Lily couldn’t catch everything he was saying, but, as he thrust a wad of euros their way and pointed back to the abandoned picnic-hamper in the meadow, she understood— what had just transpired. Vito was so used to issuing orders and being obeyed that apparently he’d thought nothing of paying the young men to clear away their mess.
She didn’t have time to ponder what it must be like to be Vito—so powerful and self-assured that he expected complete strangers to jump to do his bidding—because— at that moment he continued walking her briskly towards the chair-lift.
They flew back to Venice in virtual silence, and the days that followed were miserable for Lily. Refusing point-blank to engage in conversation with her, Vito kept well away. He left for work early, returned late at night, and only spoke to her when absolutely necessary.
She felt like she was trapped in a nightmare, and there was no escape that she could see. At first she thought she must leave Venice—but it wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t just the gnawing ache that filled her soul at the thought of leaving Vito, there were other things to consider.
Her pregnancy was too advanced for it to be easy to travel, and the idea of arriving in London with a baby due to arrive so soon was frankly terrifying. At least here in Venice she was already under medical care.
And the other thought that kept plaguing her was how devastated Giovanni would be. She knew the baby was his true great-grandson—but if she left she didn’t know what Vito would tell him. Although she still felt horribly betrayed by how Vito had used her, she shared his desire to make his grandfather happy. So she’d have to wait for the baby to come before she could do anything.
As the days went by, the anger she’d felt towards Vito in the alpine meadow slowly ebbed away, and she was left feeling dejected and lonely.
Time seemed to drag on interminably, sometimes making it feel like she was going to be pregnant for ever. She still had more than a month to go, and she honestly didn’t know how she was going to get through it.
She visited Giovanni every morning, travelling on the canals both ways, and in the afternoons she took refuge in her supply of paperback books. She slept a lot. And, in between sleeping, reading and visiting Giovanni, she sat in the baby’s nursery, trying not to think about the implications of Vito’s stunning revelation that he believed— himself to be infertile.
At first it had been like a light switching on in her mind, because it finally explained why he’d assumed she’d been unfaithful. Then she had felt anger at his lack of trust in her. Now she felt something different.
Unwanted.
If Vito hadn’t believed himself infertile, he would never have married her.
Right from the start she had understood that Vito wasn’t interested in a serious commitment to her. At the time it hadn’t mattered to her. She’d been overwhelmed just by being with him, and had assumed his ‘no commitment’— rule was not a reflection of what he thought about her but simply a rule he lived by.
Now she knew differently. It had been about her.
She’d been good enough to be his lover, but not good enough to be his wife. Not until he’d seen an opportunity— for her to give him, for his aging grandfather, something— he thought he couldn’t get anywhere else.
And even then it had taken the time pressure of his grandfather’s failing health to bring him to his decision. She couldn’t forget that when she’d got pregnant he had ruthlessly thrown her out of his life without a second thought.
But, after they were married, she had realised that she loved him. She had clung to the hope that maybe, if she managed to convince him that she had never been unfaithful, he would start to open his heart to her. She had to believe that there was something between them, a tiny little ember that could be brought to life in the right circumstances.
However, now she knew he believed himself to be infertile,— all hope seemed to be gone. It really was only circumstance that had prompted him to marry her. Once he discovered he was not infertile there would be nothing tying him to her any more. He could have any woman he wanted.
‘You look tired,’ Giovanni said, taking his spectacles off and laying them down with his Venetian newspaper beside him on his large bed.
‘A little,’ Lily admitted, easing herself down into the comfy chair Giovanni kept near his bed especially for her visits. ‘I don’t know why. I’m not doing much these days.’
‘What do you mean?’ he exclaimed. ‘You are growing my grandson inside your body—that is something!’
Lily smiled. Her visits to Giovanni always lifted her spirits.