Accidentally Expecting! by Lucy Gordon

slapped.’
    ‘That’s the next stage. Now, depart while we’re still friends.’
    ‘Friends? Is that really all you—?’
    ‘Go!’
    He went. Hastily.
     
    As an attractive woman working in the entertainment business, Ferne had had a fair amount of experience in saying no to over-enthusiastic gentlemen, and she’d discovered that you could tell a lot about a man by how he behaved at the next meeting, assuming there was one. Some behaved well, some badly, some pretended that nothing had happened.
    Dante, of course, had to be original, hopping behind her from tree to tree as she walked through the garden, dartingout of sight when she turned until she cried, exasperated, ‘Come out, you idiot.’
    ‘If you’re calling me an idiot, does that mean I’m forgiven?’ he asked, presenting himself hopefully before her.
    ‘I guess it does.’
    From behind him came a shout. ‘Dante, are you coming?’
    ‘On my way,’ he yelled back. ‘I’m going into town with Carlo and Ruggiero, but I couldn’t go until I knew I was back in favour.’
    ‘I didn’t say you were back in favour,’ she told him sternly. ‘I said you were forgiven—just.’
    ‘Yes, of course, there’s a difference. I’ll work on it when I get back. Bye.’
    He kissed her cheek and fled, leaving her laughing and wondering what she had to do to get the last word.
    But then, she reflected, did she really want the last word? It had a melancholy sound.
    She spent an enjoyable day with Hope and the other women, talking about England and fussing over the children. Dante’s behaviour to her that evening was restrained and impeccable. He seemed completely oblivious to her as a woman, which was how she preferred it, she tried to tell herself.
    Ferne had said she was never without her camera, and it was true, so when she came across Toni playing with Ruggiero’s baby son she hurried into action and produced some swift, spontaneous shots that had everyone exclaiming with delight.
    ‘I’ve been thinking what I can do to thank you for your kindness,’ Ferne said to Hope. ‘And now I know. I’m going to take pictures, dozens of them—everybody alone, in couples, with their children, without their children. Then I want you all to gather in the garden so that I can take a big one.’
    ‘And I’ll always have a memento,’ Hope cried, overjoyed. ‘Oh, yes please.’
    Ferne started at once, going around the house, working on her idea until everyone had a solo shot, down to the tiniest child.
    To these she added pictures taken secretly, when people had been unaware of being photographed and were therefore more natural. The final result was a triumphant collection that made Hope weep with joy, and give a special dinner in Ferne’s honour.
    ‘That was a very kind thing you did,’ Dante said as they sipped wine together. ‘Hope’s family is everything to her.’
    His praise made her slightly embarrassed.
    ‘I did it for myself, really. Taking pictures is a kind of compulsion, and when I can’t do it I get restless.’
    ‘Why do you put yourself down? Who are you hiding from?’
    ‘Since when were you an expert in psychoanalysis?’ she asked, amused. ‘I’m not hiding.’
    ‘Some people would say you were hiding behind the camera, getting everyone else into focus but staying safely concealed. I’m just playing with ideas. If you want some good pictures, let me take you into town and show you old Naples, where the historic buildings still exist. You’ll find all the pictures you want.’
    She agreed eagerly and they went the next day, driving down into the centro storico , as historic Naples was called. As he’d guessed, she was enthusiastic and began clicking, enchanted by the narrow, winding streets with washing strung from side to side, and the stalls selling fish and fruit.
    At last they collapsed into chairs at a roadside café, and revived themselves on cake and coffee.
    ‘I’m so glad you thought of this,’ she sighed blissfully.