The Italian’s Wife by Sunset

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘THAT can’t be true,’ Carlo said harshly. ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Do you think I haven’t said that to myself?’ Sol demanded. ‘When I first got here and found her unconscious I thought she’d wake up at any moment, but she didn’t. It goes on and on. The longer she’s unconscious the worse it is. They had to operate, but she should have come round by now.’

‘Where is she?’

‘Behind that door. They sent me out while they did something with the machines. You should see all the things she’s attached to.’

He closed his eyes for a moment before he went on,

‘They say she took a terrible bang on the head. Even if she does come round we just don’t know how she’ll be-if she’ll recognise anyone, or know who she is-’

Carlo turned away swiftly, lest he betray too much.

‘I know the doctors expect her to die at any moment,’ Sol continued. ‘They don’t say so outright, but you can tell from the careful way they phrase things.’

Suddenly he glared at Carlo.

‘You took your time getting here, damn you!’

‘I came as soon as I heard. That was only half an hour ago.’

‘Yeah, like you didn’t know she was on her way.’ Sol’s tone was almost a sneer. ‘Why the hell couldn’t you leave her alone?’

‘What are you talking about?’ Carlo demanded harshly. ‘I haven’t been in touch with her since she left.’

‘Don’t give me that!’ Sol snapped. ‘Why was she flying to Naples if not to see you?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I don’t believe you. I phoned her at the airport and she-I don’t know-Hell!’

‘She told you she was coming to me?’

‘No, she denied it. But I knew.’

‘What did she say?’

‘What does it matter?’

‘What did she say, damn you?’

Carlo had slammed his shaking hands down on Sol’s shoulders, and for a moment looked as though he might be about to throttle him.

‘What did she say?’ he repeated hoarsely, releasing Sol.

‘I can’t remember exactly,’ the lad said, moving away carefully. ‘Something about tying up loose ends-’

‘But that could mean anything,’ Carlo said, feeling dizzy. ‘It could be work. Was there nothing else?’

‘Just that she didn’t know how long she’d be away-’

Carlo wanted to shake him. Instead he took a step away. It was safer for them both that way.

He felt torn in many directions. He’d longed for Della to return to him, but not at this cost to her. Sooner than see her hurt he would live lonely all his days.

‘I didn’t know she was coming,’ he growled. ‘I only heard today that she was on the plane.’

Sol looked at him, his head on one side in an attitude that implied cynicism. Carlo hated him. Then he noticed that the young man’s face was pale and haggard, as if something had finally pierced his armour of selfishness. The hatred faded. They both loved the woman who lay beyond the door, fighting for her life, and for her sake he wouldn’t quarrel with her son. No matter what.

‘I didn’t know she was coming,’ he repeated. ‘If I had, I’d have been at the airport. Nothing would have kept me away. But since she didn’t tell me I think you’re wrong, and she came to Naples for another reason.’

Sol shrugged.

They both turned sharply as the door opened and a nurse looked out.

‘Signor Hadley-’

‘Has she come round?’ Sol asked tensely.

‘I’m afraid not. But you can come in now.’

Sol hurried back into the room. Carlo tried to follow him, but the nurse stopped him.

‘I’m sorry, signore, but only one person at a time-’

Carlo looked over her shoulder, feeling stunned. The figure on the bed could have been anyone, but his heart knew her at once.

Then the door closed, shutting him out.

He stayed there for the rest of the day, his gaze fixed on the blank wall, trying not to think. His mind pulled this way and that. She had returned to him and they had a future. She was dying and his own life was over with hers.

Then his thoughts would shut off, just in time to stop him going crazy.

When he could stand it no longer he went and opened the door. At once the nurse came to fend him off.

‘I’m sorry. You can’t-’

‘Let him in.’ Sol’s voice came from the bed. He muttered as Carlo approached, ‘Let him see what he did.’

Now he could see her clearly, and it was a nightmare. Her head was swathed in bandages and her eyes were covered.

‘What happened to her?’ he whispered.

‘Her head was injured and we had to operate,’ the nurse said. ‘And there’s some damage to her eyes. Just how bad it is we don’t know yet.’

‘That’s if she lives,’ Sol added with soft fury.

Carlo was looking at the machines, with their flashing lights and occasional clicks, measuring her heart-rate, blood pressure, and a dozen other things-too many to take in. A tube, leading to an oxygen machine, was clamped brutally into her mouth.

