An Italian Dream

STELLA

A young bunch of blokes, all in their twenties or thirties, all wealthy, all decent-looking. Stella knew exactly how it looked to Fern, but she didn’t care. This was a holiday to beat all holidays, but the last thing she wanted was to make Fern do something she was uncomfortable with. It seemed to have all worked out for the best. But now she was here, leaning on the edge of the yacht and gazing out at Capri without Fern, she acknowledged her anxiety about Fern going off on her own, not because she wouldn’t have a lovely time, but because she seemed so fragile, like she needed looking after. Mothering. Exactly what she’d accused Fern of doing to Paul.

The yacht sparkled alongside the others in the harbour at Marina Grande. The sound of chatter and distant laughter mixed with the harsh call of seabirds. The view was magnificent across the marina to the multitude of villas, cafes, restaurants and hotels studding the hillside. Everything was bathed in sunshine, including the throng of people crowding the seafront. Somewhere far to her left, clinging to the cliff was Villa Giardino, their little slice of Capri, although they were abandoning it for a cruise along the Amalfi Coast. That thought didn’t sit easy with Stella; it was hard to comprehend the amount of money she’d paid for the three nights they wouldn’t be there, but she’d badly wanted to say yes to this adventure. How good would it be, though, to actually own a property on the island with a pool to cool off in and a terrace with a view to enjoy alongside a glass of limoncello or two. The dream could be reality, she knew. But there was much she needed to get sorted back home first. She also needed to see people’s reaction – and by people, she meant both of her exes, her friends and extended family – to a million-pound Lottery win before she revealed the whole truth.

‘Mum, have you seen inside?’ Chloe appeared on the deck, breathless with excitement.

‘Not yet. I’m quite happy admiring the view.’

The two Italian brothers were still somewhere on Capri but Luca and their friend Desi had greeted them. The crew were making preparations to leave and their bags had already been taken to their rooms. While Chloe and Amber had been shown around by Desi, Stella had been distracted by the view and the feeling of awe, excitement and anticipation being on a multi-million-pound yacht evoked. They were about to head along one of the most picturesque stretches of Italian coastline. The only thing spoiling it was the tug of guilt about Fern.

Stella wedged her sunglasses into her hair and followed Chloe inside. As they walked through the yacht’s interior, she took everything in, from the ridiculously soft carpet beneath her bare feet, to the walnut wood panelling and plush sofas in cream and gold fabric, piled with cushions. Everything was sparkling clean, polished to perfection and luxurious.

They took a spiral staircase down to one of the lower decks.

‘You could get lost in this place,’ Stella said as Chloe led her down a wide central corridor with doors off it.

Chloe stopped outside a door with a gleaming golden two engraved on it. ‘All the rooms are lush, but they’ve given you the nicest,’ she said, pushing open the door.

Stella poked her head in. Her first impression was of a first-class hotel. The bed was huge, the number of pillows and cushions stacked on it taking up half of it. It always made Stella laugh at this weird obsession to have so many cushions on the bed that you had to remove each night. As well as the walnut-panelled walls, the ceiling was a duck-egg blue, with an ornate carved pattern painted gold. It probably is actual gold leaf, Stella thought as she closed the door behind her and followed Chloe.

* * *

After exploring the yacht, Stella went back to her room and unpacked before heading to the deck at the stern. The other boats and yachts in the marina sparkled, bobbing gently on the turquoise water. Marina Grande was lined with colourful shuttered buildings in cream, wine red and saffron yellow. The hillside rose steeply behind, intercut with gleaming villas and luminous greenery.

They left Capri late in the afternoon. The marina blurred into a haze of colour the further away they sailed. Stella’s thoughts wandered back to Fern. How she was going to get on with a bunch of strangers, Stella had no idea, but it had been her choice.

She frowned at the untruth. She hadn’t really given her much choice, had she? It was either tag along with them or stay at the villa alone. The art retreat was a good compromise. She hoped Fern would see it like that. Either way, it was done. Worrying over something that was already in motion was futile.

With Giovanni, the older of the two brothers, meeting a client in Naples early the next morning, the plan was to moor up in a marina there for the night before heading back past Capri and along the Amalfi Coast the following day. The excitement she’d felt when first stepping onto the yacht was still there, tingling through to the tips of her toes. It was the stuff of dreams: a floating luxury hotel with lounge areas, an outdoor jacuzzi, luxurious en-suite bedrooms, a bar, a chef, a crew to look after their every whim and a bunch of young, hot Italians to get to know.

She’d splashed out on her shopping spree with Fern. She was wearing her custom-made Capri sandals and a strapless lemon-print layered sundress that just reached the bottom of her calves. She’d put her hair into two plaits and popped a sun hat on. New Prada sunglasses finished the look. She looked the part, even if she still felt a fraud living a millionaire’s lifestyle.

She joined the others on the lounge deck. A bottle of prosecco was chilling in a bucket of ice and everyone was sitting around the table. Not everyone, she realised; the crew were all busy, sailing the yacht, preparing drinks and dinner below deck, making sure everything was in order. It was quite something to be waited on like this.

She slid on to the seat next to Luca. He flashed her a smile. Amber was deep in conversation with Desi and Chloe was giggling with Vincenzo and Giovanni.

Luca poured her a glass of prosecco, handed it to her and knocked his glass against hers. ‘Salute!’

She smiled. ‘Cheers.’

‘All okay?’ he asked. ‘You seemed to want to be on your own?’

‘I’m fine, thank you. Just a bit concerned about leaving my friend behind.’

‘She is a grown woman, no?’

‘She is. Still… I feel bad leaving her on Capri while I’m here.’

The yacht was slicing through the deep blue of the Tyrrhenian Sea, the Italian coastline getting slowly clearer in the late-afternoon sun. Stella imagined Capri getting smaller and smaller behind them. She needed to get a grip and enjoy the experience, just as she hoped Fern would be doing in Anacapri.

She turned back to Luca. He was sipping his prosecco, one leg casually resting on the other. He looked effortlessly cool in capri shorts and a linen short-sleeved shirt, the top few buttons undone, allowing a glimpse of his smooth, toned chest. She had absolutely made the right decision.

He caught her looking at him and grinned.

‘So, tell me,’ Stella said, wanting to focus on something other than her guilt, ‘how you’re able to be on a yacht like this – you said it belongs to your uncle?’

‘Si. We do this together once a year. Our downtime, is that how you call it?’