An Italian Dream

FERN

Fern got the distinct impression that Stella had left out a lot of what they’d been getting up to on the yacht. Fern acknowledged that there was much she hadn’t told her either. It had been hard to put into words how she felt about being here, how she felt about a lot of things. She bit her lip and stared past the herbs on her balcony wall to the sun retreating beyond the shadowed tree branches.

After spending the day in the garden immersed in her painting, Fern had come up to her room to get changed for dinner. She’d stolen a moment to herself, soaking up the beauty of the evening, the sky beyond the trees flooded with ochre and dusky pink tones. She imagined painting the sunset and smiled. She’d made a start on the lemon tree but wasn’t sure she liked it. Edith had pointed out that it was merely a start and was too early to judge, but Matteo had given her gentle encouragement whenever he’d come over, which she’d noticed he did often. Perhaps it was because she was the newest one there and the most inexperienced. Edith’s knowing smile had suggested otherwise.

Dinner was a simple dish of linguine and prawns, which they ate on the terrace together. Perhaps because it was a relaxed Sunday, guests drifted away early to their rooms. Fern was happy to sit and chat with Edith and Matteo, the only ones left once the empty dessert plates had been cleared away. They talked about the painting that had been accomplished that day and Edith’s plans for the week. Fern gleaned that Mondays and Tuesdays at the retreat were free time for guests to do their own thing. A pang of sadness struck Fern that it was her last night and tomorrow afternoon she’d be joining the others back at their villa.

Edith suddenly stood and smiled at them in the honeyed light of the candlelit terrace. ‘It’s getting late and I need an early night. Catch up on my beauty sleep.’ She winked. ‘You youngsters should go out and enjoy yourselves. Why not take Fern to that cocktail bar you were telling us about, Matteo?’

Edith was as unsubtle as a sledgehammer. Secretly, Fern loved her for it. Edith gave them a wave and made her way to the villa. Fern watched her go. She hoped they’d stay in touch. Despite the age difference, Edith had quickly become a friend and someone who Fern felt she could talk to, someone who offered sound advice and helpfully saw things from a different perspective.

‘Edith is one of my favourite guests,’ Matteo said, filling the quiet of the terrace. ‘I hope she eventually finds happiness.’

Fern glanced at him. ‘She’s told you about her friend?’

‘I had it figured out when she booked the rooms, and from things she’s said in the past. She was so sad when she arrived. I couldn’t ignore that and I put two and two together.’ He drained his glass of wine and met her eyes. ‘How do you fancy going for a cocktail?’

Fern smiled. It was her last night and she wanted to make the most of every moment. She couldn’t bear the thought of returning to normal life. ‘I’d love to.’

* * *

Fern had yet to explore Anacapri, but what she glimpsed as they walked along a narrow tree-lined road with half-hidden whitewashed villas made her love it even more than Capri town. There was an overwhelming sense of peace in the dusky evening light.

The cocktail bar was housed in a hotel. The walls and sofas were white and pillars separated the seating areas, yet it was far from stark. Candlelight flickered from within large Moroccan floor lamps, while glowing wall lights and large pieces of artwork covered the walls. The space behind the bar was filled with colourful bottles and on their way to an empty seating area, Fern glimpsed delicious-looking cocktails.

Fern sank into the padded white sofa, with Matteo next to her. His arm rested along the back of the sofa, not quite touching but close enough to make her heart pound. On their walk to the bar, they’d chatted easily, but somehow it felt very different to be out with him away from the retreat. She’d spent plenty of time alone with him over the past couple of days, so why should this be any different? She knew why. The flickering candlelight, the romantic setting and it being just the two of them… It seemed like a date. Guilt crawled through her and questions filled her head: what would Amber make of this? What would Stella say? What on earth would Paul think?

The thought that she should try to phone Paul again crossed her mind, but she didn’t want to. It had been an effort the last time they’d talked and he’d left her feeling… What had she felt besides annoyance and a desire to get off the phone? Would Paul even be thinking about her, wondering what she was up to? She doubted it. Anxiety snaked through her that being out alone with Matteo was wrong. Yet she had no desire to be anywhere else.

Their cocktails arrived, one topped with lemon and a maraschino cherry, the other with an orange twist. Matteo picked them up and handed Fern her Amaretto Sour.

‘What had you planned to do with your life, before you got pregnant?’ Matteo’s question took her by surprise. They’d briefly chatted about what Fern did back home, and she hadn’t tried to hide her disappointment about her lack of career and the way her life had turned out.

‘That’s a very good question.’ She sipped her cocktail, enjoying the smooth sweetness with a refreshing kick of lemon. ‘I’m not even sure that back then I knew what I wanted to do. I don’t think I thought further than the next night out. Actually, that’s a lie. I had a place at university to do graphic design – art was the one thing I was decent at and put any effort into.’

‘You had to give that up?’

‘Yeah, I couldn’t cope. I went for the first few weeks but was miserable. I tried to hide my pregnancy but I suffered with morning sickness that lasted most of the day. I struggled to make friends because I didn’t want to go out and I didn’t focus on the course either. There was some support, but it was an awful time. I have no idea what I would have done with my life if things had been different.’

‘What’s in the past is in the past. Whatever you would have done, you didn’t, so perhaps you need to focus on what you’d like to do now.’ He cupped his hand around his glass of Negroni and lifted it to his lips. ‘What are you good at?’

‘I’m good with people. I enjoy working with the general public, which isn’t always easy, but I like that interaction. If people leave happy then I feel like I’ve done a good job.’

‘You said you work in a shop?’

Fern nodded. There was no derogatory tone, just an honest question. ‘Yeah, I work in a homewares store now, but I used to work in a clothes shop and when the kids were little in a supermarket.’

‘And have those jobs made you happy?’

‘No, but I haven’t hated them – there are elements I like. I don’t work because we need the money; I work so I have a focus and a reason to get out of the house. In all honesty, I’d like to run my own business, making people happy in some way, like you do. Not that I’d want to run an art retreat.’ She laughed. ‘But I love what you do here – looking after people and making their experience such a happy one. My mum used to work as a cleaner in a big hotel. It was hard work and nothing that I wanted to do, but I liked how she was a part of something that she could be proud of. She wanted more for me than she had and then I got pregnant. My parents most definitely believed I’d ruined my life.’

‘They believed you made a mistake?’ he asked gently.

‘I knew I’d made a mistake. They were just incredibly disappointed. Our relationship has been strained ever since.’

Matteo looked unblinking at Fern for a moment, his eyes roving across her face. ‘What you do in life is never a mistake or wasted even if it was unplanned,’ he said seriously. ‘It’s what we do next that’s important. The decisions we make have the potential of changing our life. You have that option. I was in a sham of a marriage for a time, neither of us realising how unhappy both of us were because we didn’t talk to each other.’

This was the first time Matteo had brought this up and she was now beginning to see in him some of the sadness that Edith had alluded to. ‘Did you marry with good intentions?’