An Italian Dream

7

FERN

Fern was relieved when Stella swiftly moved the conversation on from how Fern was feeling to the more upbeat and less emotional topic of what they were going to do for the next few days. With the arrival of the girls, who had changed into shorts after their dip in the pool, and Violetta with the pizza, the tension dispersed. They remained sitting out on the terrace drinking Aperol spritz until late in the evening. Capri twinkled in the clear dark night, and beyond Marina Grande, the moonlight reflected onto the velvety black sea.

Maybe it was the combination of the food, the alcohol, the company and the setting, but Fern went to bed feeling happier than she had in a long time, the unsettling conversation with Stella forgotten as she slipped beneath the covers.

Birdsong woke her the following morning. She had no idea of the time and didn’t care one jot. She stretched out in the large bed, feeling refreshed after a comfortable and peaceful sleep. Sunlight filtered through the trees, sending a warm glow across the terracotta tiled terrace outside. In Fern’s eyes, staying in a place so idyllic felt as if there was no reason to stray far, but the island begged to be explored and Stella had booked an afternoon boat tour.

She yawned and reached for her mobile. There was a long message from Ruby and one from Paul replying to the one she’d sent yesterday telling him that they’d arrived safely.

Great.

That was it. Sent at 2 a.m., she noted. Presumably after he’d got back from the pub, although it seemed particularly late. She sighed and put her mobile back on the bedside table. She couldn’t be bothered to send a reply.

* * *

It was late by the time they’d all dragged themselves out of bed, showered, dressed and had a leisurely breakfast of sfogliatella, a delicious, sweet ricotta-filled pastry, washed down with fresh orange juice and an obligatory cappuccino. They made their way down to Marina Grande and took the boat tour to the Blue Grotto.

Amber and Chloe sat together and Fern envied the easy way they chatted, with laughter sprinkling their conversation. Obviously they were friends, but if it had been Ruby here instead of Amber, she would have had no issue chatting to her mum too. It always felt as if Amber tried her hardest to avoid talking to her. Fern sighed. At least she had Stella’s company and the sun on her shoulders.

The wooden rowing boats, filled with tourists clutching cameras and iPhones, crowded together outside the cave entrance and the Italian skippers called across to each other. The queue for the boats to take them into the illuminated sea cave wasn’t long, but so far, at least from the outside, it wasn’t quite the magical place Fern had been expecting.

They reached the front of the queue quickly enough though. The skipper of their boat was jovial, his accent thick, his voice loud as he helped them onboard. Stella was squashed next to her, with Chloe and Amber in front. Fern was aware of the other boats bobbing on the water, waiting for their turn to enter the cave.

As requested by the skipper, they laid back in the boat as he pulled them through the cave entrance, the damp darkness all-encompassing. Then they were inside and the shouts and bustle from outside faded away. The cave walls were highlighted by the azure water shimmering around them, the only sounds an ancient Italian song mixing with the splash of oars and hushed voices.

Fern’s head filled with memories of holidays with her own family when she was a kid, fighting with her older brother and listening to her parents argue, and then her experience of family holidays in her twenties when the twins were young. It had always felt like an effort, wrangling toddlers and dragging disinterested children around castles and museums. Paul had always seemed like he’d rather be somewhere else too.

She watched Amber now, gazing open-mouthed, soaking up the magic of the vividly blue water as their boat circled the cave. Silver streaks danced beneath the surface and cool water splashed onto Fern’s arm. Enclosed in the glowing darkness, it felt mystical and otherworldly, a place that had been here for centuries, untouched and separate from the outside world.

It was soon over and they were back outside, blinking in the brightness of the day, the sea clear and blue but nothing like the blueness of the water in the grotto. After being unsure how the cave would live up to her expectations, Fern was actually sorry to leave, but the promise of a relaxing evening eating and drinking back at the villa was enough of an enticement.

* * *

After the boat tour, they had dinner cooked by Violetta out on the pool terrace. They’d been lucky with the weather earlier, but now white clouds scudded across the sky, briefly extinguishing the sun and sending the temperature plummeting before the sun reappeared. They pulled on cardigans and sipped glasses of chilled white wine, while chatting together as Violetta grilled pezzogna, a local red seabream, on the barbecue and served it with rosemary potatoes, olives and verdure grigliate. For a few minutes, munching and nods of appreciation were all anyone managed.

They’d just finished eating when Fern’s mobile rang and she was stunned to see Paul’s name on the screen.

‘Hey, this is a surprise,’ she said, wandering away from the others towards her room. ‘I didn’t think you’d call.’

‘Yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you.’

‘You’re not; it’s nice to hear from you.’ She closed her bedroom door behind her.

‘I was just wondering if you knew where my shirt is? The smart navy one with the white buttons. I want to wear it for a meeting on Monday.’

‘You’re phoning me because you can’t find your shirt?’

‘And to see how you’re all getting on.’

Fern clenched her jaw. That was an afterthought, she was sure.

‘How’s Capri?’ he asked.

She sighed. ‘Beautiful. The villa is just incredible. I’ll WhatsApp you a couple of pics.’

‘Stella’s really splashed out, huh?’