Accidentally Expecting!

CHAPTER ONE

HORNS blared, lights flashed in the darkness and Ferne ground her hands together as the cab battled its way through the slow-moving Milan traffic.

‘Oh no! I’m going to miss the train. Please!’

The driver called back over his shoulder, ‘I’m doing my best, signorina, but the traffic here is like nowhere else in the world.’ He said it with pride.

‘I know it’s not your fault,’ she cried. ‘But I’ve got a ticket on the night train to Naples. It leaves in a quarter of an hour.’

The driver chuckled. ‘Leave it to me. Twenty years I am driving in Milan, and my passengers do not miss their trains.’

The next ten minutes were breathless but triumphant, and at last the ornate façade of Milan Central Station came into view. As Ferne leapt out and paid the driver, a porter appeared.

‘Train to Naples,’ she gasped.

‘This way, signorina.’

They made it to the platform looking so frantic that heads were turned. But suddenly Ferne stumbled and went sprawling right in the path of the porter, who sprawled in turn.

She wanted to yell aloud at being thwarted at the last moment, but miraculously hands came out of nowhere, seized her, thrust her on board, the bags following after her. A door slammed.

‘Stai bene?’ came a man’s voice.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian,’ she said breathlessly, clutching him as he helped her to her feet.

‘I asked if you are all right,’ he said in English.

‘Yes, but-oh heavens, we’re moving. I should have given that poor man something.’

‘Leave it to me.’

There was a narrow opening at the top of the window and the man slid his arm through, his hand full of notes which the porter seized gratefully. Her rescuer waved and turned back to face her in the corridor of the train that was already gathering speed.

Now Ferne had a moment to look at him, and realised that she was suffering delusions. He was so handsome that it was impossible. In his thirties, he stood, tall and impressive, with wide shoulders and hair of a raven-black colour that only Italians seemed to achieve. His eyes were deep blue, gleaming with life, and his whole appearance was something no man could be permitted outside the pages of a novel.

To cap it all, he’d come galloping to her rescue like the hero of a melodrama, which was simply too much. But, what the heck? She was on holiday.

He returned her gaze, briefly but appreciatively, taking in her slender figure and dark-red hair. Without conceit, but also without false modesty, she knew she was attractive; the expression in his eyes was one she’d often seen before, although it was a while since she’d responded to it.

‘I’ll refund you that tip, of course,’ she said.

A woman had appeared behind them in the corridor. She was in her sixties, white-haired, slender and elegant.

‘Are you hurt, my dear?’ she asked. ‘That was a nasty fall you had.’

‘No, I’m fine, just a bit shaken.’

‘Dante, bring her to our compartment.’

‘OK, Aunt Hope. You take her, I’ll bring the bags.’

The woman took Ferne gently by the arm and led her along the corridor to a compartment where a man, also in his sixties, was standing in the doorway watching their approach. He stood back to let them in and ushered Ferne to a seat.

‘From the way you speak, I think you are English,’ the woman said with a charming smile.

‘Yes, my name is Ferne Edmunds.’

‘I too am English. At least, I was long ago. Now I am Signora Hope Rinucci. This is my husband, Toni-and this young man is our nephew, Dante Rinucci.’

Dante was just entering with the bags, which he shoved under the seats, and then he sat down, rubbing his upper arm.

‘Are you hurt?’ Hope asked anxiously.

He grimaced. ‘Pushing my arm through that narrow space has probably left me with bruises for life.’ Then a grin broke over his face. ‘It’s all right, I’m only joking. Stop fussing. It’s our friend here who needs care. Those platforms are hard.’

‘That’s true,’ Ferne said ruefully, rubbing her knees through her trousers.

‘Would you like me to take a look?’ he asked hopefully, reaching out a hand.

‘No, she would not,’ Hope said, determinedly forestalling him. ‘Behave yourself. In fact, why don’t you go to the restaurant-car and order something for this young lady?’ She added sternly, ‘Both of you.’

Like obedient little boys, both men rose and departed without a word. Hope chuckled.

