only a couple of streets away. Just a short walk.’
‘But you must be careful about getting tired now. My car’s just below.’
‘Signor Fellani—’
‘Don’t you think you could call me Leonizio—under the circumstances?’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘Let’s go.’
He put his arm protectively around her. She gave in, letting him take her downstairs, into the car and back to the hotel, where he escorted her up to her room.
‘I’ll collect you tomorrow morning,’ he said. ‘We have a lot to talk about.’ He grew tense suddenly. ‘You will be here, won’t you?’
‘I’ve arranged to have several days off, so I don’t have to dash back.’
‘Fine. I’ll collect you tomorrow morning.’
For a moment she thought he might kiss her, but something made him back off, bid her farewell with a nod and retreat down the corridor until he was out of sight. With any other man she would have felt that he’d fled for safety, but with Leonizio that was impossible.
Wasn’t it?
After the traumatic events of the day it was good to be alone. She needed to think. Or perhaps just to feel. She went to bed early, hoping to sleep at once, but sleep wouldn’t come.
She had a strange feeling of being transported back to the past, when she had been a child, watching the misery of her parents’ life together. They had married only because Janet, her mother, was pregnant. Ellie recalled an atmosphere of hostility between two people who didn’t belong together, even with a shared child.
‘I should have known it could never work,’ Janet had once told her bitterly. ‘But our families were thrilled at the thought of a grandchild, and determined to make sure of it. So they pressured us into marriage.’
‘Didn’t you love Dad?’ Ellie had once asked. ‘I thought that sometimes there seemed to be love—’
‘Oh, yes, sometimes. He was a handsome man and all the girls were wild for him. They envied me being his wife, but he only married me because he was backed into a corner. After a while I started to have feelings for him, and I thought I could make him return them. But it didn’t work. Why should he bother to court me when he already had me there to do his bidding? You have to keep a man wanting, and if you can’t do that he’ll take advantage of it.’
Thinking back now, Ellie remembered that the only happiness had come from her grandmother, Lelia, who was Italian. She had married an Englishman, given up her country to live with him in England, and been left stranded by his death. When her son, Ellie’s father, married she’d moved in with him and his wife.
Ellie had been close to her grandmother. Lelia had enjoyed nothing better than regaling her with tales of Italy, and teaching her some of the language. It had been a severe loss when she died.
Without her kindly presence Ellie’s parents had grown more hostile to each other, until their inevitable divorce.
‘Will you be all right on your own?’ Ellie had ventured to ask her mother.
‘I won’t be on my own. I’ve got you.’
‘But—you know what I mean.’
‘You mean without a husband? I’ll actually be better off without him. Better no man at all than the wrong man. Better no relationship than a bad one.’
Life was hard. Her father paid them as little as he could get away with, and Janet took a job with low wages. Determined to have a successful career, Ellie had buried herself in schoolwork, coming top of the class. In this she was encouraged by her mother, who told her time and again that independence was the surest road to freedom.
‘Have your own career, your own life,’ she’d urged. ‘Never be completely dependent on a man.’
Ellie had heeded the lesson, took a law degree at university and qualified as a solicitor with flying colours. Alex Dallon was eager to employ her. She was a success.
The firm specialised in divorce cases. In the years she had worked there she’d witnessed every kind of break-up for every kind of reason. She’d soon realised that wretchedly unhappy marriages were more common than she’d thought. Men and women swore eternal love and fidelity, then turned on each other in a miasma of hate and mistrust. She wondered if love was ever successful.
Her own experiences gave her no cause for comfort. There were men attracted by her wit and her lively personality. But the attraction soon died when they were faced with an intelligence often sharper than their own, and an efficiency that tolerated no nonsense.
Finally there had been the man she’d described to Leonizio, briefly interested in her but then leaving her for a woman of more conventional charms.
Besides, how could Leonizio want marriage after the disaster that was his last one? His divorce wasn’t even through. He’d be mad to even entertain the idea of getting involved again so soon.
No, whatever the solution was for her situation with Leonizio, it certainly wasn’t marriage. They were both adults. She felt sure that they could come up with a solution for sharing their child that would suit them both.
Reassured that her sensible side had returned, she turned over and drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Next morning she went downstairs to eat breakfast in the restaurant. Her table was by the window, looking out on the street. After a while she saw a familiar figure appear, heading for the hotel entrance. She hurried out into the lobby, waving to Leonizio, and he followed her back into the restaurant.
‘Did you sleep well?’ he asked as they sipped coffee.
‘Not really. Too much to mull over. You?’
‘Same with me. Have you done any more thinking about what we discussed yesterday?’
‘We agreed to be good parents, friendly for our child’s sake.’
‘That isn’t what I meant. I proposed marriage. You were going to consider it.’
‘I gave you my answer last night.’
He didn’t reply at once, seeming sunk in thought. At last he said, ‘We’re still virtually strangers. It can’t work like that. At least let’s spend some time getting to know each other. You might find I’m not the monster you think me.’
‘Or I might find you’re worse,’ she said in a teasing voice.
‘I’ll just have to take that risk. I want you to stay with me. You’ll find the spare room very comfortable. My housekeeper will take care of you.’
‘But—I’m not sure. It might be better if I stayed in the hotel.’
‘The more time we spend together the better it will be.’
‘But I don’t think—’
She stopped as she saw a young man approaching their table. He handed Leonizio a piece of paper, saying, ‘Ecco la ricevuta, signore.’
Ellie frowned, recognising just one word. Ricevuta meant receipt.
‘Receipt?’ she asked when the man had gone.
‘I’ve paid your bill here. I called them last night and paid over the phone. There’s no reason why the cost should fall on you.’
It sounded fine and generous, but something about it made her uneasy.
‘Last night?’ she queried. ‘Why? My bill won’t need to be paid until I check out.’
‘Actually—you already have.’
‘What? You mean you—?’
‘I told them you would be leaving