A Mother's Trust (44 page)

She jerked her arm free. ‘He’ll be drowned. I’ve foreseen it many times. I’ve got to save him.’ Ignoring his protests, she raced down the path, stumbling over stones and slipping in the mud as she headed for the jetty. Blinded by the rain, she tried to call Gino’s name but the wind whipped the words from her mouth, battering her thin body until she could scarcely draw a breath. She fell several times and her skirts were sodden and caked with mud, making it even more difficult to move, but when she came in sight of the jetty she realised that the boat had sailed. She cupped her hands around her mouth, calling Gino’s name. She could just make out a white sail flapping wildly as if out of control, and suddenly it was gone, swallowed up by a huge wave that caused the small vessel to breach and capsize. Her screams rent the night air.

Voices came and went. Sometimes she managed to open her eyes but then they closed again and she was overcome by the fever that racked her body. She was in a strange world, half waking, half sleeping. It was hot and her mouth was dry. She was vaguely aware of being lifted and cool liquid being trickled into her mouth. Swallowing was difficult. She wanted to speak but she was sinking once again into the dreamless depths of pain and heat.

When she opened her eyes she realised that she was
lying
between cotton sheets on a proper bed. The white walls were bathed in pale winter sunshine and she could see the familiar crucifix on the wall opposite. She realised dimly that this was the room in her grandparents’ cottage that she had shared with her mother many years ago. In her dazed state the past seemed more relevant than what was happening to her body now. She smiled as she remembered her mother taking down the symbol of Catholicism and stowing it in a drawer amongst her clothes. No matter how much Nonna tried to persuade Annie to convert to the Giamattis’ faith, Phoebe had realised even as a young child that it only made Ma more determined to remain a nominal Anglican. Not that Ma was in any way religious, but perhaps that was due to the fire and brimstone teachings of her own father. Phoebe remembered the tiny house in Hoxton where her widowed grandfather had lived. His evangelical preaching came back to her now. He would have said that she was being punished for her wickedness. She closed her eyes again, only to be woken seconds later by a cool hand on her forehead.

‘The fever’s gone, Mamma.’

The familiar sound of Ivy’s voice brought Phoebe back to full consciousness. She opened her eyes and this time she could focus more clearly on her surroundings. ‘What happened? Why am I here?’ She could see her grandmother hovering by the door and there were tears running down her cheeks.

Maria crossed herself. ‘Thank the Lord. I’ll make her some tea. I brought some from London especially for
her
, knowing that she isn’t too fond of coffee. I always spoilt that girl.’ She left the room, mopping her eyes with a corner of her apron.

‘Why is Nonna crying?’ Phoebe attempted to sit up but found she was too weak even to raise herself on one elbow. ‘Have I been ill?’

Ivy took her hand and clasped it to her bosom. ‘Don’t you remember anything?’

Phoebe studied her face as she struggled to regain her memory. Suddenly she was very cold and she shivered convulsively. ‘Gino.’

‘I’m so sorry, ducks.’ Ivy’s dark eyes sparkled with unshed tears. ‘The men went out straight away. Julio raised the alarm and the fishermen went out on the lake but all they found was the half-submerged boat.’

‘No. Not Gino. Tell me he’s alive, Ivy.’

She shook her head. ‘I wish I could.’

‘Maybe he swam ashore further along the lake?’

Ivy’s face crumpled and she swallowed convulsively. ‘They found his body next morning, Phoebe.’

‘It’s all my fault. I killed him, Ivy.’

‘It was a tragic accident. You mustn’t think about it, love. You’ve been very ill and you’ve got to concentrate on getting well again.’

‘He would still be alive if it wasn’t for me. I’m to blame.’

Ivy squeezed her fingers. ‘That’s nonsense.’

‘He forced me to tell him the truth. He was so angry.’

Ivy released Phoebe’s hand and tucked it beneath the coverlet. ‘Stop this now. It’s the weakness talking and nothing else. All married couples have rows. Me and
Nenzo
shout at each other all the time and then we kiss and make up. It was your condition that made you speak out when you shouldn’t.’

Phoebe’s hand flew to her stomach. It was flat to the point of being concave. ‘My baby,’ she murmured. ‘Tell me that my baby is all right, please.’

Ivy turned her head away. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘No.’ Phoebe covered her face with her hands; she was too weak even to cry. ‘It’s a punishment. I didn’t want it at first, but then when I was certain …’ She broke off on a dry sob.

