Husband By Necessity

CHAPTER SIX

IN WINTER Montedoro was a ghostly, deserted place, swathed in mist. Now the boutiques were closed and most of the cafés. Feet echoed on the cobbles and all the colour seemed to have drained away, leaving only grey behind.

With the tourists gone, little more than six hundred people remained, and most of them seemed to have crowded into the narrow street to watch the new arrival. Two vans had drawn up. The front one was disgorging furniture, but not very much, because the new doctor had bought Dr Fortuno’s practice, house and furniture, lock, stock and barrel.

The largest item was a bed which, even in its dismembered state, spoke of quality and money. The head and foot were highly polished walnut, the mattress thick and springy. There would be trouble getting it through those narrow doorways, they reckoned. It was big. Too big for one person.

Hmm!

The second van was even more interesting. No furniture this time, but large, shiny metal items that the more knowledgeable guessed were medical equipment. There were murmurs in the crowd. ‘Dr Fortuno never had any of that stuff.’

‘He was an old man… They say he never read a book after he qualified.’

‘So who’s this new man?’

‘It’s a woman.’

‘Don’t be funny!’

‘That’s her over there.’

‘What, that little thing? She’s young enough to be my daughter.’

But, for all her youth and her dainty appearance, the new doctor had an air of authority, and when she offered twenty thousand lire to anyone who would help carry her heavy goods inside there was a rush from men enduring the unemployment of winter. In a short time everything was in place and the vans were able to leave.

More people had pressed through the open door to regard the new doctor, wide-eyed.

‘Some of you may remember seeing me here last year,’ she told them in Italian. ‘Now Dr Fortuno has left and from now on I’m going to be the doctor here.’ Angie took a deep breath and looked around the circle of faces that gave nothing away. She was gambling everything, and they would never know how nervous she was.

She showed them around the surgery, explaining the new equipment and what it could do for them. At first she was on tenterhooks, ready to beg them not to touch anything, but nobody tried. They seemed to regard it with awe tinged with fear, and she sensed that this part hadn’t gone so well. Their eyes, as they regarded her, were curious, baffled, not unfriendly but not welcoming. She was alien to them.

At last somebody spoke. ‘Where’s Dr Fortuno?’

‘He went to live with his sister in Naples,’ Angie said.

‘He’s not coming back then?’

‘No,’ Angie said with a sinking heart. ‘He’s not coming back. Have I shown you-?’

But she’d lost their attention. She felt, rather than heard the silence descend and turned from the machine she’d meant to demonstrate to see that the crowd had parted and everyone was looking at a man who’d just entered.

Bernardo stood in the doorway regarding her with a look of dismay and anger she’d never thought to see on his face. This was the man who loved her, but he wasn’t glad to see her. For a moment she flinched, then her head went up. She’d known it wasn’t going to be easy.

The little crowd melted away, leaving them alone together, watching each other over the distance of the floor.

‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded at last.

‘I’m Dr Fortuno’s replacement. I’m surprised the gossip hasn’t reached you by now.’

‘It reached me as soon as I came through the main gate. But you know what I’m asking you. Why you?’

She faced him. ‘Why not?’

‘Because you don’t belong here.’

‘That’s for me to say.’

His face closed against her. ‘Why do you have to make things harder on both of us? This isn’t a place to play games. It’s bleak and harsh and it’ll crush you in a week.’

‘I told you once, I’m a lot tougher than I look.’

‘And I told you that this is an old-fashioned place. It’s never had a woman doctor, and it’s not ready for one. You must leave here.’

‘Says who?’ she demanded, beginning to be angry.

‘I will not allow you to stay. Is that plain enough?’

‘Perfectly plain. What isn’t so plain is how you’re going to get rid of me, seeing as how I’ve bought the house, and the practice. You may own a good deal of this village, but you don’t own this house. Nor do you own the convent.’

‘What has the convent got to do with anything?’

‘Sister Ignatia is a qualified nurse. She’s coming in to help me two mornings a week. The nuns are delighted to have a woman doctor.’

‘But how-?’ Bernardo ran his hand through his hair and looked around him. ‘How did you ever get a license to practise in this country?’

‘Because I have excellent qualifications which are completely acceptable over here. The only hurdle was getting the paperwork translated and approved. At every stage there seemed to be a new committee who had to agree, and I know it can take a very long time. One of the officials told me about an English doctor who took two years to get his paperwork approved.’

