The warm Mediterranean wind blew gently as Colette waited for Luca’s arrival at their latest meeting spot.
It was her last night in Italy – she was flying out of Naples tomorrow evening – and he had promised to show her how he felt and to make his intentions known before she went.
In the meantime, he had left another of his romantic notes at the villa, setting out a place and time to meet this evening.
Colette was feeling confident. She was pretty certain he was going to confirm that this meant much more to him than just a summer fling.Shemeant more.
This evening she was dressed in a flowing red summer dress, and the skirt danced around her legs and caressed her calves. It was a halter-style that tied at the neck, and the sash tickled her back as she waited, like a soothing hand comforting her. She checked her watch to see that it was almost eight o’clock. Just in time.
L’Incanto was a beautiful and suitably romantic meeting spot in the centre of Positano at Spiaggia Grande, situated right on the beach; though, being honest, Colette would have preferred to spend her last night with Luca at the place where they’d first met.Then she’d also have the opportunity to say a proper goodbye to Mama Elene. Now she walked expectantly inside the restaurant to where a hostess was waiting, and smiled at the young woman who greeted her.
‘Table for two for Gambini,’ Colette declared confidently. ‘Luca Gambini.’
The woman checked her reservations book. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t see any reservation for Gambini here. Are you sure you have the right name?’ she questioned.
Colette was confused. The note had definitely said a reservation in his name in L’Incanto, hadn’t it?
‘Excuse me,’ she said, stepping back outside for a moment and pulling Luca’s note out of her bag.
He’d left it at the villa the day before, when she was down at Fornillo beach with Kim. She read it again. Yes, this was definitely the right place and time, but it seemed there was no reservation. Could there perhaps be another L’Incanto elsewhere, she wondered?
Unless he’d meant to just meet, not necessarilyeathere, Colette mused then, feeling a bit stupid for assuming.
And doubly stupid for dressing up. Clearly this was another of Luca’s surprises.
She waited outside the restaurant for another twenty minutes, and when there was still no sign, Colette cursed herself afresh for not taking Annie’s advice and asking for Luca’s phone number.
While his aversion to more modern methods of communication seemed quaint and romantic when things were going well, it was an unbelievable source of frustration at times like this when there was a problem.
Colette waited and waited, but still nothing. He didn’t show.Deflated and more than a little annoyed now, she wandered down to the beach and, taking her shoes off, dipped her toes in the water.
Luca had promised he’d show her his intentions before the trip was over.
What if this is how he’s showing you?
She tried to shake the unpleasant thought out of her brain. He wouldn’t be so cruel. He wouldn’t get her hopes up by asking her to come to some random place just to let her down. He wasn’t that kind of man.
But did she know what kind of man he was, really?
Disheartened and soon becoming more than a little concerned in case anything could have happened to him – an accident, even – Colette continued to wait.
A half hour turned into an hour, and she was still waiting. The restaurant hostess even asked if there was anyone she could call, or if she wanted a glass of water, having noticed her loitering beachside in the late-evening sunshine.
It was apparent to the Italian woman, as it was becoming painfully clear to Colette, that Luca wasn’t coming.
She was starting to seriously worry that maybe he had indeed been in an accident, when her phone dinged with a text from a number she didn’t recognise.
Colette, I am so sorry. You were right: this was just a summer fling. I didn’t mean to get so entangled. I will treasure our time together.
She stared at the words, unable to believe what she was reading. It couldn’t be true.
Tears filled her eyes as she stabbed at the screen of the phone and called the number back. But there was no answer.
‘Pick up,’ she cried, panicked. ‘You owe me that much at least.’
She dialled the number over and over, but still he never answered. She was almost tempted to call Mama Elene, but she didn’t want to involve the older woman and make her uncomfortable. It would be embarrassing and humiliating, and hadn’t she already been humiliated enough? The man who’d told Colette he abhorred mobile communication had had the audacity – the absoluteneck– to dump her by text.
Hurrying away down the shore, away from the restaurant and the pitying looks from the restaurant hostess, Colette lowered herself onto the wet sand, not caring that she was ruining her brand-new dress.