‘Now, signorina-it is signorina?’

‘Signorina Edmunds. But, please, call me Ferne. After what your family has done for me, let’s not be formal.’

‘Good. In that case-’

There was a knock on the door and a steward looked in.

‘Oh yes, you want to make up the berths,’ Hope said. ‘Let’s join the men.’

As they went along the corridor, Hope asked, ‘Where is your sleeping berth?’

‘I don’t have one,’ Ferne admitted. ‘I booked at the last minute and everything was taken.’

By now they had reached the dining-car, where Toni and Dante had taken a table. Dante stood up and graciously showed her to the seat beside him.

‘Here’s the ticket inspector,’ Hope said. ‘Let’s get the formalities out of the way before we eat. They may be able to find you a berth.’

But from that moment things went horribly wrong. As the others showed their paperwork, Ferne scrabbled hopelessly in her bag, finally facing the terrible truth.

‘It’s gone,’ she whispered. ‘Everything. My money, the tickets-they must have fallen out when I fell on the platform.’

Another search produced no result. Disaster!

‘My passport’s gone too!’ she gasped. ‘I’ve got to go back.’

But the train was now travelling at full speed.

‘It doesn’t stop until Naples,’ Hope explained.

‘They’ll stop to throw me off when they find out I’ve no ticket and no money,’ Ferne said frantically.

Hope’s voice was soothing. ‘Let’s see what we can do about that.’

Toni began to speak to the inspector in Italian. After a while he produced his credit card.

‘They’re issuing you another ticket,’ Hope explained.

‘Oh, that’s so kind of you. I’ll pay you back, I promise.’

‘Let’s not worry about that now. First we have to find you a berth.’

‘That’s easy,’ Dante said. ‘My sleeping-car is a double, and I’m only using one berth, so-’

‘So Toni can come in with you and Ferne can come in with me,’ Hope said, beaming. ‘What a splendid idea!’

‘Actually, Aunt, I was thinking-’

‘I know what you were thinking and you should be ashamed.’

‘Yes, Aunt, anything you say, Aunt.’

But he winked at Ferne, and she couldn’t help being charmed. The mere idea of this handsome, confident man doing what he was told was so idiotic, and his air of meekness so clearly an act, that she had to smile and join in the joke.

The inspector exchanged some more words with Toni before nodding and hurrying away.

‘He’s going to call the station now and tell them to look out for your things,’ Toni explained to Ferne. ‘Luckily you discovered the loss quickly, so they may pick them up before anyone else finds them. But, just in case, you must cancel your credit cards.’

‘How can I do that from here?’ Ferne asked, baffled.

‘The British consulate will help you,’ Dante declared, taking out his own mobile phone.

In a few moments he had obtained the emergency number of the Milan consulate, dialled it and handed the phone to Ferne.

The young man on duty was efficient. Quickly he looked up the numbers of the credit-card companies, assigned her a reference number and bid her goodnight. Calls to the finance companies achieved the cancellation of her cards and the promise of new ones. This was as much as she could hope for for now.

‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you,’ she told her new friends fervently. ‘When I think what could have happened to me.’

‘Don’t think about it,’ Hope advised. ‘All will be well. Ah, here is the waiter with a snack. Hmm, cakes and wine are all very well, but I should like a large pot of tea.’

‘English tea.’ Toni gave instructions to the waiter, who nodded solemnly, evidently familiar with this peculiarity among his customers.

The tea was excellent, so were the cakes, which the others piled onto her plate.

‘When did you last eat?’ Hope asked.

‘Properly? Oh-some time. I left on the spur of the moment, caught the train from London to Paris, then Paris to Milan. I don’t like flying, and I wanted to be free to stop and explore whenever I wanted. I had a few days in Milan, shopping and seeing the sights. I meant to stay there overnight and go on tomorrow, but I suddenly changed my mind, packed up and ran.’