There were other attachments-one to a blood transfusion, one to a saline drip, one to a painkiller-all connected to her by small cables attached to inserts in her flesh-two in her arm, one in her hand, and one, he winced to notice it, directly into her neck.

If they had been alone there were a million things he wanted to say to her, but now he could only stand and watch, helpless.

A buzzer sounded, and the nurse answered urgently, ‘Yes-all right. I’m on my way.’

To the others she said, ‘I have to leave for a moment. If her condition changes press that bell.’

She hurried out.

‘You look done in,’ Carlo said. ‘Why don’t you go and get yourself some coffee?’

Sol shrugged, lacking the energy for an argument, and slipped out.

Carlo sat beside the bed, not taking his eyes from her. He wanted to speak, but his throat ached too much. If only she would move. But she lay as deathly still as if-his appalled mind found the connection-as if she’d been there for two thousand years.

That thought brought her back to him as she’d been on that first day, when she’d danced into his life, turning the world upside down so that everything settled back into a different place. Together they had stood looking at the silent lovers, and now the memory broke his heart.

He leaned as close as he dared, whispering so that his breath touched her cheek.

‘Do you remember that day? How they held each other? I knew then that one day we would hold each other like that-did you know it, too? Why were you returning to Naples? Was it for me?

‘Where are you now? Have you really started on that road where the light beckons at the other end and your memories of the world are fading? Do you know that I’m behind you, calling you back? How can I make you turn to me?

‘Do you know that I love you? Wherever you are, whatever has happened to you, whatever the future holds for us, I love you. If you live, I love you. If you-if you die, I shall love you and only you. You’ll always be in my heart. We’ll never really lose each other, and one day we’ll be together again. I don’t know where, or how long it will take, but it can never be over for us.

‘Until then, I belong to you as totally as I say you belong to me, as finally as though the words had been said before an altar. Nothing could make me more yours than I am at this moment.’

He moved his fingers gently, so that they were beneath hers.

‘They say that hearing outlasts the other senses. Is that true? Can you hear me? If only you could let me know! Can’t you squeeze my hand, even slightly?’

But she never moved. It was as though she was dead already.

The door opened and a man in a white coat looked in, surprised at the sight of him.

‘The nurse was called away,’ Carlo said.

‘But I haven’t seen you here before. Who are you?’

Carlo rose to his feet.

‘I am her husband,’ he said.

The darkness was everywhere, but it changed quality all the time: sometimes thick and impenetrable, sometimes shot through with coloured flashes. Mixed with the darkness was the hideous noise.

There had been a blow on her head as the plane smashed into the runway. When she’d become half conscious again she’d found that opening her eyes was searingly painful, and given up the attempt. Dazed, she’d lain, listening to the screams around her, shouts, cries for help.

Someone yelled, ‘Get that ambulance here quickly.’

Then another voice said, more quietly, ‘This one’s dead. Who’s next?’

A violent jolt sent pain shrieking through her body, and the sounds vanished. Then there was only blackness, hot and swirling about her head.

She recovered consciousness, lost it, regained it, lost it again, until she could no longer tell one state from another. The air grew cooler, voices changed, pain faded, everything became blessedly peaceful. But it was the peace of nothing.

The world grew dim, leaving her in isolation through which presences came and went. Ghosts danced around her-Carlo as he’d been in their happy days, reaching out to take her in his arms and lead her to the new life that had beckoned for them, which she had rejected.

She could see Sol-and somehow Gina was there, but she faded, then Sol faded. Only Carlo was left, and he was running away from her. He knew that she’d come to Naples to find him and he didn’t want her any more.

She was tired now. All she had to do was walk on, to a place where she could sleep, but suddenly he was there behind her, calling, pleading, demanding that she turn back because he was her husband.

She tried to think how that had happened, but everything was confusion and at last she knew that it did not matter. He had claimed her, and she was safe.

Sol returned two hours later, looking sheepish.

‘I fell asleep in the café,’ he said.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Carlo said. He was feeling in charity with Sol for leaving him alone for so long, even by accident.

‘Has there been any change?’

Before Carlo could answer a doctor and nurse came in. After studying the machines the doctor said, ‘It’s strange how sometimes that happens, very suddenly.’

‘What happens?’ Carlo asked sharply.