Ivy leaned over to envelop Phoebe in a hug. ‘I wish I could tell you different, love. You miscarried shortly after they brought you home in such a state we thought you might lose your mind. Then the fever set in and we feared we might lose you as well.’

‘I wish I had died. I brought all this on myself by lying to my family and allowing Gino to think I was in love with him. I should never have married him. I deserve to go to hell.’

Ivy sat upright. ‘That’s wild talk and it’s all nonsense. You did what you thought was right, and if anyone’s to blame it was your ma.’

‘Where’s Teddy?’ Phoebe raised her head but a wave of dizziness forced her to sink back on the pillows. ‘Is he all right?’

‘He’s being spoilt by everyone. He’s just started to walk without clinging on to anything. He follows your grandfather everywhere.’

‘How long have I been like this?’

‘Long enough, and the main thing you need now is
rest.’
Ivy rose to her feet as Maria entered the room carrying a cup of tea.

‘Here you are, cara,’ Maria said, smiling. ‘A nice cup of split pea as your mamma would say. Prop her up, Ivy.’

Ivy lifted Phoebe as easily as if she weighed little more than the feather pillows that she plumped up and placed behind her. She eased her into a semi-sitting position. ‘There you are, ducks. We’ll soon get you better.’

‘Thank you,’ Phoebe murmured dully.

Despite her grandmother’s and Ivy’s best efforts, Phoebe’s recovery was slow. She mourned for Gino and for the baby she would never be able to hold in her arms. She could not shake off the guilt that swamped her each night when sleep evaded her, and even Teddy’s affectionate cuddles could not dispel the sadness that had invaded her soul.

Christmas came and went and the family feasted on game shot by Fabio and Nenzo. Julio was not a hunter but he provided them with fish from the lake and in the long winter evenings he carved wood into toys for Teddy. The true facts of his birth had emerged during Phoebe’s long illness. Ivy admitted telling Maria during one long night vigil at Phoebe’s bedside when the doctor had given them little hope of her recovery. The family had been shocked, she said, but not particularly surprised that Annie had given birth to an illegitimate child. They had been a little hurt that Phoebe had not trusted them with the truth, but after some consideration they had understood her motives. In the face of
the
recent tragedy it seemed that all was forgiven, and that a vendetta against the Paxmans was the last thing on their minds. In her weakened state Phoebe could not help being relieved, but their seemingly calm acceptance of the facts left her wondering if she had chosen the right course in the first place. Commonsense told her that matters might have been quite different had the truth been known while the family were in London, but it was difficult to think clearly during her spells of deep depression. She was still convinced that she was to blame for Gino’s death, and that she would not have lost her baby had she behaved more rationally. When the grief became too much to bear, it was Ivy who comforted and consoled her.

Gradually Phoebe’s health improved, but although she regained her physical strength her spirits were still low. She was able to leave the house and walk into the town, but everything reminded her of Gino, and she felt that people were pointing their fingers at her. Julio had overheard rumours, spread about by Cosima, that Phoebe had sent her young husband to his watery end. Cosima’s two daughters were only too pleased to add to the tittle-tattle, and Phoebe found herself portrayed as a mean-spirited foreigner who had taken advantage of the Argentos’ good nature and had made Gino’s life a misery. Although her family stuck by her, defending her name and attempting to put the record straight, Phoebe was uncomfortably aware that Cosima’s spiteful remarks would stick to her like burrs and were never likely to be forgotten. With the passing of the weeks there was another painful reminder of what she
had
lost as Ivy’s waistline began to expand more rapidly, and her condition became obvious to all. People stopped in the street to congratulate her and then their eyes would slide to Phoebe’s face and they would turn away. Her miscarriage had become public knowledge, but there was little sympathy for her. It seemed that she had been judged and found guilty without the benefit of a trial. She was the evil woman who had driven her husband to his death and if she had lost her baby that was rough justice.

Her grandfather did his best to comfort her by telling her that it was just a matter of weeks until they were due to travel to England, and by the time they returned to Stresa the gossips would have found someone else to talk about. Phoebe knew that he was trying to be kind, but she suspected that their collective memories were longer than that. Matters came to a head when she learned that another even more spiteful rumour was being broadcast, hinting that Gino was not Teddy’s father and she had given birth to some other man’s bastard. She knew then that she could not live with the poisonous lies being spread about by Cosima and her daughters, and she decided that it was time to go home.

