Accidentally Expecting! by Lucy Gordon Page A

‘It’s been wonderful. This place is almost too picturesque to be true.’
    Dante nodded. ‘Naples has its modern districts, places full of soulless, efficient buildings. But it also has these corners where people can still be human instead of cogs in a wheel. People here don’t just know each other, they’re neighbours, practically family. A lot of them are family. You tend to get whole apartment-blocks populated by relatives. Let’s have some—’
    He stopped as a wild scream came from somewhere nearby. Suddenly there was chaos. People were running down the little streets, waving their arms and indicating something behind them.
    ‘Incendio!’ they screamed. ‘Incendio!’
    ‘There’s a fire somewhere,’ Dante said.
    Following the pointing hands, they began to run until they came to a five-storey building on one side of a narrow alley, where the ground was entirely made of steps. Smoke was billowing from the windows and people were streaming out, shouting to each other.
    ‘They’ve called the fire brigade,’ Dante said, picking up a few words. ‘But these lanes are too narrow for the machines. The nearest they’ll get is that corner, then they’ll have to carry the ladders into this street and set them on the ground. Let’s hope their ladders are long enough. Luckily, everyone seems to be escaping the buildings fast.’
    Behind them a woman was screaming, ‘Piero, Marco, Ginetta, Enrico— mio dio !’
    From the bags cast aside on the pavement, it seemed that she had been shopping when the news had reached her and had run back to her children. Now they were hurling themselves into her arms and she was sending up frantic prayers of relief.
    ‘Salvo,’ she wept. Safe. ‘Oh, dio! Salvo. Ma no! Dove Nico?’
    Nico? People began to look around. Nico? Where was Nico?
    One of the boys said something and recoiled as his mother slapped his cheek.
    ‘What is it?’ Ferne asked, horrified.
    ‘Nico was coming down with them, but they lost sight of him,’ Dante explained. ‘She’s blaming them for going on without him.’
    ‘Nico!’ the woman screamed, gazing up at the building. ‘Nico!’
    Suddenly there was a mighty rumble followed by a crash from inside the building, and smoke billowed out of the windows.
    ‘The inside has collapsed,’ Dante said grimly. ‘Let’s hope Nico got out.’
    But the next moment there was a shout of horror. Everyone looked up to see a little boy standing on a rickety wrought-iron balcony at the top, looking down.
    ‘Nico!’ his mother screamed again. ‘Come down.’
    She was too hysterical to realise that this was impossible, but everyone else understood, and groans went up at what seemed inevitable.
    People were running to fetch ladders which they leaned up against the wall, but the boy was five storeys up and nothing reached him. Another ominous rumble from within the building warned how close danger was.
    ‘Move that ladder!’ Dante yelled. ‘Push it over here.’
    ‘But it’s not long enough,’ someone protested.
    ‘Don’t argue,’ he roared. ‘Just do as I say.’
    Impatiently he yanked the ladder from their hands and set it up against the wall.
    ‘Hold it,’ he snapped.
    Recognising the voice of authority, they scurried to obey. This was a new Dante, one Ferne had never seen before, a man of grim determination; his eyes were hard, his attitudeset, brooking no argument, and woe betide anyone who got in his way.
    She ventured to say, ‘But what will you do when the ladder runs out?’
    For a moment he looked at her as though he’d never seen her before.
    Then recognition kicked in, and he said curtly, ‘I’ll climb.’
    He turned away without waiting for her reply and the next moment was climbing the ladder swiftly, two rungs at a time, until he reached the base of the third balcony. Seizing the wrought iron, he managed to haul himself to the upper rim while the crowd below gasped. Ferne gazed in awe, thinking how strong his arms must be to manage