Page 171 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 1-4

His expression altered. Lightened fractionally. But it was still careful.

‘If the weather is sufficiently clement, we shall do so,’ he said. ‘Would setting off at, say, eleven suit you? We could drive out somewhere, maybe have lunch, then circle back? Have a think about where you might like to go. This part of England is all new to me, so I am happy to be guided by you.’

He drained the last of his coffee, set the cup aside, stood up.

‘I will leave you in peace now,’ he said. ‘Settle myself in next door. No, don’t get up. I can see myself out.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, glad she did not have to lumber to her feet.

At the door to the narrow hallway he paused, looking back at her. ‘You must phone me,’ he said, ‘at any time, if you have any need—’

‘I’ll be fine,’ she said.

For a moment longer he let his unreadable gaze rest on her. Then, with a final nod, after bidding her a murmured goodnight, he took his leave.

Leaving her alone.

Alone, alone, alone...

Tears welled in her eyes. Such useless tears...

Vincenzo rapped on Siena’s front door. It was a bright, sunny day, promising spring. A good day for a drive in the countryside. He was glad she’d agreed to it. She had not looked very well yesterday, he thought. Not ill, thankfully, but not...notblooming.

In her earlier stages, and at the seaside, there had been a radiance to her—a glow playing over her natural, effortless beauty which had been noticeably absent yesterday. Yes, of course her figure had ballooned, this close to full term, but it was more than that. There was an air about her of...not weariness, precisely, but lassitude, perhaps.

He frowned. Depression? He could understand that she was impatient for her due date to arrive, but there had been no eagerness for it.

His face shadowed. Nor could there be for him.

How could there be?

Bleakness filled him. The situation was damnable...

The door opened and Siena was there.

‘Ready to set off?’ he asked. He forced his voice to sound light.

She nodded. She was wearing a padded but lightweight knee-length coat that emphasised her bulk, but which was presumably warm enough for winter walking. Stout and solid-looking lace-up shoes were on her feet, and she was wearing fleecy trousers. Her hair was bunched back on her head, and her skin looked blotchy.

For a second Vincenzo wanted to ask if she was OK—because it looked as if she had been crying. He started to frown, but he got no chance to say anything, because Siena was talking, constraint in her voice.

‘I need to sit on a towel over a polythene bin bag,’ she said, and he saw she was holding both items.

‘Bin bag...?’ Vincenzo stared.

‘And a towel, yes. I’m only a handful of days away from my due date.’

Comprehension dawned. ‘I’ll put them on the seat,’ he said, and took them from her.

Settling her in to the passenger seat took some time, but it was done in the end. He helped her draw the seat belt around what once had been her waist. Then, finally arranged, she stretched out her legs and turned towards him.

‘Have you had any ideas where you might like to go?’

He could still hear that constraint in her voice, and could see it in the way she sat. Would this outing work at all? He could only try...

‘I’m easy,’ he said. ‘Do you have any preferences?’

‘Probably best not to try for the coast but stick to inland.’

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