‘The vital signs simply start to improve for no apparent reason. It’s happening here. Heart-rate, breathing, blood pressure-all better. Good. Let’s try disconnecting the breathing machine. If your wife can breathe on her own, that’ll be a big step forward.’

Sol looked puzzled at the word ‘wife’, but after a glance at Carlo’s face he said nothing, and both of them stood back while the machine was disconnected.

The tense silence that followed seemed to go on for ever. Then Della’s chest heaved, and she was breathing. The nurse smiled, the doctor hissed a soft ‘Yes!’ and Sol and Carlo thumped each other on the shoulder.

Carlo was the first to stop, turning away and hurrying out of the room, so that nobody should see him weep. He stayed a long time at the window in the corridor, convulsed with silent sobs, trying to bring himself under control.

‘Carlo!’

He turned to see his mother, advancing from the far end of the corridor. She opened her arms to him and he went into them willingly.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked huskily.

‘Signor Forest called the villa, asking about you. When he told us what had happened I knew everything. How is she?’

‘She’s very, very ill, Mamma. She’s just started to breathe unaided, but it’s only the start. She’s still unconscious, and she may be blind. I’ve tried talking to her, telling her that I’m here for her. I hoped it might help her fight.’

‘You must be patient, my son. This will take time, so I brought you a bag with some clean clothes and shaving things. I expect you’ll be here for a while.’ She gave him the bag, adding, ‘Call home as often as you can. I want to be kept up to date.’

When she had left he called Alan Forest to explain, apologise, and thank him for talking to Hope.

‘No need to say more,’ Alan told him kindly. ‘I got the picture as soon as you dashed off. Good luck. Maybe we’ll work together one day.’

He returned to Della’s room find the doctor talking,

‘It’s looking better, but it’s too soon to uncross our fingers. As I expect you know, she’s already had a heart attack.’

‘No, I didn’t know,’ Carlo said sharply.

‘It happened on the first day. It was mild, but in her condition everything is serious.’

It took two more days for Della to be declared out of danger. The staff were still unwilling to let them both be in the room together, so he and Sol reached a working arrangement under which they took it in turns.

As hour followed hour the machines showed that she was growing stronger, and he tried to think ahead. But he hit a brick wall, unable to imagine what the future held.

It seemed to him the most brutal ill luck that he wasn’t there when she finally came round. He came in to find Sol rejoicing, while Della had relapsed into unconsciousness.

‘What did she say?’ Carlo demanded.

‘Not much,’ Sol told him. ‘I held her hand and told her who I was, and she knew me. Her mind’s clear.’

‘Did you tell her I was here?’

‘No. I’m not sure how much she can take in yet. The doctor said not to put pressure on her.’

It was reasonable, but Carlo’s disappointment was bitter.

Sol watched Carlo struggling to come to terms with it, and saw what the effort at self-control did to him. A grudging respect tinged his hostility and he said, ‘OK, there’s something you’d better see. I had to go through her stuff, and I found this in the hand luggage.’ He handed Carlo a thick envelope. ‘I guess it tells its own story.’

He left the room quickly, giving Carlo no chance to reply.

The envelope contained photographs. Letting them spill onto the bed, Carlo saw his own face a hundred times, either alone or with her. They had all been taken during their first glorious week together, and she had brought them with her, in her hand luggage. Perhaps she had even looked at them during the flight.

She had been coming back to him. Nothing else could account for this.

But his first leap of delight was overtaken by another feeling as he studied the pictures. They showed him to himself in a new light. Here was a man clearly in love, but equally clearly driven by possessiveness. He’d made jokes about being her slave, but his hands had always been holding her tightly, as though fearing to free her to make her own decisions.

How often had he pressed her to do what he wanted? How often had she begged for more time? In the end he’d suffocated her, driving her to flee. It was his fault that she was lying here.

He sat beside her, watching her face, silently pleading with her to wake up and speak to him. Because more than anything in the world he wanted to tell her that he was sorry.

He stayed with Della for the next few hours, talking, praying that she could hear him, but when his stint was over she had still given no sign. At last Sol came in.

‘Anything?’

‘No.’ He pointed to the envelope. ‘Thanks.’

‘Did it tell you what you wanted to know?’

‘It told me a lot more than I wanted to know. I think I even know why she didn’t call me before coming out here.’

‘Well, the two of you can sort it out next time she wakes up. OK-my turn.’

