Page 10 of The Island of Hopes and Dreams

Rhys felt out of his depth, while the guilt of punching Freddie at the stag do still swirled around his head. He would love to be able to relive that evening and behave in a completely different way. Instead of admitting to Freddie how much he’d once loved Zoe, he wished he’d been cool about them being together, to have told Freddie calmly what a dick he’d been to have messed about with Zoe behind his back rather than having acted on his rage. Even people who weren’t there knew about it. Of course, the story of the stag do had been relayed to Mirabel and would have filtered through to her friends. His track record with women was abysmal. Zoe might have been his ex-girlfriend but she had also been a friend. Freddie too. That was what hurt the most.

Slipping outside, he discarded his empty plate and skirted the terrace, where conversations competed in English and Italian. A sudden waft of jasmine reminded him of the carefree summers he’d had here with Fabs, sleeping and swimming and enjoying leisurely lunches, then heading out for an evening of drinking and pulling women – an activity that had been ridiculously easy to do alongside Fabs.

The wooden walkway that led to the jetty was reached through the gate at the end of the garden. The house had no beach, but the rocky shore could be crossed via the walkway and he and Fabs had spent hours there sunbathing and diving into the water or sitting on the end of the jetty with their legs dangling in the sea, sharing a bottle of wine while chatting, laughing and making plans. He missed those days when they’d both been single and were young enough for life to not have worn them down.

Wornmedown, he thought. Fabs was doing just fine.

He reached the end of the jetty and sat down. The water sloshed back and forth against the wooden uprights, just touching the soles of his shoes. He ran his fingers across the rough wood boards and listened to the distant laughter and chatter drifting into the night. The feeling of uncertainty, worry and worthlessness had been instigated by Zoe walking out, and the truth about her relationship with Freddie had brought all that negativity flooding back. That was pretty sobering when he’d tried so hard to get over her and the purpose of his sabbatical was a fresh start. Now, stuck on Sardinia with Zoe for the next ten days, was he really going to allow her to continue to dictate his feelings?

6

There was a lightness to Lola’s step as she followed the path that skirted the lawn, her attention on the vast sea that was shrouded in darkness beyond the bushes, trees and solar lights that edged the garden. A bank of clouds clustering on the horizon blocked out the moonlight, and once Lola had passed the garden gate, there was little light apart from a faint silver-grey catching the rippling sea.

The wooden walkway was narrow, cutting across the rocks and jutting over the water into the darkness. It should have felt eerie, but Lola was relieved to finally be away from the constant attention. Her sandals were soft and silent against the scuffed wooden boards and she was glad she’d swapped her heels for them at the last minute.

The clouds were drifting, the wind curling in off the sea a welcome respite to the heat inside the villa; even outside on the terrace, it had been a riot of noise and colour, with flaming torches, heaps of food and people everywhere. It was good to breathe easy and take a moment for herself.

Lola stopped. Now the clouds had shifted, a figure was visible sitting at the end of the jetty, a silhouette against the moonlit sky.

The figure turned and muttered ‘shit’, his hand flying to his chest.

‘Oh sorry, I didn’t see you there.’ Lola began to retreat.

‘You needed to escape too?’ The man’s deep voice, with a hint of a Welsh accent, carried towards her.

‘Something like that.’ Lola turned back. ‘Actually, escape is the perfect word. I just needed a bit of time to myself.’

‘I can leave you if you want to be on your own.’

‘No need. Company’s fine if you don’t mind me joining you. I just had to get away from my friends.’ Lola strolled the short distance to the end of the jetty and sat down next to him. ‘That sounds bloody awful, doesn’t it. They have a tendency to meddle in things – good-naturedly – but my non-existent love life is their focus and I’m so done with that.’ She silently cursed at having revealed more than she’d meant to. ‘Sorry, you didn’t need to know all that, particularly when we haven’t met properly – I know we were all introduced earlier, but it was hard to remember everyone’s name. I’m Lola.’

‘Rhys.’ He stuck his hand out and she shook it.

‘Ah, you’re a teacher, right? And one of Fabs’s friends from university?’

‘Yes, we met on the first day and hit it off despite coming from very different backgrounds.’ Rhys motioned towards the villa behind them.

‘Yeah, I know, it’s hard to believe some people are lucky enough to live like this.’

‘And to grow up here.’

‘Sheesh.’ Lola sighed. ‘Beats my family’s two-bed cottage in Devon.’

‘Snap. Although ours was a three-bed terrace in Caerphilly.’

Lola laughed. ‘Don’t you go showing off with your posh three bedrooms, now.’

Rhys smiled and it lit up his face. She couldn’t make out the colour of his eyes in the dark, but he was attractive, in a subtle kind of way. She hadn’t really noticed him earlier, because he’d been quiet, fading into the shadows next to Fabs, who was arrestingly handsome and confident. And of course there was Gareth, who’d made it blatantly clear he fancied her. There was another British guy who’d been in-your-face loud and had stolen her attention for all the wrong reasons. A couple of Fabs’s Italian friends were typically dark and handsome, and she’d noticed, particularly Valentino, who had been far from shy in his full-on approach. But Rhys was quiet and reserved. He had dark hair, an attractive amount of facial hair and a tall slender build. He wasn’t a muscle-bound gym-nut like her usual choice. Friend rather than boyfriend material.

‘You grew up in Devon then?’ Rhys asked.

‘Yes, just me and my mum and dad in a cluttered cottage with loads of land. Dad grew his own veg and Mum was creative – she used to upcycle everything, paint badly but passionately and make all my clothes till I was a teenager and rebelled.’

‘Ha! It kinda sounds idyllic,’ Rhys said with amused uncertainty.

‘I suppose it was in many ways.’ Lola flicked away the hair that was stuck to her forehead and tilted her face upwards in the hope of catching a breeze. ‘I had a lot of freedom to roam. We were walking distance from the sea and a drive away from Bude. I loved being down on the beach and spent long days exploring. Even so, I couldn’t wait to get away.’

‘And you moved to?’

---