‘Linguine al limone,’ says the waiter, setting my pasta on the table.
He disappears before I can thank him, and I forget the screenplay for a moment, tucking in. It’s delicious – the pasta is perfectly al dente, and the sauce is both creamy and tart. I pour the beer and take a long pull, then sit back to properly take in my surroundings.
It’s my first time on Capri and it’s exactly like I imagined – the sky is cloudless and the water is so blue, it blends into the horizon. Craggy cliffs, blanketed in green, rise from the sea, and the mainland in the distance – particularly the looming silhouette of Mount Vesuvius – highlights how isolated Capri is. Its own little world.
There’s a mix of boat traffic in the marina, but it’s the sailboats that catch my eye. I’ve always thought I’d get into sailing one day – it seemsfreeingout there on the water, sailing off in whichever direction you want. Only, given how seasick I was on the ferry… maybe I’d better steer clear. Or stock up on motion-sickness tablets.
I finish my lunch and down the rest of my beer, then signal for the bill. While I wait, I look along the waterfront. It’s bustling with energy, yet most people seem content to wander, in no rush at all.
I have to admit, I was sceptical when Pippa first told me about True North, the travel company we’ve booked with. It sounded too good to be true – you both fill in surveys and they find you the perfect couple’s holiday. Only you don’t find out where you’re going until you get to the airport.
Completely mad – I generally like to know where I’m going –anda lot pricier than the trips we normally take. Also, half the questions seemed irrelevant. Who cares what my favourite colour is or whether I enjoy reading? How was that supposed to help them decide where to send us?
But when I got to Oslo airport this morning and was handed an envelope markedCapri, Italy, they’d got it bang on. It’s warm and sunny – perfect after three months of intense filming above the Arctic Circle – and then there’s the food, the wine, the scenery – the promise of romance. If the Italians didn’t invent romance, they’ve certainly perfected it.
And I reckon that’s what Pippa and I need, which is why I agreed to this trip in the first place. Things haven’t been great between us – we’ve hardly seen each other this year – and I’m hoping our time on Capri will be a turning point.
After settling the bill, I look up our accommodation on the map. I’ll need to take the funicular, so I head towards the ticket booth. Capri may be idyllic, but the journey’s been more likePlanes, Trains and Automobiles, only the Italian edition –Planes, Boats and Funiculars.
Can’t wait to get to the room, dump my gear, and chill for a bit till Pip gets here.
2
DELANEY
‘Okay, this doesn’t suck,’ I mutter under my breath, plopping my tote onto an armchair.
The porter shoots me a smile over his shoulder – oops, he must have heard me. He rolls my suitcase into the bedroom, lifting it onto a luggage stand, then crosses to a set of double glass doors, swinging them open. He stands aside, beckoning me outside with a sweep of his arm.
Well, I don’t need to be asked twice.
Stepping out onto an opulent balcony, I take in the gorgeous blue-and-white mosaic beneath my feet and the vaulted ceiling overhead. To my right, a pair of sun loungers sit side by side, ready for snoozing in the sunshine, and to my left, a hanging wicker chair swings gently in the fragrant breeze – the perfect spot for sipping limoncello and chilling out.
I wander over to the ornate balustrade, my sneakers squeaking on the tiles, and take in the vista.
‘Holy shit,’ I sigh breathlessly.
The resort sits high up on the hillside, looking out over the town of Capri, with Marina Grande off to the right. Among clusters of whitewashed villas, terracotta roofs, and pastel façades, the slopes are blanketed with lush greenery – mostly cypresses and olive trees, from what I can tell. In the marina, sailboats bob gently on their moorings while luxury yachts and sleek hydrofoils, like the one that brought me here, come and go. And the colour of the water is otherworldly – a shifting palette of deep turquoise and cobalt.
If this were the opening of a movie, it would start with a slow high-angle pan across the view, then cut to a closeup of my delighted face.
Nicholas is going to loveit here, I think, a little pleased with myself.
It was an inspired decision, booking this vacation through True North. Well, inspiration plus colossal blind faith. They’ve only been operating for six months, and while their testimonials are glowing, those can be faked. But I went with my gut, forked out an entire month’s salary, and filled in a questionnaire thicker than the IKEA catalogue. And through some kind of secret-sauce alchemy, they matched my answers with Nicholas’ and turned it into this: the perfect romantic escape.
And all I had to do was show up at the airport with my passport, packed for someplace warm.That’swhen I found out I was coming to Capri and, yes, I squealed like a little kid on their way to Disneyland. I mean, whowouldn’t? Southern Italy, baby!
And Nicholas will be here soon.
Not gonna lie, I always get nervous right before I see him – excited too, of course – but there’s also the worry that it won’t be the same.
Long-distance relationships can be a bitch.
It’s been four months since the last time we were together – the longest we’ve ever been apart. But with my latest production shooting in Chile – and me tied to the set refereeing a beef between the leads – it’s been ages since I could ‘cross the pond’, as Nicholas likes to say.
I’ve joked that it’s just as far to fly in the opposite direction, but his job is incredibly demanding – even more so than mine. This is the first real vacation he’s taken since we started dating a little over two years ago. And I’m not counting that four-day long weekend in Bath. Sure, it’s a pretty town, but it was pouring the entire time. InJuly– as in summertime. I couldn’t wait to get back to LA.
The porter clears his throat – a good thing too. I’ve been so lost in thought, I totally forgot about him. ‘Is there anything else you need, Signorina Cole?’