The boat slowed down as they slowly circled the jagged rocks. The sea was such a vivid turquoise, it seemed almost impossibly clear and bright. Gian Matteo found a secluded spot and dropped the anchor. He didn’t want to swim himself. Libby wasn’t surprised, he didn’t look the type to enjoy getting wet, but he sat with a beer from the cool box while Nicola, Luca and Libby stripped down to their swimwear and dived in. Luca gave Libby an admiring wolf whistle as she surfaced next to him. ‘You certainly look incredible in a bikini,’ he said.
She laughed, splashing him and diving back under the surface, chiding herself for being secretly pleased with the compliment. She was meant to be immune to those easy tactics from the opposite sex – she was not a teenager, after all. They swam around to the rocks and clambered up on to the island, taking care not to cut their feet on any sharp stones. After a bit of exploring, they swam over to the boat and climbed back on board, drying off in the sun as they sipped cool beers. Nicola told Libby stories about Gian Matteo and Luca growing up, causing indignation on Luca’s part if ever he were portrayed in a less than perfect light.
‘You don’t want to give Libby the wrong impression of me, sis,’ he scolded.
‘I already have an accurate enough impression of you, thanks Luca,’ laughed Libby.
‘She’s not stupid, Lu… she can see straight through you,’ chuckled Nicola.
‘Finally, a woman immune to Luca’s charms.’ Gian Matteo chinked his bottle against Libby’s. ‘I’ve been waiting thirty-seven years for this!’ Libby laughed, though just how immune she was turning out to be, she wasn’t so sure…
That evening, having got back to Positano and disembarked from the boat, and following a couple more beers at a beachfront bar, Luca suggested they all go up to Luigi’s for dinner. Libby was enjoying herself enormously; she loved flirting with Luca and was aware just how much she was beginning to fancy him. Nicola and Luca were given a rapturous greeting by their great-uncle, whom Libby recognised immediately as the bearded man who had been walking around the tables chatting to all the guests the night she had been for dinner there.
After mouth-watering bowls of spaghetti vongole and huge mounds of fluffy tiramisu, not to mention several vats of wine, they were all stuffed to the brim. Luigi came to sit with them, proffering a bottle of Limoncello, which was passed around with tiny shot glasses as adigestivo.
‘So Luigi, what was Positano like when you were a child?’ asked Libby. ‘Has it changed enormously?’
‘Ahhhh… well! It was so tiny when I was young – peaceful, idyllic. No tourists, nothing. I remember when there was only one telephone line in the village. It was at the post office in the centre. If anyone got a telephone call, one of the local boys would have to race as fast as they could up to the far end of the village, sometimes up thousands of steps, to tell the recipient. Then you had to run all the way back to the post office and hope that the person trying to contact you hadn’t got bored of waiting and hung up the phone.’
‘Oh my goodness, how amazing!’ said Libby.
They reminisced further about Positano’s development from a tiny fishing village into the tourist hub that it is today. Luigi was full of interesting and funny anecdotes. He had welcomed his fair share of famous faces into his restaurant over the years and he marched Libby over to his wall of fame by the bar. It was covered in framed photographs of Luigi posing with his famous clientele. Libby spotted Elizabeth Taylor, Goldie Hawn and Tom Hanks among the gallery of stars.
After dinner, Luca and Nicola walked up with her to La Casetta, depositing her at the door before making their way on to their own flat. Luca had three sisters altogether. Nicola was the second youngest, and he and Nicola lived together about a hundred metres further up the hill from the hostel.
‘Thanks so much for such a fun day!’ Libby said, suddenly reluctant to part company with Luca.
‘It was great to meet you,’ said Nicola.
‘And you,’ Libby grinned. She liked Nicola.
‘Let’s do it again soon.’
‘I’ll try and persuade Floriana to give you days off when I am not working,’ said Luca.
‘That’d be great,’ said Libby. ‘You certainly make an excellent tour guide.’
‘All she wants me for is my tour guiding,’ said Luca to his sister, looking morose. ‘She has no idea how it hurts—’
‘Shut up.’ Nicola gave him a shove. ‘Ignore my brother!’
‘Oh don’t worry, I do,’ laughed Libby, as she skipped up the steps and opened the yellow front door. ‘Night,’ she called, closing it behind her.
‘Night,bella!’ shouted Luca. Despite herself, Libby grinned the whole way through her bedtime routine; her heart was dancing the tango and she knew there was only one person to blame.
The following day was spent in a slump on a sun lounger, dozing in the sun. Her calf muscles were aching terribly after her walk and she felt quite exhausted.
She called Jules, who was always willing to pick up while at work; any excuse for a brief respite from her spreadsheets. Jules was not a natural number-cruncher. She was desperately plotting her escape from the world of accountancy to do something more creative. Libby was incredibly sympathetic. There was nothing worse than doing a job that you just didn’t feel cut out for, as she knew only too well. She just wished that Jules would have the strength of mind to do something about it. She had almost got to the point of handing in her notice when they had given her another promotion, which had had the desired effect of enticing her to stay put once more. Thankfully Angus was an extremely sympathetic husband. She was sure that his support was the secret to Jules keeping it all together despite her frustration.
‘Libs! Perfect timing, I’ve just gone out for lunch.’
‘How’s it going?’ Libby asked.
‘Deathly. The usual. You?’ Libby caught her up with all the details of her first week in Positano, in particular the wonderful time she had had the day before with Luca and the others.
‘Sounds heavenly. It’s great that you’ve got Luca, and his sister sounds nice. I thought you might get quite bored without any mates, but it sounds like you’re making friends no problem.’
‘They’re all just so friendly. I’m really lucky, though I think it’s also something to do with the Italian character; they’re such open people and very generous with their hospitality. I’m having dinner this evening in Floriana and Tonio’s apartment. Their son Ugo is down from Rome for a couple of days, and Tonio is cooking his speciality gnocchi. I can’t wait!’
