An Italian Dream

Fern laughed, but it felt empty. She skewered a prawn and looked up at Edith. ‘They’re on a yacht with a bunch of young rich guys, something my twenty-one-year-old daughter is more than comfortable with, but I’m not.’

‘But you were okay with her going?’

‘God, that makes me sound like a terrible mother.’

‘I didn’t mean it like that. And she’s an adult able to make her own decisions. Would you have even been able to stop her?’

‘No, of course not. And if I’d even suggested she shouldn’t go, she’d have hated me even more.’

‘Oh dear, it sounds as if there’s an awful lot of tension between the two of you.’

Fern popped the prawn into her mouth. In a short space of time, Edith had managed to quickly understand her and Amber’s relationship.

‘So I’m assuming you’re married?’ Edith asked as she stuck her fork into a pasta tube.

Fern nodded and said ‘uh-huh’ through her mouthful of the firm and succulent prawn drenched with lemon and herbs.

‘I presume you didn’t go on the yacht because of him?’

‘It didn’t seem suitable, no. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have been thrilled with the idea.’

‘But if it wasn’t for him?’ Edith asked slowly.

‘Honestly, an art retreat has far more appeal. When I was younger, I’d have jumped at the chance of a yacht full of sexy Italians. I think I’m getting old.’

Edith nodded and chewed her mouthful of food. She kept her gaze on Fern as she sipped her wine. ‘I’ve been where you are.’

Fern frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Unhappy in a marriage.’

‘I’m not…’ She trailed off, suddenly feeling hot and flustered. She was unsure how to answer; unsure how she actually felt. Edith’s words had taken her by surprise, but they seemed filled with genuine concern, unlike the upsetting conversation she’d had the other day with Amber. Fern stabbed her fork into a mussel. ‘I’d rather we didn’t talk about this.’

‘I’m so sorry. I’m always too nosy. I apologise.’

Edith changed the subject and talked about her favourite places on Capri and mainland Italy while they finished their lunch. Afterwards, they walked back along the Via Migliera in companionable silence. Fern appreciated that Edith hadn’t tried to continue the uncomfortable conversation, but the sense of unease her words had evoked remained.