An Italian Dream

2

FERN

Stella dropped Fern back home at 10 p.m. on the Sunday evening with a hug and the promise of speaking soon. The house was dark, with only the hallway light on a timer.

Fern waved and closed the door behind her. It had been exhausting being happy for Stella, and although she was truly overjoyed for her friend, Stella’s win and excitement accentuated her own jealousy. Fern knew she’d always been a smidge jealous of her best friend. She’d always questioned that feeling. She had a comfortable life. Her husband Paul had his own successful construction business and she didn’t have to work, she just chose to, to do something for herself that gave her a small income. Unlike Stella, she didn’t have a career, just a handful of part-time jobs that she’d flitted between over the years. She now worked as a sales assistant in a home furnishing shop. She’d never been driven by money or wanted to pursue a career like Stella had, working her way up from a marketing assistant to a global strategist – to be honest, she wasn’t actually sure what Stella’s job even entailed. They were worlds apart in that respect. Fern had always muddled along, trying to be happy with her lot.

Fern silently repeated, I am happy with my lot.

She left her bag in the hallway and poked her head into the living room, just in case Paul had fallen asleep on the sofa, but it was empty, the TV off, the blinds still open.

The house was too quiet without the girls. Even after two years, she still hadn’t got used to it. Straight after her A-levels, Ruby had gone to the University of Birmingham to do nursing. She was the studious one, while Amber had travelled around Asia and Australia before starting a business with marketing degree in London. Whereas Ruby would come home as often as possible, Amber tended not to come back in the holidays if she could help it. Fern missed them both, but she certainly missed the easy-going relationship she’d once had with Amber. The whole of Fern’s adult life had revolved around them, so it still felt strange to only have herself and Paul to think about, although he was out so much of the time, it was just her rattling around in the detached house they’d worked hard for, building Paul’s business from scratch.

Stella would have gone home to an empty house too, although normally Jacob would be there. He’d still be at his dad’s and Stella was going to pick him up tomorrow after school. At least she didn’t have a completely empty house. She had a good few years to go before Jacob fled the nest.

A pang of jealousy hit once more as her thoughts returned to Stella. Surely it was only natural to feel envious of her best friend’s good fortune? Their friendship had survived into adulthood and they’d supported each other as young mums. Even though Paul had stood by Fern when she’d got pregnant with Amber and Ruby at eighteen, it was Stella who she’d relied on for emotional support as they navigated their way through parenthood. Stella was the one person she trusted to always be there for her. She was over the moon about her win. The jealousy was a perfectly normal response and she would not begrudge Stella this stroke of good luck. She absolutely deserved it.

Fern switched on the kitchen light. Her heart sank. She’d only been away since yesterday morning yet dirty plates, bowls and mugs were piled next to the sink. A loaf of bread was left on the side, crumbs scattered across the worktop. A pan with congealed fat was on the hob. The smell of cold bacon hung in the air. She wrinkled her nose and opened the dishwasher. Empty, as she’d left it.

She messaged Paul.

Home safely. Thanks so much for leaving all the washing up…

He probably wouldn’t even check his phone if he was out with his mates. He probably wouldn’t get her sarcasm either. She assumed he was at the pub. He was usually out somewhere – at football or in the gym. She knew she should leave the mess, but she also knew he wouldn’t do it when he got home and he’d be straight out to work first thing in the morning, so she’d end up doing it anyway. She pulled on rubber gloves. She hated coming down to a messy kitchen.

Fern stacked the dishwasher and started to wash up what was left. She gazed out of the window into the garden. The kitchen only pooled enough light for her to just make out the patio. It had been a grey, miserable January day, but that hadn’t mattered in the warmth of the spa. It had felt like a dream, having sweet-smelling oil worked into her aching shoulders and swimming in the warm water of the outdoor pool as she’d floated on her back, gazing up at the lead-grey sky. It had been a real treat and something that Fern wouldn’t normally do because she’d either have to save up for it or ask Paul to pay. She could only dream of having the kind of financial freedom that Stella now had. But it wasn’t just financial freedom that was playing on her mind, it was the idea of any kind of freedom.

A familiar tightening in her chest brought her back to the present; back to the tedium of real life. She breathed long and deep, pulled off the rubber gloves and dried the few things on the draining board.

If Stella was sensible with the money, she wouldn’t need to work again. The possibilities were endless, although a minefield too with two exes, two sets of ex in-laws, not to mention extended family and friends to consider. Fern wasn’t even sure if she’d want to win that amount of money and she didn’t have the complicated love life that Stella had. After all, she’d been with Paul since they were seventeen, more than two decades of her life.

The front door slammed. Keys crashed to the floor. Paul swore. Without even seeing him, she could tell he was drunk.

‘Fern, babe?’

‘In the kitchen!’ She sighed and finished wiping over the surface.

‘Didn’t think you’d still be up.’ He sidled behind and slid his arms around her. He smelt of lager and cigarettes.

‘Well, hello to you too.’ She wriggled away from him. The last thing she wanted was to start an argument, so she decided not to point out that she’d cleaned up his mess, but she wasn’t in the mood for his drunken antics. ‘I was just about to go to bed. Do you want a coffee to sober yourself up?’

‘Nah, I’m fine.’

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. He’d be the one to suffer in the morning. He looked as if he was struggling to keep his eyes open and he had at least two days’ worth of stubble grazing his jaw. He’d probably been out the night before too. Despite his tiredness, he flashed her a cheeky grin. Even after twenty years, he’d managed to keep his laddish good looks.

‘You had a good night then?’ she asked, softening a little.

‘Just a quiet one with Gaz and Martin.’ He poured himself a glass of water. ‘You go; I’ll be up in a minute.’

‘Remember to turn off the light.’ She left the kitchen, collected her overnight bag from the hallway and went upstairs.

With the girls away, their four-bedroomed house felt too big. Empty-nest syndrome was a strange old thing. She felt as if she was floundering with no real purpose, although it was evident from tonight that she still had a man-child to look after. Apart from the briefest of spells after turning eighteen, she’d never known a carefree adulthood and now she did have the time to focus on herself and what she wanted to do, she was at a complete and utter loss.

She lived for the girls, but the girls didn’t need her any more. They were grown women, with their own hopes and dreams. She was close to Ruby and they’d message each other and chat often, but it was a different story with Amber, who only seemed to communicate with her when she needed something.

Fern sighed. With no holiday planned yet with Paul, a luxury holiday with Stella to celebrate their fortieth birthdays would be something to really look forward to, as well as time with Amber and Ruby. Perhaps it would be a way to reconnect with Amber and understand why their relationship had become so strained. It wasn’t just with her; it was Paul too. Amber had been just as sullen and distant with him over the past eighteen months or so and Fern had no idea what they’d done to upset her.

She undressed and slipped into her pyjamas. Her skin still felt smooth and soothed after the spa weekend. She unpacked her washbag and went into the en suite. She’d treated herself to an expensive cleanser and used it to remove what little make-up she had on.