Phantom Marriage

How could this have happened? she wailed to herself.

The usual way, you idiot, returned her pragmatic side. You took a risk and now you’re going to have to pay the price. Serves you right for relying on the rhythm method. What sensible girl does that these days? And what sensible girl sleeps with a playboy like Leonardo Fabrizzi without using condoms?

‘Oh, God… Leonardo,’ she groaned aloud.

He was going to be even more upset than her when she told him. More than upset. He’d be furious with her for having lied to him about the pill. But she would have to tell him about the baby at some stage, because no way was a child of hers going to be brought up without knowing who its father was. Lord, no!

Perhaps she wouldn’t tell him until she was safely past the three-month stage when the threat of miscarriage had passed.

Thinking about miscarrying her baby made Veronica realise that deep down she didn’t want that to happen any more than she wanted to have a termination. This was her child growing inside her, a child born out of love. She could at least admit to herself that she loved Leonardo. Which was perverse, given the kind of man he was. But then life was perverse, wasn’t it?

Her hands came to rest across her stomach as she contemplated what it would be like to be a mother. She hoped she would be a good one. Kind and caring, but not a helicopter mother. Her own mother hadn’t been that, for which she was grateful. She’d allowed Veronica considerable freedom as she’d grown, encouraging her to work as well as to study, to become her own person. She knew she had considerable strength of character when needed. And she would need it now.

* * *

The next morning she had a good breakfast, after which she washed everything up—there wasn’t enough to load a dishwasher—then finished off packing her one case. At eight-thirty she locked up and placed the key back in the geranium pot. Thankfully the weather was still good, if a little cloudy. She hadn’t called a taxi, Franco having insisted that he would pick her up from the Hotel Fabrizzi to drive her down to the jetty. She stood for a long moment on the terrace, gazing out at the gorgeous view and putting it into her memory bank, though she suspected it might not be the last time she saw it. Leonardo would not let his child go easily. Neither would Sophia and Alberto. But she would not think about that yet. Time enough when she had a healthy ultrasound in her hands.

As she headed off towards the path, tears pricked at her eyes. She turned to have one last, longing look at her father’s villa, wondering at the same time if he’d ever envisaged this happening when he’d made his will. Had he hoped that she and Leonardo would end up together? It seemed rather fanciful.

Dragging her case behind her, she started walking down the steep path, dashing away tears at the same time. It happened so quickly. She caught her heel in something and pitched forward. A scream of terror burst from her lips as she crashed down onto the uneven stone steps. Her head hit something and everything went black.

* * *

Veronica wo

ke slowly to a dull headache and a strange bedroom, not to mention a strange man sitting on a chair beside the bed she was lying in. He was quite elderly with a neat white beard and white hair—though perhaps he was not as old as he looked, since his blue eyes were clear and his face not too wrinkled.

‘Where am I?’ she asked groggily. ‘And who are you?’

‘You’re in a guest room at the Hotel Fabrizzi, and I’m Dr Waverly.’

She blinked at him. ‘You’re English.’

‘Yes. I semi-retired to Capri many years ago but continued to practise for people who wanted an English-speaking doctor. I was Ruth’s doctor until she died. And Laurence’s, when he deigned to go to a doctor. Which wasn’t often. Sophia called me in because she thought you would be best with an English doctor. So, how are you feeling, my dear?’

‘Rotten.’

‘I can imagine. You had a bad fall and you’ve been unconscious for over a day. Concussion. Would you mind if I examined you?’

Veronica blinked, struggling to remember the circumstances of this fall.

‘What kind of examination?’

‘Nothing too intrusive. I just want to check you over. Make sure you’re on the road to recovery.’

‘How long did you say I’ve been out of it?’ she asked as he took her blood pressure.

‘Just over twenty-four hours.’

‘Oh, Lord!’ she said, sitting up abruptly. ‘I’ve missed my flight. I have to ring Mum and tell her.’

‘Leonardo’s already rung her and explained.’

Veronica gaped at him. ‘Leonardo’s talked to my mother?’

‘It seems so. And he wants to talk to you. Shall I call him in? He’s just outside.’

‘No!’ she cried out.