FERN
In many ways, Fern felt ridiculous giving up the opportunity of living it up on a luxury yacht. Maybe she really was too sensible. She was beginning to see in herself what Stella and Amber saw and she wasn’t sure she liked the person she’d become. Not that the qualities she possessed should be something to be ashamed of. There was nothing wrong with putting other people first, seeing to their needs, being motherly, considerate and thoughtful, but she got Stella’s point about it being at her own expense. What made her sad was that she seemed to have lost part of herself over the years: her confidence and happy-go-lucky side. She used to always be willing to say yes to things. She could still have fun, but maybe she was craving something different to the kind of fun Stella was after.
In the end, she’d taken Stella’s advice, knowing that spending time at an art retreat rather than on a multi-millionaire’s yacht, was actually what she wanted to do. Perhaps it would be a way of coming to terms with who she was now rather than longing for the person she’d been in the past.
The following morning, she texted Edith to ask if the offer of taking her friend’s place at the retreat for a couple of days was still on. She received a message back saying she’d be delighted for Fern to join her. Edith sent her further details about the retreat and after a couple of relaxing days sunning themselves around the villa pool and eating out together in Capri town, the four of them packed their bags ready for their separate adventures.
Fern was treating herself, even if it didn’t seem that way to the others. And by the others she meant Amber. Although it was clear that Amber was rather pleased her mum would be somewhere else. Despite the sunshine and the beauty of their surroundings, the tension between them had rumbled on with Amber continuing to ignore Fern, and Fern didn’t have the desire to question her daughter again. Goodness knew what Amber was going to get up to on a yacht full of Italians.
Quit worrying about her, Fern thought. She’d hoped that this holiday would bring them closer together, but so far, it seemed to have only driven them apart. Perhaps Stella would be able to knock some sense into her while she was away.
Fern might not have known Edith beyond one conversation on the ferry over, but she was looking forward to getting to know her and immersing herself in creativity for a couple of days. For once, she was doing something completely for herself. She told herself it wasn’t selfish to take time out to focus on her own needs for a change. Taking care of everyone else had been her role for the last twenty years. This was long overdue.
* * *
Fern’s palazzo trousers swished against her legs as she walked up the stone steps that led to Il Ritiro d’Arte. It was a grand entrance with stone pillars spaced out along the steps, with an occasional stone lion or owl perched on the edge. Terracotta pots alternated with the stone creatures and splashes of tangerine and coral flowers mixed with glossy bottle-green leaves. Vines curled around the pillars and the leaves of a wisteria cascaded from above – it must have looked even more incredible earlier in the spring when the flowers were out.
Edith was waiting at the top of the steps in front of the large double wooden doors. The whole place oozed a grandness with history and beauty in every direction.
Edith greeted Fern like an old friend, with a kiss on each cheek. ‘When in Rome…’ she said, laughing. ‘Welcome to Il Ritiro d’Arte, or as I simply call it, the retreat.’
She looked like an artist, with a colourful headscarf keeping her wayward hair off her face. She was wearing loose linen trousers with a long floaty tunic over the top. All she needed was a paintbrush in her hand.
‘It’s incredible,’ Fern said, following her inside. ‘I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this… I have no words.’
‘You haven’t seen anything yet.’ She swept her hand around the entrance hall.
Water trickled into a basin from the mouths of stone gargoyles on the far wall. The floor was tiled in a similar style to the beautiful tiles in Villa Giardino. Fern’s immediate impression was of cool stone walls, a soft light filtering in from beautiful arched windows and leafy plants in large pots. Open doors led off to other parts of the villa and a stone staircase went invitingly up to the first floor.
‘Matteo, the owner and our delightful host,’ Edith said with a glint in her eye, ‘will be back in an hour or two, otherwise he’d have been here to greet you, but I am more than happy to show you around.’
‘Are you certain he doesn’t mind me staying?’
‘Of course not! He’s the most generous man – he’s been trying to refund me, but I’m having none of it; it’s not his fault the room became available. We’re both glad you’re here for a couple of days.’
Fern followed her into a spacious living area where the patterned floor continued. A fresh breeze billowed through open patio doors and light and colour flooded in through the large windows that overlooked the Mediterranean garden.
‘Matteo likes having the place filled with people. The more, the merrier is his motto – well, I don’t know if it actually is, but he certainly comes across as though he loves having people to stay. It’s his livelihood after all.’
Fern could only imagine what it would feel like to not only live in a place like this but to call it home. As Edith showed her around, she realised how sprawling it was, a place she imagined would feel far too big and grand for just one person. They crossed another wide hallway to reach an elegant dining room with a long marble-topped table surrounded by ten chairs, the backdrop an ancient-looking fireplace. They returned to the hallway and walked to the end and into an orangery. Light flooded through the glass roof. Velvet armchairs and a sofa defined the space, and the view through large windows to the tree-filled garden was simply magical.
‘Are you inspired yet?’ Edith said, motioning around them.
‘I think it will be hard not to be.’ The last time Fern had sketched anything was during her short-lived graphic design degree. It wasn’t as if she’d never thought about pursing her love of art over the years – she’d considered doing a pottery course when the twins had started nursery but what little time she had, had been spent helping Paul build the business. But now… The sun flooded through the glass and a glorious warmth enveloped her, giving her the feeling that anything was possible.
‘The first time I came here,’ Edith said with a lightness to her voice, ‘this place utterly stole my heart. Italy already had; I’ve been travelling here for years – I think I already told you about my desire to live out here, but yes, this place is wonderous.’
Edith led Fern back across the villa to the stairs and up to a long landing with doors off it.
‘You’re in the room I had the first time I was here. The Garden Room. It has the most stunning vista through the window from the bed… well, you’ll see.’
Edith pushed open the door of the room at the end of the landing and Fern followed her in.
‘Maya would have loved it.’ Edith looked wistfully around and gave a resigned shrug. ‘I’ll leave you to it. If you want company this afternoon, you’ll find me painting in either the orangery or out in the garden.’
‘Thank you, Edith.’ Fern smiled at her as she retreated from the room.
A wrought-iron four-poster bed took centre stage in a room that exuded history and luxury. The wooden window surround was carved with leaf and flower patterns and painted olive green, but Fern’s eye was drawn past it to the view of the garden.