Husband By Necessity

‘Only for professional reasons. I’m setting my patients an example of how to combat the cold. And I have to demonstrate or there’s no point.’

‘You show people your underwear?’ he demanded, aghast.

‘Don’t be stuffy. It’s not as though I’m showing off black satin lingerie. There’s nothing provocative about flannel “coms”. Look.’

She pulled open her shirt to reveal the uncompromising red flannel underneath. Bernardo drew a sharp breath, hoping she wouldn’t hear and guess that the electric jolt that had gone through his loins. Such prosaic underwear, but it filled him with thoughts and sensations that had nothing to do with red flannel.

Angie looked up at him, her eyes full of innocent fun. She knew he found her hard to cope with like this. It wasn’t that Bernardo was humourless. He did have a sense of humour-lurking somewhere. But he lacked the flexible mind that could combine fun and serious purpose, as Angie was doing now.

‘What are you up to?’ he asked at last, and he sounded uneasy.

‘Up to? I’m up to saving lives. I’m surprised you’re so reluctant to help. You’re protective about these people but you won’t do this one little thing to help them.’

‘All right, all right,’ he said impatiently. ‘I suppose you’ve come prepared. Do it, and then-please leave.’

But she shook her head. ‘Not here and now. I want you to come to my surgery tomorrow morning. Be there at about eleven, that’s when it’s most crowded, and people will see you. Then the news will spread. I’ll leave you in the waiting room for a few minutes, so that you can make sure everyone knows why you’re there.’

He ground his teeth. ‘Anything else?’

‘Not tonight.’

‘Then will you please leave?’ he said tensely.

‘You’ll be there tomorrow?’

‘I’ll be there. Goodnight-dottore.’

She had half expected him to snub her next day but Bernardo was a man of his word, and he was there on the dot of eleven. When she glanced into the waiting room he was deep in conversation with a mother, with two children, and she overheard enough to know that he was doing as she’d asked. When it was his turn he waved ahead someone who had come in after him. Only when there was nobody left did he enter the surgery.

‘Thank you, signore,’ she said formally. ‘I appreciate your help.’

She tried to keep her thoughts professional, but it was hard when the sight of him was so dear. When he pulled off his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his dark red shirt she suddenly realised how much thinner he’d become since they’d quarrelled at the wedding. It hadn’t struck her before, but as she held his arm she could feel that its strength was all sinew and nerves. Involuntarily she glanced up and met his eyes, then wished she hadn’t. He was watching her with an unexpected gentleness that recalled the old days, and she couldn’t afford to think of that just now. She still had too big a mountain to climb.

‘You’ll hardly feel it,’ she said mechanically.

‘Do you think a little needle-prick is the worst pain in the world?’ he asked, quietly.

‘Well, I suppose everyone has their own idea of the worst pain in the world,’ she murmured. ‘One person might be wounded to the heart by something another would ignore.’

‘And one might understand pain so little that they thought they could play games.’

‘If that’s meant for me, it’ll miss. I’m here to give these people a level of medical care they’ve never had before, and I’m not playing games.’ She withdrew the needle and rubbed the spot with alcohol.

‘Is that all you’re here for?’

‘I can’t think of anything else, can you?’ she asked, meeting his gaze.

‘Not a thing.’

As she ushered him out they found a man in the waiting room, whom Angie had never seen before. He looked elderly, with lined, weather-beaten skin, and he was in a state of great agitation. He began to speak as soon as she appeared, gabbling in Sicilian that she found hard to follow, and falling over himself to get the words out. Bernardo put his hand on the man’s shoulder and he began to calm down, although he still spoke urgently.

‘What’s the matter?’ Angie asked Bernardo.

‘His name is Antonio Servante,’ Bernardo explained. ‘He has a tiny farm a few miles from here which he farms alone except for his mother.’

‘His mother? How old is he?’

‘Sixty-five. He had a wife once, and two children, but they all died years ago in a measles epidemic.’ Antonio seemed to be pleading for something. ‘He wants you to vaccinate his mother,’ Bernardo explained, ‘but she’s bedridden and he can’t get her down here. His only transport is a mule. He says his mother is all he has in the world and he wants you to keep her alive.’

‘Then I’ll go to her, of course,’ Angie said at once. Calling on her basic Sicilian, she told Antonio she would accompany him at once and he gave her a beaming, toothless smile.

‘How are you going to travel?’ Bernardo demanded. ‘On his mule?’

‘I’ve got a car.’

‘I’ve seen it. It’s pathetic. It’ll never get you over that ground.’

‘It’s hired. I haven’t had a chance to buy a proper one yet.’

‘So how will you get to this place? And, when you get there, how will you communicate?’

She faced him. ‘You tell me.’

‘I warned you of something like this.’

‘If you’re going to say “I told you so”-don’t. Just-don’t.’

‘Wait here,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘I’ll get my car.’

Antonio, on his mule, led them down the road from Montedoro, then aside onto a winding road that climbed again and came out onto a flat stretch of earth that was the most barren and ugly she’d ever seen. There were stones everywhere, and she pitied anyone trying to scratch a living from this inhospitable place.

‘I wonder how many of my patients are up here,’ she murmured.

‘Let’s put it this way,’ Bernardo said curtly, ‘if they haven’t got you, they haven’t got anyone.’

‘I haven’t had time to go right through Dr Fortuno’s lists. I’ll have to do that soon.’

‘I don’t think he found his way up here very often, certainly not in winter. His old banger couldn’t manage it, and you wouldn’t catch him on a mule.’

‘The sooner I get that car, the better.’

‘You need one like mine, heavy-duty, four-wheel drive. Even so, it isn’t going to take us all the way there. I’ve just remembered something.’

What he’d just remembered became evident in a few minutes. A steep hill reared up ahead of them, only negotiable by a path too narrow for a car. Dismayed, Angie got out and stared up the path to where Antonio was pointing.

‘Is that it?’ Angie asked, ‘that house I can see?’

‘That’s the farmhouse, such as it is,’ Bernardo agreed.

‘Fine,’ she said, speaking more cheerfully than she felt. ‘Then we don’t have very far to go.’

Antonio shyly took her arm and indicated for her to get onto the mule.

‘I don’t think-’ she began hesitantly.

‘It’s the greatest honour he knows how to bestow,’ Bernardo said. ‘He loves Nesta almost as much as he loves his mother.’ He added, ‘and in mule terms she’s almost as old.’

‘Thanks,’ Angie snapped.

He ground his teeth. ‘Well, you wouldn’t be told, would you?’

‘Are you going to be useful?’ she ground back. ‘Or are you going to stand there gloating?’

‘I am not gloating.’

‘Well, you’re certainly not being useful!’

Conscious of Antonio’s eyes flicking from one to the other, Bernardo said in a tight voice, ‘I’m going to carry your bag, so you’ll have both hands free for holding on. You’ll need them.’

She let Antonio help her onto Nesta’s back, certain that the old animal was too small and frail for the burden. But Nesta stepped out confidently and began the journey up the steep incline. The path was about four feet wide, so that Angie could avoid looking down for most of the time. But suddenly they came upon a sharp turn which left her gazing down a long drop straight into the valley. She closed her eyes and the moment passed, but her head had