‘Exactly. Then how-?’

‘But he didn’t have Baptista behind him. First she persuaded Dr Fortuno to go. He’d been wanting to go for some time, apparently, but he couldn’t find a buyer. When my paperwork came through she got onto Cousin Enrico who knows someone in the Sicilian regional government, and he knew a high-ranking official in Rome, who pulled strings and twisted arms, and the whole thing got done in a couple of months.’

‘Baptista,’ Bernardo said bitterly. ‘Baptista did this.’

‘Perhaps she felt I was entitled to prove myself. Because actually, Bernardo, your attitude to me is pretty insulting. You decided I wasn’t good enough for you-’

‘I never-’

‘That’s what it amounted to. Not good enough for you, not good enough for your home. Just a bird of paradise who’s always had a cosy nest. You dumped that on me, never mind whether it was true. Well, now I’m dumping myself on you, and there isn’t a thing you can do about it.

‘I’m a good doctor and I’m going to be good for this place. To start with I’ve imported some very modern medical equipment, the kind of thing I’ll swear Dr Fortuno had never heard of, and he certainly couldn’t have afforded to buy. But I can, because I’ve got all that disgraceful money that you think puts me beyond the pale.

‘Take a good look at this place and see what my wicked wealth has bought. With Sister Ignatia’s help I could even do operations, although I devoutly hope I never have to.’

‘And how are you going to communicate with your patients?’

‘My Italian is excellent, although most of them speak English. They learned it from the tourists.’

‘In Montedoro, yes. But your practice spreads far out, to the farmhouses where they only know Sicilian. What will you do then?’

‘I’ve spent the last three months learning.’

‘Three months-?’

‘I’ve been working with a Sicilian coach, several hours a day. She says I’m coming on fast. And if necessary I’ll hire someone here to help me.’

‘And when the snow comes-?’

‘I’ll get snow shoes,’ she yelled. ‘I know there are problems, but there are also answers. Why can’t you be a little glad to see me?’

‘You know why-’

‘I’ll tell you what I know,’ she said furiously. ‘You made a decision. It concerned me, but you didn’t involve me. You decided for both of us. Now I’m telling you, it’s not on. You don’t decide for me. And you really have a problem with a woman who won’t accept your edict, don’t you? Boy, are you a Martelli?’

‘Don’t say that!’ he said harshly.

‘I will say it. It’s true. If you don’t like it, tough!’

Exasperated, he began to look about him at the plain dwelling with its shabby furniture and kitchen equipment that came out of the Ark. ‘You’re going to live with this?’ he demanded.

‘Not all of it. I’m having a new kitchen delivered soon-and, yes, it is going to be top of the range at a very fancy price. Like this.’ She threw open the bedroom door to reveal the luxurious bed. ‘I can do without my creature comforts if I have to, but why should I have to just because you’re pig-headed? I won’t be a worse doctor because I sleep soft. Better, in fact. Dr Fortuno might have been better if he hadn’t slept on a mattress filled with turnips.’

‘Please-signore-dottore-’

The interruption came from a girl of sixteen who’d just come in from the street. She smiled shyly at Bernardo who greeted her as Ginetta.

‘You can clean the bedroom and make the bed,’ Angie told her with a smile. ‘You’ll find all the new bed linen in those cardboard boxes.’

When the girl had disappeared she explained, ‘She’s going to do my housework. Apart from paying her money I’m going to talk English to her. The Mother Superior found her for me in the convent school. She’s the elder sister of the little girl whose leg I tended.’

‘Yes, I know the family,’ he said curtly. ‘You’ve evidently gotten everything worked out, and what I think doesn’t count?’

‘No more than my wishes counted with you. It’s a different ball game now, Bernardo. We’re playing by my rules.’

‘And what is it supposed to achieve? At the end of the day, do I give in and marry you?’

At that, Angie lost her temper, big time.

‘Oh, boy, you really fancy yourself, don’t you? You think I went to all this trouble because I’m desperate to marry you? What do you think I’ve been doing recently, Bernardo? Sitting at home like a wallflower because no other man wants me?’

He regarded her, trying to maintain his distance, reluctantly taking in everything he’d been trying to forget: her dainty figure that had been designed for dancing in costly evening wear, not roughing it in the mountains, her angel face with its halo of flyaway blonde hair.

