it’s me. Sol, whatever is the matter?’
‘Gina just came to see me.’
‘Gina? Oh, yes—she was the one before Sally, wasn’t she? How is she?’
‘Mum, she’s pregnant.’
Della sat up in bed. ‘She’s what?’
‘She’s pregnant. She’s going to have a baby. She says it’s mine.’
‘Do you think it is?’
‘Well—yes, probably. We were very intense for a while, and I don’t think she’d have had much chance to—you know—’
‘I get the picture.’
‘Mum, what can I do? She says she wants to have it.’
‘Good for her.’
‘It’s not. It’s a disaster.’ His voice rose to a wail. ‘I’m gonna be a daddy.’
‘Sol, for heaven’s sake calm down.’
‘How can I calm down? It’s terrible.’
‘We’ll manage something.’
‘Will you come and talk some sense into her?’
‘Not the way you mean. I’ll come and offer her my help and support.’
‘Oh, yeah? So that she can make you a granny? Is that what you want?’
‘What does it matter what I—? What did you say?’
‘I said she’s going to make you a grandmother. Are you going to support her in that? Mum? Mum, are you still there?’
‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘I’m here. Sol, I’ll call you back.’
‘When are you coming home?’
‘Soon. Goodbye, darling. I can’t talk now.’
She hung up and sat there, not moving, sensing the world shift on its axis. Just a few words, yet nothing was the same. Nothing would ever be the same again.
She was going to be a grandmother.
‘What is it, cara?’ Carlo asked, startled by the sight of her face.
A grandmother.
‘Della, whatever’s the matter? What did Sol have to say?’
She remembered her own grandmother, a grey-haired elderly lady.
‘Cara, you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s happened.’
She was going to be a grandmother.
‘Della, for pity’s sake—are you laughing?’
‘Yes, I think I am,’ she gasped. ‘Oh, dear, I must have been mad. Well, I came down to earth in time.’ She was shaking with bitter laughter.
‘I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.’ He tried to speak lightly, but there was a nameless dread growing inside him.
‘I’m not sure I really know myself,’ she said, forcing herself to quieten down before she was overtaken by hysterics. ‘I’ve been living in fantasy land—it’s been like a kind of madness, and I didn’t want it to end. But it had to. Now it has.’
She began to laugh again, a kind of gasping moan that drove him half wild.
‘Stop it,’ he said, seizing her shoulders and dropping down beside her. When she didn’t stop he gave her a little shake. ‘Stop that!’ he said, in a voice that sounded suddenly afraid.
‘It’s all right,’ she said, ceasing abruptly. ‘My head’s clear again now.’
‘For the love of heaven, will you tell me what’s happened? Is Sol in some sort of trouble?’
‘Yes. I’ve got to go back to England and help him.’
‘Then we must get married first. I don’t want you going back until you’re wearing my ring. Don’t shake your head. You were about to say yes—you know you were.’
‘Yes, I was. Because I was mad. But now I’m sane again. My darling, I can’t marry you. Not now or ever.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
FOR a moment Carlo didn’t speak, refusing to allow her words to alarm him.
‘You still haven’t told me what’s happened,’ he pointed out. ‘What did Sol tell you?’
‘He’s got a girl pregnant. I’m going to be a grandmother in a few months. What’s so funny?’
A roar of laughter had burst from him, but he controlled it quickly, his eyes on her face.
‘I’m sorry, cara, I can’t help it. If there’s one young man in the world I’d have thought would land in that kind of trouble, it’s Sol. Don’t tell me you’re surprised. I suppose he called you to sort it out for him?’
‘Carlo, did you hear what I said? I’m going to be a grandmother.’
‘But why make such a tragedy of it? What are you saying? That you’re going to go grey-haired and wrinkled in the next five minutes? Or are you planning to get a walking stick?’
‘Don’t laugh at me.’
‘But it is laughable the way you make a fuss about trifles.’
‘I’m going to be a granny.’
‘So what? You haven’t changed. You’re still you—the same person you were five minutes ago. You haven’t suddenly become eighty just because of this.’
‘I’ve moved up a generation,’ she said stubbornly.
‘Then I’m coming with you,’ he said cheerfully. ‘We’ll buy two walking sticks and hobble along together. Now, come back to bed. The night isn’t over, and Sol’s problem has given me some interesting ideas.’
He tried to draw her down between the sheets again, but she resisted.
‘Will you try to be sensible?’
‘What for? What did being sensible ever do for anyone?’
She loved him in this mood, but this time she couldn’t yield to him. It was too serious.
‘I wish you’d listen,’ she said. As she spoke she fended him off, which made him stop and stare at her, puzzled.
‘I’ve said that you’re still you,’ he said. ‘The woman I love, and will love all my days. None of this makes any difference.’
But she shook her head helplessly.
‘It does.’
‘But why? You haven’t aged by so much as a second.’
‘Haven’t I? I’ve suddenly seen myself aging.’
‘Because of a word? Because that’s all “grandmother” is—a word.’ He tried again to take her into his arms. ‘Cara, don’t give in to fancies. None of this matters to us.’
He didn’t understand, she realised. His words were logical, but they had no effect on the chill of fear in her heart.
‘No, it’s more than a word.’ She sighed. ‘It’s a thought with a picture attached. You saw that picture yourself—grey-haired, wrinkled, walking stick. And it’s made me face up to something that in my heart I’ve always known.’
She took his face between her hands, trying to find the courage for what had to come next.
‘I fooled myself that it could work between us,’ she said at last. ‘What we have is lovely, and I didn’t want to spoil it. I still don’t. We can have everything