The Italian's New-Year Marriage Wish (16 page)

‘I
know
she's in love with him.'

‘You
know
?'

‘I have worked with both of them for over two years,' Marco said wearily. ‘I may be a man, but even I can pick up on tension and atmosphere if it surrounds me for long enough.'

‘Well, but— That's great.' Amy smiled, genuinely delighted for Kate. ‘I mean, they're both widowed and—'

Marco pressed a finger over her lips. ‘I think the situation is perhaps more complicated than it might first appear to be,' he drawled softly, removing his finger and giving her a gentle kiss instead. ‘Say nothing to either of them.'

‘But Kate is my friend—'

‘All right, then say nothing to Nick,' Marco said quietly, his gaze resting on his colleague who was standing at the bar, talking to several other locals. ‘Nick is a man with a lot of issues.'

‘You mean he still hasn't got over Annabel's death?'

Marco was silent for a moment. ‘That, yes. And more, I suspect. Come on, let's eat.'

They helped themselves to food, chatted to some of the villagers and then everyone started the count down to midnight.

‘Ten, nine eight…' everyone chanted in unison, and then the church bells started to chime and they all let out an enormous cheer.

Amy smiled and suddenly she was glad she'd come. Just because you knew that tomorrow was going to be difficult, it didn't mean that you couldn't grab hold of today and enjoy it.

‘Felice Anno Nuovo.'
Marco took her in his arms and kissed her. ‘Happy New Year,
amore
.'

Amy closed her eyes, her happiness bitter-sweet. ‘
Felice Anno Nuovo
, Marco.'

She didn't have any reason to believe that the new year would be any happier than the last two, but Marco had insisted that tonight wasn't about their relationship and she had to
admit that it had been nice to get away from the subject for a while.

All around her people were hugging and kissing and letting off party poppers, and then she saw Kate and Nick. And there was something about the way they stood—
so close but neither touching nor talking
—that made Amy catch her breath.

Across the lively crowd, she could almost feel their agony.

Couldn't anyone else feel it, too?

She glanced around her to see if anyone else had noticed but everyone was dancing and singing and whooping.

And suddenly, Nick finished his drink, picked up his coat and strode out of the bar, his handsome face strained and his mouth grim. He had his car keys in his hand and one glance at the misery in Kate's eyes told Amy that he was going home alone.

Moments later Kate picked up her bag and followed, clearly too distressed to stay at the party.

Amy watched the door of the pub close behind her and hesitated.

Should she follow? Or should she stay out of it?

She'd seen the tears in Kate's eyes and knew that she was close to breaking down. Who did she have to turn to?

Around her everyone was celebrating noisily and Marco was in conversation with a group of people, so Amy quietly slipped away, intending to offer Kate some support.

Outside, the winter wind bit through her thin dress and suddenly she wished she'd stopped to pick up her coat.

Then she saw Kate, hurrying across the car park towards Nick. ‘Nick! Wait.' Her voice carried and Amy watched as Nick paused, his hand on the door of his car, the collar of his coat turned up against the bitter chill of the wind.

Laughter burst from inside the pub but the two of them didn't even look round.

Were they talking?

What were they saying?

Amy knew she should go back into the pub but she just couldn't look away and she gave a soft intake of breath as she saw Nick's hand lift towards Kate's shoulder as if he was going to pull her against him. For a moment his hand hovered, and then his fingers curled into a fist and his hand dropped to his side.

Without saying another word to Kate, he slid into his car and slammed the door.

Nick drove off with an ominous squeal of tyres and Kate stood for a long, tortured moment, her back to Amy.

And then finally she turned and Amy saw tears glistening on her face.

 

‘Why did you go outside?' Marco slid his coat over Amy and turned up the heater in the car. ‘Were you hoping for hypothermia?'

‘I was worried about Kate.' Her teeth chattering, Amy snuggled under his coat. ‘She looked…desperate. Do you think we should call on her?'

‘We can't solve everyone's problems, Amy.' He drove carefully on the icy roads. ‘We don't even seem to be managing to solve our own.'

‘There's nothing to solve.'

‘We have a major difference of opinion. You love me, Amy. Admit that at least.'

Exhausted with lying, Amy looked at him. ‘All right, I love you. There, I said it. Are you satisfied?' She turned her head away from him. ‘I said it and it still doesn't change a thing. We can't be together.'

