Dreaming of Italy: A stunning and heartwarming holiday romance

by T A Williams

  ‘I can’t think of a better way to spend the evening – the hotel, the view and, of course the amazing room service.’ He leant down and kissed her forehead.

  She sipped her tea. This really did feel perfect.

  ‘Emma.’ His voice sounded hesitant. ‘You do know I can’t come over to the States with you, don’t you? It’s not because I don’t want to. It’s just that the hotel’s too new.’

  She glanced up at him. ‘Of course I understand. Maybe once the busy summer season’s over you might be able to get away.’

  ‘Absolutely. And maybe you might be able to get a week or two off at some point?’

  ‘I’ll make sure I do.’

  They lapsed into silence for some minutes after that, each alone with their thoughts. For her part, Emma was already feeling the gnawing regret that she knew would be with her for a long time to come. She had been faced with the choice and, just like he said he had done years earlier, she had chosen her career over her heart. Yes, she would make sure she saw him for a few weeks each year, but she had no illusions as to the precarious nature of long-distance relationships. Sooner or later he would find someone else and that would be that. She set down her empty cup and wrapped her arms around his body, clinging to him tightly, trying hard to memorise everything about this magical moment that might never be repeated.

  Finally, around seven o’clock, as the sun was beginning to drop towards the horizon, they roused themselves and went down to meet up with the other two. Emma wanted to visit St Mark’s Square, but first she had to find the location for the final scene of the movie. They walked out of the hotel onto the quayside and Rich demonstrated that he had also been thinking about this.

  ‘All the way down the Grand Canal I was looking for suitable places, but it’s all so damn crowded here.’

  ‘When do you reckon you’ll be shooting the film?’ Mark was staring at the throng of humanity all around them. ‘Presumably there must be a time when it’s not as crowded as this.’

  ‘I believe shooting’s scheduled to start in early October. That’s an unusually quick turnaround. As I told you, there’s a lot riding on this movie.’ Emma knew it would also depend upon other commitments at JMGP and how soon they could get all the filming permits in place.

  ‘I’ve been here in the autumn and it was a bit quieter than this.’ Marina shrugged her shoulders. ‘With kids back at school, there were fewer people, but this part of Venice is always busy.’

  Emma made a quick decision. ‘Then we’ve got to look in a different area. Any ideas?’

  Mark reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulled out a map of Venice and consulted it. ‘It looks to me as though all the big sights are off to the right of us. Why don’t we go the other way?’ He pointed along the quayside to the left and Emma’s eyes followed his fingers. ‘If you look way down there, there are progressively fewer and fewer people. Maybe we can find somewhere suitable in that direction.’

  Together they set off along the quayside, the water level barely a couple of feet below where they were walking. Emma remembered the awful stories of floods here in Venice that regularly overwhelmed streets, squares, homes, shops and priceless architectural gems. There was no doubt about it – in this era of global warming and climate change, this wonderful city was living on borrowed time.

  As they got further away from the centre so, as Mark had predicted, the crowds began to thin and before long they found themselves on a wide quay called the Riva dei Sette Martiri, the Quay of the Seven Martyrs. There were remarkably few tourists to be seen here, and they soon located mooring posts and a set of old stone steps leading down into the water, right opposite a charming old rose-pink palazzo. As an added bonus, the building looked all shut up and there were no modern clothes lines or TV aerials to be seen. Best of all, looking back the way they had come, there was a spectacular view up the Grand Canal with a host of unmistakable cupolas, towers and palaces that just screamed ‘Venice’.

  Emma was well pleased. ‘Brilliant choice, guys. This should do perfectly.’ She and Rich took a number of shots and she could well imagine Emily and Robert’s tearful farewell taking place here. Marina tugged her sleeve.

  ‘Can I ask? How does it end? Couldn’t it have a happy ending?’

