well and truly ignited. I could not pull back from the tirade now the fuse had been lit.

‘Yeah, well? Guess what?’ I said. ‘Sometimes I wish I
wasn’t
your daughter. I wish I’d been born into a
normal
family. One where people look out for each other instead of spending their time gazing into their navels or wandering around the country chanting bloody mindless mumbo jumbo while their daughters got bullied or…or…worse.’

I couldn’t say the word. The ugly word that described an ugly act. My experience was mild compared to others. I knew that, and yet it didn’t give me the comfort it should.

My mother’s face went from attacker mode to bewildered. ‘What are you talking about? You had a
lovely
childhood. You were free to explore without the suffocating social structure that shuts down creativity. Look at how well you and Bertie have done. Doesn’t that prove our relaxed approach worked?’

‘What sort of ridiculous logic is
that
?’ I threw back. ‘You weren’t
there
for us, Mum. Nor was Dad. Not when it counted. Most of the time you let other people do what you should’ve been doing. Like me, for instance. I was always watching out for Bertie. But no one was watching out for me.’

My mother was still shaking her head in denial. ‘No. No.
No
. You sound just like your grandmother when you carry on like that. We wanted you to be independent. To be able to enjoy the magic of childhood without restriction.’

I drew in a breath that felt like it was full of chopped up razor blades. Bitter, angry tears prickled at the backs of my eyes. ‘I was raped
when I was thirteen years old. Did you hear me, Mum?
Raped
.’

My mother blinked at me as if the lights in the room were suddenly too bright. ‘Are you sure?’

Typical
, I thought, with a rush of bitterness so powerful I wanted to scream the scream I hadn’t been able to scream sixteen years ago out of fear and shame and shock.

‘No,’ I said with heavy sarcasm. ‘I thought I’d just throw that in there. Of
course
I’m freaking sure. Not that you would’ve noticed. You and Dad were probably too busy swinging with that other couple at that stupid commune.’

There was a cavernous silence.

Then, right in front of me, my mother’s face looked like a paper bag that had been crumpled. It completely folded in on itself. She pressed her lips together, but even so, I could see the bottom one had a distinct quiver.

It was a moment or two before she spoke. ‘I need to get to the hospital to see your father. I have to get dressed. I have to stop by the ATM and get some money to buy him some pyjamas. He doesn’t have any. He always
sleeps naked. I have to get his toiletries bag. I have to—’

‘I’ll do it,’ I said, taking her by the arm and leading her to the spare room. It was as if I was now the parent and she was the child.
So what else is new?
I thought. ‘You get dressed while I pack his things.’

As I packed my father’s belongings I watched my mother out of the corner of my eye. She was like a woman of ninety. She was dithery and her movements as she pulled on her clothes were shaky, as if she couldn’t get her fingers to work.

I wished I hadn’t told her about the… Well, you know. Maybe that’s why I’d never told her. I knew this would happen. She wouldn’t be able to cope with it.

As usual, I would have to cope alone.

I left her for a moment while I called Bertie. ‘Don’t panic, but Dad’s just been taken to hospital with some chest pain.’

‘Oh, no!’ Bertie said. ‘Is he all right? Which hospital? Who’s he coming in under? Do you want me or Matt to refer him to—?’

‘It’s all under control,’ I said. ‘Alessandro is dealing with everything.’

Suddenly I realised how comforting it was to know that. I wouldn’t have to be the grown-up
with him. I could collapse in a heap and sob like a little kid if I needed to. Not that I would ever do that, but still…

I could practically hear the light bulb going on in my sister’s head. ‘Alessandro Lucioni is taking care of Dad?’ she said. ‘
The
Dr Lucioni? Cardiac surgeon to the stars?’

‘He’s just another heart surgeon, Bertie,’ I said, in my sensible big-sister voice. ‘I bet you have five or six at St Iggy’s.’

‘None quite of his calibre,’ Bertie said. ‘How come you got him so quickly? He has a waiting time of months. A year, even.’

Here comes the tricky bit
, I thought. ‘Yes, well…he happened to be in the area and I was able to call in a favour.’