‘Because you think you can't have children? We're not the first couple to face this and it doesn't have to be the death of our relationship.'

The conversation continued all the way home and followed them into the house.

‘If the whole children thing bothers you that much, let's talk about it.' Marco dropped his keys on the table and strode through to the kitchen. ‘There are any number of options. IVF. Adoption.'

‘That isn't an option.'

‘Why not?'

She hesitated. ‘Because it still wouldn't be your child.'

‘I want you, Amy. You. I take you as you are.' Marco jammed his fingers into his hair and let out a stream of Italian that was completely in comprehensible, but the gist of it was clear even to her. He was frustrated and exasperated. ‘
What
do I have to do to convince you?'

‘Nothing. You'll never convince me. That's why I left, Marco.' Her voice was soft. ‘There was really nothing left to say.'

T
HE
first two weeks of the new year were flat and bleak. Children scurried along the pavements wearing hats and scarves on their way back to school, everyone removed the Christmas decorations and all that was left of the festive period was icy cold weather and frosty streets.

In the Penhally Bay Surgery, the atmosphere was tense. Amy woke up feeling exhausted every day and was beginning to wonder whether she'd contracted a virus in Africa. Marco refused to listen to her reminders that she was leaving in just two more weeks. Nick seemed more aloof than ever and although Kate was her usual efficient self, her face was pale and she hardly ever seemed to smile.

Unable to forget the scene she'd witnessed on New Year's Eve, Amy tried to talk to her, but they were so busy that it wasn't until the third week of January that Amy finally caught her on her own as they were leaving work.

‘Do you fancy a coffee?'

‘Now?' Kate glanced at her watch. ‘I suppose I could. My babysitter doesn't leave for another hour. All right. Why not?'

They went to the nearest coffee-shop and found a small table in the window. ‘You're sure you're leaving at the end of the month?' Kate unwound her scarf and picked at the foam on her cappuccino. ‘I had a call from Adam Donnelly today, confirming his arrival date.'

Amy felt her stomach drop. It was one thing to know that she was leaving, quite another to actually do it. ‘Yes. I have no choice.'

‘For what it's worth, I think you're wrong. What you have with Marco is strong enough to with stand everything.'

Amy shook her head. ‘I don't want to talk about me. I want to talk about you. Kate…' she leaned forward, her eyes gentle ‘…how long have you been in love with Nick?'

Pain flickered in Kate's eyes. ‘Is it worth me uttering a denial?'

‘No. Because I saw the two of you together on New Year's Eve.'

‘Ah…' Kate gave a twisted smile. ‘That was a particularly bad evening. Nick at his least communicative. Believe me, that's saying something.'

‘He doesn't communicate? But you're always talking. You and he.' Amy frowned, confused. ‘You're
always
planning and laughing.'

‘That's business. Never personal.'

‘But you'd like it to be personal.'

Kate stared down at her coffee. ‘It's complicated, Amy. I can't tell you all of it. But…' She hesitated. ‘I will tell you that I've decided to leave. I can't do this any more. I just can't work along side him, it hurts too much. There. You're the only person I've said that to. I'd be grateful if you didn't repeat it until I've decided for sure what I want to do.'

‘You want to leave? No! You can't do that!' Amy reached across the table and took her hand. ‘You love your job. You love working with Nick. You're a great team.'

Kate pulled her hand away. ‘There's only so much torture a woman can stand, Amy. I've reached my limit.'

‘Are you quite sure he doesn't feel the same way about you?'

Kate stared blindly into her coffee. ‘Does Nick feel anything for me? Yes, I think he probably does. Is he going to
do anything about it? No, definitely not. He isn't that sort of man.'

‘Has he dated anyone since Annabel died?'

‘Oh, yes.' Kate gave a bitter laugh. ‘Quite a few women, actually. Just no one who is remotely interested in creating an emotional connection. That isn't Nick.'

‘Does he know you're thinking of leaving?'

‘No.' Kate picked up her coffee. ‘I'm going to tell him soon, though. I need to do something different. Goodness knows what. Get a life, as my son would say. Stop brooding. Nick's only a man after all.'

‘But some men are harder to get out of your system than others.'

