Page 7 of The Island of Hopes and Dreams

‘Need what?’

‘Some downtime, to recharge. Destress. You were quieter than usual on the hen weekend. Is everything okay?’

‘Just tired, that’s all. And in desperate need of a holiday.’

They fell silent, Deni obviously understanding that Lola didn’t want to be pushed on the subject. Both of them were content to gaze out of the window at the island zipping by. Lola caught glimpses of the sea and the glinting white of yachts through the gaps along the bush-lined road.

The message she’d received from Jarek on the hen weekend had knocked her sideways. She’d blocked the number but had remained on tenterhooks every time a message had popped on to her phone since. She hadn’t told anyone about it, not Deni, not even Mirabel. She knew pretending that he wasn’t still trying to mess with her head was futile, and she hoped that he’d get fed up if she didn’t reply. If she didn’t react. Perhaps that was his intention, to still make her think and worry about him months after they’d separated.

With Mirabel and her family staying with Fabs at his parents’ house, it was just the Brits in Villa Capparis, which came with its own chef, waiting staff and a skipper for the speedboat that was moored on the private dock.

Lola had seen her fair share of exclusive locations and enviable homes as part of her job at Rhythm – a hugely successful record label where she was a PR manager for a roster of pop stars and bands. Photo shoots often took place in iconic London buildings or stately homes, and there were parties at VIP clubs or multi-million-pound pads, but as they drove through the gates of Villa Capparis, she was stunned by the beauty of the sprawling single-storey villa nestled within a tree-filled garden that burst with the colour and fragrance of myrtle, helichrysum and purple bougainvillea. The reality of what Mirabel was marrying into became apparent.

With its high ceilings and clean lines, hidden reading nooks and a colour palette of cream and yellow with the cooler touches of white and blue, Lola loved everything about the villa. The whole place had an indoor/outdoor feel, with views of the colourful garden from every direction to the sea beyond, each outdoor seating space either shaded by a reed-thatched pergola or enclosed within the textured pale-salmon stone walls.

Yet despite her delight about where they were staying, by the time everyone had been shown to their rooms to freshen up, Lola was a bundle of nerves. She met new people every day at work and was a pro at making small talk when so much of her job involved organising events, liaising with radio and TV producers and negotiating publicity opportunities, but she was grateful for Deni and Sarah as they all met back in the central living area, her friends bolstering her even if they didn’t realise it.

Fabs and Mirabel introduced everyone, although Lola was certain she wouldn’t remember their names until they all got to know one another. The biggest friendship group was Fabs’s university mates: four blokes in their early thirties, along with a pretty, dark-haired, pale-skinned woman. It didn’t take long for one of the guys to make a beeline for her. Introducing himself in a strong Welsh accent as Gareth, he did all the talking and came across as confident but slightly cocky, and Lola was relieved when she received a message from Polly and she could use it as an excuse to retreat to her room.

Polly was missing out, and Lola really felt for her. She’d sent numerous messages about how miffed she was to be at home looking after the kids and juggling work, her latest stating in no uncertain terms:

Don’t you dare send pics of how incredibly gorgeous the place is. I’ll see it next week for myself, but OMG that feels like forever. Jealous as hell! Love you all though x

Smiling, Lola thumbed a quick reply – without any photos attached – then turned her attention to her room, where the cool, summer-living vibe of the rest of the villa continued, with white walls, seascape artwork and blue and white bedlinen. She opened the patio door onto a private terrace edged by a stone wall covered in pink flowers, breathed in the citrusy scent of bergamot, then set about unpacking.

Twenty minutes later, once everything had been put away, a knock on the door made her turn.

‘Hey,’ Mirabel said, strolling in. ‘I’ll be heading back to the house with Fabs in a bit to help prepare for tonight. You got time for a walk?’

‘Of course.’

They stepped onto the terrace and linked arms. The garden was bathed in sunshine and the trees cast long shadows across the lawn. Through the slender trunks of the pine trees, she spied the clearest, brightest blue water she’d ever seen.

‘This place is insane,’ Lola said at the jaw-dropping surroundings.

‘And it’s just one of the properties they own, not to mention the winery.’

‘You and Fabs will inherit quite a portfolio one day.’

‘He’s always been wealthy,’ Mirabel said softly as they cut across the spongy lawn towards the wooded edge of the garden. ‘We were comfortable when I was growing up – probably even well off, but how Fabs grew up is a whole different world. Their attitude to money is too. To not have to worry about how you’re going to afford something is an absolute privilege.’

They reached the furthest part of the garden and Mirabel took a well-worn path that wound beneath the trees. The sandy, pine-needle-strewn ground dampened their footsteps, and only their conversation about Fabs and his family disturbed the birdsong and the lap of the waves on the stony shore just metres away.

The beach, a narrow crescent of sand and fine shingle with a private jetty at one end where the villa’s speedboat was moored, was empty and could only be accessed from the villa or by boat. A pine forest screened another couple of villas further down the shore, so they had the spot to themselves.

Following Mirabel’s lead, Lola kicked off her sandals and picked her way through the shallows, the water as warm as a hot tub. They perched on a smooth sun-blasted rock and let their feet dangle in the clear water.

‘I have no words.’ Lola gazed across the shimmering water to the bay opposite, where the island curved round in an inlet and other villas and hotels studded the gentle slopes of a hillside.

‘All of the places they rent out are incredible, but this one’s special. I like the privacy and peace. Lots of space for everyone to have time to themselves. And given what happened on the stag do, it’s probably just as well everyone can escape if they want to.’ Mirabel placed her hand on Lola’s arm, her pink manicured nails gleaming in the sunshine. ‘And at least you’ll have a room to yourself until Polly arrives. I hope you don’t mind sharing with her for a couple of days?’

‘Of course not. It’s just a shame she can’t come out for the whole time; although with two kids I understand she can’t just swan off to Sardinia on her own.’

‘However much she’d like to.’

‘Deni’s living her best life.’ Lola smiled and stretched out her legs. She watched the water ripple around her toes. ‘She’s such a workaholic. Honestly, the deadlines she’s had recently and the stress – makes me glad I pursued the PR side of the music industry rather than having to deal with contracts and negotiations. It’s good to see her relaxed for once.’ She glanced sideways at Mirabel. ‘You seem a little stressed, though. How are you feeling?’

Mirabel rested her hands on the rock and leaned back. ‘Overwhelmed.’

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