Wife By Arrangement

‘It wasn’t his fault,’ she said urgently to the policeman. ‘I ran out in front of him.’

‘All right, miss, we’ll talk at the hospital,’ the young constable said.

Lorenzo helped her into the ambulance and sat beside her, pulling off his jacket and wrapping it around her, warming her against the shock. Renato presented a ghastly sight, covered in blood and with a pallor on his face that suggested death hadn’t been far off. One of the crew was giving him oxygen, and at last he opened his eyes over the mask. His gaze wandered to Heather, then to Lorenzo. His expression was intent, as though he were sending a silent message to one of them. Or perhaps both.

At the hospital Renato was hurried away for emergency treatment, while Heather’s grazes were tended. She emerged to find Lorenzo sitting in the corridor with two policemen. She repeated what she’d said before, exonerating the driver. At last they left, satisfied, and she could be alone with Lorenzo.

He put his arms about her. ‘Are you all right, darling?’

‘Yes, it was just scratches. What about Renato?’

‘He’s in there.’ He indicated the opposite door. ‘They’ve stopped the bleeding and given him a transfusion. He’s got to stay here a few days, but he’s going to be all right.’

A doctor emerged. ‘You can come in for a minute. Just one of you.’

‘I’m his brother,’ Lorenzo said, ‘but this is my fiancée—please.’

‘All right, but try to be quiet.’

Renato looked less alarming without his blood-stained clothes, but still very pale. He was lying with his eyes closed, not moving but for the light rise and fall of his chest.

‘I’ve never seen him this still,’ Lorenzo said. ‘Usually he’s striding about, giving orders. What did he say to make you storm out like that?’

‘I can hardly remember. Whatever it was, I shouldn’t have put his life in danger.’

‘I only know that he was bleeding to death and you saved him. Thank you, amor mia. I know he can be a bear, but he’s a good fellow really. Thank God you were there!’

‘If I hadn’t been there it wouldn’t have happened,’ she said, touched by his belief in her, but feeling guilty at the same time.

Lorenzo slipped an arm about her shoulders. She rested her head against him and they sat together, exchanging warmth and comfort.

‘Are you angry that I called you my fiancée?’ he asked after a while.

‘No, I’m not angry.’

‘Do you love me enough to forgive Renato, and take me on?’

Renato’s eyes had opened and he was watching them. ‘Say yes,’ he urged her. ‘Don’t turn us down.’

‘Us?’

‘If you marry one Martelli, you get the whole pack of us.’

‘I’ll be a good husband,’ Lorenzo vowed. ‘Good enough to make up for Renato.’

‘What more do you need to hear than that?’ Renato asked.

‘Nothing,’ she said with a smile. ‘I guess I can take the risk!’

Suddenly everything was happening fast. The traumatic evening had swept her up in a fierce tide of emotion, and under its influence she’d promised to marry Lorenzo.

In an instant, it seemed she was part of the Martelli family. Renato had stretched out his good hand and clasped hers, weakly, but with warmth. ‘Now I shall have a sister.’

Within twenty-four hours her left hand bore a ring with a large diamond. Two days later she saw the brothers off from Heathrow Airport, knowing that her own ticket was booked for a month ahead.

Now she was on the flight to Palermo, still wondering what had come over her. Beside her sat Dr Angela Wenham: Angie, her closest friend and flatmate, who was enjoying a well-earned holiday.

‘I’m so glad you asked me to come with you as bridesmaid,’ Angie said now. ‘I’m looking forward to a few days just living for pleasure.’

Besides being brainy and hard working Angie was also pretty, daintily built, and a social butterfly. Her recent stint on hospital night duty had severely restricted her romantic life, and she was intent on making up for it, if the smile on her delightful, impish face was anything to go by.

‘Fancy you being swept off your feet,’ Angie chuckled ‘Much more my style than yours.’

‘Yes, it’s not like sturdy, dependable me, is it?’ Heather mused. ‘And the way I acted that night—I swear I didn’t know myself. Normally I’m a quiet sort of person, but I was ranting and raving, telling him where to get off—’

Angie collapsed with laughter. ‘You? Ranting and raving? How I wish I’d been there to see that!’

‘I swear it’s true. I even told him I disliked him enough to turn Lorenzo down.’

‘Wasn’t that true?’

‘No, it wasn’t. But he got me so mad I said the first thing that came into my head.’

Angie looked mischievous. ‘You did say he had two brothers, didn’t you?’

‘You’re incorrigible,’ Heather laughed. ‘I’ve only met Renato.’

‘Ah, yes, the monster Renato.’

‘I have to be fair. He’s not a monster. I was mad at the way he inspected me, but he could have died because of me. He’s welcomed me into the family, and he actually restored his cancelled order afterwards. Someone turned up from the Ritz and collected it.’

‘Tell me about the other one.’

‘There’s also a half-brother, called Bernardo. Their father had an affair with a woman from one of the mountain villages, and Bernardo was their son. They were together in the car crash that killed them both, and Lorenzo’s mother took the boy in and raised him with her own sons.’

‘What an incredible woman!’

‘I know. Her name’s Baptista, and if I’m worried about anything, it’s how she’s going to view me.’

‘But you showed me the letter she wrote you. It was lovely.’

‘It’s just that someone who can put her own feelings aside to do what she saw as her duty—well, you’d never really know what she was thinking, would you?’

‘It’s what Lorenzo thinks about you that counts,’ Angie said staunchly. ‘Hey, isn’t that Sicily, down there?’

From here they could see the triangular island: close to Italy, yet apart from it, separated only by a narrow strip of water, the Straits of Messina, yet with its own distinct identity.

‘A Sicilian,’ Lorenzo had told her, ‘is always a Sicilian first and an Italian afterwards. Sometimes he is barely an Italian at all. So many races meet in us that we think of ourselves as a race apart, doing things our own way.’