Kate looked at her and gave a sad smile. ‘Yes. And you'd understand that, wouldn't you, Amy?'

 

‘Kate tells me that Adam Donnelly is starting in a week.' Wondering why she was always so exhausted, Amy slid her bag onto her shoulder. ‘Finally you'll have a proper replacement for Lucy.'

‘You're still intent on leaving, then? Despite everything?' Marco's glance burned a hole in her conscience and she forced herself to carry on walking towards the car.

‘Yes. Of course. I've told you that all along.'

His phone buzzed and Marco gave a tired sigh and answered it. ‘Marco Avanti.' He listened for a moment and then his jaw tightened. ‘We'll come over now.'

‘What?' Amy looked at him as he dropped the phone back into his pocket and strode towards his car.

‘That was Carol. Lizzie is screaming with a headache and she has spots. She's worried that she has meningitis.'

‘Meningitis?'

Marco shrugged and unlocked the car. ‘We will see. Are you coming?'

‘Of course! Why wouldn't I?'

‘Because you're leaving, Amy, remember? In another week the inhabitants of Penhally will no longer be your responsibility.'

They sat in silence, Marco's hands gripping the steering-wheel tightly as he drove the short distance to the terraced cottage that Carol shared with her husband and the two girls.

‘Thank you so much for coming.' Carol's voice was thick with tears as she let them into the house. ‘I always seem to be ringing you. My phone is programmed to ring your number.'

‘How long has she had the headache?'

‘Well, she was out with her friends last night and they were obviously drinking. Again.' Carol's mouth tightened. ‘She's grounded, but that's another story. Last night when she came in she was really drunk—slurring her words and really, really stroppy. Worse than ever. I left her to sleep it off and, of course, she woke up with a headache. Nothing surprising there. I assumed it was a hangover but it's just got worse and worse and about an hour ago she started complaining that the light hurt her eyes. That's when I noticed this rash on her face and I panicked.'

‘She is in the bedroom?' Marco was already on the stairs and Amy was right behind him.

‘She can't get out of bed because her head is so bad. Her bedroom is the second door on the right.'

The teenager was lying on her side, crying softly, and little Michelle was curled up on the bed next to her sister.

‘'Izzie sick,' she muttered, and Carol hastily scooped the child off the bed.

‘You shouldn't be there. You might catch something. Go downstairs to Daddy, sweet heart. Pete? Can you come and take the baby?'

Reluctant to be parted from her sister, Michelle reached out her arms. ‘'Izzie sick.'

Marco slid a hand over her cheek. ‘'Izzie is going to be fine,
cucciola mia
. Go with your mama.'

‘I'll be right back,' Carol said, but Marco shook his head.

‘I'd like to examine Lizzie and talk to her on my own first. Amy will help me.'

Carol hesitated and then gave a nod. ‘All right. I'll be downstairs with Michelle if you need me.'

‘Where she always is,' Lizzie sniffed, her forearm across her eyes as she rolled onto her back. ‘If you ever want to find Mum, just look for Michelle.' Her face was red and blotchy from crying and Amy noticed the spots on her face. ‘My head is killing me. It's like a bomb is exploding in it every minute. Am I dying?'

Marco sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘You're not dying,' he said gently, ‘but I'll take a look at you and then we'll talk.'

‘Oh, don't you start,' Lizzie groaned, rolling onto her side again. ‘When adults say “talk” they mean “nag”. Don't drink, don't stay out late, don't spend time with those friends because they're not suitable—who the hell does she think she is, anyway, picking my friends? Life is just a load of bloody “don'ts”.'

‘Is that how it seems?'

‘It's how it is.' Lizzie screwed up her face and started to cry. ‘God, my head hurts. Mum said I might have meningitis. That's why she got Michelle out of here. She doesn't care about me, but she doesn't want her baby hurt.' The teenager put her hands over her face but Amy saw tears find their way through her fingers.

‘You're her baby, too.' Marco opened his bag and took out a stethoscope and an ophthalmoscope.

‘No, I'm just a reminder of Dad. They got divorced, remember? Mum can't stand him and she can't stand me either because I'm exactly like him.' Lizzie let her hands drop. ‘If
she'd had her way I would have gone and lived with him. Neither of them wanted me.'

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, some times 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 absolutely. ‘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.