The Italian's One-Night Baby

‘Where does your uncle come into this?’

‘Our grandmother left her son the contents of her house when she died and, of course, he assumed that the brooch would be there and when I told him she’d given it to me a couple of years earlier, Jim accused me of being a thief. While Polly was out applying for the death certificate and making burial arrangements, I was wrangling with Jim. I told him the brooch was only a costume piece but he wouldn’t believe me and he stomped off and wouldn’t speak to us at the funeral. A few weeks later he got the police involved,’ she revealed wryly. ‘They came to see me at university. I showed them the letter. They were satisfied—’

‘But your uncle wasn’t?’

‘No, he’ll probably go to his grave convinced that I deprived him of his prized inheritance. I tried to sort it out with him and he wouldn’t listen and by that stage I was past caring. I was sick and tired of the whole stupid business,’ she confessed.

Rio traced a fingertip over the shadows below her eyes. ‘You look tired, principessa. Have a nap.’

He owed her an apology for having entertained the ridiculous idea that she could be a gold-digger, E

llie thought in annoyance, but she was still waiting for that apology. He was far from perfect, she mused, and he was too strong to find it easy to own up to being in the wrong. On the other hand, he had wonderful taste in emeralds, had endured a gondola ride at her behest, was learning to hug and he was happy about the baby, she reasoned with sneaking contentment while swallowing another yawn.

Rio watched Ellie sleep and heaved a sigh. Had she noticed his moment of sheer panic when her pregnancy was confirmed? His blood had run cold. He had asked himself how he could possibly be a decent parent when his own parents had had more in common with the dregs of humanity. He didn’t know what was in his genes, never would know, but that sort of stuff was important to Ellie. Was that why he still hadn’t told her about the dumpster? Pride? He had always told himself that where he started out didn’t matter; indeed that all that really mattered was where he ended up.

And where had he ended up? Married to a woman he had treated badly! His sins had come back to find him out and haunt him. So, he had to reinvent himself again, just as he had as a boy, as a young failed businessman, a student and, finally, a success story. He would change and adapt to his new lifestyle. He would be the perfect husband. That was what Ellie deserved. He owed her that. All her life, Ellie had only had her sister Polly to rely on but now she had him. He smoothed a corkscrew curl back from her pale brow, careful not to wake her, and abstractedly wondered if it would be too soon to visit a toy shop. Probably as uncool as that awful gondola ride, he conceded ruefully. But then wasn’t he supposed to be reinventing himself?

*

‘So how do you think my Italian is coming on?’ Ellie enquired in the language.

‘You are learning quickly and the accent, it is good,’ Beppe told her cheerfully. ‘Rio must be a better and more patient teacher than I expected.’

‘He’s been very patient but we only talk in Italian for a couple of hours a day. I find it exhausting,’ she admitted. ‘But I have a good memory. Outside of maths and science, languages were my best subject.’

‘When will you be home?’ Beppe asked plaintively. ‘I miss you both.’

‘Tomorrow. We’ll join you for dinner,’ Ellie promised and she finished the call because Polly had already texted her twice asking her to ring.

‘What’s happened?’ she asked her sister worriedly minutes later.

‘You have to open Lucy’s envelope,’ Polly told her and then she explained why and Ellie came off the phone again looking worried.

‘What’s wrong?’ Rio pressed, lifting his handsome dark head from his laptop.

‘Well, that kid sister we’ve been trying to find?’ She sighed. ‘It turns out that we didn’t really think things through properly at the start. Because we didn’t know who our fathers were, we assumed Lucy would be in the same boat. But Lucy’s had access to her original birth certificate since she was eighteen and her father’s name is probably on it. After all, he was living in London with our mother when she was conceived. All the investigator has been able to discover from enquiries is that Lucy’s father is Greek and he thinks it’s possible that the reason we can’t trace her is that she could be in Greece.’

‘That’s reasonable, so stop fussing and open the envelope. It’s only a name and a ring, nothing more important.’

‘It just feels wrong,’ Ellie muttered, going upstairs to extract the envelope from her case and clattering back down into the sitting room. She opened the envelope and extracted a ruby ring and read the name. ‘Kreon Thiarkis,’ she sounded out uncertainly.

‘I think I’ve heard that surname before. I’ll look into it. Text the name to Polly so that she can pass it straight on to the investigator,’ he urged unnecessarily because she was already doing exactly that.

‘Stop with the bossy stuff,’ she warned him.

‘Have you ever listened to yourself talking to Beppe? Telling him to eat more vegetables and drink less wine? Urging a man, who is physically very lazy, to go for walks? It’s not going to kill him to be a little overweight at this stage of his life,’ Rio opined. ‘You climb on your healthy-living soapbox every time you’re on the phone.’

Ellie winced. ‘Have I been overdoing it?’

‘No. Beppe enjoys being fussed over. He’s never had that before. And if it’s any consolation, you’re giving him very good advice but he’s very set in his ways.’

Afternoon tea was served to them out in the little garden and Ellie sat watching the canal traffic wend past in all its tremendous variety while she ate a divine slice of blackberry-limoncello tart. She was thinking about how very happy she was and that it seemed downright incredible to her that she had only been married for four short weeks.

After all, she had made some very major decisions during those four weeks. Finding Beppe, marrying Rio and discovering she was pregnant had forced her to have a serious rethink about her future. She had withdrawn at the last minute from her scheduled placement in London and was officially unemployed. But she was learning Italian as fast as she could and with Rio’s assistance had already collected up the documents required for her to register as a doctor in Italy. Her career wasn’t taking a back seat, she reasoned, she was simply on a go-slow diversion for a few months. Obviously, her priorities had changed.

She didn’t want to leave Italy now that she had found her father. With Polly married to Rashad and living in Dharia, she had no family waiting for her back in London. She wanted the time and the space to get to know Beppe, as well. And she loved Italy and saw no reason to demand that Rio live in the UK when it was perfectly possible for her to work in Italy. That decision had removed much of the stress and the fear of the future weighing her down.

And she was so happy with Rio, even though he was the sort of near-workaholic who brought his tablet out even for afternoon tea in the sunshine. They had still contrived to enjoy the most incredible honeymoon exploring Venice. Well, she had explored and he had guided, occasionally complaining bitterly when she dragged him into old buildings or shot what she thought were interesting historical facts at him. They had wandered hand in hand off the beaten track and eaten wonderful food at little restaurants known only to the locals.