Page 4 of Prognosis Baby Daddy

A car cut in front of them and then surged forward, swaying all over the autostrada, the white lines completely ignored. Katya swore in Russian, clutching the dashboard, her heart racing. ‘Idiot,’ she yelled in English at the car disappearing fast into the distance.

Ben chuckled. ‘You will have a hoarse voice by the end of the day if you yell at everyone who does that. We Italians drive as we live. Passionately.’

‘Bloody dangerously,’ Katya muttered, trying not to think about the passionate Italian in Ben.

––––––––

Unfortunately, he wasright and the next two hours Katya clung to the edge of her seat as his powerful Alfa ate up the miles. ‘Do you need to go so fast?’ she asked him as she glanced at his speedometer and noticed he was going 140.

He smiled at her. ‘This is not fast,’ he said. As if to emphasise his point, three cars swerved around them and sprinted ahead, leaving the sporty car eating their fumes.

‘Mad,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘This is nothing.’ He winked. ‘Wait till we get to the coast road.’

Katya wouldn’t have believed that the experience could get any more terrifying, but she was wrong. The coast road was exactly as Ben had warned. A sheer white-knuckled adrenaline rush. The scenery was breathtaking on a sunny autumn afternoon — the craggy cliffs towering above them on one side and the sparkling blue Mediterranean on the other — but it was impossible to properly admire the majesty from behind her hands.

Speed was no longer an issue, too many cars made it impossible to get above forty. Now it was just sheer bloody-minded insanity. Cars and mopeds and trucks and tourist buses all vied for room on the narrow twisting roads that clung to the cliff face and even tunnelled through in places.

Cars were parked crazily on either side and sometimes both sides of the road, crammed into any remotely accessible space, narrowing the available room considerably. Katya covered her eyes as Ben manoeuvred his car through and around the general mayhem.

‘It’s a beautiful sunny Sunday. Italians always head for the beach,’ he told her as he skilfully worked the gear lever.

She marvelled at how unruffled he appeared when her pulse was hammering madly in her neck. Mopeds darted around him like schools of fish, vehicles overtook them on blind corners and horns blared constantly. Some drivers even decided to pull up in the middle of the road and chat with pedestrians they apparently knew.

She had never seen such chaos in all her life. They traversed the narrow streets of villages, stopping for wandering dogs and groups of chatting locals. They passed dozens and dozens of restaurants and hotels lining the route, all decorated with gorgeous splashes of vibrant bougainvillea.

They passed several roadside vendors selling fruit from small trucks and even passed one with a raised metal frame upon which dozens and dozens of red chillies had been strung up, hanging in colourful plump bunches.

‘Ben!’ she yelled, pointing at an oncoming bus directly in their path as she clutched his thigh and shut her eyes.

Ben laughed and took the necessary evasive action. ‘It’s OK now, you can open your eyes,’ he teased.

‘Oh, God, how much longer?’ she asked, still holding his leg, the bulk strangely reassuring. It had taken them an hour to travel a handful of kilometres.

‘Not long.’ He grinned down at her.

Katya found his smile contagious and the confidence in his brown eyes soothing. She had seen that look, the calm, quietly confident look, many times in his operating theatre. And she needed that right now because the terrifying ride had wider implications. There were three people in this car and the thought of having an accident — the baby getting hurt — was too much to bear.

She smiled back at him, pleased that on a scenic cliff road on the Amalfi coast she was with someone who could handle the perils of the journey. She became aware of her hand resting on his thigh and felt heat creep into her face.

‘Sorry,’ she said, withdrawing her hand.

‘Don’t be.’ He returned his attention to the road. ‘It felt good.’

Katya swallowed, her hand still warm from the bulky muscle. Yes, it had. Precisely why she shouldn’t have done it.

‘Here it is,’ he said a few minutes later, and turned off the coast road onto the Via Pasitea, the main thoroughfare that meandered down through the maze of cliff-face villas of Positano.

Katya breathed easier now the crazy pace and chaos had settled. They were still being overtaken by the odd moped but she didn’t feel as if she was about to die. She even got to appreciate the scenery.

It was late afternoon by now and the fading sunlight reflected off the colourful façades of the buildings that lined the road and the cliff faces in every direction.

Yellow, pink, white, terracotta.

Flowering bougainvillea crept over walls and hung off trellises everywhere. Every home, restaurant and hotel was decorated with flower boxes ablaze with beautiful colourful blooms. The Mediterranean sparkled in the distance. Positano dazzled the eye and Katya was instantly charmed.

Ben waved at people as he passed. They called out to him and he smiled and greeted them by name. He seemed to know everyone.

---