An Italian Dream

‘I love it,’ Fern said, sweeping her arm around at the surrounding green. She looked back at him. ‘Do you do retreats throughout the year?’

‘From April to June here. Then during the summer and autumn in Tuscany.’

‘Wow, so you have a place in Tuscany as well?’

He nodded. ‘I run a retreat there too.’

‘Where do you spend the winter?’

‘Oh, a mix of places, a few weeks here, Christmas and New Year in Tuscany. It’s also when I travel or go to the UK for a bit too.’

‘You have family there?’

‘Yes, and friends.’ He sipped his wine thoughtfully. ‘Where in the UK are you from?’

‘A small town outside of Bristol. Nowhere very exciting.’

‘Is it where you’ve always wanted to live?’

‘That’s a good question and one I don’t know how to answer. Life has run away with me. It feels like I was eighteen not that long ago, then I had children, blinked and here I am at thirty-nine, not really sure how I got here. I’m beginning to wonder where all that time went.’

‘Raising a family is an honourable thing. You shouldn’t be sad about it.’

‘Oh, I’m not,’ she said with little conviction. She met his eyes. It was as if he’d seen right through her.

‘I didn’t mean to say the wrong thing.’

The way he was looking at her sent a shiver down her spine.

‘You didn’t.’ She was tempted to reach across the table and take his hand, but she stopped herself. ‘The tragic thing is you’re absolutely right; I shouldn’t be sad, but I am.’