The Soul Room (13 page)

‘I really thought I’d lost my chance of happiness when Alan and Stephanie
died. But here I am, with a child I never thought I could have…and now you.’

‘Who were Alan & Stephanie.’

‘My husband,’ I answered reluctantly, ‘he committed suicide about five
years ago after Stephanie was killed in a car crash on her way home from
school. She wasn’t my child but I’d lived with her for years…John?’ He was
pulling away from me now, gently but firmly disentangling my arms and starting
to stand up. ‘John, what is it?’

‘I can’t do this Maddie, I shouldn’t be doing this.’ He was already
grabbing his coat and heading for the door. I stumbled after him and managed to
get to the front door before him.

‘I know we shouldn’t – but no one needs to know do they? We can keep it
low key until this is all over. We don’t have to rush, please John!’

He looked at me and his eyes were wild, but he opened the door
regardless. ‘I’m sorry, you don’t know how sorry, but it’s not right. I’ll help
you find Dan I promise, but I can’t do this.’ And he strode down the path
without a backward glance. I shut the door behind me and leant against it.
Every atom of me was alive with his touch and his kisses and yet I felt more
alone than I had ever felt in my life.

Over the next
couple of weeks I sank very low. I was shocked, shocked that this, in the end,
was how love was to come to me. I had loved Alan, but a good proportion of that
love (I now realised) was to do with being seduced by the ‘rightness’ of it –
nice home, instant family, someone to come home to. I didn’t even let myself
admit this until over a year after his death. The guilt wouldn’t let me. And
then Sergio, beautiful sweet Sergio, the father of my child; I had always held
a bit back. He had wanted to be rescued from his life, the expectations, and I
couldn’t help him. He had known he was living on borrowed time, was desperate
to grab as much of life as he could, but without feeling able to tell people
why. And here it was now, the love that had unknowingly evaded me all these
years; it had come, finally, in the most unexpected and sudden of ways and left
me desperate and confused. Perhaps I deserved it. I had been unable to truly
give it where it had been wanted so far, so I clearly didn’t deserve to have it
when
I
wanted it.

John was true to his word and was keeping me up to date with the
investigation, but whereas before he would have found an excuse to come round
to see me, he would now email or text. Mr Amarena was due to visit in two weeks
he said. They had also been sent the interpreted transcript of his interview in
Italy. I asked him for a copy – he said that wasn’t the done thing but he’d see
what he could do. He never mentioned what happened between us that day – and I,
seemingly incapacitated with grief and disappointment didn’t either. I felt the
grey shroud of dreary indifference start to descend and it took a great and
prolonged force of will to resist it. I focused on my pregnancy; or at least
that is what I did on the outside. On the inside, however hard I tried, I
couldn’t stop thinking about John, about what could be between us – about how
wonderful it had felt to kiss him - about why he had pulled away.

I felt myself teetering on the edge of depression and tried to fill my
time. The weather had finally turned as we headed into March, and the fresh
sunny days created a bright backdrop to my darkening mood. Getting on with
day-to-day life took all of my strength, both physical and emotional. This
morning was no exception, and it had taken a huge act of will to make myself
leave the house and head into town for my anti-natal appointment.  In the
street outside the front door a couple of cherry trees had already blossomed, a
veil of scent, pudding-sweet, around their trunks. I could physically feel a
softening in the air, a new warmth. I undid my coat - I had over-dressed - and
absent-mindedly stroked my tummy as I often did. Particularly, when like now,
my baby was gently moving inside me, a hand or curve of back occasionally
impressing itself against the firm wall of my stomach.

It was such a beautiful day, but I couldn’t feel it or appreciate it. I
started briskly up the hill, I would walk myself better, that was all I could
think of to do. As I progressed though, I felt my breath start to get shallower
and shallower, my chest start to tighten. I leant against a wall, almost
panting, feeling my throat constrict and go dry. I was there for a few minutes,
capable of nothing but continuing to breath. The penny dropped,
I’m having a
panic attack.
The realisation didn’t help, I felt my heart start to race.
And then the baby did something extraordinary inside me. There wasn’t much room
left now, and his movements had become more forceful, sometimes distending my
stomach, the angle of knee or elbow visible through the skin. This felt like he
was turning full circle, using his feet against my bladder to push himself up
and over. It knocked the last of the breath out of me but it also focussed my
attention away from my building panic.

