The Summer Villa: a feel good summer novel about friendship, love and family from the international bestselling author

by Melissa Hill

  ‘That’s the problem, you see. I’d feel bad for spending time with someone else – even as friends,’ Colette said.

  ‘But remember these Italian guys are very charming. You’ve got to be careful,’ Kim cautioned.

  ‘Ed – that’s his name – is not Italian, though. He’s a tourist, like us.’

  ‘You know, I’m starting to feel kinda left out here,’ Kim said, laughing. ‘The two of you have multiple guys crawling all over you and I haven’t even come across a single one that’s caught my eye.’

  ‘That’s because you spend too much time sitting around here being zen, and not enough out there painting the town red,’ Annie teased.

  ‘Well, you know, maybe that’s no bad thing. I did way too much partying back home. I’m enjoying just soaking up life here and taking it all in.’ She sighed. ‘Be happy in the moment – that is enough.’

  Annie groaned inwardly at Kim’s words of wisdom. Good luck to Kim, but she herself didn’t believe in any of that inspirational mumbo-jumbo. She yawned. Hell, she really needed to go back to bed …

  ‘So what do you think I should do?’ Colette asked them. ‘If Luca didn’t ever really care about me and this was just a holiday fling, should I go and meet up with Ed, even as friends?’

  Annie had to smile. Talk about a turn-up for the books. Who’d have thought shy little Colette, who wouldn’t say boo to a goose when she arrived, could now potentially have two men on the go? The change in her was a wonder to behold.

  ‘Well, I know this isn’t easy to hear and it’s not easy to say, but maybe you have to also look at the big picture and think about what happens after you leave here. I know you like Luca and he seems to really like you, too, but Colette, do you honestly believe it can be anything more than a holiday romance?’

  ‘Same could be said for you,’ Kim pointed out, and Annie knew she felt she was being a bit too blunt with the younger girl, but she needed to be.

  Colette had to face up to reality eventually.

  While Luca seemed nice enough, he was a player through and through, anyone could see that. Especially now after this whole thing about the mobile phone. Who didn’t use mobile phones in this day and age?

  Someone who had something to hide, that’s who.

  While Colette seemed to think all the little notes he left for her here at the villa when she wasn’t around were old-fashioned and romantic, to Annie her friend’s naïvety was showing. She’d been around the block enough herself to recognise all the signs. And she truly didn’t want to see her get hurt.

  If someone didn’t talk some sense into her, Colette could end up leaving Italy with a lot more than she bargained for.

  Chapter 35

  Then

  It was a glorious morning, and Kim could smell the citrus from the lemon trees as she walked through the courtyard and out onto the cobbled path leading down to the centre of Positano.

  Annie was right: she had been spending a lot of time lazing around the pool and gardens, trying to decide what to do when this trip was over.

  Today she was in the mood for exploring, and while she’d asked the others if they wanted to come along, Annie had gone back to bed after her late-night exploits, and she suspected that Colette didn’t want to leave the villa in case Luca chose today to come and visit her.

  Both had become so wrapped up in their love lives lately, and despite her joke about being left out, Kim truly had no interest in that; not at the moment, anyhow. Romance could be such a humbug, and her life was complicated enough without throwing a vacation romance into the mix. Though she would definitely welcome a charmer like Luca to wine and dine her a little, in order to take the strain off her rapidly depleting line of credit.

  She sighed, resigned to the fact that if she wanted to stay here, or indeed anywhere else for much longer, she’d need to think about finding a job.

  Thank goodness she’d decided to rough it and that the villa was cheap enough that she could stretch her stay to another few weeks at least.

  After that, she’d either have to wing it or head home to her parents with her tail between her legs.

  Given her most recent conversation with her mom – when Kim had come clean about her journey diversion – that was the worst possible option. Her parents knew by now, of course, that she hadn’t gone to England as planned, but they didn’t know where she actually was, and she felt it was unfair to have them worry unnecessarily.

