Romantic boat trip? Now a family flotilla 🤣
The journey from the rolling hills of Tuscany to the dramatic cliffs of the Amalfi Coast was, Patricia had to admit, significantly less romantic as a party of four than it had been as a party of two. Sharon, bless her maternal heart, had insisted on navigating with a series of enormous, old-fashioned paper maps, convinced that "these newfangled GPS things can't be trusted in proper Italian countryside." This led to several scenic detours, one memorable encounter with a herd of goats that refused to yield the narrow road, and Cathal developing a new, pained expression every time his mother announced, "I think we take a left at that charming, slightly dilapidated olive tree!"
Flori, on the other hand, was a bundle of unadulterated enthusiasm. She’d appointed herself Patricia’s official "Italian Adventure Buddy," pointing out every picturesque village, every ancient ruin, and every cat sunning itself on a windowsill with wide-eyed delight. While Patricia genuinely enjoyed Flori’s company, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing for the quiet, easy intimacy she and Cathal had briefly rediscovered in their Tuscan villa before it became a Corr family outpost. Cathal, to his credit, was a master of silent communication, offering Patricia reassuring hand-squeezes and comically exasperated eye-rolls behind his mother’s back whenever the "family bonding" became particularly intense.
Their arrival in Positano was, undeniably, breathtaking. The iconic pastel-coloured houses cascaded down the cliffside to meet the sparkling turquoise waters of the Tyrrhenian Sea. The air smelled of lemons, salt, and blooming bougainvillea. For a glorious ten minutes, as they stood on the terrace of their (now significantly larger and multi-roomed) rented apartment, everyone was simply stunned into an appreciative silence by the sheer beauty of it all.
Then Sharon remembered she hadn't checked if the apartment had a "properly stocked first-aid kit," Flori spotted a gelateria she needed to investigate immediately, and the gentle hum of potential honeymoon romance was once again drowned out by the cheerful chaos of family.
"Right," Cathal said the next morning, with a determined glint in his eye that Patricia recognized as his "I-will-wrestle-some-romance-back-into-this-honeymoon-if-it-kills-me" look. "Operation: Aquatic Serenity. I've booked a private boat. Just the four of us," he added, a subtle emphasis on the 'four' that acknowledged the current reality. "We'll explore the coast, find a quiet grotto, maybe even some dolphins if Flori’s lucky. It’ll be peaceful."
Sharon, predictably, had questions. "A private boat, dear? Is the captain licensed? Does he have life jackets for everyone? Perhaps I should pack my travel Scrabble, just in case we get bored." She also, Patricia noted with an internal sigh, began assembling a picnic basket of truly epic proportions, enough to feed a small army, or at least, one moderately hungry Corr family.
Flori was, of course, ecstatic. "A boat! Can I wear a captain's hat? Will we sing sea shanties? Oh, Patricia, isn't this going to be the best day ever?"
Patricia, catching Cathal’s hopeful, slightly desperate gaze, summoned her most enthusiastic smile. "It sounds wonderful," she said, a tiny, optimistic part of her clinging to the word "private." Surely, out on the vast expanse of the sea, they would be safe from further… coincidences.
The gozzo, a traditional Italian wooden boat, was charming, and their captain, a sun-weathered man named Giovanni with a kind smile, seemed perfectly reputable. For the first hour, Cathal’s plan actually worked. They chugged along the stunning coastline, Flori gasping at every azure grotto, Sharon pointing out interesting rock formations that reminded her of "that lovely man who sells Connemara marble back home," and Cathal and Patricia managing to steal a few quiet moments at the bow, fingers laced together, the sea spray cool on their faces. Giovanni even found them a secluded little cove, its waters crystal clear and invitingly empty.
"Perfect," Cathal breathed, looking at Patricia with a triumphant smile. "See? Aquatic serenity achieved."
He had spoken too soon.
Just as Giovanni was preparing to drop anchor, and Sharon was beginning to unpack the first layer of her Fort Knox-level picnic basket, the purr of another boat engine grew steadily louder. It was another gozzo, slightly larger than theirs, and it was heading directly, and with an air of undeniable purpose, towards them.