‘That’s the way to live!’ Dante exclaimed. ‘Here today, gone tomorrow; let life bring what it will.’ He took Ferne’s hand and spoke with theatrical fervour. ‘Signorina, you are a woman after my own heart. More than a woman-a goddess with a unique understanding of life. I salute you-why are you laughing?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Ferne choked. ‘I can’t listen to that guff with a straight face.’

‘Guff? Guff? Is this a new English word?’

‘No,’ Hope informed him, amused. ‘It’s an old English word and it means that you need a better scriptwriter.’

‘But only for me,’ Ferne chuckled. ‘I expect it works wonderfully on the others.’

Dante’s face was the picture of outrage.

‘The others? Don’t you realise that you are the only one who has inspired me to lay my heart at her feet? The only-Oh, all right; I usually get a better reception than this.’

His collapse into realism made them all laugh.

‘It’s nice to meet a lady with such an adventurous approach to life,’ he added. ‘But I expect it’s only while you’re on holiday. You’ll go back to England, your sedate nine-to-five life, and your sedate nine-to-five fiancé.’

‘If I had a fiancé, what would I be doing here alone?’ she demanded.

This made him pause, but only for a moment.

‘He betrayed you,’ he said dramatically. ‘You are teaching him a lesson. When you return, he will be jealous, especially when he sees the compromising pictures of us together.’

‘Oh, will he indeed? And where will these pictures come from?’

‘It can be arranged. I know some good photographers.’

‘I’ll bet you don’t know anyone better than me,’ she riposted.

‘You’re a photographer?’ Hope asked. ‘A journalist?’

‘No, I do theatrical work.’ Some inexplicable instinct made her say to Dante, ‘And he wasn’t sedate. Anything but.’

He didn’t reply in words, but his expression was wry and curious. So was the way he nodded.

‘Let the poor girl eat in peace,’ Hope admonished him.

She watched Ferne like a mother hen, finally declaring that it was time for bed. The four of them made their way back along the corridor and said goodnight. Ferne and Hope went into one sleeping car, Toni and Dante went on to the next.

As Ferne hung up the trousers she’d been wearing, a few coins fell out onto the floor.

‘I’d forgotten I had some money in my pocket,’ she said, holding them out.

‘Three euros,’ Hope observed. ‘You wouldn’t have got far with that.’

They sat down on the bed, contentedly sipping the tea they had brought with them.

‘You said you were English,’ Ferne recalled. ‘And yet you speak as though you’ve been here for some time.’

‘Over thirty years,’ Hope told her.

‘Do you have any children?’

‘Six. All sons.’

She said it with an air of exasperated irony that made Ferne smile and say, ‘Do you ever wish you had daughters?’

Hope chuckled. ‘When you have six sons, you have no time to think of anything else. Besides, I have six daughters-in-law and seven grandchildren.

‘When our last son married, a few months ago, Toni and I decided to go on our travels. Recently we’ve been in Milan to see some of his relatives. Toni was very close to his other brother, Taddeo, until he died a few years ago. Dante is Taddeo’s elder son, and he’s coming back to Naples with us for a visit. He’s a bit of a madman, as you’ll discover while you’re staying with us.’

‘I can’t impose on you any further.’

‘My dear, you have no money or passport. If you don’t stay with us, just what are you going to do?’

‘It just seems dreadful for you to be burdened with me.’

‘But I shall love having you. We can talk about England. I love Italy, but I miss my own country, and you can tell me how things are there now.’

‘Ah, that’s different, if there’s something I can do for you.’

‘I look forward to you staying with us a long time. Now, I must get some sleep.’

She got into the lower bunk. Ferne climbed to the top one, and in a few minutes there was peace and darkness.

Ferne lay listening to the hum of the train speed through the night, trying to get her bearings. It seemed such a short time since she’d made the impulsive decision to leave England. Now she was here, destitute, reliant on strangers.

While she was pondering the strange path her life had taken recently, the rhythm of the train overtook her and she fell asleep.

She awoke to find herself desperately thirsty, and remembered that the snack bar was open all night. Quietly she climbed down and groped around in the darkness for her robe.