No wallflower. No sitting at home. He could guess about the men who pursued her, danced with their arms about her, kissed the mouth that had once moved so sweetly against his own. He could, but he didn’t dare in case he went mad. He wondered why he’d never noticed something else about that lovely mouth, its sheer mulish obstinacy.

‘I never imagined you lonely-’ he began.

‘Then you’re a fool,’ she whispered so that he didn’t hear. Then, eyes flashing, she took up the argument. ‘I did not uproot my life to come all this way because I was desperate for a husband. I have my own reasons. OK, maybe I am as weak and foolish as you think me-’

‘I never said-’

‘You said a lot more than you think. All sorts of little prejudices came creeping out between the lines. A psychologist could have a field day with what you said, what you didn’t say, and what you don’t realise you said.

‘If I believe you I’m just a weakling who falls apart when the going gets tough. I don’t think I am like that, but I want to find out. For me, not for you. It has nothing to do with you. In fact, you’re surplus to requirements, and I’d be obliged if you’d leave because I have a lot of work to do.’

He stared at her for a moment, and walked out without another word.

Well, I sure picked my time, she thought as she snuggled down in bed that night. Second week in January, just when the weather’s taking a nosedive to freezing, where it will stay for at least a month. Any sensible person would have done this in spring, but not me. And Bernardo thinks I’m a weakling.

Bernardo be blowed!

She’d started with a stroke of luck in getting the nuns on her side. Her second lucky break came the following week, during a phone call with Heather, who mentioned an outbreak of flu in Palermo. So far there were no cases in Montedoro and Angie went into action fast. Every nun in the convent was vaccinated; also the local priest, Father Marco, a desperate gossip who ‘happened’ to be visiting the convent at the time. He was a plump little man in his fifties with a belligerent manner and a kind heart.

He had two hobbies in life, an obsessive interest in boxing, and his running feud with Olivero Donati, who was the mayor of Montedoro, and his own distant cousin. Donati was a meek, nervous little man who enjoyed the ceremonial aspects of being mayor but couldn’t say boo to a goose. Father Marco had pulled strings to get him the job, but thereafter felt entitled to sit on him whenever he pleased. Mostly Olivero put up with it, but sometimes he remembered his mayoral dignity and found the courage to speak up. Only to be sat on again.

Within hours of the priest receiving his shot Olivero presented himself at the surgery, declaring it his duty to give a lead to the citizens who looked to him for guidance. Suppressing a grin, Angie praised him for his civic spirit and declared that she wished there were more citizens like him.

In addition every child in the school was sent home with a letter, signed by the Superior, urging all parents to have their children vaccinated, and also themselves. The villagers might be wary of her but they trusted Mother Francesca. The take up was good, but not as complete as she’d hoped. She considered the problem, identified the cause and decided on measures to tackle it.

Bernardo, peacefully eating his supper, was startled by a loud banging on his front door. Stella opened it to admit a short figure of indeterminate gender, so heavily wrapped up that it was almost as broad as it was long.

‘Buona notte, dottore,’ she cried, after recognising the visitor with difficulty. ‘Come into the warm and I’ll bring you some hot coffee.’

‘Thank you, Stella,’ Angie said cheerfully. ‘I could do with it.’

She threw back the hood of her jacket, disclosing a bright-eyed face, full of smiles. If Bernardo had expected the cold to drive her under he could see his mistake. She was glowing with health and vigour, her cheeks rosy from her exertions.

‘Good evening, Signor Tornese,’ she said, clasping Bernardo’s hand and pumping it vigorously.

‘Good evening, dottore.’ Bernardo’s manner was polite but wary.

Stella set a large cup of coffee before her. ‘How you like our cold weather, eh?’

‘I’m coping. Look at me.’ Angie indicated her heavy boots and trousers. ‘You know what I’m wearing under this? Red flannel combinations.’

Stella went into gales of laughter.

‘No, really, you should try it,’ Angie assured her. ‘So should you, signore. It’s a wonderful way to keep warm.’

‘Thank you, I am warm enough,’ Bernardo said. ‘You are welcome, of course-’

‘Liar,’ she murmured provocatively.

‘You are welcome in my house,’ he said firmly, ‘but I didn’t send for a doctor.’