Something inside me snapped, but it wasn’t a surrendering snap, it was like
the snap of an elastic band, a small burst of pent-up energy.
Not this time.
I heard a cool voice inside me say.
Not this time!
with increasing
persistence and clarity. With a burst of determination I pushed myself up from
the wall and told myself to breathe deeply. I touched my stomach and felt it
rise and fall with my slowing breaths. As I cradled my belly, I realised that
whatever happened to me now, I would never be alone again. I had a child to
look after.
My
child. If I was destined to be lonely in the romantic and
sexual sense, if the men I had been with were the chances I had had, then so be
it. I was sick and tired of living with fear; with my failures, a kind of
succubus, heavy and malignant on my shoulder. I had had a breakdown. I had come
to a point in my life where there was nothing left to give, but only to
give
in.
That was behind me now. I was going to find my brother, and my little
boy was going to be born a beautiful, healthy baby. And I was going to fight to
get it. I was going to do whatever it took to get it.

The light suddenly changed, I looked up and saw that great tectonic
plates of weather were now clashing silently in the sky above me. One minute
deep grey clouds sucked all the light away, the next, startling sunshine and
rents of vivid blue sky broke through and charged everything about me with
white-gold brightness. I imagined the push and pull of the miles of air above
me, the shifting densities and strata that the seagulls were now riding – tiny
sunlit shapes against the rolling rain clouds. I couldn’t run, my belly was too
big now, but I half jogged and half walked the rest of the way home, tears
streaming down my face, lightened by a strange, embryonic kind of elation.

When I got home
I could hear Dad in the kitchen. I shouted hello then dashed upstairs to
attempt to straighten myself up. It didn’t fool him though; when I came into
the kitchen he took hold of my arms and looked at me questioningly.

‘I’m all right Dad. Honestly, I’m
all right.
’

He sighed and kissed me on the cheek. ‘I’ve got to go out love. The
kettle’s just boiled.’

‘I mean it Dad. I’m OK, the baby is OK, you don’t need to worry about
us.’

I had barely said goodbye to him and sat down with a cup of tea when the
doorbell rang. My heart trembled, as it did involuntarily every time, on the
off-chance it was John. It wasn’t John, it was Fabrizio Amarena, the last
person I expected to see. John had reminded me that he was due to come to
England, but I was still completely taken by surprise. I had pictured him being
escorted straight to the police station on arrival, naïve of me I suppose.
Although, as John had pointed out, I had no reason to suspect Fabrizio of
having anything to do with Dan’s disappearance, I still felt a strong instinct
to be cautious. I had always felt a little uncomfortable around him and I’d
never been able to put my finger on why. Even as a little girl he had made me
feel a bit funny inside, somehow exposed. And when he’d visited me in Terranima
I had automatically become defensive when he had talked about Sergio.

As ever he was meticulously dressed, though he looked a little haggard.
His eyes took me in from head to toe, but lingered on my belly. He leant
forward to kiss my cheek. The smell of his aftershave was strong, sweet and
spicy; it triggered a memory; a previous visit, when he had left a trail of
this perfume behind him in our hallway.

‘Madeleine. It is a long time since I last saw you. Six months I think.’

‘Something like that.’ I said abstractedly. ‘I’m so sorry about Sergio,
he was a very special man and I miss him so much.’

'We were disappointed that you didn't come to the funeral.'

A sense of shame overwhelmed me, I struggled to answer him. 'It's been a
very difficult time.'

‘Of course, a very difficult time.’ He smiled magnanimously and gestured
towards the hall. ‘So are you going to invite me in? We have much to discuss,
my grandchild for example.’

