Roman Holiday Page 20

  She saw little of Nick. She thought about him a stupid amount of time and every time she did she got crosser and crosser. The fast-fading daytime memory of his strong arms, hard body and divine mouth at work was happily but frustratingly very alive in her dreams. Night after night he visited, as smouldery and delicious as he had been in reality. And morning after morning Caro woke frustrated and unsatisfied. Well, some mornings she was satisfied, but that was from the times when her body simply reacted to the strength of her night-time visions and did the business for her.

  She’d had coffee a few times with Naomi and looked forward to another outing. What a great woman and potential friend. There was a sadness about the older woman that intrigued Caro and she was determined to find out what history was lurking beneath the surface. It was also a secret joy to hear about Nick and how he worked. Caro drank in every titbit and did her best to appear nonchalant and casual. She was fooling no one, she suspected, especially not Naomi.

  Nick was seemingly planning a trip to Dublin directly after Christmas before heading to New York for New Year to see his family. Naomi was taking the opportunity to join him on the Irish trip and see some of her long-lost relatives. She hadn’t been home in years and Caro enjoyed filling her in on the latest bits of gossip, gleaned from regular phone calls and Skype sessions with Ali, Moll and Frankie.

  The shopping trip with Marianna went well and they said their goodbyes as Mia and a cross faced Elena pulled up in a hired car, the driver jumping out to collect Marianna’s parcels and place them in the boot. No doubt Elena would grill her daughter on the day’s events, and for once Caro was glad that Marianna would most likely revert to her reticent self and say little.

  “See you all Sunday evening.” Caro waved them off, clutching her own packages and hailing a taxi to take her back to the palazzo.

  She’d spent a lot of money. Probably too much but hey, she was working hard, earning well, and her boy deserved some serious treats. She still hadn’t settled on a wedding gift for Dev and Frankie, so she let her mind ponder that nice dilemma as the car sped home.

  Home.

  Hmm.Not really home but homey and comfortable and, Elena notwithstanding, welcoming. Antonio and Valentina were exactly the kind of grandparents she’d have wished for Toby, other than her own parents. Generous of their time and interest in the boy, and they’d have been more generous gift-wise if Caro hadn’t stopped them. Inwardly, she was still really angry that Nick would ever have considered her a money-grabber and so was perhaps oversensitive to anything offered to her son. She may need to let up on that, especially with the festive season so close. He deserved to be spoiled by both sides of his family. God knows, she’d put him through enough grief.

  As the taxi pulled up the long driveway Caro hoped that tonight, just the two of them could enjoy a meal like they used to, when it was “just the two of them”. Things had improved between them over the last few weeks, now that Toby was engaged with other school activities and had the added charm of his very own half-sister, Mia.

  But . . .

  And she couldn’t put her finger on it, not really, but their relationship, their bond, was fractured and she didn’t know if it would ever be fully healed.

  She paid the taxi and hauled her bounty up the steps. Toby called out from the kitchen that he was busy and to join him as soon as she could. He had jobs for her, he said. Damn. That meant chopping and stirring, she thought, the most boring of cooking tasks. But she smiled as she climbed the stairs, because she’d be doing those mundane tasks with him.

  “I’m stuffed!” Caro sat back in her chair, patting her tummy with satisfaction. “God, you’re a genius cook, Tobias Anthony. That was absolutely delicious.”

  And it had been.

  A big smile lit his still-young face and her heart warmed. They hadn’t discussed things, they hadn’t gone over the raw wounds that still lay open and they hadn’t mentioned Toni. He was never far from either of their minds, Caro knew, but this evening was a time-out, of sorts. Instead there was soccer, Mia, school, the awful Italian TV channels, the wedding, more soccer, and more Mia and her antics. They’d laughed together and for that alone, Caro felt the evening had been a huge success. Seeing Toby laugh out loud, happy, carefree, even if only temporarily, was balm to her heart. And the food wasn’t too shabby, either.

