Second-Time Bride. LYNNE GRAHAM
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‘No, I have to confess that I didn’t. I doubt if you will find many teenage boys who do want to get married,’ Alessio responded grimly. ‘I was no more prepared for that commitment than you were...but I did attempt to deal with the situation—’
‘Yes, you were a real hero, weren’t you?’ Daisy broke in with a curling lip. ‘You did the honourable thing. You married me! Your mamma wept and your papà over-flowed with sympathy. Naturally no decent Italian girl would ever have got herself in such a condition!’
‘They were upset!’ Alessio growled.
‘Do you think I wasn’t upset? What do you think it was like for me, being treated like some brassy little slut who had set out to trap you?’ Daisy condemned painfully. ‘I wasn’t allowed out the door in case someone saw me! I used to have nightmares about giving birth and then being buried alive in the garden!’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Alessio gritted fiercely.
‘You mean your mother didn’t share that little fantasy with you? She was hoping like hell that I would have the baby and then magically disappear, leaving the baby behind! She was always telling me that I was too young to cope with a child and how much she loved children...’ Daisy shuddered. ‘Talk about feeling threatened! Life with the Leopardis...it was like a Hammer horror movie!’
Scorching eyes landed on her in near-physical assault. ‘You are making me very angry.’
Daisy shrugged and compressed her generous mouth. ‘That’s how I remember you—angry. No such thing as forgiveness from a Leopardi.’
‘In the circumstances, I think I behaved reasonably well.’
Daisy treated him to a glance of naked contempt. ‘By making the immense sacrifice of marrying me? Don’t kid yourself, Alessio. You’d have done me a bigger favour had you dumped me and run the minute I told you I might be pregnant!’
‘What the hell do you have to be so bitter about?’ Alessio ground out, raking her with fiercely intent eyes. You walked out on me! And anyone listening to you would think it only happened last week!’
Daisy tried and failed to swallow. For an instant her confusion and dismay were openly etched on her fragile features and then she turned her head away and saw the familiar frontage of the estate agency with a sense of incredible relief. ‘Being civilised isn’t easy, is it?’ she conceded tightly.
‘I did love you,’ Alessio murmured, his intonation harsh.
As the passenger door beside her swung open, Daisy spun back to him, violet eyes bright with incredulous scorn. ‘Do you think I either want or need your lies now?’
‘Don’t let me keep you,’ Alessio drawled with heavy irony, shooting her a chilling look of antipathy.
The agency was closed. Of course it was. It was after one. Daisy kept on walking, tight and sick inside. This was the very worst day of her life, absolutely the very worst...seeing Alessio again, all those tearing, miserable memories fighting their way up to the surface of her mind and driving her crazy. Mere minutes away from him, she found that she couldn’t believe some of the things she had said to him. No wonder he had asked her why she was so hostile! Thirteen years on and still ranting as if the divorce had only become final yesterday!
Not that Alessio had reacted much better at first. But Alessio had got a grip on himself fast. Alessio had stayed in control. Scarcely a surprise, she allowed grudgingly. Alessio had prided himself on never losing control of his temper. For the entire three and a half months of their marriage he had therefore smouldered in a silence that was infinitely more accusing and threatening and debilitating than any mere loss of temper. He had held in all his emotions with rigid, terrifying discipline at a time when Daisy had been desperate for any shred of comfort, any hint of understanding, any crumb of forgiveness. And maybe that was why in the end she had grown to hate her memory of him...
He had reduced her to the level of a tearful, pathetic supplicant, utterly destroying her pride and self-esteem. She had never had a great deal of confidence, but by the time Alessio had finished with her she had had none at all. And yet before their marriage, before everything had gone wrong, Alessio had done wonders for her confidence. He had built her up, told her off for undervaluing herself, frowned every time she cracked a joke at her own expense. He had kept on telling her how beautiful she was, how special, how happy she made him feel. Was it surprising that she had fallen so deeply in love with him? Or that when cruel reality had come in the door and plunged them into a shotgun marriage their whole relationship had fallen apart?
A fantastic boyfriend, a lousy husband. He had married her purely for the sake of the baby she’d been carrying. But the minute the wedding had taken place the baby had become a taboo subject. He had never mentioned her condition if he could avoid it. It had been as if he was trying to pretend she wasn’t pregnant. And then one night, when the curve of her stomach had become too pronounced for him to ignore, he had abruptly turned away from her, and for those final, wretched weeks he had moved into another bedroom. The ultimate rejection...he had severed even the tenuous bond of sex.
Within days, Bianca, his twin, had been smirking at her like the wicked witch. ‘Fat is a total turn-off for Alessio. Only four months along and already you look like a dumpy little barrel on short legs. He wouldn’t be seen dead with you in public. Now he doesn’t want to sleep with you either. Can you blame him?’
No blow had been too low for Bianca. Daisy shivered in remembrance. That spiteful tongue had been a constant thorn in her flesh. Brother and sister had been very close. She had often pictured Alessio confiding in Bianca and had cringed at the suspicion that nothing that happened in their marriage was private. She had imagined Alessio describing her as a dumpy little barrel and had wept anguished tears in her lonely bed. Strange that it had occurred to none of them that the sudden increase in her girth was not solely the result of comfort eating but a sign that she was carrying two babies and not one...
Janet’s house was only round the corner from her flat. Daisy headed for her aunt like a homing pigeon, praying that Tara was still at her friend’s house, wondering if some sixth sense this morning had prompted her to give in to her daughter’s pleas for a little more freedom.
Janet was on the phone when she came through the back door. ‘Put on the kettle,’ she mouthed, and went back to her call.
Daisy took off her suit jacket, caught a glimpse of herself in the little mirror on the kitchen wall and stared in horror. She rubbed at her cheeks, bit at her lips for colour but could still only focus on the stricken look in her eyes. She hoped she hadn’t looked stricken to Alessio and then questioned why it should matter to her. Pride, she supposed. Why hadn’t she managed to be cool and distant? Why had she had to rave at him the way she had?
‘You’re quiet. Tough morning?’ Janet was drawing mugs out of a cupboard.
‘I bumped into Alessio today—’
A mug hit the tiled floor and smashed into about twenty pieces.
‘It affected me like that too,’ Daisy confided unsteadily.
‘Let’s go into the lounge,’ her aunt suggested tautly. ‘We’ll be more comfortable in there.’
Daisy couldn’t stay still in any case. Her nerves seemed to be leaping up and down with jumping-bean energy. She folded her arms, paced the small room and briefly outlined the bare bones of that meeting. ‘And just wait until you hear this bit... His lousy father told him I took the money he offered me!’
Her aunt’s angular face was unusually tense. ‘Alessio mentioned the money?’
‘He wouldn’t believe me when I said that I’d refused it!’
Janet’s bright blue eyes were troubled, her sallow cheeks flushed. ‘Because I accepted it on your behalf.’
Daisy stopped dead in her tracks. ‘You did...what?’