‘No, and you didn’t come to my surgery, either, which was very remiss of you.’

‘But I’m not ill.’

She slapped him on the back. ‘And I aim to keep you that way,’ she said with a heartiness calculated to terrorise any man. ‘There’s a flu epidemic in Palermo and I’m conducting a vaccination program to stop it reaching up here.’

‘Flu,’ he said dismissively.

‘Don’t sneer, it shows how little you know. Flu can be a killer, especially among the old. They’re the ones who need to be vaccinated but they’re resisting it because they still do things the old ways. So you’ll have to give them a lead.’

‘What?’

‘You’re the Great Man around here. If you lead they’ll follow. You see, the trouble is, a lot of people are afraid of needles. Big strong men, some of them, and they can’t face a little pinprick.’

‘That will be all, Stella,’ Bernardo said hastily. ‘You can go now.’

When Stella had left Angie said, ‘Very wise.’ Her eyes were teasing.

He ground his teeth. ‘Angie-’

‘I think you should address me as dottore. It’s more respectful.’

‘Respectful!’

‘Well, I think you ought to show me some respect,’ she complained with a wounded look. ‘Everybody else does. After all, the doctor is a pillar of the community.’

Goaded, he retorted, ‘If you’re such a pillar of the community, I don’t think you ought to go around discussing your underwear in public.’

‘Only for professional reasons. I’m setting my patients an example of how to combat the cold. And I have to demonstrate or there’s no point.’

‘You show people your underwear?’ he demanded, aghast.

‘Don’t be stuffy. It’s not as though I’m showing off black satin lingerie. There’s nothing provocative about flannel “coms”. Look.’

She pulled open her shirt to reveal the uncompromising red flannel underneath. Bernardo drew a sharp breath, hoping she wouldn’t hear and guess that the electric jolt that had gone through his loins. Such prosaic underwear, but it filled him with thoughts and sensations that had nothing to do with red flannel.

Angie looked up at him, her eyes full of innocent fun. She knew he found her hard to cope with like this. It wasn’t that Bernardo was humourless. He did have a sense of humour-lurking somewhere. But he lacked the flexible mind that could combine fun and serious purpose, as Angie was doing now.

‘What are you up to?’ he asked at last, and he sounded uneasy.

‘Up to? I’m up to saving lives. I’m surprised you’re so reluctant to help. You’re protective about these people but you won’t do this one little thing to help them.’

‘All right, all right,’ he said impatiently. ‘I suppose you’ve come prepared. Do it, and then-please leave.’

But she shook her head. ‘Not here and now. I want you to come to my surgery tomorrow morning. Be there at about eleven, that’s when it’s most crowded, and people will see you. Then the news will spread. I’ll leave you in the waiting room for a few minutes, so that you can make sure everyone knows why you’re there.’

He ground his teeth. ‘Anything else?’

‘Not tonight.’

‘Then will you please leave?’ he said tensely.

‘You’ll be there tomorrow?’

‘I’ll be there. Goodnight-dottore.’

She had half expected him to snub her next day but Bernardo was a man of his word, and he was there on the dot of eleven. When she glanced into the waiting room he was deep in conversation with a mother, with two children, and she overheard enough to know that he was doing as she’d asked. When it was his turn he waved ahead someone who had come in after him. Only when there was nobody left did he enter the surgery.

‘Thank you, signore,’ she said formally. ‘I appreciate your help.’

She tried to keep her thoughts professional, but it was hard when the sight of him was so dear. When he pulled off his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his dark red shirt she suddenly realised how much thinner he’d become since they’d quarrelled at the wedding. It hadn’t struck her before, but as she held his arm she could feel that its strength was all sinew and nerves. Involuntarily she glanced up and met his eyes, then wished she hadn’t. He was watching her with an unexpected gentleness that recalled the old days, and she couldn’t afford to think of that just now. She still had too big a mountain to climb.

‘You’ll hardly feel it,’ she said mechanically.

‘Do you think a little needle-prick is the worst pain in the world?’ he asked, quietly.

‘Well, I suppose everyone has their own idea of the worst pain in the world,’ she murmured. ‘One person might be wounded to the heart by something another would ignore.’

‘And one might understand pain so little that they thought they could play games.’

