An Italian Dream

FERN

Matteo talked a little longer about his life growing up in Tuscany with his grandparents. He shared how the combination of heart-breaking loss at such a young age and experiencing life as an only child, with his sister away, had made him grow up far too fast, missing out on a carefree childhood.

They finished off the Tuscan stew and sipped glasses of a full-bodied local red wine, while Fern shared her vastly different experience of growing up with her parents and a brother in England. Although she was nearer in age to her brother than Matteo was to his sister, they’d never been close. Their lives were different yet neither of them seemed truly happy.

Fern rested back in her chair. Matteo looked at ease next to her as he gazed out across the retreat’s shadowed grounds. Fern knew that Stefano and Teresa lived on the estate, yet it felt as though she and Matteo were the only people for miles. There was a peace that she’d never experienced before. Surrounded by countryside and without light pollution, there was something magical about being far from people and the stresses of a city. Even on holiday, especially when the kids were young, she’d never experienced anything remotely like this. When she and Paul went away, they always had to be close to civilisation and near a pub that had Sky Sports. Given the chance, she knew they’d both choose different things, and not just on holiday, but in life too. There was very little they had in common besides the girls and a handful of mutual friends.

‘You’re quiet,’ Matteo said, his voice deep and soft. The classical music that had been playing from somewhere inside had stopped, accentuating the silence of the night.

‘I can’t get over how peaceful it is. I don’t think I’ve been anywhere quite like it.’

‘It takes some getting used to if you only know city living. In Florence, we lived in a big apartment in a large historic building. We were surrounded by the history and beauty of Firenze, but there was all the noise of other people and traffic. I played out on our balcony but wanted open space like we have here, like I enjoyed during holidays with my grandparents. I didn’t appreciate that we had a view of the Duomo from nearly every window.’

‘Wow, that’s incredible. But then there’s lots that children don’t appreciate. I can understand how being able to run around somewhere like this has far more of an appeal to a seven-year-old than being confined to a balcony.’ Fern finished the last sip of her wine and placed the glass on the table. ‘Growing up, I never experienced anywhere that had this feeling of freedom.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We lived in a semi-detached house in the town I still live in with a tiny garden overlooked by the surrounding houses. One lot of grandparents lived in the same town, the other lot in the suburbs of Bristol. The only freedom we ever had was playing out in the street with other kids. I didn’t know any different, but once I had the girls, I wanted more for them. We have a bigger house than my parents did; we’re not as overlooked. We have a big garden too, but there’s not much difference and I’m certainly no happier than they were.’

‘You want more from life?’

Fern shrugged. ‘Who doesn’t?’

Matteo looked thoughtful but nodded.

‘Walk with me.’ He took her hand. It was firm, warm and comforting. She didn’t pull away.

Although the retreat was large, it felt safe, enclosed within the ancient stone walls. They walked together across the spongy grass, leaving behind the floodlit old monastery. Ahead, the sky seemed endless, with swirls of stars and wisps of clouds.

Fern was far from home, in a place where anything felt possible. She wished anything was. The happiness she’d experienced since being on Capri needed capturing and injecting into her life back home. But it wasn’t just because of the island… She glanced at Matteo beside her; he looked so content as they strolled across the magical place he called home. It would be a wrench to leave all this behind tomorrow, to have to say goodbye to him.

They reached an infinity pool that jutted out through a gap in the wall and looked over the valley. Shrouded by darkness, the view of the Tuscan countryside was hidden, apart from the glowing walls of a villa perched on a distant hill, the trees surrounding it dark silhouettes against the moonlit sky.

Matteo stopped on the wooden decking to the side of the pool. ‘This is my favourite spot in the whole world. It makes me think of my parents – my grandparents too – imagining them looking down on me from up there.’ He let go of her hand and gestured out into the night. ‘I haven’t talked to anyone about my family for a long time. At least not to someone who doesn’t know our history.’

Fern swallowed the lump in her throat. How difficult must it be for him to open up, yet she sensed his relief at unburdening a past filled with sadness. She took hold of his hand. ‘I’m glad you did.’

He turned away from the starlit sky back to her. ‘I had an incredibly happy time living here. There was heartache because I missed my parents; I missed my sister, but I was lucky with what I gained. I also realise I was luckier than most, having a lifestyle like this as a child and an adult.’

They gazed at each other. Matteo reached for her face, his palm smooth against her cheek. Then his hands found her waist and gently tugged her to him. Time slowed and her senses came alive. His hands were warm through the material of her top and he smelt delicious. The stillness of the night was only broken by the tu-whit and tu-whoo call of tawny owls. His eyes lingered and Fern allowed hers to do the same, drinking in his shadowed eyes that she knew were hazel flecked with green, his strong jawline dark with stubble, the tousled hair she wanted to run her hands through.

He broke their trance, leaning in just enough for their lips to touch. She found herself kissing him back. His arms encircled her, while she slid her hands across his broad shoulders. Their kiss deepened. She was intoxicated. And yet, mixed with the tingling sensation flooding through her was a chill of dismay that what they were doing was so very wrong. What she was doing…

She pulled away. ‘I can’t. I’m so sorry.’

This was the second time she’d refused him, yet this time she’d tasted his lips, had felt his hands on her skin. She ached for him and knew how close she was to being unable to stop. Because she didn’t want to stop. She wanted to keep kissing him; she wanted to smooth her hands across his bare chest and she wanted him to do the same to her. She wanted him to lead her back to the villa, to his room, to pull her down on the bed, to feel his weight on top of her, to feel loved…

‘No, I’m sorry.’ Matteo’s voice was startlingly loud. His hands rested on her chest, just at the top of the curve of her breasts, as if he was attempting to push her away but couldn’t.

She reached up and took his face in her hands. ‘Don’t be. I didn’t mean to lead you on.’

He rested his forehead against hers. ‘You didn’t. I invited you here knowing full well that nothing could happen, and I didn’t mean it to. Honestly, I just wanted to show you this place. I… I enjoy your company… I love your company.’

If Fern’s heart could have melted, it would have done. His words were harder to deal with than the kiss. She felt the same. She treasured spending time with him and the thought of not seeing him again threatened to overwhelm her.

‘Honestly, the last few days have been just magical,’ she said, her voice cracking. She had to look away otherwise she knew she would cry. She wanted to put words to how she was feeling, but she was unsure how. ‘The truth is, I’ve been unhappy for a long time…’

‘With your husband?’ Matteo said slowly.