An Italian Dream

‘From the age of seven, yes. Before then, I lived with my family in Florence. My parents were art collectors and had numerous galleries in London and Italy, the main ones in Rome and Florence. My mamma was a renowned artist. I got my passion for art from them, although my talent isn’t a patch on my mamma’s.’

Even in the subtle light, she could see tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. She wanted to reach across the table and hold him.

‘What happened, Matteo?’

Her voice sounded tentative in the stillness of the evening. Drawn to the light and unable to escape, a moth batted against the glass lamp. The sky was inky black and, beyond the retreat, the dark was endless, only broken by the moon half hidden by a patch of cloud. The stars speckled the sky as if silver glitter had been thrown across it. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted. One of the horses in the stables nickered in reply.

Perhaps Matteo didn’t want to talk about the past. It was obvious to Fern that there was hidden heartache.

He rested his elbows on the table and clasped his hands. ‘My parents died in a car crash when I was seven.’

He said it so matter-of-factly that Fern didn’t know how to respond, so she waited, certain that emotions were fighting within him despite his assured tone.

‘They’d been celebrating their wedding anniversary in Rome when a car sideswiped them.’ He drew in a long breath. ‘My sister and I were with our grandparents at home in Florence. Everything changed in a few seconds.’

‘I am so sorry.’

‘It was a long time ago; most of my life has been without them, yet their influence continues to weave itself around me. I only have a few true memories of them, everything else is gleaned from photographs and what my grandparents and sister told me.’

‘I didn’t realise you have a sister.’

‘She’s ten years older, that’s why I’ve relied so much on her memories of our parents. She was nearly an adult when the accident happened, and while I came here to live with our grandparents, she went off to university in London and only came back in the summer. The age gap was too big for us to have ever been close, and when I needed her, she left. Not that I blame her. Getting on with her life was the only way she knew how to cope. Our parents would have been proud of her for moving forward and making a success of herself.’

‘Where is she now?’

‘In Paris with her family – her husband and my niece and nephew. She studied fashion design in London and worked as a model for a while. She caught the attention of a property developer at a London show and she’s been with him ever since. He’s quite a bit older, so my grandparents had concerns that she was with him because she craved a father figure in her life, but they’ve stood the test of time.’

‘Do you see them often?’

‘I see them more than I used to. Gianna wasn’t around much while I was growing up. It was too hard for her to be in Italy and all the memories it held without our parents. As well as the art galleries, our parents had property in Rome and Florence. Gianna didn’t want our Florence apartment, so I inherited it, while she sold the Rome apartment. We weren’t left wanting for anything financially and our grandparents, with this place’ – he swept his hands around them – ‘were wealthy too.’

‘So was the villa on Capri theirs as well?’

Matteo shook his head. ‘No, I bought it after I sold the Florence apartment. It had been rented out when I was growing up, but I had no intention of ever living there again. Just the thought of it and the memories it held filled me with sadness. I didn’t want to be reminded about that time. I went on holiday with a girlfriend to Capri and spotted the villa. It was run-down, the garden overgrown. The whole place needed renovating but there was something about it. I put in an offer before we left the island. The relationship fizzled out, and I moved to Capri not long after. I wanted somewhere that was mine, somewhere that didn’t constantly remind me of the past.’

‘Like this place?’

‘This place is filled with happy memories though – I have to hold on to the thought that I was lucky to have wonderful grandparents. I wasn’t sad here. I loved it far more than I loved living in a city. Don’t get me wrong, Florence is wonderful, but I found peace and happiness here after my whole world collapsed.’