Chapter 6 April 13th #3
Every month I’d redecorate the room, change the colour scheme based on the season and always find some pretty object or other as a source of inspiration.
In the spring I’d go floral, in the summer I’d go beach hotel themed, while cinnamon-scented candles would bring in autumn and the festive season. You get the idea.
And, for a time, with Simon, it was like that. I made sure it was. He loved it. But then daily life, routine and drudgery had settled in, taking the place of innovation, attention to detail and care.
But now I can’t wait to spend the next two months in my own personal bedroom without Simon.
I am free to do as I please and am ridiculously happy, like Kate Winslet in The Holiday.
I’ll wear silk or flannel, whatever I choose, because it only matters to me now.
For the next few weeks I can pretend that I’m not married.
I can pretend I am on my own, independent, and take care only of myself for a change.
Have some ‘me’ time. I’ll make a tiny altar to myself in the name of female freedom.
But first, I decide to check in with Cassie. Her silence always unnerves me, even if I pretend not to be bothered by it. Her mobile rings three times before it goes to voicemail. I’ll try again later.
As this is an elegant vacation, I’ve purchased a few suitable items of clothing, mostly white outfits with blue or black piping or accents (like the people in the brochure), perfect for a day out on the lake or an evening out on the terrace.
For this afternoon I’ve chosen a white dress with a thin black hem and collar and a pair of low black sling-backs.
Tonight I will change again for dinner, I think excitedly.
And then I think how silly it is of me to get all excited by a simple change of clothes. But it’s only right that I get excited. I can wear white without worrying because I have no cooking to do and no artwork to help the kids with and I’m not in the warehouse packing our products.
I’m here, in the heart of the Italian Alps, and I’m free to do whatever the bloody hell I want for the next eight weeks! And now, before I go and settle in by the pool for the rest of the afternoon, I’m going to accept a glass of white Italian wine from the circulating waiters, if you don’t mind!
When I make my way down to the heart of the resort, I see a lounger has been reserved for me.
Not only has a fresh white towel been draped over the back, but a plate of hors d’oeuvres is sitting on the little table next to it.
Blimey! I lie down, close my eyes and take a sip of my Valpolicella wine (that’s what the waiter said it was), letting the aromatic, silky liquid wrap itself around my tongue.
I could stay like this forever, letting my mind shut down for once, not worrying about what my kids are up to or if Dad is okay. I’ll text them later.
And then, as I stretch out, my first decadent Italian fantasy catches me unaware.
How bloody sexy and marvellously impossible would it be if Markus was here with me?
If he stole away in all secrecy to join me?
Every once in a while I let myself go to these fantastical scenes where everything is possible.
He and I, together, in love, while Simon conveniently falls off the face of the earth for good.
I know, these thoughts make me no better than my mum, of course. But it’s okay as long as I don’t act upon them, right? Certainly, in the intimacy of my own mind, I am allowed to imagine him standing over me? Like someone is right now, blocking my sunlight. Certainly not… Markus in the flesh?
Of course not. I know that. It can’t be. So I open my eyes to see who is robbing me of my Italian sunlight, only to see him standing over me in all his glory.
‘Oh my God,’ I gasp. ‘What are you doing here?’
To which he leans over me and grins his sexy grin, his face inches from my own.
‘I’m here to be with you,’ he answers as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. And to top it off, he puts his marvellously large hands on the armrests either side of me and comes in for the most delicious, exquisite kiss any girl has ever had in real life, onscreen or in the best of dreams.
I shade my eyes as he isn’t quite blocking all the light. ‘Okay, Markus, cut the crap, please. Why are you really here? Is it Dad? The kids?’
He shakes his head and grins. ‘Nothing like that. Surely you knew I’d come so we could be together, sweetheart?’
‘Okay, now you’re really freaking me out,’ I warn him. But is it really that out of this world that he may have feelings for me? And that at home, he didn’t have the freedom to tell me that he fancied me, too, and that he’d acted his arse off to hide it? He’d certainly fooled me!
‘I’ve missed you so, so much, honey,’ he says. Only… his voice is not quite right. It’s kind of high and breathy, actually, and… vaguely familiar.
That’s when I blink against the sun, wake up from whatever lucid dream I am having and jump three feet off my lounger.
‘MOTHER!’ I screech when her face fills my view, coming in and depositing a huge kiss on my forehead.
‘Hello, darling! Surprise!’