The three euros she’d found would just be enough for a drink. Holding her breath and trying not to waken Hope, she crept out into the corridor and made her way to the dining-car.

She was in luck. The snack bar was still open, although the tables were deserted and the attendant was nodding off.

‘I’ll have a bottle of mineral water, please,’ she said thankfully. ‘Oh dear, four euros. Do you have a small one?’

‘I’m afraid the last small bottle has gone,’ the attendant said apologetically.

‘Oh no!’ It came out as a cry of frustration.

‘Can I help?’ asked a voice behind her.

She turned and saw Dante.

‘I’m on the cadge for money,’ she groaned. ‘Again! I’m desperate for something to drink.’

‘Then let me buy you some champagne.’

‘No, thank you, just some mineral water.’

‘Champagne is better,’ he said in the persuasive voice of a man about to embark on a flirtation.

‘No, water is better when you’re thirsty,’ she said firmly.

‘Then I can’t persuade you?’

‘No,’ she said, getting cross. ‘You can’t persuade me. What you can do is step out of my way so that I can leave. Goodnight.’

‘I apologise,’ he said at once. ‘Don’t be angry with me, I’m just fooling.’ To the bartender he added, ‘Serve the lady whatever she wants, and I’ll have a whisky.’

He slipped an arm about her, touching her lightly but firmly enough to prevent her escape, and guided her to a seat by the window. The barman approached and she seized the bottle of water, threw back her head and drank deeply.

‘That’s better,’ she said at last, gasping slightly. ‘I should be the one apologising. I’m in a rotten temper, but I shouldn’t take it out on you.’

‘You don’t like being dependent on people?’ he guessed.

‘Begging,’ she said in disgust.

‘Not begging,’ he corrected her gently. ‘Letting your friends help you.’

‘I’ll pay every penny back,’ she vowed.

‘Hush! Now you’re getting boring.’

Fearing that he might be right, she swigged some more water. It felt good.

‘You seem to be having a very disorganised holiday,’ he observed. ‘Have you been planning it for long?’

‘I didn’t plan it at all, just hurled a few things into a bag and flounced off.’

‘That sounds promising. You said you’re a photographer…’ He waited hopefully.

‘I specialise in the theatre, and film stills. He’s an actor, starring in a West End play. Or, at least, he was in a West End play until-’

‘You can’t stop there!’ he protested. ‘Just when it’s getting interesting.’

‘I was taking the pics. We had a thing going-and, well, I didn’t expect eternal fidelity-but I did expect his full attention while we were together.’

‘A reasonable desire,’ her companion said solemnly.

‘So I thought, but an actress in the play started flashing her eyes at him. I think she saw him chiefly as a career step-up-Oh, I don’t know, though. To be fair, he’s very handsome.’

‘Well known?’ Dante asked.

‘Sandor Jayley.’

Dante’s eyes widened.

‘I saw one of his films on television the other day,’ he said. ‘He’s supposed to be headed for even greater things.’ He assumed a declamatory voice. ‘The man whose embrace all women dream of-whose merest look-’

‘Oh, shut up!’ she said through laughter. ‘I can’t keep a straight face at that twaddle, which used to really annoy him.’

‘He took it seriously?’

‘Yes. Mind you, he has plenty going for him.’

‘Looks, allure…?’

‘Dazzling smile, more charm than was good for him-or for me. Just the usual stuff. Nothing, really.’

‘Yes, it doesn’t amount to much,’ he agreed. ‘You have to wonder why people make such a fuss about it.’

They nodded in solemn accord.

He yawned suddenly, turning so that he was half-sideways and could raise one foot onto the seat beside him; he rested an arm on it and leaned his head back. Ferne studied him a moment, noticing the relaxed grace of his tall, lean body. His shirt was open at the throat, enough to reveal part of his smooth chest; his black hair was slightly on the long side.

She had to admit that he had ‘the usual stuff’, with plenty to spare. His face was not only handsome but intriguing, with well-defined, angular features, dark, wicked eyes and a look of fierce, humorous intelligence.

