An Italian Dream

Stella smiled and perched on the stool on the other side of the table. Fern put the two lasagnes in the oven, then chose a large ripe tomato and started slicing it.

‘How are the renovations coming on?’ Fern asked.

‘Let’s just say I’ll be glad when they’re done and I can have the house to myself.’

‘No regrets though?’

‘About the house? No, none.’

The changes in Stella’s life were less drastic than the ones in Fern’s. After eventually revealing the full truth of her Lottery win to friends and family, she used some of the money to buy a large, detached house in the countryside within commuting distance of Jacob’s school and her job in Bristol, although she’d handed her notice in over a year ago to set up her own interior design business. She had a holiday home too and somehow, slowly and sensibly, had successfully navigated the minefield of becoming rich overnight.

‘Do you remember when I promised you that our forties would be the best decade of our lives?’ Stella said, watching Fern as she sliced another tomato.

‘Yeah, on the spa weekend when you told me about your Lottery win; I didn’t believe you at the time.’

‘Do you believe me now?’

Fern layered the slices of tomato with mozzarella in a bowl. ‘It turns out you were absolutely right.’ She drizzled over olive oil and looked at Stella. ‘But are you happy?’

Stella folded her hands on the table. ‘I’m getting there. I’m happy because Chloe and Jacob are. Jacob’s doing well at school and is pursuing his love of football. Chloe’s still finding her feet, but there’s plenty of time for her to figure out what she wants to do. She’s talked about going travelling with a friend. I think it will do her good. Jacob wants to spend a chunk of the summer with his dad, so I might go out to the villa in Spain.’

Fern nodded and put a large handful of rocket into a wooden bowl. Stella was more subdued than she used to be. Fern wasn’t sure if it was because she’d mellowed with age. Despite the massive changes in her life, there was an underlying sadness. As far as Fern knew, she was single. She didn’t really know if she still hooked up with random men or not – Luca was occasionally mentioned, but it seemed to be only a casual, occasional thing, and she certainly hadn’t committed to a long-term relationship with anyone. Fern hoped that one day she would meet someone, but only if he made her happy.

‘Have you seen Paul?’ Fern wiped her hands on a cloth and met Stella’s eyes. It didn’t hurt like it used to, talking to Stella about him. He was out of her life and she was so much better off; his behaviour and Stella’s betrayal had been the catalyst for Fern’s life changing for the better. Despite all the hurt and upset, in a weird way she was grateful.

‘No, I haven’t. The girls are on speaking terms with him though?’

‘Yeah, they’ve all found a way to move on.’ Just like I have, Fern thought.

* * *

At dusk, Matteo arrived with a box of wine and was greeted with a cheer. He drew Fern into his arms and kissed her. Her longing for him hadn’t diminished in the nearly four years since they’d first met; her feelings had simply grown. He was welcomed warmly, first by Amber and Ruby who adored him and couldn’t be happier he was with Fern, and then by Edith who gave him the biggest hug and ushered him into the garden.

A long wooden table, made from reclaimed and restored scaffolding planks, took pride of place on the terrace at the back of the farmhouse. The outside space and the view had ultimately sealed the deal for Fern and as she sat there now, surrounded by her friends and family, she could hardly believe it was real. This was her life. All of this was hers, from the sweeping lawn edged by trees where fireflies would emerge at dusk in late spring, to the olive grove at the end of the garden. It was a fairy tale place, and a dream come true. Gone was the view from her kitchen window of their old family home onto a patio and fake grass. Here the kitchen had double doors that opened out onto her own slice of Tuscany.

As her eyes trailed across the smiling faces around the table, she acknowledged that she couldn’t have asked for a better day. At the far end, Ruby and her boyfriend were looking loved up, with Chloe and Jacob on either side of them. Jacob was still eating – Fern had lost count of how many helpings of lasagne he’d had – while Chloe was looking sleepy, with her hands clasped around her glass of wine. Stella and Edith were deep in conversation – there was too much chatter to make out what they were saying – and Matteo was listening intently to Amber. She beamed as she told him about her marketing plan for the farmhouse. Matteo reached beneath the table for Fern’s hand and clasped it in his lap. A feeling of absolute contentment washed over her. Everything was as it should be. She’d rid herself of a toxic marriage; she’d opened her heart and learnt to trust again. She was stronger and happier than she could remember ever being.

* * *

After tucking into dark chocolate Florentines and coffee, Fern hooked her arm in Edith’s and they strolled away from the others down the grassy slope. Edith used a walking stick and her pace was slower than the last time Fern had seen her, but her spark and positivity remained.

‘The place is wonderful, Fern. Even better than I was imagining.’

‘Does it tempt you to take the plunge and move to Italy?’

‘I have too many friends back home to uproot myself now. Moving countries was something I should have done right after retiring, not now I’m heading into my late seventies. And anyway,’ she said, squeezing Fern’s arm tighter, ‘why on earth would I put myself through the stress of selling my home and buying in Italy when I have places like this and Matteo’s two retreats to visit.’

Fern stopped by the bench beneath a birch tree. It had a view to the farmhouse one way, and the other way to the olive grove. They sat and she clasped Edith’s hand.

‘Are you happy though?’

‘Did I envisage that I’d get to my age and still be on my own? No.’ She chuckled. ‘But that’s life. It’s a funny old thing. I’m not actually lonely. My life is filled with love. I have nieces and nephews and great-nieces and nephews. I have fabulous friends.’ She gave Fern a knowing look. ‘I have freedom and the means to travel and for the time being’ – she patted the arm of the oak bench – ‘my health.’

‘Have you seen Maya?’ Fern asked gently.

Edith pulled her shawl tighter and folded her hands in her lap. ‘No. It’s too hard. I hear about her through friends. She’s suggested we meet, socially only, for a cup of tea and cake, as if we’re simply old friends catching up.’ Edith shook her head. ‘I don’t want to pretend and I don’t want to put myself through that. Sometimes cutting our ties with the past is the only way to move forward, even if it hurts us deeply at the time.’

Fern put her hand over Edith’s. ‘I get that. Admitting my marriage was over was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but when I made the decision, it was as if a weight had lifted. I hated him by the end, for the way he’d treated me, the way he’d talk to me. I hated myself too for letting him. Matteo opened my eyes to what love should really be.’