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Or sleep; either would do.
‘You look exhausted; you should be taking things easy…’
Catherine didn’t answer, the toothbrush in her mouth not the best precursor to eloquence, but she let Rico rant for a moment or two before rinsing her mouth and smiling at his reflection, scarcely able to believe that the mere sight of him knotting his tie could have her stomach dancing.
‘I’m five weeks pregnant, Rico, not eight months, and I think most women would think that I am taking it easy. I haven’t even seen an iron since I moved in here, haven’t so much as flicked on a kettle, so a day at work isn’t going to kill me.’
‘It’s not you I’m worried about.’
He was flicking the end of his tie through the knot, concentrating as he tightened it, but his black surly mood was palpable.
Not for a second did he notice her paling face. His words were an instant slap to the cheek, and their intimacy popped like a child’s soapy bubble in the warm afternoon air. Never before had she been brought down to earth more quickly. She felt as if she were falling, literally falling. The dizzy heights of their lovemaking had taken her to a dangerous place, a place where just for a second Catherine had felt as if she might fly, and now she was being put in her place. Rico, in his cruelly dismissive way, was reminding her exactly where her place was.
The intimacy, the tenderness, the closeness she had experienced had been only for the benefit of his child’s mother.
‘I have to go.’ His voice seemed to be coming at her from a distance, and when his lips grazed her cheek she yielded no response. She watched, watched from the mirror, as he checked his watch, then stalked into the bedroom and picked up his briefcase. ‘I’ll see you tonight.’
Somehow Catherine made it through the morning, but it was literally a case of going through the motions. Lily was kissed and farewelled, the traffic snarl as she approached the school negotiated, her colleagues greeted and her students faced. But it was as if she were operating on autopilot, every response made with barely a thought as her mind again wandered back to Rico, headed down that dangerous, forbidden path that constantly beckoned and which for a while she had been stupid enough to follow. Stupid enough to think that Rico Mancini cared for her not just as a surrogate mother to Lily, a solution to a problem and now incubator to the Mancini heir, but as a woman in her own right.
A woman who loved him.
The children seemed to sense her distracted mood, and their lively chatter grew more raucous. Never had Catherine been more grateful for the lunchtime bell, fleeing to the bathroom where she leant her burning face against the mirror as she recalled their lovemaking last night, sordid now instead of beautiful. In one cruel sentence he had reduced her to a tart, a woman who could please him at his will, provide for his needs, but never, ever get close.
She had only just made it to the bathroom in time. Her retching mingled with her tears, humiliation mingled with a pain that suddenly intensified. But not a sharp pain that brought release, just a dull, throbbing pain, familiar to women worldwide—the monthly price of femininity. But there was no comfort in regularity, no comfort in the familiar feeling her body was imparting, just a horrible thud of clarity. The back pain, the sinking mood of the past twenty-four hours, the brink of tears—all a totally normal response she had chosen to ignore. Refusing to acknowledge, till the facts were indesputable that her pregnancy was actually over.
* * *
‘I’ll do some blood tests.’ Malcolm Sellers’s voice was efficient, but kind. ‘I’m not going to examine you at this stage, because if there is a chance you’re still pregnant that could only exacerbate things.’
‘I’ve lost it, haven’t I?’ Catherine was sitting pale and drawn at his desk, wishing she could rewind the past hour, go back to the safety of being with child, the tiny ray of light that had for a while shone, but instead she was sitting in the doctor’s surgery. Her taxi had barely been out of the driveway, before the nurse had ushered her in. She was in the Mancini world, Catherine reminded herself. Things moved quickly here—no waiting rooms to mull over the inevitable, no buffers, just straight to the horrible point.
‘I think that’s what you should prepare yourself for.’ Malcolm nodded slowly. ‘The fact you have pain, that you no longer feel pregnant…’
His voice trailed off and Catherine found she was frowning.
‘I don’t know that I actually felt pregnant before. Although…’ Her eyes sparkled with tears and she accepted the box of tissues Malcolm pushed towards her. ‘I did suddenly feel close to Lily, felt as if I was starting to get the hang of things a bit. Could that have been just because I was pregnant?’
Malcolm gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘I’m sure those feelings will all come again in good time, but a good dose of hormones generally helps things along. You mustn’t forget the terrible strain you’re under, Catherine; you’ve just lost your sister, you have a new marriage, new home…’
She knew Malcolm was trying to be kind, trying to say the right thing, but each and every one of the problems he had outlined she could deal with if only Rico loved her. She missed Janey, missed Janey so badly it hurt, but if only Rico was truly beside her she could bear it. Without his love even breathing seemed an effort.
‘I’ll get these bloods couriered to the lab, and as soon as I get the results I’ll come and see you at home. For now I want you to go to bed and try to rest. If the pregnancy is still viable it’s the best thing you can do. Have you told Rico yet?’
‘I’ve tried. His secretary is trying to get hold of him for me; hopefully he’ll call soon.’
‘I’ll get hold of him for you; doctors generally do better with proprietorial secretaries than wives.’
‘Shouldn’t I have a scan? Isn’t there something you can give me to stop it?’
‘It’s too early for a scan, Catherine—and, no, there’s no medicine I can give you at this stage of pregnancy. Normally it’s just nature’s way of letting go of something that simply wasn’t meant to be.’
In true private doctor style he saw her to a taxi, but she barely registered his kindness. A strange numbness seemed to have seeped inside her veins and she stared stonily ahead until the taxi pulled into the drive. Her legs were shaky as she pulled out some notes to pay.
The door opened on her first knock, and she held her private tragedy tightly inside as she headed for the stairwell.
‘Mrs Mancini, I wasn’t expecting you home…’ Jessica stepped forward, the smiling Lily in her arms an aching reminder of what she was losing. ‘Actually I’m really pleased that you are; I was hoping we could talk.’
Jessica was following her up the stairs now, an annoying presence when Catherine ached