‘If that’s meant for me, it’ll miss. I’m here to give these people a level of medical care they’ve never had before, and I’m not playing games.’ She withdrew the needle and rubbed the spot with alcohol.

‘Is that all you’re here for?’

‘I can’t think of anything else, can you?’ she asked, meeting his gaze.

‘Not a thing.’

As she ushered him out they found a man in the waiting room, whom Angie had never seen before. He looked elderly, with lined, weather-beaten skin, and he was in a state of great agitation. He began to speak as soon as she appeared, gabbling in Sicilian that she found hard to follow, and falling over himself to get the words out. Bernardo put his hand on the man’s shoulder and he began to calm down, although he still spoke urgently.

‘What’s the matter?’ Angie asked Bernardo.

‘His name is Antonio Servante,’ Bernardo explained. ‘He has a tiny farm a few miles from here which he farms alone except for his mother.’

‘His mother? How old is he?’

‘Sixty-five. He had a wife once, and two children, but they all died years ago in a measles epidemic.’ Antonio seemed to be pleading for something. ‘He wants you to vaccinate his mother,’ Bernardo explained, ‘but she’s bedridden and he can’t get her down here. His only transport is a mule. He says his mother is all he has in the world and he wants you to keep her alive.’

‘Then I’ll go to her, of course,’ Angie said at once. Calling on her basic Sicilian, she told Antonio she would accompany him at once and he gave her a beaming, toothless smile.

‘How are you going to travel?’ Bernardo demanded. ‘On his mule?’

‘I’ve got a car.’

‘I’ve seen it. It’s pathetic. It’ll never get you over that ground.’

‘It’s hired. I haven’t had a chance to buy a proper one yet.’

‘So how will you get to this place? And, when you get there, how will you communicate?’

She faced him. ‘You tell me.’

‘I warned you of something like this.’

‘If you’re going to say “I told you so”-don’t. Just-don’t.’

‘Wait here,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘I’ll get my car.’

Antonio, on his mule, led them down the road from Montedoro, then aside onto a winding road that climbed again and came out onto a flat stretch of earth that was the most barren and ugly she’d ever seen. There were stones everywhere, and she pitied anyone trying to scratch a living from this inhospitable place.

‘I wonder how many of my patients are up here,’ she murmured.

‘Let’s put it this way,’ Bernardo said curtly, ‘if they haven’t got you, they haven’t got anyone.’

‘I haven’t had time to go right through Dr Fortuno’s lists. I’ll have to do that soon.’

‘I don’t think he found his way up here very often, certainly not in winter. His old banger couldn’t manage it, and you wouldn’t catch him on a mule.’

‘The sooner I get that car, the better.’

‘You need one like mine, heavy-duty, four-wheel drive. Even so, it isn’t going to take us all the way there. I’ve just remembered something.’

What he’d just remembered became evident in a few minutes. A steep hill reared up ahead of them, only negotiable by a path too narrow for a car. Dismayed, Angie got out and stared up the path to where Antonio was pointing.

‘Is that it?’ Angie asked, ‘that house I can see?’

‘That’s the farmhouse, such as it is,’ Bernardo agreed.

‘Fine,’ she said, speaking more cheerfully than she felt. ‘Then we don’t have very far to go.’

Antonio shyly took her arm and indicated for her to get onto the mule.

‘I don’t think-’ she began hesitantly.

‘It’s the greatest honour he knows how to bestow,’ Bernardo said. ‘He loves Nesta almost as much as he loves his mother.’ He added, ‘and in mule terms she’s almost as old.’

‘Thanks,’ Angie snapped.

He ground his teeth. ‘Well, you wouldn’t be told, would you?’

‘Are you going to be useful?’ she ground back. ‘Or are you going to stand there gloating?’

‘I am not gloating.’

‘Well, you’re certainly not being useful!’

Conscious of Antonio’s eyes flicking from one to the other, Bernardo said in a tight voice, ‘I’m going to carry your bag, so you’ll have both hands free for holding on. You’ll need them.’

She let Antonio help her onto Nesta’s back, certain that the old animal was too small and frail for the burden. But Nesta stepped out confidently and began the journey up the steep incline. The path was about four feet wide, so that Angie could avoid looking down for most of the time. But suddenly they came upon a sharp turn which left her gazing down a long drop straight into the valley. She closed her eyes and the moment passed, but her head had swum sickeningly. She was never at ease with heights, yet she’d chosen a life where heights would be encountered daily. She wondered if there was any insanity in her family, or whether she was the first.

