Page 31 of Prognosis Baby Daddy

She knew how to be Katya Petrova, poor Russian nurse. She didn’t know how to be this Katya. Ben’s Katya.

The scenery continued to dazzle her as the boat sped on. Positano appeared in the distance, nestled on the shoreline at the feet of the soaring mountains behind. As it grew bigger she could see the alternating orange and blue lines of the deckchairs adorning the front, a striking contrast to the black stones of the beach.

Rows and rows of villas clung to the two main cliffs in a haphazard, colourful display, each one on top of the next, crammed in so the rock of the cliff wasn’t visible. Just buildings. Private homes sharing space with tourist hotels. The impressive Duomo nestled between, dominating the seafront.

People, locals and tourists alike, cluttered the beach, swam in the sea or sunned themselves.

Katya had a moment of complete disconnectedness. She was really here. In a beautiful Italian seaside resort village. An Italian count beside her. It seemed too incredible to be true. Never, even as child, had she dreamed this big.

Ben cut the engine and dropped anchor a little way from the shore. Katya watched as he shaded his eyes from the sun and searched through the crowd of people. He spotted who he wanted on the short rickety wooden pier, then put his fingers in his mouth and let out a short sharp whistle. ‘Hey, Marco!’

A man turned and Ben waved at him. The man dived into the sea and swam quickly to one of the many small boats that bobbed calmly nearby. He hauled himself in, pulled up the anchor and started the motor.

‘You ready?’ Ben asked, turning to Katya as Marco’s small boat with the outboard motor grew closer.

She nodded and stood just as Marco reached The Mermaid and pulled up alongside.

‘Hey, Marco. Thanks for the lift,’ Ben said in Italian.

‘Anything for you, Count,’ Marco replied, grinning.

‘This is Katya.’ Ben introduced them in English and Marco held out his hand to help Katya into his boat.

Marco said something in Italian to Ben and they both laughed. ‘Bella,’ he said to Katya and grinned. ‘Benedetto is a lucky man.’

Ben roared with laughter and said something else in Italian and they both laughed again as Ben also stepped into the boat. Katya sat on one of the wooden cross seats and Ben plonked himself beside her and placed his hand on her knee and smiled down at her.

It was such a dazzling smile, Katya forgot to breathe, and she certainly forgot to tell him to get his bloody hand off her. It seemed that Ben wanted to portray them as a young, in love couple and Katya gave him a small smile back. If he thought it was important to pretend to be something they weren’t then she could go along with that. As long as he remembered that their act had a definite end date.

They reached the jetty a minute later and Marco helped her out.

‘Do you know everyone in Positano?’ she asked ten minutes later when they hadn’t even left the beach area, continually stopped by people greeting Ben.

‘Nearly.’ He grinned.

He took Katya’s hand as he led her up the steep stone stairs that took them past the Duomo. Mario and Bianca had been married here with all the church trappings. He had been far away in Asia at the time but he had seen the pictures in a magazine somewhere. Mario with his arm around the woman who had been betrothed to him.

He tightened his grip on Katya’s hand. ‘Mamma’s house is a bit of a climb from here, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘Will you be okay to walk it?’

Katya rolled her eyes. ‘I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”

They made their way up the hill through the narrow twisting alleys haunted by throngs of tourists. T-shirts, shoes and other items of clothing were hung on walls and placed outside shopfronts on tables. Ceramic ware hung from every available surface. Artists displayed their paintings and local craftsmen hawked their jewellery in bougainvillea draped lanes.

Bakeries and restaurants adjoined boutiques and gelaterias. Fruit and shoes and olive oil and wine and exclusive one-off dresses were sold amidst a vibrant clash of noise and colour. A multitude of languages and accents assaulted her ears.

Lucia was waiting for them at the front door when they’d finally made their way up the hillside.

‘Somebody rang?’ He laughed as he kissed both the Contessa’s cheeks.

‘Three people,’ Lucia confirmed, with a twinkle in her eye.

Ben’s mother turned to Katya and clasped her hand. ‘How lovely to see you again,’ she said, and embraced Katya in a tight hug.

Katya closed her eyes and felt Lucia’s warmth and sincerity surround her.

‘Come,’ Lucia said, breaking away and taking a hand each. ‘Tell me why you have come to visit an old woman on such a beautiful day.’

Ben laughed at his mother’s tired joke. ‘We came to let you know that you are going to be a grandmother.’

Lucia gasped, dropped their hands and turned, looking from one to the other. She launched herself at Ben and let loose a string of rapid fire Italian as she kissed his cheeks repeatedly. When she was finished with Ben, she turned to Katya and rained more kisses on her, still speaking in Italian.

‘Enough, Mamma,’ Ben chuckled, looking at Katya’s slightly bewildered look.

‘Yes, yes,’ Lucia said, finally pulling away, her cheeks damp with tears, and grabbing their hands again. ‘Come, we’ll celebrate on the terrace and we can discuss the wedding.’

Katya’s step faltered and she looked over Lucia’s head at Ben. He chuckled and winked at her. Was she ready for this?

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