Not Just a Convenient Marriage. Lucy Gordon
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on the bed, forcing Pietro to back away to protect the tea.
‘It’s all right, I’ve got him,’ she said, clutching Toby. With an unconvincing attempt at severity she added, ‘You pestiferous pup. You can’t stop hurling yourself at me.’
‘Pestiferous?’ Pietro queried, setting the tea down beside her. ‘Is that an English word?’
‘Yes. It has several meanings, but one of them is “annoying”.’
‘Ah! Irritante.’
‘Definitely.’ She wagged a finger at Toby. ‘You are irritante.’
‘Wuff!’ He licked her finger.
‘He just takes everything in his stride.’ She laughed.
‘He does with you, because he loves you.’
‘And I love him. Oh, yes!’ She put her arms around the dog. ‘He reminds me of my own lovely Jacko.’
‘You have a dog?’
‘I used to, a few years ago. He died. But he’ll always be with me because we were so close. He was the first one who really loved me.’
He stared. ‘Didn’t your parents love you?’
‘Yes, in their way, but—I think having a girl was a big disappointment for them.’
‘But that’s not fair,’ Pietro said indignantly.
‘Life often isn’t fair,’ she said wryly. ‘Some things we just have to put up with. Anyway, when they finally had a son the family was complete. And I always had Jacko to turn to. He belonged to my father, but he and I were specially close.
‘One day I walked into the room and Jacko’s whole face lit up with delight at the sight of me. Nobody had ever reacted to me like that before, and I just had to love him. I could tell him things I couldn’t tell anyone else.’
Pietro nodded. ‘Yes. They understand everything.’
‘I’m sure you talk to Toby a lot.’ In a teasing voice she added, ‘Does he give you good advice?’
‘No, but he listens.’
There was a forlorn note in his voice that made her reach out to him, touching him gently on the shoulder.
‘What is it, Pietro? Are you unhappy?’
He didn’t answer, but she could see confusion in his face, and guessed he wasn’t sure whether to confide in her.
‘Can’t you tell me?’ she asked softly. ‘I’m a good listener. Almost as good as Toby.’
He smiled, clearly reassured by her understanding, but still unwilling to speak.
‘Tell me,’ she urged. ‘Please, tell me.’
WHEN PIETRO STILL didn’t reply she said, ‘Won’t you trust me? You never know, I might be able to help.’
But he shook his head. ‘Nobody can help. You can’t change things that have happened.’
‘That’s true. But you can change what you do about them. Is there something wrong at school? I remember when I was at school there was often something wrong. I kept getting into scrapes.’
She sensed at once that she was succeeding. Pietro’s intake of breath and his astonished look told her she’d hit a bull’s eye.
‘It’s school, isn’t it?’ she asked gently. ‘What happens?’
‘They laugh at me,’ he said morosely.
‘Why?’
‘Because of her, and the way she ran off.’
‘Her? You mean your stepmother?’
‘Yes, her. It was the school concert. I was going to sing a song all on my own. She and Papa were going to be there, but she didn’t come. He told me that she’d gone away.’
Sally drew a sharp breath. ‘You hadn’t known she was leaving?’
‘No. She was at home when I went to school that day, but she didn’t come to the concert. Papa was there. He thought she was coming, but she didn’t. Her seat stayed empty, and they laughed at me.’
‘Who did?’
‘The others in my class. They thought it was funny to see me look silly. Especially Renzo. The rest of them admire him, and if he laughs they all laugh.’
The class bully, Sally thought wryly. I’ve met a few.
‘But surely he’s not still laughing?’ she ventured.
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