Despite pleas from her family to stay and outface the gossips, she set off for England at the end of January, taking Teddy with her. They travelled by train to Calais where they boarded the packet boat for Dover. Phoebe still had the money that Gino had tossed at her on that last fateful night. She had tried to give it to Lalia, but she had refused, saying that as Gino’s widow Phoebe was entitled to that and more. Lalia
had
heard the rumours spread about by her sister-in-law and nieces, and she had repudiated them in public. She gave Phoebe her blessing and thanked her for the happiness that she had given her son. Her only deep regret was the loss of his baby and they had clung together, weeping for the child that would never be. It had been a tearful parting, but Phoebe had taken comfort from her mother-in-law’s sympathy and understanding. Perhaps the burden of guilt was a little lighter as she stepped ashore on her native soil. There was only one place now where she could go and be certain of a genuine welcome. She set off once again, but this time she was headed for Brighton.

It was Rose who opened the door and she uttered a shriek of delight, throwing her arms around Phoebe’s neck and hugging her until she could scarcely breathe. She drew away as Teddy uttered a squeak of protest at being ignored. She bent down and scooped him up in a fond embrace. ‘How you’ve grown. I can’t believe you’re walking, little man.’

Phoebe picked up her battered leather portmanteau. ‘I couldn’t stand it there any longer, Rose. I’ve come home.’

Rose hitched Teddy onto her hip. ‘Come in out of the cold. Judy will be so pleased to see you. We were all devastated when we received Ivy’s letter. I’m so sorry about Gino and …’ Her voice trailed off miserably. ‘You know.’

‘Yes,’ Phoebe said quickly. ‘It was awful. It still is, but I’d rather not talk about it.’

‘I understand.’ Rose led the way into the house. It was just the same as it had been when Phoebe departed in such a rush, but it seemed more like years than a matter of months since she was last here. The yellowed wallpaper in the entrance hall was still peeling in patches and as Rose opened the kitchen door Phoebe was greeted with a rush of warm air, scented with the aroma of baking.

Judy was up to her elbows in flour as she pummelled bread dough. ‘Who was it, Rose?’ she asked without looking up. ‘If it was someone looking for a room, we’re full.’

‘I hope you’ve got room for one more,’ Phoebe said, smiling. ‘And a little one too.’

Judy looked up, her eyes widening and her jaw dropping in astonishment. A slow smile almost split her face in two. ‘Phoebe.’ She hurried towards her, shedding a fine mist of flour in her wake. She stopped short of hugging her, which Phoebe knew would have been too great a show of outward affection for a woman of Judy’s nature and temperament.

‘I hope you don’t mind us turning up on your doorstep yet again, Judy.’ Phoebe held out her hand, and Judy took it in a grip that made her wince.

‘Of course I don’t mind. We’ve all missed you and the boy. The others will think it’s Christmas all over again.’ Her smile faded. ‘We heard, you know. I’m sorry for your loss.’

‘Thank you.’ The words came automatically to Phoebe now. She looked round, realising that someone was missing. ‘Where’s Dolly?’

Judy placed the bread dough in a bowl and covered it with a damp cloth. ‘I found her the ideal employer. One of the travelling repertory companies needed a wardrobe mistress and a general runabout. Marcus introduced them to Dolly and they loved her. She’s currently touring the country with the theatricals and the last I heard of her she was well and happy. That dreadful mother of hers will never find her in a million years.’

‘I’ll miss her, but I’m glad she’s doing what she wants to do.’ Phoebe said, sighing. ‘I hope they treat her well.’

‘We wouldn’t have let her go if we thought otherwise,’ Rose said, setting Teddy down on the floor. He toddled over to Judy, stumbling on his last step and clutching at her apron.

Judy patted him on the head, leaving a dusting of flour on his damp curls. ‘Well now, what a fine boy you are, Teddy. I expect you’d like some cake and milk. It’s lucky that today is my baking day.’ She whisked him off his feet and set him down on a chair. ‘Rose, fetch milk from the larder. The boy needs feeding up.’ She shot a critical glance at Phoebe. ‘And you look like a wraith. Hang your cloak and bonnet on the peg and sit down. You look exhausted.’