Carlo went to the door, but he couldn’t resist turning for a last hopeful look at Della.

It took all his self-control to stand there, unknown to her, watching her suffer but unable to offer her any comfort. He clenched and unclenched his hands, willing her to awaken while he was still here.

‘Sol-’

The voice from the bed was so faint that they had to strain to hear it.

‘Sol, are you there?’ Della reached out as she spoke, grasping frantically at the air.

‘I’m here,’ he said quickly, taking her hand and returning to the chair by the bed. ‘Just as I was last time.’

‘I thought you’d gone.’

‘No, I’ll be here as long as you want me.’

‘I’m just being silly. I’m sorry. I get these funny ideas.’

‘What kind of ideas?’

‘Just fancies. I imagined-’

Sol looked over his shoulder. Silently Carlo mouthed, Tell her.

‘There’s something I’ve got to tell you,’ Sol said, turning back to Della. ‘Carlo’s been here. He heard about what happened and he’s worried about you.’

Carlo waited for her to smile, to call for him, but instead she was suddenly frantic.

‘You haven’t let him in here?’ she cried in a cracked voice. ‘Promise me that you haven’t.’

‘Mum-’

‘You won’t let him in here, will you?’

‘But I thought you still-’

‘Thought I what?’

‘You know,’ he said, uneasy and embarrassed.

‘Still love him?’

‘Yeah. That.’

In the doorway Carlo tensed, waiting for her answer. The silence seemed to go on for ever.

‘Of course I love him,’ Della said softly. ‘And I always will. But it’s too late. I couldn’t bear him to see me like this. You haven’t let him in, have you?’

Faced with her mounting agitation Sol had no choice but to say, ‘No, I swear I haven’t.’ He saw Carlo’s hands raised in protest and gave him a desperate shrug as if to say, What else could I do?

‘He mustn’t see me.’ Della’s voice rose to a cry. ‘Promise me-promise me-’

‘I promise-Mum, I promise. But I think you’re wrong. The guy loves you, for Pete’s sake.’

‘He loved me as I was then, but he’s never seen me like this, and I don’t want him to.’

Carlo had recovered enough to mouth, Makes no difference.

‘Maybe it wouldn’t make any difference,’ Sol recited obediently.

‘That’s what he’d say,’ Della murmured. ‘And he’d mean it, because he’s kind and generous, but I couldn’t put such a burden on him. It wouldn’t be fair.’

‘Maybe love isn’t fair,’ Sol replied, repeating Carlo’s silent message.

‘It isn’t. If it were-if love was fair-I could find a way not to love him so much. I’ve tried not to-I thought I could forget-be strong-but he’s always there. No, it’s not fair-’

Sol looked up again, expecting some direction, but Carlo was leaning against the wall, his face distorted, his hands hanging helplessly by his sides. It was as if Della last words had knocked the strength out of him.

‘Perhaps you don’t really want him to go?’ Sol suggested, dragging some inspiration from inside himself.

‘That’s very clever of you, darling. It’s true, I don’t want to lose what we had, but I can only keep it now by letting it go and remembering.’

‘Let me bring him here,’ Sol urged.

‘No-no! You mustn’t do that. Sol, I’m trusting you. I can trust you, can’t I? You wouldn’t deceive me about this?’

‘No, I-Of course you can trust me, Mum.’

‘Don’t you see why I could never let Carlo see me this way? I want him to remember me as I was the last time he saw me.’ Her lips curved in a sudden smile. ‘It was the awards night. I was dressed to kill and I know I looked good-you saw the tape-my best ever. He was there, and he saw me. I’ll never look as good as that again. But it doesn’t matter because he’ll never know. He’ll remember me as I was that night, and that’s what I want.’

‘But think of all your life-’ Sol began to argue.

‘I can manage if I know he’s all right. What I couldn’t bear is to tie him down when he should be flying.’

‘Flying?’

‘On the first day he told me about his ambitions, how he wanted to do something that could send him soaring. No nine-to-five job or collar and tie for him. That’s what I want for him, too. I couldn’t bear to be the one to take it away.’

‘Can you really live on memories for ever?’ Sol asked.

Again she smiled-an incredible smile, breathtaking in its happiness.

‘I have the very best memories,’ she said softly.

After that there was silence. When Sol looked at the door again, Carlo had gone.