Quirky, she thought, considering him with a professional gaze. Always about to do or say something unexpected. That was what she’d try to bring out if she were taking his photograph.

Suddenly he looked at her, and the gleaming look was intense.

‘So, tell me about it,’ he said.

‘Where do I start?’ She sighed. ‘The beginning, when I was starry-eyed and stupid, or later, when he was shocked by my “unprincipled vulgarity”?’

Dante was immediately alert.

‘Unprincipled and vulgar, hmm? That sounds interesting. Don’t stop.’

‘I met Tommy when I was hired to take the photographs for the play-’

‘Tommy?’

‘Sandor. His real name is Tommy Wiggs.’

‘I can see why he changed it. But I want to know how you were unprincipled and vulgar.’

‘You’ll have to wait for that bit.’

‘Spoilsport!’

‘Where was I? Ah, yes, taking pictures for the play. Thinking back, I guess he set out to make me fall for him because he reckoned it would give an extra something to the photographs. So he took me to dinner and dazzled me.’

‘And you were taken in by actorly charm?’ Dante asked, frowning a little, as though he found it hard to believe.

‘No, he was cleverer than that. He made a great play of switching off the actor and just being himself, as he put it, saying he wanted to use his real name because Sandor was for the masses. The man inside was Tommy.’ Seeing his face, she said, ‘Yes, it makes me feel a bit queasy too, but that night it was charming.

‘The thing is, Tommy was made to be a film actor, not a stage actor. He’s more impressive in close-up, and the closer you get the better he seems.’

‘And he made sure you got very close?’

‘Not that night,’ she murmured, ‘but eventually.’

She fell silent, remembering moments that had been sweet at the time but in retrospect felt ridiculous. How easily she’d fallen, and how glad she was to be out of it now. Yet there had been other times that she still remembered with pleasure, however mistakenly.

Dante watched her face, reading it without difficulty, and his eyes darkened. He raised a hand to summon the attendant, and when Ferne looked up she found Dante filling a glass of champagne for her.

‘I felt you needed it after all,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘Maybe I do.’

‘So what was the film actor doing in a play?’ Dante asked.

‘He felt that people didn’t take him seriously.’

‘Heaven help us! One of them. They make a career out of being eye candy but it’s not enough. They want to be respected.’

‘You’ve got him to a T,’ Ferne chuckled. ‘Are you sure you don’t know him?’

‘No, but I’ve met plenty like him. Some of the houses I sell belong to that kind of person-“full of themselves”, I believe is the English expression.’

‘That’s it. Someone persuaded him that if he did a bit of Shakespeare everyone would be impressed, so he agreed to star in Antony and Cleopatra.’

‘Playing Antony, the great lover?’

‘Yes. But I think part of the attraction was the fact that Antony was an ancient Roman, so he had to wear little, short tunics that showed off his bare legs. He’s got very good legs. He even made the costume department take the tunics up a couple of inches to show off his thighs.’

Dante choked with laughter.

‘It was very much an edited version of the play because he couldn’t remember all the long speeches,’ Ferne recalled. ‘Mind you, he made them shorten Cleopatra’s speeches even more.’

‘In case she took too much of the spotlight?’ Dante hazarded a guess.

‘Right. He wasn’t going to have that. Not that it really mattered, because everyone was looking at his thighs.’

‘I don’t think you’re exactly heartbroken,’ Dante commanded, watching her intently.

‘Certainly not,’ she said quickly. ‘It was ridiculous, really. Just showbusiness. Or life.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘It’s all a performance of one kind or another. We each live by pretending something’s true when we really know it isn’t, or not true when we know it is.’

A strange look came into his eyes, as though her words carried a particular resonance. He seemed about to say something, but then backed off. She had the impression that a corner of the curtain to his mind had been raised, then dropped hastily.

So there was more to him than the charming clown, she thought. He presented that aspect to the world, but behind it was another man who hid himself away and kept everyone else out. Intrigued, she wondered how easy it would be to reach behind his defences.

The next moment he gave her the answer.

Seeing her watching him, he closed his eyes, shutting her out completely.