  Assuming they cared.

  When she’d finally plucked up the courage to call, the phone in their house on the other side of the world rang for a long time, so long that Kim suspected there was no one home. Then, all too soon, her mother’s voice could be heard complaining about the hour of the night, and the inconsiderate nature of what Kim had done. No requests regarding her whereabouts or assurances about her safety or indeed any hint whatsoever that they might have been worried or afraid for their only child.

  ‘Mom,’ Kim had said firmly, ‘shut up.’

  The silence on the other end of the line was deafening.

  ‘I don’t need you anymore,’ she continued, having by now practised the words a hundred times over. ‘I don’t want you using me to impress your Park Avenue friends or persuade Dad’s condescending business associates. I don’t want you pulling my strings.’

  ‘What are you talking about, Kimberley? You’re making no sense. Are you drunk?’

  ‘A little bit,’ she admitted, staring at the glass of wine she was holding. ‘But it’s not that, it’s time and space that’s given me the courage to say what I’ve been afraid to. I’m not a child. I’m a grown woman who knows what she wants and doesn’t, and I don’t want what you guys want for me. I don’t want to have to pay my dues so you can have your heart’s desire. I want my heart’s desire. I’m not the same as you and Daddy, always making deals and manipulating relationships for your own gain.’

  The silence on the other end of the line spurred her on and soon Kim was saying things she never dreamed she would.

  She unleashed it all, thirty years of misery in just a few minutes. Her heart was on a speedway but it didn’t matter. It felt good to say it, to let it all out for the first time in her life.

  ‘So that’s it. I’m in Italy now and, to be honest, I’m not sure where I’m going next, but I’m going to take some time to find out who I am. I’m going to live my own life on my own terms. Not yours. I would truly love it if you could understand but I don’t expect you will. However, I would like you to respect my choice.’

  ‘Are you finished?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Fine. If this is what you feel and this is the choice that you’ve made, then I have no choice but to say this. Don’t come home, Kim. After what you’ve done to me and your father – embarrassed this family and shown such disrespect for everything we’ve done for you – there is nothing here for you anyway.’

  Gloria disconnected then without another word, not even a goodbye.

  Kim was hurt but not surprised. She was a little surprised, though, at the relief she felt.

  The only impossible journey is the one you’ve never begun.

  And she knew then that she’d be OK.

  Chapter 36

  Kim took the bus from Positano down to Amalfi, in the hope that the journey might afford some great coastal views, but the bus was so packed the only view she got was that of a fellow passenger’s armpit.

  She’d researched a couple of the more popular tourist sights beforehand and began now at the Cloister del Dolce Vita – which she thought was fitting given the name of the villa and her now increasingly popular social media account.

  Choosing photographs for it had become an enjoyable pastime, and while Annie seemed to think Kim spent a lot of her time just lazing around, she was actually out and about in the town exploring some of Positano’s hidden-most corners and trying to compose interesting shots.

  She wondered if maybe she should think about becoming a photographer as her next step. It was
something to consider, but in any case, it was the first time in a long time that Kim felt she was doing something she truly enjoyed.

  According to what she’d read about this place, the thirteenth-century Moorish-style cloister was known for its magnificent gardens and religious artefacts.

  Outside, a statue of Jesus surrounded by angelic hosts and the twelve disciples stood ready to greet would-be visitors.

  Inside, the floors of the cloister were tiled in black-and-white marble and the walls painted white with various motifs chiselled into the stone. Large brown marble columns and smaller ones dotted the interior, with gold being the predominant decorative feature.

  The entire structure boasted vaulted ceilings supported by what must have been hundreds of slender double and single columns, and the ceiling frescoes reminded her of the work of Michelangelo.

  Kim was so taken by their beauty as she snapped photo after photo that she didn’t realise anyone was near until she unceremoniously stepped on someone’s foot.

