An Italian Dream

FERN

The ease with which Fern and Matteo had chatted and flirted together evaporated the moment he’d got out of the pool. After such a pleasant evening, Fern hated how they’d ended up in an awkward situation.

She remained submerged in the water until he returned. She stepped from the warmth into the night air, the light breeze fresh against her skin. Matteo handed her a fluffy white towel. His eyes briefly flicked downwards. In just a skimpy bra and knickers, she felt more exposed than if she’d been wearing a bikini, yet a longing swept through her. She wrapped the towel around her middle.

‘I’m sorry I overstepped.’ His eyes focused firmly on hers. ‘The last thing I wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. I’ve really enjoyed your company. No hard feelings?’

Fern shook her head. ‘None.’

How could she be cross with him? He’d done nothing wrong; if anything, it was her fault for allowing the flirting to happen. For encouraging it. For wanting it.

They dried off, scooped up their clothes and headed inside. She followed him upstairs, the silence between them growing like a storm cloud.

Matteo paused at the top of the stairs. Their eyes met. Fern had no idea what to say to ease the tension. Moonlight streamed through the window at the end of the landing, highlighting his cheekbones and shadowing his eyes, making it difficult for Fern to see his expression.

‘Sleep well.’ He leaned close and kissed her on each cheek.

Her skin tingled and her heart raced.

He walked along the hallway towards his room and she sighed. She retreated to hers, banishing the reckless thought of following him. To do what? Seduce him? The idea made her stifle a laugh at the absurdity that she’d be bold enough to do something like that. Yet her insides were in turmoil at the idea of even contemplating cheating on her husband.

She closed her bedroom door firmly behind her. Breathing deeply, Fern pulled the towel tighter. Her head was filled with Matteo. The undeniable truth was she’d desperately wanted to kiss him. But she couldn’t, she knew that. She had a lot of thinking to do. And decisions to make.

* * *

Perhaps Edith sensed that Fern didn’t want to talk about her evening with Matteo because she didn’t ask a thing the next morning. Matteo’s warm smile over breakfast made Fern melt inside, a feeling that was immediately replaced by the worries she’d gone to bed with.

She picked at the tomato and mozzarella topped bruschetta. The truth of it was, she’d rather have gone to bed with Matteo. Her cheeks flushed at the thought. She glanced around, afraid someone would notice, as if her thoughts were tattooed on her. Matteo met her eyes. She grew hotter.

‘It’s a completely free day today,’ Edith was saying. ‘You could continue with your painting here or you’re welcome to join me – I’m going to wander to Villa San Michele. It’s utterly gorgeous. You won’t be lost for inspiration there, I can assure you.’

Fern turned her attention to Edith. ‘Thank you, but I’ll probably stay here and do some painting. I need to speak to my friend too and find out when they’ll be back on Capri, but I’ll probably leave later this afternoon.’

‘I’m going to be really sad to see you go.’ Edith gently touched Fern’s arm. ‘Your company has cheered me up no end.’ She leaned closer. ‘And I’m not the only one whose spirits have been lifted. I’ll see you before you leave.’

* * *

After breakfast, Fern retreated with her sketchbook to the bench at the far reaches of the garden. It felt too much like hard work to continue with her painting of the lemon tree. Despite Matteo’s encouragement the day before, her confidence had deserted her. She wanted to be creative, but she felt like a fraud. She never had time back home. Although that wasn’t technically true; she did have the time, it just wasn’t a priority.

Holidays felt like an escape, but this place in particular was a fantasy, somewhere she felt protected from having to face reality. Although, so far, her time on Capri had thrown up more questions than had been answered.

She felt bad that she’d let Edith go off on her own, particularly when Villa San Michele was somewhere she wanted to explore, but she’d stayed at the villa, not because she wanted to be on her own, but because Matteo was here, that was the truth of it.

Fern breathed deeply, opened her sketchbook and stared at the blank page. What on earth was she doing? Flirting with the idea that something could happen between her and Matteo? She sketched the outline of a rose and stared at the tentative graphite marks on the paper. There’s nothing wrong with fantasising, she thought. Did she really believe that Paul never fantasised about other people? Was she certain that he’d never acted on those fantasies?

Tears blurred the pencil strokes. She was torturing herself, thinking about Matteo in a way she’d never thought of another man – beyond lusting after famous people and having a giggle with friends. This felt different. This was different. These were feelings for someone she’d got to know over the past few days, someone she was drawn to, someone who crept into her thoughts from the moment she woke to the moment she fell asleep.

Fern angrily swiped her eyes and grabbed her phone from the bench. She pressed Stella’s number.

‘Hey,’ Stella’s familiar voice said. ‘I was literally about to phone you.’

‘Are you on your way back?’

‘Um, no, not yet… Are you okay? You sound weird.’

Fern breathed deeply and focused on the leaves of the rose bush in front of her, shivering in the light breeze. ‘I’m fine. I just wanted to figure out what time I should leave and go back to the villa.’

‘Yeah, about that. It’s kinda why I needed to talk to you… Please say no if this isn’t okay… I know it’s a lot to ask. God, I feel so bad asking you this…’