An Italian Dream

Amber squealed with excitement as she greeted Chloe on the path, which only highlighted her cool reserve around Fern. She sighed again. Chloe looked like a typical eighteen-year-old with cut-off jean shorts and a tight T-shirt with some logo Fern didn’t recognise emblazoned across it.

Stella reached Fern and hugged her. ‘You look gorgeous.’

‘So do you.’ The squeals of delight from Amber and Chloe continued, but Fern acknowledged she was just as excited. She gripped Stella’s hand. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this for so long.’

‘And I can’t believe it’s finally happening!’ Stella beamed. ‘Right, everyone got everything? Let’s get going!’

* * *

Stella had pre-booked the Aspire Lounge at Bristol Airport, so after checking in and being whisked through security, they relaxed in comfort with a glass of champagne and tucked into complimentary Danish pastries. While Fern and Stella flicked through magazines and chatted, the girls went off to do some duty-free shopping. They’d maxed out their baggage allowance and Amber’s hand luggage in particular was heaving; Fern had no idea how she was going to lug shopping around too.

It was still only mid-morning by the time they settled themselves on the plane. Somehow they managed to stow their bags and rucksacks in the overhead lockers and beneath the seats. Amber and Chloe were sitting next to each other directly in front of Fern and Stella. Fern could hear them giggling together, their chatter a hundred miles an hour. With their long blonde hair and only a couple of years between them, they could easily be mistaken for sisters. Despite Amber and Ruby being identical twins, personality wise they couldn’t have been more different, and Amber had always got on better with Chloe.

The flights from Bristol were no frills with a budget airline, but that certainly hadn’t put a dampener on anyone’s spirits. Fern relaxed back in her seat, trying to let the worries of everyday life wash away. They were headed for Naples, a city famous for pizza, Mount Vesuvius and notorious for pickpockets – Fern had done her research. But it would only be a place they’d briefly see on their way from the airport to the port and the hydrofoil to Capri. For the next couple of weeks, she could forget about everything and relish the opportunity of an all-expenses-paid holiday, time with her best friend and their daughters. Refresh and rejuvenate, that’s what she needed – much like that spa weekend.

The plane took off, juddering upwards. Fern gripped the arm rests and willed it into the air, her panic easing when they had climbed high enough for the plane to level out. Since when had she been a nervous flyer?

The airport and the grey muggy day were left behind as they reached the Bristol Channel, drifts of white cloud distorting the view of Clevedon Pier as they turned towards Portishead and then Capri.

Soon enough, they’d left England behind and the flight attendants had come by with the catering trolley.

Stella knocked her mini bottle of prosecco against Fern’s and swigged straight from it. ‘I am planning on having as much fun as I possibly can this holiday.’

Chloe groaned from the seat in front. Fern imagined her and Amber rolling their eyes.

Fern drank to that. She was planning on having fun too, but probably not in quite the same way as her single and newly minted best friend.

‘Honestly,’ Stella said, lowering her voice, ‘I feel like this is our chance to make up for lost time. I don’t regret having Chloe young and I’m sure you wouldn’t change having the twins for the world, but we both missed out on stuff.’

‘Even if I hadn’t got pregnant at eighteen, we still wouldn’t have had this type of holiday.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know. We’d probably have gone clubbing in Ibiza or got into a bucketload of trouble in Magaluf. So, in many ways, this has worked out for the best.’ Stella sipped her prosecco. ‘We’re still young enough to enjoy all the delights Capri has to offer.’ She looked at her with a knowing smile.

‘You’re not looking for love, are you?’ Fern asked.

‘God, no. I’m done with relationships and all that. The last thing I want is to share what I have with someone else. A fling, mind…’ She winked and gave a throaty chuckle. ‘But honestly, Fern, this is our time. Forget about our lives back home: exes, husbands, men in general. We deserve this. You deserve a break and to think about yourself rather than everyone else for once.’

Fern couldn’t argue with that. Time had run away with her. It was hard to comprehend that two decades had gone by in what felt like a heartbeat. To an eighteen-year-old being forty seemed ancient, and yet here she was, soon to pass that milestone. It wasn’t that she minded getting older – in many ways, she was more comfortable with herself now than she had been in her twenties post-pregnancy, but she felt adrift, uncertain of her place in the world. There was a lot she needed to figure out.

* * *

They landed in Naples and, with all their luggage, Fern was relieved that Stella had booked a private transfer to the port. Their driver, Fabrizio, greeted them with a jolly ‘buongiorno’ and a dazzling smile, and even with the bustle of people streaming from the airport into the warm and sunny May afternoon, Fern acknowledged the relaxed change of pace and the butterflies in her stomach.

With their bags and suitcases safely loaded in the sleek minibus, they set off. Fern gripped the seat in front as they sped along the road, squeezing past other vehicles, Fabrizio navigating his way through the packed and rather run-down streets with traffic in all directions, while shouting down the phone in mind-bendingly fast Italian.

‘My wife, she is pregnant,’ he called over his shoulder by way of explanation. ‘She want gelato. Always gelato.’

Fern’s heart pounded. She noticed both Amber and Chloe holding on for dear life too. Even Stella looked stressed, her lightly tanned face pinched into a frown. The combination of the prosecco on the plane, the humidity, the busyness, the noise of cars beeping and screeching left Fern buzzing but eager to reach their destination and enjoy two weeks without having to work, look after the house or spend it with Paul. She got a stab of guilt at that thought. Treating herself was a rarity and being in Italy was exactly that, a complete and utter treat. All thanks to Stella.

They were all relieved when they made it in one piece and Fabrizio unloaded their luggage. With his help, they dragged their suitcases to the Mollo Beverello part of the port in search of the pre-booked hydrofoil for the forty-five-minute trip to Capri.

Fern stopped for a moment, taking a breath after a whirlwind journey. The gentle sun warmed her shoulders and voices sprinkled the air with Italian and English. Somewhere out there past the hydrofoils lining the dock and across the sparkling sea was their destination: the beautiful island of Capri.

After thanking Fabrizio and safely stowing their luggage, Fern finally felt able to relax. And they did, in the small bar area, with an espresso and a cornetto, an Italian pastry that looked a little like a croissant. The hydrofoil left the port, cutting across the impossibly blue water of the Bay of Naples and leaving behind the city and Mount Vesuvius’s domineering presence. Although Fern was fascinated by the idea of visiting Pompeii and witnessing what the volcano had preserved from Roman times, she was quite glad to be heading away from the noise and craziness of Naples.

Fern felt her stomach lurch even though the water was far from choppy. She left the others in the bar area and found an empty seat. She breathed slow and steady, willing the nausea to ebb away.

‘Are you okay?’