‘I
knew
it!’ Bertie said. ‘I didn’t recognise him at first. I was too busy paying the bill after you shot out of that restaurant the other week. You and Alessandro Lucioni.
Wow
. Double wow. Wait till I tell Matt.’

‘Don’t get ahead of yourself,’ I said. ‘We’re not seeing each other or anything. His niece is in my class, that’s all.’

‘That’s
all
?’

There used to be a time when I could fob Bertie off with a look or a clipped word or two. But since she’s fallen in love and gotten
engaged to Matt she’s grown some serious backbone. It’s kind of scary.

‘We’ll talk about Alessandro and you some other time,’ Bertie said. ‘I’ll meet you at the hospital. Mum will need some support. So will you. What a horrible fright you must’ve had, you poor darling. Is that where you both are now?’

‘Not quite,’ I said. ‘Mum couldn’t go with Dad in the ambulance. She had to get dressed first.’

I could almost see Bertie rolling her eyes. ‘Right. Well, drive safely. And don’t worry. Dad is in fabulous hands.’

I for one could more than vouch for that.

CHAPTER EIGHT

M
Y MOTHER AND
I drove to Alessandro’s hospital in London in a bruised silence. I opened my mouth a couple of times to apologise for upsetting her but then I stopped. Why should
I
apologise? My timing might be a little off but I’d said what needed to be said. Not that it made me feel any better or anything.

I felt miserable.

Bertie and Matt were there when we arrived, which made it easier for me to blend into the background. They gave my mother a hot drink—not coffee or tea, because my parents were currently off caffeine—and sat with her and explained everything that was going on. Matt and Bertie were both doctors, so this was their territory, and although it wasn’t their hospital at least they knew the language.

Bertie is good at the emotional support
stuff. She’s also an excellent hugger. She gave our mother the sort of hug I wish I knew how to give. And kisses. Lots of them. She even did some hair stroking. Mum soaked it up and gave Bertie a grateful, wobbly little smile that made me feel even more of a cow.

Alessandro came out to the relatives’ room where we had gathered. Introductions were made and I watched as Bertie eyed him as if assessing his suitability as brother-in-law material. I kid you not. My sister is totally obsessed about weddings. She surreptitiously gave Matt a nudge before glancing at me.

I was poker-faced.

‘Your dad has a badly leaking mitral valve,’ Alessandro was saying. ‘Probably as a result of a childhood respiratory infection. He badly needs mitral valve replacement, so we’ve scheduled surgery for the morning. A valve replacement is normally straightforward these days…’

He stated the risks and benefits but I was barely listening. All I could hear was his doctor-in-control voice. The competent-man-in-charge voice. The knight who had come to the rescue. My very own Superman…

Erm…come to think of it, maybe not Superman.

I looked at Alessandro’s hands and imagined where they might be right now on my body if it hadn’t been for my father being taken ill.

So much for my poker face. Bertie winked at me and I felt a blush crawl like fire all over my cheeks.

Alessandro spoke to Matt while Bertie leaned in closer to me. ‘That’s
all
?’ she said, in a you-can’t-fool-me voice.

I tried my prim and proper look, because it suddenly occurred to me that I needed to talk to her before my mother got there first. ‘Look, there’s something I need to tell you.’

Bertie led me to another room, further down the hall. ‘What?’ she said, once we were out of earshot.

Telling Bertie was like telling Alessandro. Once I’d finished I wished I’d done it years ago. Why hadn’t I realised before now that she would be strong enough to cope with it? She might be a little scatty at times, and get herself into crazy farcical situations now and again, but she was a warm-hearted, compassionate person who loved me unreservedly.

She hugged me, and for once I didn’t stand stiffly like a cardboard cut-out version of myself. I relaxed into the flower-scented warmth
of her and might even have let a tear or two escape, but I had it under control once she pulled back to look at me.

‘Does Alessandro know?’ she said.

‘I told him earlier this evening.’

‘Wow.’

I frowned. ‘What’s with all the wows? I told you, there’s nothing—’

‘Not yet,’ she said, brown eyes twinkling.