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ she said quickly as she turned to the other person – a woman of about her mother’s age, who stood an inch or two taller. She was impeccably poised and beautifully dressed in what Kim immediately recognised as head-to-toe Armani.

  ‘No trouble at all,’ the woman replied in a thick French accent.

  ‘What’s that?’ a tall, stately man asked distractedly from beside her. He too had been so busy studying the frescoes to notice Kim’s gaffe.

  ‘I wasn’t talking to you, Antonio,’ the woman said, rolling her eyes conspiratorially at Kim, who smiled.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she apologised again. ‘I was just a bit mesmerised. Stupid tourist.’

  ‘Oh, please, no.’ The man chuckled easily now, and Kim deduced from his accent that while his companion might be French, he was very definitely Italian. ‘It is good that you are enjoying the sites.’

  ‘This whole place is just incredible.’

  The man laughed again. ‘They say that when Judgement Day comes, the people of Amalfi will have no change in life, for they are already living in paradise because of this cloister.’

  ‘That’s lovely and sounds about right. I’m Kim, by the way.’

  ‘I am Antonio, and this is my wife Emilia.’

  ‘So happy to meet you,’ the woman greeted, lightly taking Kim’s hand.

  ‘We would be happy to show you around a little more if you don’t mind this old Italian acting as tour guide?’ her husband offered.

  ‘Oh, shush, Antonio, I’m sure Kim would much prefer to wander around herself.’

  ‘No, please, I’d love that. That is if you don’t mind me playing gooseberry?’

  Emilia pealed with laughter. ‘Mon cheri, we have been married for over thirty years – believe me, I would welcome the distraction.’

  Their warmth and openness made her take to them immediately. Kim watched them, wishing her parents had the same easiness about them. She observed how loving and tender they were towards one another and how keen they were to include her.

  They explored more of the cloister for a while and then Antonio and Emilia insisted Kim join them for lunch.

  While the restaurant was amazing and the food the finest quality, the company was the primary reason for her enjoyment.

  The couple were each wonderful raconteurs. They talked and laughed and shared stories of their travels all throughout their marriage. Antonio was indeed a native, from Milan where they both lived and worked.

  He did something in business while Emilia – a former model – now worked in magazine publishing.

  The waiter delivered their main course and the juxtaposition of the colours of her Caprese salad against the backdrop of the ocean was such that Kim couldn’t resist whipping out her phone.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she apologised to the couple again as she snapped a quick shot, ‘I’m going to have to be a goddamn tourist again, but my followers will totally lap this up.’

  ‘Followers?’ Antonio enquired.

  Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, Kim went on to tell them all about The Sweet Life social media account and how she was documenting her trip and sharing it all online.

  Though it had since ceased to be so, she neglected to mention that the whole thing had begun as a secretive way to communicate with her friend and hide her whereabouts from her folks.

  While chatting, she cropped, filtered, and uploaded the photo, deciding that she’d go back and caption it later. For now, actually eating the damn food was more important.

  ‘What an intriguing idea. So like a photographic travel diary?’ Emilia queried and Kim nodded, handing her the phone so she could see the picture she’d just uploaded. ‘My goodness, you are a talented photographer, these are wonderful – Antonio, look.’ She showed her husband, who smiled politely but distractedly. He too wanted to get on with eating lunch, instead of looking at it in photos.

  Kim had to smile but inwardly she was pleased. ‘No, it’s filters that make the photos look that good, honestly. I’m not that great at all.’

  She tucked into her lunch, but Emilia was still scrolling through her phone. ‘Seriously, Kim, these are wonderful, especially combined with your beautiful words. Really brings the imagery to life. Are you sure you haven’t worked in journalism or even publishing? Perhaps you should.’

  ‘Hmm, not so sure about that,’ Kim laughed and swallowed a mouthful of food. ‘My parents would definitely kill me for letting my business degree go to waste.’

  The trio chatted some more over lunch, about other places Kim should visit, both here on the Amalfi Coast and elsewhere in Italy. The couple even very kindly invited her to visit them in Milan should she have cause to be there, but Kim suspected her money would have run out by then.

