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‘I’ll tell her.’
After Lucy had gone, Giovanni went into the bedroom and stood looking down at her, and his face darkened as he saw her white features and shadowed eyes. He had done this to her!
Her eyes fluttered open as if she had sensed he was there. For a split-second she forgot why she was in bed at noon, with Giovanni observing her with such a tense, tight face, and then she remembered. ‘Oh,’ she cried, and she felt the hot well of tears behind her eyes.
He wanted to reach out to her, but she looked like a hunted animal, and so he sat on the edge of the bed instead.
‘Kate,’ he said softly, ‘we have to talk about it.’
‘Not now,’ she said, and shut her eyes again, keeping them tightly closed, in a vain attempt to stop the tears streaming out.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
KATE woke early the following morning, with the warmth of sunshine piercing her senses, and the dull ache inside where her baby had been. She bit back the sob which had clawed at the back of her throat, and turned to stare at the wall.
‘Kate?’
The smell of coffee wafted into the room and drifted towards her nostrils, and Kate turned over to see Giovanni standing in the doorway, a tray of coffee in his hands.
‘Hello,’ he said, but his voice was as sombre as his face.
‘Hello.’ She sat up in bed, forcing a smile.
‘Here.’ He put the coffee down on the dressing table and plumped up the pillows behind her back, and she settled against them comfortably.
‘Thank you.’
He wondered what she was thanking him for, when he…he… A muscle moved at his mouth as he poured two cups of coffee and took one over to the bed and gave it to her. He let her drink some and saw a corresponding colour creep into her cheeks before he spoke.
‘Kate, there is something I have to say to you.’
Through her mind shot a catalogue of statements she might expect now. Kate, it’s over. Kate, it’s been wonderful. Kate, Kate, Kate…
‘Kate.’ He saw her give a ghostly glimmer of a smile and wondered why. ‘The miscarriage—’
‘Please, don’t!’ she winced on a whisper.
‘I caused it,’ he said flatly. ‘It was my fault.’
She stared at him with bewildered eyes and put the cup down before she dropped the scalding remains of her coffee. ‘What?’
‘When I made love to you.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Do you think….?’ For the first time in his life he was having difficulty forming a sentence. ‘Do you think the fact that the…the…sex we had was quite—?’
Her pain made her want to hurt him, too. ‘Quite what, Giovanni?’
‘Quite forceful? Do you think that was what caused the miscarriage? I need to know!’
She stared candidly into his blue eyes, knowing that he was seeking absolution and knowing that she would have given it, had it been within her power. But it was not, and her own guilt overwhelmed her. ‘I don’t know,’ she said honestly, and he buried his face in his hands.
‘Matri di Diu!’ he muttered hoarsely. ‘What have I done?’
Part of her wanted to reach out and comfort him, but how could she when she was so badly in need of comfort herself? She closed her eyes wearily and lay back against the pillows.
They stayed there in silence for a little time, and then Giovanni stood up.
