An Italian Dream

STELLA

They berthed at the Marina Molo Luise in Naples. However much Stella would have liked to have explored the city that evening, there was no need when the yacht served as a floating restaurant and bar. The TV programme Below Deck was a guilty pleasure, and exactly what being on the yacht reminded her of, except she was getting a taste of the life of a wealthy yacht owner.

They sat around one of the large circular tables on the deck as dusk descended and the twinkling lights of the city cut through the darkness. Mount Vesuvius was shadowed against the mauve sky, which turned to a deep purple at twilight. Laughter filled the air; the four Italians were good company with many stories to tell, ones that left Stella and the girls in awe of their lifestyle. They’d all individually made their own fortune, but they’d had a leg-up, the two brothers in particular, coming from incredibly wealthy families. Stella felt as if she was living someone else’s life as a three-course meal, cooked by the yacht’s chef and served by the crew, was brought out. They drank copious amounts of wine and the linguine all’astice – linguine with tender lobster meat and a tomato and white wine sauce – was one of the best things Stella had ever tasted.

The relaxed party atmosphere continued until late and they spilled out onto the comfy seating around the jacuzzi on the top deck. Wine was swapped for cocktails and Stella had to pace herself. By one in the morning, her eyes had begun to glaze over and she decided to call it a night, leaving Chloe and Amber laughing and drinking with the Italians. She stumbled her way below deck and got lost in what seemed like a luxurious maze. One of the crew showed her the way to her room and left her with a nod and a ‘buona notte’. It briefly crossed her mind that the crew couldn’t go to bed until they all had. It really was like a floating and very expensive hotel.

She stood for a moment, swaying in the middle of her room as she got her bearings. The glow from outside gave her enough light to safely cross the room to the windows. The lights of Naples glittered all the way along the coast to Pompeii. Somewhere hidden by the darkness was Mount Vesuvius.

Stella closed the blinds and slipped into her silk pyjama shorts and top. All she wanted to do was fall into bed, but she managed to stagger to the en suite, have a wee, clean her teeth and remove her make-up.

The lighting in the en suite was wonderful, her make-up-free face looking surprisingly fresh for the time of night. Lightly tanned and not bad for a week away from forty. She switched off the light. She’d heard nothing from Fern and wondered how she was getting on. She thumbed a quick message.

Hope you’re okay and had a good first evening. S xx

It did feel strange thinking of Fern all on her own on Capri. As if they’d abandoned her. Despite the fun she’d had tonight, they should have said no to sailing on the yacht and all stayed together at Villa Giardino. That would have been the right thing to have done. Her own advice to Fern had been to put herself first for once, but even in her drunken state, Stella acknowledged that was exactly what she constantly did; being here when it was the last thing Fern wanted to do simply highlighted that. The guilt was momentary. Stella reasoned that worrying about things simply but a dampener on this adventure and soon enough she’d be back with Fern.

The bed was huge and feather-soft. She threw the cushions off and stretched out on the fresh silk sheets. She was pretty certain that Chloe would head to bed alone, but Amber… She hadn’t been coy about snogging Desi, and Stella had left them on the deck whispering together. Amber had flirted with them all, not seeming to care which Italian she’d end up with. Amber reminded Stella of Fern when she was younger. Perhaps that was partly the reason why Amber was trying her hardest to distance herself from her mum; she could see a ghost of herself in Fern, the life she could end up leading if she wasn’t careful. Not that Fern got pregnant on purpose; she and Paul hadn’t been careful enough, like herself and Gary a couple of years later. One night of passion changed both of their lives forever. She hoped that Amber was more sensible and smart when it came to spending the night with Desi. She hoped Chloe was too. They had an open relationship and Stella had laid it on thick about unprotected sex, its risks and outcomes. She reckoned she’d scared Chloe silly, but rather that than another teen pregnancy and her becoming a grandmother just as she turned forty. The idea of being a grandparent before she even felt middle-aged filled her with fear.

Maybe their girls were more worldly-wise than she and Fern had been. Or weren’t idiotically irresponsible. That was how her own parents had described Stella’s predicament of getting pregnant young with someone she wasn’t actually in love with.

Her mind wouldn’t switch off and let her sleep. Winning the Lottery had given her more to worry about than she could ever have imagined, from the decision of keeping her win private to who to tell and when to tell them. She wasn’t sure why she’d kept the full truth from everyone. It had been a relief telling Luca earlier, liberating even, knowing there was now someone she could be honest with. The enormity of the win and how drastically it would change her life worried her – she hoped it would be for the better, but she was aware that money didn’t necessarily make people happy. It felt simpler to keep some things to herself, to allow her the time to come to terms with it all.

It was also time to make things right with Fern. Turning forty would have been a pivotal moment in her life without a Lottery win, but the two combined… It was time Fern knew the truth about Paul. Stella couldn’t continue to let her live a lie, however much she’d end up hurting Fern in the process. The fact that Amber was aware of his infidelity only accentuated the need for someone to be open and truthful with her…

Stella curled up in a foetal position, willing sleep to put a stop to her anxiety. Her head throbbed. Her eyelids felt heavy. She let them close, longing to drift off into a dreamless sleep…

Buzz buzz buzz.

She groaned, but then was struck by a pang of worry about Jacob. She reached out and fumbled for her phone on the bedside table. She squinted at the bright light in the darkness of the bedroom. There was a message, but not from Rhod.

Paul.

A different kind of worry wrapped itself around her as she clicked on the message.

You awake? Can’t stop thinking about you.

She reread the message, the feeling that she’d tried hard to bury over the last few months tingling the length of her body. It suddenly felt hot in the dark, enclosed bedroom. She sent a quick reply.

Surely you meant to text Fern this?

Paul replied within seconds.

Nope. Meant for you. You know it was. I’m on my other phone.

Stella bit her lip.

I’ve told you before to stop messaging me.

I know you didn’t really mean it. And what’s the prob unless you’re with her now?

If you mean your wife, no I’m not. It’s late, everyone’s gone to bed.

She decided not to mention that while she was on a yacht in a marina in Naples, Fern was still on Capri on her own. She hated that he’d had the audacity to message her and cursed herself for the fluttering in the pit of her stomach because he’d been thinking about her. She was certain that he was drunk; he’d probably been out at the pub with mates and just got home to an empty house. He must be alone if he was messaging her. With Fern away for two weeks, she imagined he would jump at the opportunity to bring a woman back. She wasn’t jealous; she mostly wished that he would leave her alone, but there was still a tiny part of her that was glad of the attention, despite guilt twisting her insides. So much guilt. She knew she needed to deal with this and make things right with Fern. Not that it would ever be right once the truth was out. She didn’t want to hurt her, but Paul hadn’t just cheated with her; there were other women too. If she was in Fern’s position, she’d want to know what was really going on. Maybe then Fern would have the motivation to move on and make a better life for herself, even if that meant an end to their friendship.

She glanced at her phone. He hadn’t sent another message. Maybe he was actually listening for once and had realised how wrong it was to message her when she was on holiday with his wife. Her best friend.

Stella put the phone back on the bedside table and rolled over, desperately wanting to get to sleep but uncertain how she now could.

Her mobile buzzed again.

She sighed but immediately grabbed it.

Another message from Paul. She clicked on it.

In bed are you?;-) So am I. As you can see, I’m thinking about you.

She stared at the photo he’d sent. Perspiration slid between her breasts. Her heart thumped. Everything about this was so very wrong, but as her heart battered her chest and her hand slipped beneath her silky pyjama shorts, she couldn’t help but acknowledge the rush of excitement, despite the wrongness of it all.