I hiked a shoulder up and down. ‘I might consider a fling with him, just to get him out of my system.’

This time Bertie frowned. ‘A fling? Don’t you think you’re worth more than that?’

‘It’s all he’s offering,’ I said. ‘And I’m fine with it. I don’t want what you want. You know that.’

Bertie put her hands on her hips like she was suddenly the older sister. ‘You
do
want it. You just don’t want to risk losing your heart a second time.’

I gave her a hardened look. ‘I wasn’t in love with him then and I’m certainly not now.’

‘You are
so
in love with him—otherwise why would you have avoided him all this time?’ Bertie said.

I shouldered open the door. I didn’t want to discuss the feelings I could feel tiptoeing
around the edges of my heart as if they were looking for some sort of entry point. Where was my cynical carapace when I needed it? The crust of my heart had softened like hospital toast.
Urgh
.

‘We’d better see what Mum’s up to,’ I said.

Bertie gave a light, affectionate laugh that twisted my guilt screw another notch. ‘God, yes,’ she said, and followed me out. ‘She’s probably rearranging all the bedpans for better feng shui or something.’

‘Someone should tell her it’s a load of crap,’ I quipped.

***

Alessandro waited until everyone else had left before he spoke to me. He took me to his office on another floor of the hospital. It was a neat and ordered room, with loads of surgical textbooks and his degree certificates set in simple but elegant frames on the walls. If he didn’t stop it with the studying he was going to run out of wall space, I thought. How many qualifications did one man need? His desk was made of polished timber, and a computer and a stack of paperwork took up two thirds of it.

‘Sorry about the mess,’ he said.

‘If this is a mess, I’d hate to see you on a tidy day.’

He studied me for a quiet moment. ‘You okay?’

I stopped picking at that same hangnail I hadn’t even been aware I was torturing and faced him squarely.

‘Sure. Fine. Just brilliant. My dad almost had a heart attack having sex while dressed as Superman—which every doctor, intern, resident, registrar, orderly, nurse and cleaner in this hospital now knows—but, hey, all in a day’s work, right?’

His expression had that soft and compassionate look about it. ‘They’re quite a pair, aren’t they?’

I rolled my eyes and huddled into myself by wrapping my arms around my body. ‘That’s not all…’ I took a breath and let it out in a whoosh. ‘I kind of attacked my mum after you left.’

His brows drew together. ‘Attacked in what way?’

‘Verbally.’

He gave an understanding nod. ‘It happens. Emotions often run high in a crisis.’

I chewed at my lip for a beat or two. ‘I told
her what happened when I was thirteen. I kind of blamed her and my father for it.’

His frown deepened. ‘How did she take it?’

‘The way I expected she would—which is why I didn’t tell her before.’ I started to pace the floor like a parrot on a perch. In a finch’s cage. ‘Why can’t she be like other mothers? Why can’t she be normal, for God’s sake? Why can’t
both
my parents be normal?’

He came over and put his hands on my shoulders from behind me and held me close. The shelter of his tall frame standing at my back was comforting and yet headily arousing. I wanted to turn around and slam myself into him—slake the need that was clamouring inside me. I don’t know how I refrained from doing it. Maybe it was the way he was holding me just slightly apart from his body, as if he knew this was not the time and place.

‘You’re tired and overwrought,
ma chérie
,’ he said. ‘Come back to my place with me and get some rest.’

I turned to face him. ‘But I have school tomorrow.’

He brushed a corkscrew of hair off my face and anchored it behind my ear. ‘You could take the day off—or drive down in the morning.’

I bit my lip again. I was sorely tempted, but
I kept thinking about little Claudia. She was still so new to the school. I wanted her to be able to rely on me. I was her teacher. I took that responsibility seriously.

‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘I might get held up in traffic and then Claudia will panic at having to deal with a fill-in teacher.’

He slid his hand to the nape of my neck and tilted my face up. His eyes had that tender, lustrous quality to them. ‘Will you be able to drive home now? It’s a two-hour journey at least. Aren’t you exhausted?’