Page 52 of The Secret Kept from the Italian

‘Ella is beginning to respond to the antibiotics.’ The doctor spoke in Italian and Maisie glanced wildly between him and Antonio, her frantic expression demanding an immediate translation. He gave it to her, and she sagged with relief, tears finally, after a long, dry night, springing to her eyes.

‘Thank God,’ she whispered. ‘Thank God.’

Antonio asked the doctor a few more questions, and he answered in Italian again, while Maisie waited impatiently. After the doctor had left, Antonio steered her towards a quiet alcove.

‘What is it, Antonio?’ she demanded. ‘Is there something bad you’re not telling me?’

‘I’ll tell you everything.’ And he did, explaining what the doctor had said, how it would still be another twenty-four to forty-eight hours before they knew whether Ella had suffered any lasting effects from the bacterial infection. But at least she was going to survive.

Maisie’s shoulders sagged with relief. She looked as if she could collapse where she stood.

‘You need to sleep,’ Antonio told her.

‘I won’t leave the hospital,’ she warned him fiercely.

He held both his hands up in supplication. ‘Of course not. There is a room for parents of ill children. I’ll come and get you if there’s any news or anything changes.’

‘What will you do?’

‘I’ll stay and wait.’

‘Then I should too—’

‘Maisie.’ Antonio kept his voice gentle, his throat aching. ‘Ella is going to need you more than ever in the next days and weeks. Rest while you can. I swear to you on my life, I will come and get you if you’re needed, or if she so much as stirs.’

Maisie stared at him for a long moment, weighing up his words, whether to believe him. Then slowly she nodded.

‘Thank you,’ she said, and Antonio gave her directions to the room where she could rest. As she walked away he felt his heart, that stony object that he’d thought he’d been keeping separate and safe, begin to shatter.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

MAISIE HADN’T EXPECTED to be able to fall asleep, but mere moments after curling up on the pull-out sofa in the parents’ waiting room she fell into a deep, dreamless slumber. Hours later she startled awake, feeling utterly wretched, her eyelids glued together, her mouth dry, her hair wild, her heart thudding.

She scrambled for her phone and checked the time. Antonio hadn’t come. As quickly as she could, Maisie jammed her feet into her shoes and combed her fingers through her hair before wrenching open the door and hurrying into the hallway.

She found Antonio sitting in an armchair next to Ella’s cot, his face unshaven, his hair mussed, his gaze steady on their daughter, making Maisie wonder if he’d so much as blinked the whole time he’d been waiting there, keeping vigil.

‘Antonio.’ She spoke softly as she came into the room, and he turned to glance at her, his expression turning guarded.

‘The consultant just came in. She thinks Ella is making some improvement.’

‘That’s great.’ Relief poured through her in a sweet rush.

‘I was going to get you,’ Antonio said. ‘I swear.’

‘I believe you.’ She gazed at him uncertainly through the haze of both physical and emotional exhaustion. There was something different about him, something other than the fatigue and fear she knew they were both feeling. He seemed...resigned, although Ella was going to get better.

‘You should get some sleep,’ she said.

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m fine.’ But he didn’t look fine. His eyes were dark hollows, his face seeming thinner and more gaunt under a day’s worth of stubble. And his manner was frighteningly remote.

‘A coffee, then,’ Maisie said, feeling a sudden, sweet need to take care of him, to offer what comfort she could. For the last twelve hours she’d been in an isolated bubble of her own terror, but she wanted to reach out now. She wanted to lean on Antonio, and let him lean on her. But it appeared he didn’t want that because he rose from the chair stiffly and walked to the window, his back to her.

‘Why don’t you sit with her?’ he suggested. ‘The consultant will come back soon.’

The next few hours passed in a strained blur of waiting. Antonio barely spoke to her, and Maisie grappled with what to say to him, how to reach him when he seemed more remote than he’d ever been.