Antonio was walking at Nesta’s head, encouraging her. Bernardo came up beside Angie, on the outside. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked quietly.

‘I’m fine,’ she said untruthfully. ‘I wish you wouldn’t walk there, so close to the edge.’

‘I thought you might feel safer if I was between you and the drop.’

‘That’s nice, but honestly it just makes me worry about you. Anyway, you’ve got it quite wrong. I’m not afraid of heights.’

‘I thought you were. That day in my home-’

‘No, no,’ she managed a laugh that came out sounding bright and confident, she couldn’t think why. ‘I was just taken by surprise that time.’

There was no need for him to answer because mercifully they had reached the top and were making their way to the tiny farm house. Angie saw that it was little more than a hovel, and she began to understand the kind of poverty she was dealing with.

Cecilia Servante came as a surprise. She was in her eighties but looked older, a little weatherbeaten gnome of a woman. But her eyes were bright and her voice lively. She couldn’t get out of bed but she could backchat her son and send him scurrying into the kitchen to make coffee for their honoured guest. Angie was enchanted by her.

She spoke nothing but Sicilian. Taking a chance, Angie waved aside Bernardo’s offer of help and tried to converse in her own tentative Sicilian. It turned out to be a smart move. Cecilia roared with laughter at her mistakes and spoke slowly to help her. In a few minutes Angie had learned some new phrases and established an excellent understanding with the old woman.

Her grip on life was still vigorous and to Angie’s delight she was eager for the vaccination, pushing up her sleeve impatiently, then pointing to her son, cackling with laughter when he was squeamish at the needle.

Looking around her, Angie was horrified. Everywhere needed repair, everything was of the most basic. Antonio brought coffee and bread, which she guessed was a strain on his budget, but the law of hospitality was unbreakable. Her worst moment came when he reached into his pocket and brought out some money. It was a tiny amount, little more than one pound, but it was clear he could ill afford it. Then her quick wits came to her rescue.

‘No money,’ she said, holding up her hand as if to ward it off, and speaking slowly in Sicilian. ‘Instead, you can do something for me. This room-Friday morning-I hold a clinic here. And you tell all your neighbours to be here. Yes?’

A smile broke over Antonio’s face and he nodded vigorously, shoving the money back into his pocket with relief. He did his best to reply to her, but had to fall back on Bernardo.

‘He says let him know what time, and he’ll be waiting at the foot of the path with Nesta,’ Bernardo translated.

They arranged the time, and Angie prepared to leave, with the sense that she had achieved something. But her smile died when she saw how fast the light had faded, leaving the path barely visible.

‘Stay here while I go down to the car and get the torch,’ Bernardo commanded.

‘No way,’ she said cheerfully. ‘If I keep hold of the wall I’ll be fine.’

‘Will you please do as you’re told?’ he yelled.

‘Nope. Let’s get going.’

She set off briskly but he darted in front of her and hurried ahead. By the time she was half way down he was back with the torch, which he directed onto the path ahead of her. By this time it was completely dark and she was glad of the help, although she would have died sooner than admit it.

‘Are you happy now?’ Bernardo demanded savagely.

‘Perfectly, thank you.’

‘You won’t do anything the sensible way, will you? Oh, no, that’s too easy.’

‘Well, it would have been easy if you’d remembered to take the torch from the car when we went up.’

‘I didn’t know you were going to be that long. How long does an injection take?’

‘Ten seconds. But assessing my patient’s general conditions takes a lot longer. You think a flu jab is all they need?’

‘You can’t give them all they need.’

‘No, but I can give them a lot that nobody’s ever bothered to give them before. Don’t lecture me, Bernardo. You know nothing about it.’

‘I-know nothing about it?’

‘You were as horrified by that place as I was.’

‘I could show you a hundred places like it. Are you going to single-handedly cure every ill in this place?’

‘I’m going to try,’ she said firmly. ‘With or without your help. You talk about “your people” but what your people need is money. Filthy lucre. Spondulicks. Ill-gotten gains. All of which I have. If you really cared about them you’d have married me for my money and spent it all on them. Now, can we get back, please? I have evening surgery to do.’