‘Cool. I’ve been picked for the match on Friday. I was a reserve but now Ben can’t play so I’m in the team.’
Liv’s face lit up. ‘That’s fantastic! Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘It’s only the second team, not the first.’ He looked at her and his little shoulders lifted in a tiny shrug. ‘And I knew you wouldn’t be able to come. You’ll be working.’
Liv swallowed. ‘Max—’
‘It’s OK,’ he said firmly. ‘It isn’t your fault. We’re a team, isn’t that what you always say? You go to work, I go to school.’
‘Actually I’m not working on Friday,’ Liv said brightly. ‘I—I have the afternoon off.’
‘Really?’
No. ‘Yes.’ Somehow, whatever it took, she was going to make it happen. She was going to her son’s football match. ‘What time is kick-off?’
‘Two o’clock.’
‘I’ll be there.’ How, she didn’t know. But she was going to be standing on that school field even if it meant changing her job.
Exhaustion washed over her making her head foggy. As usual her day had started before five and one glance at the washing, ironing and the pile of Max’s toys in the living room was enough to tell her that she wouldn’t be in bed before midnight.
She envied mothers who could be at home for their children. Yes, she loved her work but the constant pressure of trying to be in two places at once was grinding her down.
Welcome to single parenthood.
Max scrambled off the chair and hugged her tightly, his arms round her legs, his head pressed against her stomach. ‘You’re the best mum in the world. I know it’s hard for you because you have to work. That would be one of the good things about having a dad. He could do the work bit and you could just come and watch me.’
Liv felt a lump in her throat. ‘There’s more to being a dad than signing cheques, Max.’ And some men didn’t even manage that bit, she thought wearily as she bent to kiss the top of his head. He smelled of shampoo. ‘Spaghetti bolognese all right for supper?’
‘Yum.’
Dismissing fantasies of herself standing on the school field, while someone else worried about the family finances, Liv squashed down the guilt, gave him a quick kiss and released him. Reality, she reminded herself. That was what she had to concentrate on. ‘So what was the funniest thing that happened to you today?’ Taking the lid off a can of tomatoes, she emptied it into the pan. ‘Make me laugh.’
‘Sam told me a great joke.’
‘Go on.’
‘What’s the best thing to give a seasick elephant?’
‘I don’t know. What is the best thing to give a seasick elephant?’
‘Plenty of room.’
‘Max!’
The following morning brought a flutter of snow and a sharp drop in the temperature.
‘Isabella? Tutto bene?’ Stefano brought the Ferrari to a smooth halt, his attention on the phone call. Snow dusted the pavements and the roads were slick with ice. It was going to be a busy day in the emergency department and he knew this would be his only chance to make this call. ‘You called me?’
‘Every day for the past two weeks!’ His sister exploded into Italian. ‘Where have you been? You don’t call—you don’t come home! Have you forgotten your family? Don’t we matter to you any more? You don’t have a heart, Stefano!’
‘That’s the sort of comment I expect from my girlfriend, not my little sister.’ Stefano sprang from the car, his long, black, cashmere coat swirling around his strong legs as he strode across the consultants’ car park. Knowing exactly which buttons to press to annoy her, he smiled wickedly. ‘Why are you at home? You should be taking your children to school.’
Ever predictable, Isabella bristled with indignation. ‘I dropped them at school and now I’m on the way to the office. Remember the family business, Stefano? The business you turned your back on? Well I am here, keeping our father happy while you stroke your ego by playing doctors and dating actresses with bodies as thin as spaghetti and brains as soft as ravioli.’
Already bored with the conversation, Stefano pushed his way through the swing doors that led to the emergency department. ‘Are you ringing me to nag me about my choice of career or my choice of women?’
‘I’m ringing you because despite your many faults, you’re still my brother and like all men you need reminding about family responsibility. When did you last call Papa?’
Stefano strode along the corridor, oblivious to the sideways glances he received from the female nurses. ‘I don’t have any news.’
‘News? What is “news”?’ Isabella didn’t bother hiding her exasperation. ‘He just wants to hear your voice, Stefano!’
‘Talking about nothing because you enjoy the sound of your own voice is more of a girl thing than a man thing,’ Stefano drawled. ‘And I’ve been busy. I’m working.’
‘Well, find the time to call. And make sure you come home for Christmas. We’ll all be in Cortina from the twenty-third of December.’
Stefano was well able to picture the scene: a noisy group of family and old friends descending on the enormous family chalet in the exclusive mountain resort of Cortina D’Ampezzo, in the Italian Dolomites.
‘Isabella—’
‘I know you’re busy, but this is family time, Stefano. Be there.’
‘I will be there, but I don’t know when or for how long.’ Or how much of his well-meaning, interfering family he’d be able to stand.
‘All the cousins will be there—’ it was Isabella’s turn to tease ‘—including the lovely Donatella. She’s still single, Stefano.’
‘Fortunately for both of us, my taste in women doesn’t run to children,’ Stefano said wryly and Isabella giggled.
‘She’s twenty-one, Stefano, hardly a child. And she’s been trying to remind you of that fact for a few years now. Surely you haven’t forgotten last Christmas? The push-up bra and the low-cut top? I thought Papa was going to have a stroke. Anyway, she wants to sit by you for Christmas Eve dinner.’
‘Donatella finds me so intimidating that she can barely speak in my company,’ Stefano reminded her in an acid tone. ‘If you throw her in my way at Christmas it would be cruel to both of us. Isabella, drop this subject.’
‘She’d be a traditional Italian wife, Stefano.’ Isabella was clearly enjoying herself. ‘She would stay at home and cook you pasta.’
‘Unfortunately for Donatella one of my requirements in a life partner is that they’re able to sustain an intelligent conversation for at least eight seconds. Sadly, she can’t. Or at least, she can’t when she’s with me.’
Isabella snorted with laughter. ‘You’re so harsh. Frankly I can’t see why she’s so crazy about you. I mean, I know you’re filthy rich and good-looking but you’re unbearable to people who aren’t as bright as you are and when you’re really bored, which usually takes far less than eight seconds by the way, you can be horribly cutting.’
Taken aback by that blunt assessment of his attributes, Stefano was about to answer when his sister made an impatient sound.
‘Anyway, it’s nonsense