‘Cool, which university?’
‘Naples.’
‘Do you like it?’
‘Yeah, it’s okay. I’m only halfway through my degree, but so far so good.’
‘And what do you hope to do afterwards?’
‘I want to come to the UK actually. I’m going to try and get a job in a hotel or restaurant in London, or maybe Edinburgh.’
‘I’m amazed that everyone wants to leave this place,’ Libby told her. ‘It’s such a dream here. I was saying the same thing to Tonio and Floriana the other day.’
‘It’s all right in the summer, that’s for sure,’ Maria told her. ‘But in the winter, it’s completely dead. It’s hard to earn a living without the tourists in town. You are so lucky in London; there are so many opportunities.’ It was beginning to occur to Libby that perhaps she had been quite naïve in her assumptions about what life was like in Positano. She wondered if there was ever such a thing as a perfectly balanced life. Did sacrifice and enjoyment always lie side by side?
Libby spent the rest of the evening chatting to Luca and Maria, on and off between serving customers and clearing up the bar. They were a funny pair. Luca obviously looked on Maria as he would a little sister, and she clearly adored him, though perhaps in less of a fraternal way on her part. At about ten thirty, Libby said goodnight to them both and went to find out how Giulia was getting on. She hadn’t come across any mistakes from the information Libby had entered on to the system that afternoon, which was a relief to hear.
Libby made her way up to bed and fell on to her mattress in a heavy slump, her head spinning with Italian phrases, a roll call of all the faces she had seen that day flashing through her mind, lingering finally on Luca’s hazel eyes, his dark curly lashes and that cheeky, knowing grin as she drifted off to sleep.
The next day she finally spoke to her mother. Libby had legged it down to the beach as soon as her two-hour lunch break had begun, leaving the hostel in Floriana’s capable hands. She had raced straight into the sea on the Spiaggia Maggiore, plunging in and swimming out as far as she could, lolling in the water and gazing up at the towering hills overhead. She imagined all the hikers up on the secret, hidden pathways near the skyline: the Walk of the Gods. She splashed back to shore and dried off, taking a seat on one of the loungers that were dotted about the beach. She dialled her mother’s landline.
‘Hello?’ Her mother’s voice came down the line.
‘Mum, it’s me, Libby!’
‘Libby darling! Finally! How are you?’
‘I’m great thanks. I’m on the beach!’
‘How’s it all going? I’m dying to hear all about it.’ Libby could always rely on her mother for support. She knew that she doted on her as the youngest daughter and felt guilty that her older sister Helen had suffered the high expectations of the first-born child, saving Libby from a similar burden. Unlike Angus, Miriam didn’t seem too judgemental over her lack of direction in life. She was more concerned with Helen, and seemed to allow Libby’s shortcomings to flit underneath her radar.
‘I’m learning the ropes pretty quickly,’ said Libby. ‘There’s nothing too challenging to do. Everyone is charming and the hostel is so cute, you must come and visit.’
Libby filled her mother in on her first couple of days in Positano, on Floriana and Tonio, Luca, Maria and Giulia and some of the guests she had met.
‘It all sounds incredible… Actually, I’m glad you called, darling. I’m a bit worried about your sister. Have you heard from her recently?’
‘Not much since she arrived in Hong Kong. I had an email a few days ago. Why? Do you have reason to be concerned?’
‘It’s just that she was in such a bad state when she left. I do hope she hasn’t bitten off more than she can chew.’
‘But the whole point of this change of scenery is a fresh start for her, Mum. That’s why she has gone in the first place.’
‘I know, I know. And we all know Helen needed something different, a change. But I just wonder if we should have let her go… a new place, a new culture, no friends. It’s hardly going to make it easy for her. Her confidence is already so low and she hasn’t got much resilience these days.’
‘I’ll try calling her later. Have you managed to get through?’
‘No I just keep getting her voicemail. What did she say in your email?’
‘Nothing much, to be honest; that she had arrived, that the flight was long but OK. I think it’s good for her though, Mum, I really do. She’s got her TEFL qualification so she might as well use it. When she actually starts teaching she’ll meet people through that, and there’ll be more of a structure, more of a timetable, which is just what she needs.’
‘I just feel so helpless. It’s so hard to understand depression if one is not depressed oneself.’
‘I know, Mum, it is really hard. If it helps, I spoke to Angus about it a while back; you know his dad has suffered badly from it. He said that he sees it a bit like being stuck in the mud. Every time you try to pull yourself out, you end up sinking deeper, so after a while you just give up trying.’
‘Yes I can see that. But that’s why I worry so much. I think she really needs antidepressants to help her deal with her emotions.’
‘I know, but she’s not interested in taking drugs.’
