Accidentally Expecting!

‘Shut up and listen. I’ve listened to you, now it’s my turn. I wish I didn’t love you, because I’m beginning to think you don’t deserve to be loved, but I can’t help it. So there it is. What do I do now with this love that neither of us wants?’

‘Kill it,’ he snapped.

‘Tell me how.’

His face changed, became older, wearier, as though he had suddenly confronted a brick wall.

‘There is a way,’ he murmured. ‘And perhaps it’s the best way, if it will convince you as nothing else could.’

‘Dante, what are you talking about?’

‘I’m going to kill your love.’

‘Even you can’t do that,’ she said, trying to ignore the fear that was growing inside her.

‘Don’t be so sure. When I’m finished, you’ll recoil from me in horror and run from me as far and fast as you can. I promise you that will happen, because I’m going to make sure it does. When you look back on this time, you’ll wish we’d never met, and you’ll hate me. But one day you’ll thank me.’

The brutal words seemed to hang in the air between them. Ferne stared at him hopelessly, vainly looking for some softening in his face.

He checked his watch. ‘We have time to catch a flight if we hurry.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘Milan.’ He gave a frightening smile. ‘I’m going to show you the future.’

‘I don’t understand. What is there in Milan?’

‘My Uncle Leo. Have they told you about him?’

‘Toni said he was a permanent invalid.’

‘Invalid doesn’t begin to describe it. They say that in his youth he was a fine man, a banker with a brain like a steel trap that could solve any problem. Women basked in his attention. Now he’s a man with the mind of a child.’

‘I’ll take your word for it. I don’t need to see him.’

‘I say that you do, and you’re going to.’

‘Dante, please listen-’

‘No, the time for that is passed. Now you listen. You wanted me to show you how to kill your love, and that’s what I’m going to do.’

She tried to twist away but his hands were hard on her shoulders.

‘We’re going,’ he said.

‘You can’t make me.’

‘Do you really think I can’t?’ he asked softly.

Who was this man who stared at her with cold eyes and delivered his orders in a brutal staccato that brooked no argument? Why did he have Dante’s face when he wasn’t Dante, could never be him?

Or was he the real Dante who had lived inside this man all the time?

‘Go and pack your things,’ he said in a voice of iron.

She did so, moving like an automaton. When she came out with her bag, he was waiting.

‘The taxi will be here in a minute,’ he said.

Neither spoke on the way to the airport; there was nothing to say. Ferne had the feeling of coming to a huge bridge stretching so far into the distance that she couldn’t see the other side. It led to an unknown place that she feared to visit, but to turn back now was impossible.

Worst of all was the sensation of travelling there alone, for there was no comfort to be found in the steely man beside her.

Then she caught a glimpse of his blank face, and remembered that he was the one in need of comfort. But he would accept none, especially from her.

On the flight to Milan, she ventured to say, ‘What kind of place is he in?’

‘A care home. It’s clean, comfortable, kind. They look after him well. Sometimes his family visit him, but they lose heart after a while, because he doesn’t know them.’

He added wryly, ‘One strange thing that you may find useful, he still speaks excellent English. With all the damage that was done to the rest of his brain, that part has remained untouched. The doctors can’t say why.’

At the airport he hailed a taxi to take them to the home, where a nurse greeted them with a smile.

‘I’ve told him you called to say you were coming. He was so pleased.’

That sounded cheerful, Ferne thought. Perhaps Uncle Leo was better than Dante imagined.

She followed them through the pleasant building until they came to a bedroom at the back where the sun shone through large windows. A man was there, kneeling on the floor, solemnly decorating a Christmas tree. He looked up and smiled at the sight of them.

He was in his late sixties, plump and grey-haired, with twinkling eyes and an air of friendly glee.

‘Hello, Leo,’ said the nurse. ‘Look who I’ve brought to see you.’

‘I promised to come,’ Dante said to him in English. ‘And I brought a friend to see you.’

The old man smiled politely.

‘How kind of you to visit me,’ he said, also in English. ‘But I can’t talk for long. My nephew is coming, and I must get this finished.’ He indicated the tree, immediately returning to work on it.

‘It’s his latest obsession,’ the nurse said. ‘He decorates it, takes it all down then starts again. Leo, it’s all right, you can leave it for the moment.’

‘No, no, I must finish it before Dante gets here,’ Leo said urgently. ‘I promised him.’

‘I’m here, Uncle,’ Dante said, going to him. ‘There’s no need to finish the tree. It’s fine as it is.’

‘Oh, but I must. Dante will be so disappointed otherwise. Do you know Dante, by any chance?’

Ferne held her breath, but Dante was unfazed. It seemed that he was used to this.

‘Yes, I’ve met him,’ he said. ‘He’s told me all about you.’

‘But why doesn’t he come?’ Leo was almost in tears. ‘He keeps saying he will, but he never does, and I so long to see him.’

‘Leo, look at me.’ Dante’s voice was very gentle. ‘Don’t you know me?’

‘No.’ Wide-eyed, Leo stared at him. ‘Should I?’

‘I’ve often visited you before. I hoped you’d remember me.’

Leo’s gaze became intense. ‘No,’ he said desperately. ‘I’ve never seen you before. I don’t know you-I don’t, I don’t!’

‘It’s all right, it doesn’t matter.’

‘Who are you?’ Leo wailed. ‘I don’t know you. You’re trying to confuse me. Go away! I want Dante. Where’s Dante? He promised!’

Before their horrified eyes, he burst into violent tears, burying his face in his hands and wailing. Dante tried to take the old man in his arms but was violently pushed away. Raising his voice to a scream, Leo barged his way out of the room, racing across the lawn towards the trees.

The nurse made to follow him, but Dante waved her back. ‘Leave this to me.’

He hurried out after Leo, catching up with him as they reached the trees.

‘Oh dear,’ Ferne sighed.

‘Yes, it’s very sad,’ the nurse said. ‘He’s a sweet old man, but he gets fixated on things, like that tree, and things just go round and round in his head.’

‘Is it normal for him not to recognise his family?’

‘We don’t see much of them here. Dante comes more often than anyone else. He’s so gentle and kind to Leo. I shouldn’t tell you this, but he pays the lion’s share of the expenses here, plus any special treats for the old man; he gets nothing back for it.’

‘And Leo has been like this for how long?’

‘Thirty years. It makes you wonder how life looks from inside his head.’

‘Yes,’ Ferne said sadly. ‘It does.’

‘I suppose he doesn’t really know, and that makes it bearable for him, poor thing. But then Dante visits him, and it brings him no pleasure because he never recognises him.’