  Toby had made some kind of slightly spiced chicken casserole with a side dish of rice. She’d also been tempted by the cooked mushrooms left by Maria as she had a fondness for them, but Toby had refused – not that he didn’t like them but they, her young chef insisted, didn’t accompany the casserole properly. Well, now. Ignoring his foodie rules, she’d tucked in anyway and they’d been scrumptious. She sipped her white wine, studying Toby’s now serious face.

  “What?” she prompted, recognising the look.

  “Where will Uncle Dev and Frankie live after they get married? Will they have to live in New York where her work is?”

  Ah. He was worried his beloved uncle would move on.

  “Frankie has changed her career for now,” Caro reminded him. “She isn’t acting in any films or on-stage for the next few years, she says, so I suppose that means they’ll stay in Dublin. For a while, anyway.”

  “But she’s so famous. Won’t that be hard for Dev?” Toby asked.

  “Have you ever known Dev to worry about her fame? Nah, they’ll be grand. Just you see. Dev could be the one heading off on assignment anyway with his new National Geographic contract. And because Frankie’s now freelance writing, she could go with him. They won’t stay away long though, I’m sure,” she added as his face remained forlorn.

  Saying it out loud made it real, she thought. Toby wouldn’t be the only one doing the missing if those two lovebirds went off gallivanting. She’d miss them terribly.

  Which was daft and selfish.

  Weren’t she and Toby the very ones living away at the moment? And she’d bet her own parents and siblings were missing them a lot. Christmas couldn’t come soon enough. Visions of Christmas Eve at home made her eyes misty and with a shake of her head, Caro stood up suddenly.

  Too suddenly, it seemed, as the whole room danced before her eyes. She blinked rapidly to clear her head and instinctively looked at the wine bottle on the table. Only a glass gone, so it wasn’t that. She must be tired. Ignoring the beginning of a low-grade headache, Caro and Toby gathered up dishes and plates.

  “I have dessert,” Toby announced, reminding her of the tiramisu he’d prepared earlier.

  “Do you mind if I hold off, darling? I really wouldn’t enjoy it properly if I ate it now – I’m still full.”

  Caro didn’t add that her stomach was also jumping about a bit and making odd growly noises. She really didn’t feel great but smiled at Toby anyway as he shrugged in acceptance.

  “No worries,” he said easily, “we can have it tomorrow or later, if you like.” He took some dishes from Caro’s hands. “I’ll stack the dishwasher, Mum, you look a bit odd. Why don’t you sit down again?”

  He bustled about as Caro sank back in her chair, feeling leaden and clammy. Her heart was kicking up speed and she was consciously trying to slow it down with some well-practised yoga breaths.

  “Sweetheart, do you mind if I head up to bed? I know we said we’d watch some Netflix together, but I suddenly feel very tired.”

  Toby looked at her quizzically.

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll clean up and will watch something by myself. Come down when you’ve rested and I’ll give you a mint tea. I’ll be in the den.”

  Caro smiled wanly. The den was his favourite room – all leather and rugs and, most importantly, a huge TV screen with a massive collection of all genres of DVDs. Toni had seemingly been a great fan of action, science fiction, war, horror and comedy – and he had the films to prove it. Not a romcom among them, Caro had noted, or indeed anything about nature, so Marianna hadn’t been consulted, it seemed.

  Toby would be fine watching his own choice for a while
and Caro grudgingly took herself upstairs to lay down. Her insides were churning now, accompanied by jabs of sharp pain and waves of nausea. She needed a bathroom and then her bed. Her bedroom suddenly felt very far away.

  Toby tossed the remote on the couch and flopped back on the cushions. A silly grin was still on his face at that last movie. Some stupid comedy, but it’d done the job. Pity his mum hadn’t come back down to watch as she’d promised earlier. This was to be their night, their time, and she’d bailed. Yeah, she’d looked kinda suspect earlier, but still.She should have changed into her dressing gown and slippers and sat with him on the couch – he’d have got her tea or brandy for her stomach, if that was bothering her. Jeez – Toby hoped it wasn’t his cooking, but he felt fine so maybe it was just a bug.

  He looked longingly at the empty space on the couch next to him. They used do that on weekends – curl up and snuggle and watch old films or Disney cartoons. And sure, he was too old for all that now, but they could have shared the time.

