One Summer in Italy…

‘She was fine this morning,’ Holly said wretchedly. ‘A little less lively than usual but I thought she’d missed out on sleep. If only-’

‘It comes on very swiftly,’ the nurse said. ‘Often there’s nothing to warn anyone until the last moment.’

‘She had a nap and when she woke up she was sick…her head hurt.’

‘Her father-’

‘I’ve left a message for him.’

But why isn’t he here? she thought. It doesn’t take so long to get here from the court, if he left at once.

If he left at once.

But did he? Did he remember that she was not his child, and so bring the blank down over his feelings? Did he wait until the last minute, calling it his duty?

At the thought, a desolate wind seemed to sweep over her heart. In the short, precious time allowed them they had discovered so much happiness that it was painful to think of the little girl kept on the outside. Sometimes she had a wretched feeling that if Matteo couldn’t learn to accept Liza completely, then her own love for him would always remain incomplete, and perhaps would not last.

But he would be here any moment. She was sure of it.

Things began to move quickly. The doctor, who knew Liza from her last time in the hospital, confronted Holly with the final diagnosis.

‘Bacterial meningitis,’ he said with quiet gravity. ‘Which, I’m afraid, means that it’s very bad. I’m going to put her on intravenous injections of antibiotics to combat the infection. You too will need antibiotics in case you have contracted it from her, also her father.’

There was a question in his voice and Holly was forced to say, ‘He will be here soon. I sent a message.’

‘I hope you stressed the urgency because…’ he hesitated before saying slowly, ‘things could turn very bleak indeed, very soon.’

She nodded, sick at heart.

Matteo would not be here-at least, not in time. Liza would die without the comfort of his love, and her own love for him would wither away.

But she couldn’t think too much about that now. Whatever misery might wait in the future, only Liza mattered at this moment.

When she was allowed to see her again she found the little girl lying still, attached to machines, her face dangerously flushed. Holly touched her hand lightly, but there was no response.

Would there ever be one? Holly wondered. Or would she die without knowing that her father had finally turned his back on her?

She settled beside the bed, the child’s hand in hers, and waited in patient silence, while her heart began to harden.

The nurse stayed in the room, checking machines regularly, but Holly was aware of nothing but herself and Liza. It was as though they were both travelling down a dark tunnel that led to the unknown, with only each other for comfort. And there was nobody else with them.

Once she felt Liza’s hand move gently in hers, and her lips framed a word that might have been ‘Poppa’. But Holly couldn’t be sure.

Lost in this unhappy dream, she barely heard the footsteps outside. But as they grew closer she became aware of a commotion, voices raised in protest. As she looked up the door was flung open and Matteo burst in. His eyes were wild and he blurted out fierce questions as though they terrified him.

‘How is she? What’s happened?’

‘She has bacterial meningitis, and she’s very bad. Why didn’t you come before? I called hours ago.’

‘I know that now, but I didn’t get the message at the time. I’ll tell you all about it later. Tell me she isn’t dying.’

‘I can’t,’ Holly said softly, moving back to let him come to the bed.

It was too much to take in quickly, but one thing reached her: he hadn’t ignored her message. He was still the man she believed in.

He sat down, taking Liza’s hand, speaking to her urgently.

‘She can’t hear you, I’m afraid,’ the nurse said. ‘She’s deeply unconscious.’

‘She’s so hot,’ Matteo murmured. ‘How did it all happen?’

Holly told him the day’s events, but she could tell that he barely heard. All his attention was for the little girl on the bed, her hand resting unresponsively in his.

‘Piccina,’ he said urgently, ‘wake up, please. I’m here. Poppa’s here.’

‘No,’ came a faint whisper from the bed. ‘He won’t come.’

Matteo and Holly looked quickly at each other.

‘What did she say?’ he demanded breathlessly. ‘I didn’t catch it.’

‘She said her father won’t come,’ Holly told him reluctantly.

‘But I’m here,’ he said frantically. ‘Piccina, Poppa is here.’

‘No-won’t come-he didn’t come-for ages and ages-I cried for him but he didn’t come.’

‘What does she mean by that?’ he demanded.

She could only shake her head, desperate at her failure to help him. Her mind seemed to have seized up. He was looking at her out of anguished eyes.

‘He didn’t come,’ Liza murmured again.

‘What can I do?’ he begged. ‘Holly, for pity’s sake, help me.’

‘I can’t, I-’

‘He didn’t come,’ came the feeble croak, ‘he didn’t even come to see us off…’

Holly’s head shot up as the answer came to her with the dazzling clarity of light. She could see them, a woman and a child sitting in a garden, beside a monument, the child pouring out things she’d never told before, because there was nobody to tell.

‘She’s talking about that other time,’ she breathed, ‘just before last Christmas, when she went away with her mother and you didn’t go to the station to see them off. She knew something was wrong because that had never happened before. She’s living back then.’

‘But can’t she tell that I’m here now?’

In her agitation Holly shook her head violently.

‘Nothing’s happening now, don’t you see? Now doesn’t exist. She’s gone back to the time life stopped for her. When the train turned over she was caught in her mother’s arms. Carol became unconscious but Liza stayed awake. She was alone and frightened and she wanted you, but you didn’t come.’

‘I knew nothing about it. Dear God!’ Matteo dropped his head down onto the bed. After a moment he raised it. ‘What can I say to her?’

‘I can’t tell you that,’ Holly said. ‘But it must come from your heart, or she’ll know.’

‘Poppa-Poppa…’ Liza’s voice had risen onto a note of anguish. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m here, piccina.’ He took both her hands in his, searching her face, trying to will her to open her eyes.

‘No-no-you never came-Mamma said-I didn’t belong to you…’

He grew very still then, his eyes fixed on the little girl in a kind of dread.

‘Carol couldn’t have told her that,’ he murmured. ‘She couldn’t-’

‘I’m afraid she must have,’ Holly said.

‘But how could she do anything so cruel? How could anyone…? Then she knows everything. Oh, God!’

‘No, I don’t think she does,’ Holly said suddenly. ‘Children put their own meanings on things. She won’t understand that phrase as we understand it.’

He closed his eyes. ‘Please let her wake up. I have to explain to her.’

‘How will you explain this?’

‘I don’t know.’

The nurse brought another chair and they sat on each side of the bed. Holly reached out her hand to him, he took it but his eyes remained fixed on the little girl on the bed, breathing uneasily.

‘Liza,’ he said urgently, ‘Liza!’