  Emma shook her head sadly. ‘I’m afraid not. It’s a real tear-jerker at the end as these two lovers are torn apart by war – just like so many millions of couples were in real life. They stand on this quay and kiss goodbye, knowing in their hearts that it’s probably the very last time they’ll see each other.’ She kept her tone studiously level, although she knew that tomorrow morning she and Mark would find themselves in almost the same situation, give or take a brief holiday now and then.

  Once they had taken all the photos they needed, they circled back through a maze of lanes and alleys, crossing little humpback bridges over narrow side canals, until they came upon the bulk of St Mark’s Basilica ahead of them. As they did so, the crowds began to thicken once more, and by the time they emerged onto the long expanse of St Mark’s Square, they found themselves surrounded by a mass of people. It didn’t completely spoil the overall experience of this unique historic city, but it definitely made it less romantic – constantly having to change direction to avoid porters with trolleys, families with children, and large groups of many different nationalities on guided tours. Some of the guides even had their own amplifiers and loudspeakers strung around their necks and the noise just added to the chaotic feel of the place.

  In spite of the crowds, they managed to find a table outside one of the cafes and sat down for a drink. A number of people around them were drinking a bright orange concoction that Emma knew as an Aperol Spritz. This was a mixture of white wine, soda water and Italian Aperol liqueur and she decided to follow suit, although she knew from experience that it could be very sweet. Fortunately, the Venetian version was unexpectedly refreshing, which was just as well as, after the hazy morning, the sky was once more clear and the residual heat of the sun was still radiating up from the flagstones at their feet, even though they were now sitting in shade.

  Emma and Rich spent twenty minutes going over all the places they had visited and she got him to send her a number of his best photos to add to her report. She had been composing this each day as they went along and her original intention had been to complete it here in Venice today, but she knew that wasn’t how she wanted to spend her last night with Mark. At least, it would hopefully give her something to do on the flight back to LA, rather than think longingly of the man she had left behind.

  From there they walked through narrow lanes crowded with tourists, sometimes even having to take refuge in doorways as large groups pushed past, until they were almost back at the Rialto Bridge. Here, right alongside the Grand Canal, they found the restaurant, l’Antica Trattoria. Marina had got her boss to pull weight and he had managed to get them a table outside, underneath the awning, right on the side of the canal from where they had an uninterrupted view of the gondolas, vaporetti and other boats going up and down. It was a spectacular place for their last dinner together. Rather than dwell on the fact that tomorrow both she and Marina would be separated from their men, Emma did her best to keep their minds on the events of the movie.

  ‘This restaurant will be amazing for Emily and Robert’s last meal together. Yet another triumph, Marina.’

  Marina blushed as the others joined in with applause. ‘I just hope Dreaming of Italy becomes the success you’re all hoping for.’ She reached for Rich’s hand. ‘Will you invite me to the premiere?’

  ‘I’ll walk you down the red carpet, I promise.’

  Emma chose crayfish, followed by an amazing fritto misto: prawns, octopus and little fish delicately fried and accompanied with a side salad. At Mark’s suggestion they drank ice-cold Soave Classico, and it was a memorable meal. Emma had been photographing some of the more spectacular dishes over the past twelve days and she was determined to include a suggestion to Erasmus that at least on
e of the scenes should be over a lavish Italian meal, of which there had been many. She added tonight’s fish dishes to the list.

  At the end of the meal, Rich announced that he was going to stay on in Venice for another night and Emma felt quite jealous. Her flight to England to see her parents the next day would mean leaving the hotel right after breakfast and, much as she wanted to see her mum and dad, she knew that another twenty-four hours with Mark would have been very precious. Still, she told herself, it was all booked and her mum was expecting her so she had to go. Marina had booked her a ticket on a shared transfer to the airport in a water taxi and she didn’t need to check her watch to know that this was less than twelve hours away now.

  On the walk back to the hotel through the dark streets, she hung back from Mark for a few minutes to talk to Rich.

  ‘I just wanted to say thank you, Rich.’

