A Winter Bride by Isla Dewar

‘We’ll talk about this like grown-ups.’
    Nell thought there was nothing to talk about: she didn’t want a baby.
    They found a small bustling place and were given seats by the window. He ordered bistecca for both of them. ‘They sear the meat in charcoal,’ he said. ‘It’s a local speciality.’ They drank Chianti. He’d been studying travel books about Florence for months and had even learnt a smattering of the language.
    He smiled at her, took her hand and said they mustn’t argue. ‘This is our special time together.’
    She agreed. ‘No arguing.’
    He took out his itinerary. ‘I’ve made a list of things I want us to see. The Duomo, Michelangelo’s David , the Ponte Vecchio, the Botticellis at the Uffizi Museum, the Boboli Gardens—’
    ‘The shops,’ added Nell. ‘I want to buy shoes.’
    ‘Italian shoes are a must,’ he agreed.
    The place smelled of coffee and searing meat. There was the babble of foreign voices. Waiters fussed over them and flirted with Nell. They got a little tipsy on the wine and the grappa they drank with their coffee. They held hands as they walked back to their hotel. But even though they made love, the matter of baby making niggled away at both of them, unresolved.
    Over the next few days, they followed Alistair’s itinerary. Nell marvelled and stared and wondered. ‘Do you think there’s anything ugly here?’
    Alistair doubted it.
    But it wasn’t the tourist spots that fascinated Nell. It was the people. They were, she decided, born stylish. She wished she lived here. She could stop for an espresso on the way to work. Pop out for another at odd times of the day. She loved the little cups of strong dark coffee. She’d heap in two spoons of sugar, and then, when the cup was empty, she’d dip her finger to gather the sweet traces at the bottom and lick it.
    ‘We could move here,’ she said.
    ‘What would we do?’ Alistair asked.
    ‘There’s bound to be pen shops here. Or I could work in any shop selling anything. They’re all lovely.’
    He said they’d have to learn Italian.
    Nell was sure she’d quickly pick it up. ‘I can already say, “Two coffees please,” and “Good morning,” and, “Thank you.” We could get a little flat and I could keep you while you studied Italian law.’
    ‘Thanks for that,’ he said.
    ‘Don’t you love the way people dress their kids here?’
    ‘No reason you can’t dress them like that back home, though.’
    Oh, no, she thought, I’ve brought up the subject of children.
    He drained his cup, and sat back in his chair. ‘How do you see us in ten years time? Where do you think we’ll be?’
    Nell said she thought they’d still be the same. ‘Just us. Only we’ll have our own house. Quite a big one with long lawns and a couple of children and …’ she trailed off. She hadn’t planned beyond the big house; she had no other thoughts on the future. ‘I just want to be happy.’
    ‘You’ve no plans of your own,’ he said. ‘Don’t you want anything other than a big house? You don’t seem to be ambitious for yourself. You left school, got a job in the pen shop and haven’t moved on. Me, I can stay where I am, move up through the firm. I could start my own law practice. I could try to become an advocate. I have options. I have plans. Mostly, right now, I’d like to start planning a family.’
    ‘Usually it’s the woman who wants a baby.’
    ‘Yes, but I was moved when I held Carol’s baby when she was born. Something happened. I wanted one of my own.’
    He’d seen Carol sitting in bed, leaning on a pile of pillows. She’d looked exhausted but glowing. When the baby was placed in his arms, he’d marvelled. It had been amazing, a whole new person in the world – tiny, yet perfect. He’d been close to tears.
    ‘Think of it – a little bit of you, a little bit of me all bundled into a whole new person. Doesn’t that excite you?’
    ‘Well, yes,’ said Nell. ‘I just want to have a couple of years