He reached out to touch her trembling shoulders.
‘Alysa, please, talk to me.’
‘Go away,’ she choked. ‘I can’t talk-I can’t.
He could do nothing but leave, although it was the last thing he wanted. If he’d dared he would have put his arms around her and offered her all the comfort in his power, although he knew how inadequate it must be. But all she wanted from him was his absence, so he slipped away.
As he reached his own room his mobile phone was ringing. It was Tina.
‘Poppa, I’ve been ringing and ringing.’
‘I’m sorry, little one. It’s snowing up here and I got lost in the woods.’ It was a feeble excuse, and Tina thought so too because she cackled hilariously.
‘I used to think so too,’ he said wryly. ‘But I was wrong. I’ve taken a lot of wrong turnings up here.’
Tina spoke with childish sternness. ‘You’re talking itty-bitty.’
It meant ‘nonsense’, and was their private joke.
‘Don’t be angry with me,
‘Oh yes, we played hide and seek all over the house, and Nonna was cross, but Aunt Maria said…’
She babbled on innocently for a few minutes, and he sensed with relief that she would be happy for a few days.
‘Are you snowed in, Poppa?’
‘I’m afraid so. It may be a few days before I can get down.’
‘Have you got enough to eat?’ she asked like a little housewife.
‘Plenty, thank you. The cupboard is full.’
‘And you will be careful?’
‘Stop nagging me,’ he protested, grinning. ‘It’s time you were in bed.’
‘That’s what Nonna said, but Aunt Maria says I can stay up, and my uncle wants me to teach him how to play dice better, because I keep beating him, and…’
Her chatter was like balm. He bid her a cheerful goodnight, and hung up.
But his cheerfulness faded as he remembered Alysa and the state he’d reduced her to. After a moment he did as he’d often done with Tina-went to stand at her door, listening. From within came the sounds of violent distress, unabated. He leaned back against the wall, wondering if he dared go inside. She’d banished him, yet she needed him. Torn in two, he couldn’t move.
Then the sobbing ceased suddenly, to be replaced by a violent coughing. That did it. He gave up struggling with himself and hurried inside.
The light was off but the curtains were drawn back, and in the moonlight he could see her outline heaving.
‘Alysa, sit up,’ he said, sitting on the bed and taking hold of her. ‘It’ll be much easier that way.’
She sat up, holding him for support, then leaned forward, seeming to be torn apart by the coughs that wracked her.
‘You stupid woman!’ he groaned. ‘Going out in that snow. You’ve caught your death of cold now.’
She couldn’t answer, too caught up in her distress to have any breath left.
‘I’ve got to keep you warm,’ he muttered. ‘Wait here. Don’t go away.’
The idiocy of the words struck him before he was out of the door, but he was moving fast, dashing to his bedroom to seize up his own thick dressing-gown, then back to her, ordering, ‘Put this on. I’ll be right back.’
He returned to find her wearing the dressing gown, but not exactly as he wanted.
‘Pull it right across the front to protect your chest,’ he commanded, demonstrating. ‘Now get back into bed, and drink this.’
He produced another glass of brandy which he almost poured down her throat. She choked but finished it.
‘That’s better. Now lie down so that I can pull the bedclothes over you. What’s that?’
She was struggling to speak, but another bout of coughing tore her. When she’d calmed down she gasped, ‘Made-a mess-of everything.’
‘I couldn’t have made a bigger mess if I’d tried,’ he said with feeling.
‘Not you-me. Going out like that.’
‘Shut up. The blame is mine and we both know it. What was I thinking of? I should have read those letters first instead of just dumping them on you.’
‘Makes no difference,’ she said in a hoarse whisper. ‘You couldn’t have known about my baby. Not your fault.’
‘Don’t be generous,’ he begged. ‘It makes me feel worse. I’d rather you yelled at me.’
‘Can’t-no breath.’
He managed a brief laugh. ‘Then chuck something at my head. Shall I find you a heavy object?’
‘No energy-consider it chucked.’ The words ended in another coughing fit. ‘Oh dear,’ she said.
‘I agree. Wait a minute, I’ve just thought of something.’
He left and returned after a few minutes with a bottle and spoon.
‘We always kept medicine up here, just in case. I wasn’t sure there was any left after all this time. This is good cough-mixture. Open your mouth.’
She let him coax her until she’d swallowed some, and felt it soothing her as it went down.
‘Now lie down and try to get to sleep,’ he said as he’d said so often to his child. Right this minute, that was how he felt about Alysa-she was his to protect.
Alysa lay back, exhausted from coughing and weeping. She no longer had the energy to do anything except sink into the warmth and let the world fade away. She was safe, as she hadn’t been for a long time, and it was blissful to let go.
‘I’m OK now,’ she murmured. ‘You don’t have to mother-hen me.’
‘Just go to sleep.’
She closed her eyes at once.
Hours later she awoke in the same position, feeling rested after a dreamless sleep. She stretched, and discovered that she was not alone on the bed. Drago lay just behind her, fully dressed and outside the bedclothes, evidently taking his nursing duties seriously.
‘Mother hen,’ she said tenderly.
Moving carefully, not wanting to disturb him, she eased herself out of the bed and made her way to the bathroom. When she returned Drago was lying in the same position, except that his arm was stretched out over the space she had occupied, as though he’d been searching for her. She contrived to slide in underneath his arm without disturbing him, and held quite still in case he should awake. He seemed dead to the world, but after a moment his arm tightened around her. She slept.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WHEN Alysa next awoke she was alone, and the sound of frying was coming from the kitchen. She made haste to get up, although she felt feverish, and another coughing fit attacked her. She took some more of the medicine, noting with dismay that the bottle was now empty.
‘You sound bad,’ Drago said as soon as she appeared in the kitchen.
‘I’m all right, really. That medicine is good but I seem to have finished it.’
‘Don’t worry, there’s another bottle. I’ll make you some coffee. Sit down.’
He served her eggs, bacon and delicious coffee, smiling briefly when he looked at her, which wasn’t often. She had the sense that he was uncomfortable in her company, and wondered if he was simply embarrassed at the position in which he found himself. He hadn’t brought her here to nurse her through a childish ailment.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said after only a few mouthfuls. ‘I can’t eat very much.’
‘I think you should go back to bed.’ He touched her forehead with the back of his hand. ‘You’re feverish. Go on.’