  He was having such a hard time forgiving her.

  He tried, really tried to believe that she’d searched for his dad. And he knew he was going to have to tell her how hurt he’d felt – still felt – but not yet. Finding out about Marianna and Mia had been a massive shock to both of them and Toby understood that in many ways she’d been even more shocked at that than at his father’s death. Go figure.

  Hauling himself from the soft velvet cushions, he moved about the den, switching off lights and shutting down the electronics. The heavy door closed softly behind him and after one quick check that all the doors were locked, he went upstairs to bed. The landing on their side of the palazzo was reached by a long corridor, and his and his mum’s rooms were just off a wider open area.

  Light was showing beneath her door – just a glimmer, but maybe she was still awake. Better say goodnight or she’d wonder if everything was shut down for the night.

  He tapped lightly on her door before opening it, heralding his entrance so as not to startle her this late in the evening.

  Huh. Her bed was empty, the covers thrown back in disarray. Peering his head around the large dressing table towards her en-suite bathroom, he noticed the light was on there, too, and the door ajar.

  “Mum,” he called, “are you in the loo? I’m just here to say goodnight.”

  Nothing. Silence met his voice and for the first time Toby felt uneasy.

  “Mum!” he called a bit louder, walking towards the bathroom door. “Mum?”

  Anxious now, he pushed open the door and gasped in shock. Caro lay on the floor, motionless, one arm draped up and over the toilet bowl as if she’d simply slithered down. Toby rushed over to her, calling her name. He shook her shoulder and a low moan escaped her lips. She was deathly pale and her face had a weird sheen to it, almost waxy. Toby shook her again.

  “Mum! Mum! Say something! Did you fall?”

  His voice sounded panicked and loud in the tiled room, echoing back at him eerily. There was something at the corner of her mouth and he realised she’d been throwing up. Oh, God, Toby thought, I’ve made her sick! Aghast, he reached down and tried to move her around so she was propped against the bath. It was hard and although his mum wasn’t heavy, she felt like a bloody ton weight right now.

  Her head fell forwards as if she had no control and he realised she was actually unconscious, not asleep. The blood draining from his face, he tentatively placed a hand first on her forehead, roasting hot, then against her neck and shoulders – both felt chilled to the bone. Trying desperately to remember everything he’d ever seen on TV when the hero saved the damsel in distress, he reached for the pulse in her wrist.

  God! There wasn’t one! No . . . that couldn’t be. He could see the shallow rise and fall of her chest.

  Think. Think, he ordered himself.

  Taking a deep breath, he felt for her pulse again. There. Oh, God, he could feel it – faint but steady. Now what? How was he to wake her? Toby reached behind him and pulled down a bale of soft towels from the cabinet. Wadding a couple, he placed them at the corner of the bath and the wall and manoeuvred her as best he could to rest her head there. Next, he unfurled the larger bath sheets and spread them over her cold, limp body. Pressing his ear to her mouth, he could hear ragged breaths, slow and edgy.

  He had to get help.

  So much for their lovely weekend, he thought as he scrambled to his feet and raced into the bedroom. He had no idea where his own phone was, but an old-fashioned phone was placed next to a lamp on the bedside table. He didn’t know anything about hospitals in Rome, or how to call an ambulance, but he knew the number of the Paradiso hotel off by heart. Dialling shakily, he waited, heart drilling in his chest, for an answer.

  “Nick Sullivan.” Toby spoke urgently.

  Seconds passed. More seconds.

  “Sullivan speaking.”

  The voice on the other end of the phone was brisk and business-like but irritated at the late-night call. That much was clear.

  “Mr Sullivan, it’s Toby. Mum’s sick. I don’t know what to do. Please come.”

  The words rushed out and within minutes Nick had as much of the story that Toby could give. Armed with some simple instructions from Nick, Toby hung up, raced downstairs to unlock the main door, tore into the kitchen to put on the kettle and raid the medicine chest for a list of supplies, then charged back upstairs to his mum.

  She hadn’t moved but was whimpering in a low, breathy way. But at least she’d woken a bit to make at least some noise – Nick had said that would be good.

