An Italian Dream

FERN

Fern met Matteo in the living room early that evening. The lightest of breezes whispered through the patio doors that opened onto the terrace. Chiffon curtains fluttered and shafts of golden sunlight sent blocks of warmth across the patterned tiles.

Fern’s palazzo trousers, light linen top and new Capri sandals felt appropriate for the setting. Edith had come across as relaxed yet stylish, with a creative vibe emanating from her. Fern longed to recapture some of the creative spirit she’d once possessed.

Matteo was sitting on one of four sofas that surrounded a large glass coffee table. He smiled warmly as she sat down on the end of the sofa next to him and he handed her a glass filled with a summery yellow liquid.

‘Hands down, this is my guest’s favourite drink.’ He knocked his glass against hers.

She took a sip, the smooth, refreshing tingle of citrus hitting her tastebuds. ‘Wow, what’s in it?’

‘Limoncello, of course, a squeeze of citrus from the lemons in the garden, vodka and soda. For me, it’s the taste of summer on the island.’

She swigged another mouthful and sank back into the deep velvet sofa. ‘Thank you, it’s delicious. And, again, I can’t thank you enough for being okay with me staying.’

‘It’s my pleasure, and far better than the room remaining empty. What I love about the retreat is getting to know lots of different people from all walks of life. Different backgrounds and nationalities. I like the place being full. I also feel incredibly sorry for dear Edith with her friend being poorly. I know she was torn coming here on her own. I was quite prepared to refund her, but she refused. You being here for even a short time has helped balance things out in a positive way.’

‘Well, I’m glad.’

‘Edith said you’re on holiday with your friend?’

Fern clasped her hands around the chilled limoncello cocktail. ‘Yes, with my friend, plus our daughters.’

Matteo frowned. ‘But you were able to come here on your own?’

Realising what he was getting at, Fern laughed. ‘My daughter’s twenty-one. She certainly doesn’t need me any longer and I get the feeling she’s quite happy to not have me tagging along.’

‘You don’t look old enough to have a grown-up daughter.’

‘I had her young – two of them in fact; she’s a twin. So double trouble.’

Matteo smiled but didn’t comment further. Part of her liked how people were surprised to discover she was a mother of two twenty-one-year-olds, yet it always reaffirmed just how young and naive she’d been.

‘I like to get to know each of my guests,’ Matteo said, moving the conversation on. ‘Although people often come here on their own, I don’t want anyone to feel alone, so I encourage us all to eat dinner together, but of course I never insist if someone prefers the time to themselves. Il Ritiro d’Arte has a communal spirit. If I get to know you a little better, then it helps me to help you achieve what you wish from your time here.’ He must have seen the worried look on her face because he continued, ‘Although you don’t have to know what you want to do. Think of this place as a blank canvas that you can experiment with.’

‘I think that’s what worries me. I haven’t a clue where to start.’

‘Are you creative?’

‘No… well, not any longer.’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘I was very much so when I was younger. I’ve sort of lost my creativity along the way.’

‘But you’d like to re-engage with that side of yourself?’

‘Yes, I’d love to.’ She was certain of that, knowing the appeal an art retreat had over a cruise along the Amalfi Coast. Most people would think she was crazy to prefer this, but Il Ritiro d’Arte had proved to be no ordinary place, it was magical.

‘Have you ever been on an art retreat?’

‘No, never. I’m not sure I’d have even thought about going on one if I hadn’t met Edith and things hadn’t worked out the way they did.’

‘We encourage all things creative, whether you want to draw, paint or write. It’s a place to immerse yourself in your passions.’

Fern sipped her cocktail and allowed herself to relax. She acknowledged the excitement tingling through her at the idea of having the chance and time to rediscover long-lost creativity.

‘Are you an artist?’ she asked.

‘I am, although not professionally. Art is in my blood, but over the years I’ve discovered that my passion is helping other people to be creative. I dabble, I teach, I enable, that’s what I do. I’ve created places that enrich both my life and other people’s. At heart, that’s my true passion.’

‘It’s a wonderful thing.’