Page 74 of The Dolce Vita Divas
‘Oh dear,’ I said, feeling rather weepy and a bit foolish. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Stop trying to blame yourself. He’s a boy, doing what boys do,’ Paulo said, ‘no matter how much his parents try to overprotect him. The doctor thinks you will be fine. He says we should keep an eye on you in case of concussion. Other than that, some nasty bruising and a sore shoulder. He prescribes painkillers and bed rest. Perhaps for a week.’
‘But I have a flight booked to go home the day after tomorrow,’ I said.
Susie balled up her fists and pressed them to her face in anguish.
‘Well, I’m not leaving you, not like this! I couldn’t possibly. I booked the flights and everything. It’s all set up for our return too. We were going to have a bottle of bubbly at the airport, and perhaps some of those sour cream pretzels. I love those. And they never taste the same at home.’
‘Then you must stay too. Forget about the practicalities for now, just give me your booking details,’ Paulo said. ‘I’ll sort everything out.’
I sank back down onto the pillows with a sigh of relief, and then tried to get comfortable, which was almost impossible. Painkillers seemed like a very good idea indeed.
* * *
For the next hour I had a steady stream of visitors, people poking their faces nervously around the door to see if I was awake and decent. Leo brought Eric in to apologise, which the boy did, accompanied by tears and what looked like genuine remorse. He had brought me a single white rose which he placed on my bed.
‘It made Andrea better, I want you to be better too,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not going to be a cowboy any more. I’m going to be a doctor.’
‘That’s a great thing to do,’ I said.
Then Raleigh came in dressed very soberly in a dark blue dress with white cuffs and collar, which almost gave her a nurse-like appearance. She brought me some extravagant flowers and a box of truffles, to ask if I needed anything, and by the way, did I need their insurance details.
She evidently thought I might be seriously considering suing Eric for causing my injuries and she burst into tears when I assured her I wasn’t.
‘Of course, Leo and I will cover all your medical costs. I understand there is an air ambulance if you need to go to the mainland. You know, in case you get a brain haemorrhage or a deep vein thrombosis.’
‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,’ I said, patting her hand, and she started crying again, which was something she did very attractively and didn’t go red and blotchy as I always did.
‘I would make you some soup,’ she said, sniffling a bit and blowing her nose, ‘but I’m not allowed in the kitchens. And I’m not actually sure how to do it. I’ll ask Leo what he thinks I should do. Meanwhile, would you like me to read to you? I had a look in the bookcase in the hall and they are all in Italian, but I do have a few of Eric’s books with me.’
The prospect of Raleigh readingThe Cat In The Hatto me, while tantalising, was one on which I was prepared to pass, and I reassured her I would be fine watching television. Or ideally just sleeping.
‘I’ll bring you some magazines,’ she said. ‘I have this month’sHarper’s. There’s a strange picture of someone in a black dress on the cover. To be honest, I can’t think of a single occasion where I would wear it. But there is quite an interesting exposé on blusher you might enjoy and a feature on leather trousers.’
‘Sounds ideal,’ I said, and Raleigh smiled with relief.
‘I’d better get Eric to bed. It’s well past his bedtime and it’s been quite a day.’
Moments after she had left, Sylvia, Lucia and Ceci appeared, barging past each other in the doorway like some sort of comedy act.
‘You must have absolute and complete rest,’ Sylvia said. ‘I have brought you the last of my special Belgian chocolate. My physician recommended it to me. It is full of iron. Practically a health food.’
She fished a half-eaten bar out of her handbag and put it proudly on the bedside cabinet. Then Lucia offered me a much-thumbed paperback with a very risqué cover illustration of a shirtless man grappling with a nubile woman whose clothes seemed to be falling off.
‘Mio libro preferito– my favourite book. It’s in Italian but it may teach you some new words. It’s about an Italian nobleman who is a pirate and also an artist. And he falls in love with a woman who refuses to let him paint her portrait, so in the end he takes her off on board his ship and – well, never mind. I don’t want to spoil the story. Always cheers me up, especially chapter twenty-one.’
Ceci countered with a sneer and produced a gift of Venchitruffles in a tin designed by Dolce and Gabbana. Lucia narrowed her eyes.
I defused the situation by giving a little croak of pain.
‘Are you taking your medicine?’ Ceci asked sternly. ‘It’s no use waiting to take painkillers until you are in agony.’
‘I am,’ I said. ‘In fact, I have just taken two.’
‘But you don’t want to become too reliant,’ Sylvia added. ‘One hears such terrible stories. I was watching a documentary only the other day. A man who injured his back in work and became dependent on them. I think it was fanto, or it might have been futon. Lives ruined, the slow descent into addiction…’
Lucia scoffed. ‘Well, your back might be ruined by a futon, but I hardly think?—’