  ‘You’re thanking me?’

  ‘Very definitely. You’ve been a massive help and I’ll make sure I point out to your father which of the photos and suggestions come from you. On a more personal note, I’m really delighted to see you looking and sounding so much happier. I think this trip’s done you good.’

  ‘This trip’s done me a world of good, Emma. You’ve done me a world of good.’

  ‘I haven’t done anything.’

  ‘It’s been great working with you, being treated as an equal. You listen to my ideas and you trust me to do things. You have no idea how badly I needed that. I can honestly say I feel a new man – and that’s not just because of Marina, although I’d be lying if I didn’t say she’s been amazing.’

  ‘Marina’s a great girl, Rich. Don’t let her go.’

  ‘I don’t intend to. Anyway, like I say, thanks, boss. I won’t forget this.’

  She gave him a kiss on the cheek and returned to take Mark’s arm. It had been a very positive experience for all of them, one way or another. The pity was that it had to end.

  Rich and Marina decided to stop off in St Mark’s Square for a coffee and Emma gave them both a hug, repeating her thanks to Rich and telling Marina how terrifically impressed she had been with her as a guide, chauffeur and companion. As she hugged her, she spoke into her ear.

  ‘When you come to LA, Marina, do come and see me. And if you decide you want to stay I promise I’ll do my very best to find you a job. JMGP needs good people.’

  Marina beamed at her and kissed her on the cheeks.

  ‘Thanks a lot, Emma. I’ve really enjoyed these two weeks and I’m sure Dreaming of Italy will be the blockbuster you want it to be.’ As she drew back Emma saw her eyes twinkle in the light of the streetlamps. ‘And don’t forget what Erasmus said.’

  Emma and Mark continued alone. Night had fallen and the pigeons, along with a lot of the tourists, had gone home for the night. She and Mark didn’t speak as they walked across the square, but they didn’t need to. The moonlight illuminated the magnificent façade of St Mark’s Basilica with its host of columns, statues and frescoes, and the magnificence of the Palazzo Ducale alongside it. As they reached the edge of the square they paused to look out over the lagoon towards the island of St Giorgio, savouring the view, conscious that time was running out for the two of them.

  Mark stretched his arm around Emma’s shoulders and pulled her close. She stretched her arms around his waist and turned towards him.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m going to cry tomorrow morning.’

  The full moon reflected in his eyes as he looked down at her.

  ‘I’m afraid we’re both going to cry tomorrow.’

  Chapter 25

  Next morning the sky was once more overcast as Emma and Mark stood together on the landing stage at San Marco, watching the waterbus for the airport approaching, little waves breaking against its bow as it crossed the busy channel. Mark’s arm was around her once more and she had been crying ever since they had stepped out into the relatively cool morning air.

  As the launch drew nearer, she looked up at him, forlornly, all too conscious that she was turning her back on something very special. The final scene of Dreaming of Italy came to mind as she heard him repeating the self-same words used by Robert, the young army officer.

  ‘I wish we didn’t have to part like this.’ His voice was flat. He looked as devastated as she felt.

  As his eyes met hers, she could see them glistening in the morning light.

  ‘So do I.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But we both know the situation and we’ll have to try really hard to meet up again, as soon as possible, and as often as we can.’ He laid his free hand against her cheek and stroked it tenderly. She rubbed her face against his fingers and sighed deeply. ‘I love you so very dearly, Mark.’

  ‘Meeting you’s the very best thing that’s ever happened to me, Emma.’ A tear fell from his cheek onto hers as he bent his lips towards her. ‘I love you, too, Emma, from the bottom of my heart.’

  He hugged her tightly to his body and kissed her with passion, his emotion all too visible and all too raw. Finally, unable to ignore the waiting boat any longer, she took a deep breath, stepped back and looked up at him and swallowed hard. All she could manage was: ‘Goodbye, Mark.’

