An Italian Dream

‘A once-in-a-lifetime holiday. Why not?’ She kept forgetting that Stella’s Lottery win wasn’t common knowledge. Although she understood her reasons, it still amazed her that Stella was able to keep the news secret.

‘About the shirt…’

‘I have no idea, Paul. Anything that was in the laundry basket has been washed, ironed and put away. If you left it somewhere else, then you’ll just need to look around.’

There was silence. He was probably looking for it and couldn’t manage to hold a conversation at the same time. She hated the way he often made her feel like this – angry and unappreciated.

‘What’s the meeting for?’ she asked.

‘A possible new client with plans for new builds and existing renovations that could potentially keep us busy for the next five years.’

‘That sounds great.’ Fern sat on the end of the bed and gazed through the French doors at the gentle evening light filtering through the leaves. ‘If you can’t find that shirt, then the dark grey or the burgundy one you wore for Gary and Kim’s wedding are both smart. You look good in them.’

‘Yeah, thanks. I’ll see what I can find.’ There was rustling in the background. ‘One other thing – when are you back?’

Fern sighed again. ‘On the thirtieth. I marked it on the kitchen calendar. Why?’

‘Dave’s finally decided on his stag do. The first weekend in June in Newquay.’

‘Are you asking or telling me you’re going?’ She knew which one it was.

‘I’ve already said I’m going, just didn’t know if you’d still be away or not.’

‘We’re here for two weeks, not three, so I’ll be back. If there’s anything else going on, I’ll have marked it on the calendar.’ The one you don’t bother looking at, she thought.

‘Ah, bugger. I’ve found it.’

‘The shirt?’

‘Yeah, under a pile of stuff on the chair. Arse. I’ll have to wear one of the other ones instead.’

Yes, cos you couldn’t possibly wash, dry and iron it yourself, Fern thought with bitterness as they said goodbye. It crossed her mind that Stella might have had a point – perhaps she did mother him…