His use of the word
grandchild
made something quiver unpleasantly
just below my ribs. ‘Of course, forgive me Fabrizio. Come in.’ I led him into
the living room. ‘What can I get you? Tea, coffee, I think I even have a bottle
or two left of
Sonnetto
.’

He laughed smoothly. ‘No grazie. What do you say here, it would be too
much of a busman’s holiday? A coffee please if you have fresh – if not a glass
of water.’ He settled comfortably into a chair and looked out into the garden.

I texted John as I waited for the kettle to boil and put coffee in the
Cafetierre. I didn’t want to risk Fabrizio hearing me talk on the phone, but I
wanted a defence, an out clause. I didn’t feel safe with this man, grandfather
to my child or not. I took him the coffee and he accepted it graciously.

‘You no have a drink?’ He gestured to my empty hands.

‘No. Too much caffeine isn’t a good idea when you’re pregnant.’

‘
Certo
. Good girl, it comforts me to see that you are looking
after yourself. You look very well, pregnancy suits you.’

‘Thank you.’

‘We never really saw much of each other when you were working for me in
Terranima. I was so much away, and was aware from your father that you needed
time to yourself. Hopefully we can change that now that we are family?’

‘I would like that.’

He looked at me closely but I kept my expression bland and pleasant. ‘My
son was very much in love with you I think?’

I studied his face, it was well-preserved, craggily handsome, and gave
absolutely nothing away. ‘I loved him too.’

‘But not as much as he loved you?’

‘I wouldn’t say that…’ I stammered, I wished I knew what his agenda was;
I wished I knew if he did have anything to do with Dan’s disappearance. I felt
at a distinct disadvantage.

He smiled again, and waved his hand dismissively, the gold watch on his
wrist flashing in the sunshine that was pouring in through the French doors.
‘Please Madeleine, I am a man of the world. I do not hold it against you, we
have no more power over our hearts than we do over the tides of the sea. You
were kind to him, and you are bearing his child. That is all that matters to me
now.’

‘Fabrizio,’ I said a little heatedly, and against my better judgement,
‘your son was one of the loveliest, cleverest and most unusual men I have ever
met. I will never forget him and I am proud and grateful to be carrying his –
our
child.’

He stared at me again then, long and narrowly through semi-closed eyes. I
could see the grief in them he was trying to hide. I hated it, but I held his
gaze, wishing I had brought my drink out after all, so I could occupy my hands.
At last he broke the silence.

‘Do you mind if I smoke?’ He saw the expression on my face and grimaced
apologetically. ‘The baby of course; maybe I could go in the garden?’

‘That's fine.’

He got up quickly and smoothly for a man of his age and size and
sauntered outside into the garden. I followed him and leant against the patio
door. He lit up a large cigar and released a snaking tail of blue smoke past
the dark glossy leaves of the Laurel tree behind him.

‘How are things for you here, Madeleine? How is the care you are
receiving? I hear the NHS is not at its best any more, there are many illnesses
and viruses you can pick up from the hospitals here.’

‘My care has been excellent and all my results have been good. The baby
is strong and healthy and there is no reason why I shouldn’t have a perfectly
normal birth. Maybe even at home.’

‘But things do go wrong. One hears about it all the time. Particularly –
forgive me, you are a
bambina
next to me but – because of your age.’

I didn’t answer. He turned away from me and took another deep suck on his
cigar. ‘If you were in Italy, you would receive the very best of care. There is
an excellent private hospital only a half an hour drive from the vineyard. You
would have your own private room, everything you and the baby needed.’

‘I have everything I need here, my family, my friends, my home.’

‘But not all your family still?’

The baby turned painfully inside me and I put my hand to my stomach and
gasped.

‘You are all right?’ Fabrizio’s expression changed instantly, there was
panic in it.

‘I’m fine.’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘It’s nothing, he just turned
that’s all.’

His expression changed instantly into a self-indulgent smile. ‘He! It is
a boy!’

‘Yes, I found out at my last scan.’

He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. He slumped down onto one of the
patio chairs, still grinning.

‘You were saying, about my family not all being here?’ I prompted him.