  She picked up her bag, handed it to the boatman and stepped onto the launch. As the engine revved and the boat pulled away, she stood on the deck, her face bathed with tears, her eyes on the solitary figure on the quayside, until other vessels hid him from her view.

  * * *

  Her flight was on time and she got to Stansted airport just before noon. Her tears had stopped by the time the launch reached the airport, but she had spent the whole flight in a daze, barely aware of her surroundings, only conscious of the awful void inside her. Her parents were waiting for her as she emerged from the baggage hall and she did her best to look and sound bright and cheerful.

  ‘Hi, Mum. Hi, Dad. It’s really good to see you.’

  As she hugged her mother, her fragile emotions took another hit and she found herself crying her eyes out. Her mother’s reassuring arms around her, just like when she had been a little girl, only reminded her of what she had lost. Or rather, what she had rejected.

  By the time they got out to the car, she had managed to compose herself and was able to spend the next two hours in the car telling them all about her life in Hollywood, her fantastic promotion and the events of the last two weeks in Italy – almost all of them. It was only after a very late lunch back home, as her dad was snoozing in an armchair in front of the cricket, that she opened up to her mother and told her the whole story, her voice cracking with emotion. Her mum didn’t comment until the very end and, at first, that was only to ask if Emma felt like a cup of tea.

  However, once she had pressed a mug of hot tea into Emma’s right hand and a fresh tissue into her left, she finally spoke up.

  ‘You’re a very lucky girl, Emma.’

  ‘Me, lucky?’

  ‘From what you’ve told me about this man, Mark, you really do love him, don’t you?’

  Emma just hung her head and nodded sadly. There could be absolutely no doubt in her mind now.

  ‘Not everybody gets to experience that, you know. You’re thirty-five now and you tell me this is the first time you’ve felt anything like this. You should be glad it’s happened. Some people go their whole lives without ever having that depth of emotion for another person.’ She reached over and caught Emma gently by the chin, lifting her face until they were eye to eye. ‘I’ve been lucky like that twice in my life. First I fell in love with your father, and then there was you. Cheer up and be happy. You’ve had something very special.’

  Emma managed a little smile. ‘Thanks, Mum, but now I know what it’s like, why can’t I keep it?’

  ‘Why can’t you?’

  ‘I told you, Mum, my job. I love Mark but I love my job. And I’m good at my job. I don’t want to give it up.’

  ‘Not even for love?’

  Emma shook her head, but her mother must have sensed her indecision.

 
‘Not even for a wonderful man who loves you back?’

  ‘Oh, Mum…’ Emma’s head was swimming as a multitude of conflicting thoughts and emotions swirled around inside her.

  ‘Not even for the chance to live in a gorgeous part of the world with his lovely dog and maybe your own family.’ There was a catch in her mother’s voice that reached into Emma’s heart. ‘You can’t imagine just how amazing the bond of love can be with your own child.’ She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘You deserve to experience that as well, my darling.’

  Emma could feel the tears running down her cheeks once more and she let her mother envelope her in her warm, caring arms and hold her until the crying stopped. As the tears stopped, so Erasmus’s words came back to her and she knew she was ready to fight as hard as she could to make this long-distance thing work. Maybe, once the hotel was up and running, Mark would be able to take more time off, maybe even do that doctorate in LA? In her new position she would now find herself heading a team at JMGP and, as she had learnt with Elliot and Sweet Memories, if she could delegate more, that might give her more free time… She grabbed a clean tissue, blew her nose and wiped her eyes, before looking up at her mother with renewed resolve.

  ‘You’re right, Mum. I can’t turn my back on him. I love him, Mum. I love him and I’m going to make it work.’ As she spoke, her phone started ringing and she saw with delight that it was him.

  ‘Mark, hi.’

  ‘Emma?’ He sounded delighted to hear her voice. ‘Are you at your parents’ house?’

  ‘Yes, I am, Mark. Listen, there’s something I need to say. We’ve really got to—’