Husband By Necessity

Some people feel safer at a distance, but Angie will never let you keep that distance. She’s warm and open-hearted, and very brave. She’ll give everything and want everything in return, and if you can’t give it-well, perhaps it’s best to discover these things now.’

Bernardo looked at her, aghast. ‘What are you saying?’ he demanded hoarsely.

‘That perhaps she really would be better off without you.’

‘Even if I love her-if she loves me-?’

Baptista spoke thoughtfully. ‘Sometimes love-even great love-isn’t enough.’

‘I don’t-believe that,’ he said with difficulty. He looked at Baptista with desperate eyes. ‘I don’t know what to do. For pity’s sake, help me.’

CHAPTER TWELVE

SPRING was turning into summer, and tourists were converging on Montedoro, although few of them found their way into the side street where Angie lived, and at night it was so quiet that every footstep was noticeable.

They were strange days when she seemed to be living in limbo and several times she looked out onto the valley to see the golden eagle wheeling and swooping eerily close to her. And then one memorable day the bird turned his head, seeming to look straight into her eyes, and gave a wild scream that echoed through the mountains. Then it was gone.

To others it might have been just a scream, but to Angie, in her state of heightened sensitivity, it sounded like a shout of greeting. She had made it. She had proved herself an eagle.

And there was nobody to know or care.

She couldn’t have said what awoke her in the early hours one morning, and made her go to her front door. There was nobody there, but a few lights were still on in the houses opposite. For a moment she saw a head in silhouette, turned in her direction, but it vanished at once. Then the light went off. The silence was total. It was just like any other night. Except that it wasn’t. Something was very different. She stood there for a moment, listening, wondering what was happening. At last she closed the door.

The feeling of strangeness continued next day. She awoke early, feeling queasy, as she often did now, and when that passed she had a quick breakfast alone, then opened her morning surgery. But nobody came. She checked the waiting room, but it was empty. Angie was used to having fewer patients these days, but there was still a fair number who valued her skills more than her reputation, and total silence was rare. After a while she checked the waiting room again, but still there was nobody there.

Of course the weather was fine now, she told herself. Nobody was feeling poorly. But the brave words couldn’t still the unease within her heart. Or the ache. She had stuck her neck out for these people, and they were abandoning her.

She looked out, but there wasn’t a soul to be seen in the sunlit street. Somewhere overhead, she heard a window open, a voice went, ‘Pssst!’ And the window closed again.

A rumbling sound made her glance quickly to the far end of the street, just in time to see Benito and his son, both driving their painted carts across the road, before vanishing between two buildings. Which was strange, because this wasn’t part of their route.

She began to wonder if she were hallucinating. At any moment she half expected someone to jump out of a trap-door.

Giving herself a little shake Angie retreated back into her house, trying not to feel isolated. There was a pile of things to do, she told herself firmly. And she would be strong-minded, and get on with them.

But she did none of them. She stood in the middle of the floor, wondering what was happening to her.

She must be going dotty. That was it. Because otherwise, why would she imagine that she could hear a trumpet?

Back to the front door. Look out again. And this time there was no mistake. She could hear the trumpet loud and clear, and the sound of a drum, accompanying a procession that was making its way up from the bottom of the street.

She was definitely hallucinating because no way was that Baptista riding on Benito’s cart at the head of the procession. But when she had closed her eyes, shaken her head and opened her eyes again the cart was still there, rumbling towards her. So was Baptista. And now Heather was sitting beside her.

Nearer they came, and now she could discern individuals walking beside the colourful cart. There was Father Marco, and beside him the mayor. On the other side of the cart walked Sister Ignatia and the Mother Superior. As everyone realised that she had seen them they all waved and smiled. They were carrying garlands and flowers, as if for a festive day, and behind them came the town band playing with huge enthusiasm and small accuracy.

As last they stopped before her house, and now she could see that the procession stretched far back down the street, encompassing so many people that she wondered if there was anyone left to run the shops.

‘What-what’s going on?’ she asked helplessly.

Nobody spoke, but Father Marco, grinning broadly, stepped aside and revealed someone Angie hadn’t noticed before.

‘Dad!’ she exclaimed. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I’ve come to your wedding, my dear,’ he said, embracing her. ‘Your brothers send their love. Unfortunately they couldn’t get the time off at such short notice-’

‘Short notice?’ she squealed. ‘You announced that I’m getting married-which nobody’s told me-and you talk about short notice? Well, I’m not getting married.’

‘Signorina, you must,’ the mayor said earnestly. ‘Every one of us is here today to tell you that you must.’

‘Must?’ she echoed. ‘What do you mean-“must”?’

There was a small commotion from the top of the street. Three men were striding towards them, Bernardo in the centre, flanked by his brothers, each dressed in their best clothes. Angie strained her eyes trying to read Bernardo’s expression, but all she could see was how calm he looked, not at all like a man who’d been kidnapped.

Angie’s father was helping Baptista down from the cart, then Heather, who was carrying a parcel.

‘All present and correct,’ Lorenzo called out merrily as the brothers came to a halt.

Angie moved closer, meeting Bernardo’s eyes, her own full of suspicion. ‘Did you know about this?’ she demanded.

Instead of answering he threw an anguished look at Baptista. ‘You promised to do the talking for me,’ he growled.

‘And I will,’ she assured him. ‘Some of the talking. But there are also things a man must say for himself.’

‘It’s a set-up, isn’t it?’ Angie asked her.

‘Yes, my dear, it’s a set-up. And since a lot of people have gone to a lot of trouble to set you up, the least you can do is listen to us.’

She nudged the mayor, bringing him out of the trance in which he’d been rehearsing his words. He cleared his throat and faced Angie with the air of a man determined to get it right.

‘Since the day you came here you’ve worked hard to become one of the community,’ he proclaimed, ‘something which we all appreciate.’

‘And I hope to continue as one of the community but-’

He mopped his brow. ‘Please, signorina, let me get to the end.’

‘Very well,’ she said with an ominous calm that made him gulp.

‘Er-where was I? Since the day you-oh, no-worked hard-er-’

Angie’s lips twitched. ‘You’ve done that bit.’

‘Yes, yes I have, haven’t I?’

‘Would you like me to carry on?’ Father Marco muttered.

‘Certainly not,’ Olivero said, stung. ‘I am the mayor. This is my job.’

‘That was never decided.’