  After the plates were cleared, she excused herself to find a restroom.

  ‘Of course,’ Emilia replied, directing her to the back of the restaurant. Kim was enjoying herself so much that she made a mental note to try and come back with Colette and Annie sometime before their trip was over.

  When she returned to the table, Antonio and Emilia were deep in animated conversation and she grimaced a little, hoping she wasn’t interrupting anything.

  The older woman looked up and smiled as she approached.

  ‘Kim, I’m sorry, but I have a curious nature. The Sweet Life, your travel journal – I noticed it has a great audience. Your photographs are very popular.’

  ‘Oh, not really,’ she replied nonchalantly. ‘Compared to some people’s – celebrities and stuff – it’s nothing.’

  ‘Nothing?’ Emilia repeated, glancing at Antonio. ‘I think it is something indeed.’ She looked at Kim keenly. ‘The photos are wonderful, but what I read was also very good. Wisdom far greater than is usually found in someone your age. You have some beautiful ideas on life and how it should be lived.’

  Granted the photos were hers and she’d paired them with what she felt were the perfect anecdotes and captions, but really … Kim could never have come up with stuff like that on her own.

  Still, it felt good to be praised. It was a very long time since Kim had been complimented about anything other than her looks.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, taking a drink of water.

  ‘Why don’t you use this? Build on it?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘That wisdom. Why don’t you share it? You’ve already created an impressive following in such a short space of time. But people respond even better to people – to faces – and I’d be willing to bet that if you yourself appeared in some of these posts – along with your wise words – people would love it even more.’

  A small laugh escaped Kim as she listened. ‘I don’t understand …’

  ‘My wife works in magazines, remember?’ Antonio reminded her. ‘She knows of what she speaks.’

  ‘The industry is on the crest of a new wave – a huge disruptor,’ Emilia continued. ‘Social media is the way forward, especially in the fashion industry. We s
ee it all the time – people like those silly American girls now becoming more popular and influential than some of the world’s top models.’

  Kim made a face. ‘The Kardashians, you mean?’

  ‘Yes. But I don’t mean you should be like those, showcasing make-up and plastic eyelashes. I am thinking something more … holistic.’

  ‘Ah, I understand,’ said Antonio, nodding sagely. ‘Wellness is a huge industry, growing at an incredible rate.’ He winked at Kim. ‘Listen to my wife – she is the greatest business visionary I have ever known.’

  And as Kim sat in a restaurant in the Italian sunshine, high above the Tyrrhenian Sea, she chatted with two complete strangers about how she could, in fact, monetise the audience she had so far and perhaps turn The Sweet Life into something much, much more than a travel diary.

  Chapter 37

  Then

  There was no point in denying it. Despite her best intentions, Annie had fallen, and fallen hard.

  She’d tried her utmost to convince herself (and the others) that she was playing it cool, but there was no pretending that she really missed Harry whenever they were apart and couldn’t wait to be with him.

  Had Annie O’Doherty finally allowed her world-weary heart to be melted?

  ‘Out again with lover boy tonight?’ Kim smirked as Annie got ready to meet him that evening. ‘Should we wait up or just catch you in the morning?’

  ‘I’ll be back later, smart-arse,’ she replied archly.

  ‘I wasn’t trying to be smart,’ Kim declared, all innocence. ‘I was just wondering if we should lock up or leave the back door unlocked for you.’

  ‘You can leave it open, I won’t be too late. Who knows, maybe I’ll bring him back with me,’ she added with a wink.

  ‘I wish you would. I’d so love to meet this hot stud who’s been keeping you so entertained. Between you and Colette, I’m starting to get lonely. Where is she, by the way?’

  ‘Out with Luca. He did indeed call to pick her up while you were out. Maybe I was wrong about him being a chancer. But now I do feel bad for leaving you all on your own, actually. Do you want to come out with me?’