  Crouching down beside his mum again, Toby gathered her in his arms and held on tight.

  “It’s all right, Mum, you’ll be fine. Nick’s on the way. I promise you’ll be okay,” he told her over and over, his heart beating like a hammer drill in his chest, pure fear battling with panic as he settled in for the wait.

  Chapter 15

  Nick took the stairs three at a time. Knowing exactly where Caroline’s room was helped in the maze of doors and corridors as he ran down the hallway to her suite.

  “Toby?” he called urgently as he entered the bedroom area and noticed the light on in the adjoining bathroom.

  He took in the unmade bed and open packets of antacids on the bedside table.

  “In here.”

  Toby’s scared voice sounded muffled and Nick turned in its direction.

  It would be a long time before Nick banished the sight that greeted him. Caroline, sitting, half lying in her son’s arms. Her face was devoid of colour and even from the doorway he could see a fine sheen of perspiration along her forehead and upper lip. Her nightgown was crumpled and soiled along the neckline. Her normally lustrous hair was lank, pushed back from her forehead, looking matted and sticky. But, strangely, it was the sight of Toby that struck him the most.

  He sat, his back to the side of the bath, his thin arms wrapped around his mother’s shoulders as she lay across his chest. He was as pale as Caroline, which was even more frightening, as he normally glowed with his lovely Italian skin. But his eyes – those huge pools of pure terror – stared straight at Nick and gutted him. That poor kid was scared shitless and hanging on by a thread.

  “Update?” Nick asked, keeping his voice calm as he kneeled before Caroline, reaching for her wrist.

  Her pulse was slow but even. Good.

  “Kid?” He snapped his fingers in the boy’s face.

  He needed to get the boy talking, focusing and up off the floor before the weight of his mother strained his arms from their sockets.

  Toby swallowed, visibly trying to get it together.

  “She woke up a bit and moaned a lot. She said her stomach hurt, her head hurt and her skin hurt. Then she kinda went to sleep. I think.” He paused, his eyes never leaving his mother’s face as he recited the facts to Nick. “Why would her skin hurt?”

  “Sounds like a real case of food poisoning to me,” Nick said briskly. “I’ve had it myself in the past and it feels like shit. Sorry,” h
e added, belatedly remembering the boy’s age.

  “But why won’t she wake up properly?” Toby bit his lip, dragging his gaze up to meet dark eyes not unlike his own.

  “She will. Don’t worry. I’ve got this. Now . . . ” Nick leaned forwards and went to gather Caroline in his arms, but Toby’s grip tightened. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m going to lift her up and lay her on the bed. Then you and I are going to wash her down a bit and I’ll put her in fresh clothes. Then we’re going to give her some mint tea and sponge her forehead till her fever comes down. Trust me. I know what to do.”

  Whether it was the deliberately calm tone he was using or the words themselves that loosened Toby’s vice-like grip, Nick didn’t care. He pulled Caro into his arms, shifting to get one arm beneath her knees, and hoisted her up against his chest. She smelled awful. Vomit wasn’t a good look on anyone and Caroline, gorgeous though she was, was no exception.

  He strode from the bathroom and laid her gently on the bed. She groaned low in her throat and he wondered if she was going to be sick again. Better be prepared. He turned to his young relative who was standing silhouetted in the bathroom door, hands fisted by his side.

  “Can you get me some warm water, a facecloth and some nice soap? I think your mom has a lemon one she uses. I’ll find a nightdress to change her into. Oh, and a towel, too.”

  Apparently pleased to have a job, a task, a distraction, and probably happy enough to relinquish control, even to him, Toby turned back into the bathroom to gather the supplies.

  Nick moved from Caroline’s limp body and pulled out the top two drawers of the tall wooden chest. Damn. Not what he needed to see right now – lingerie of purest silk in colours both soft and strong. Bras, camiknickers, boy shorts and yup, fuck, thongs. He slammed the drawers shut and opened the one beneath. Here were some possibilities. Not nearly as sexy or feminine as the underwear, her selection of sleep shirts were practical, cotton and perfect for his needs.