Page 61 of All Mine
A tiny lady, no taller than five feet, stood on the pavement wearing a bright red woollen cape. Her long white hair was in a plait that wrapped around her head like a crown. Her face was weathered and wrinkled but her bright blue eyes shone with a surprising twinkle, even if she was easily over seventy years old. Isabella heaved her suitcase over the threshold before bending to envelop her in the biggest hug. The older woman squeezed her fiercely in return and Isabella was reminded of what a good yoga class can do. When she looked back at the team, she knew her eyes were gleaming with tears.
‘Team, meet Chef,’ she said, ‘maker of the best meatballs in history. Keeper of the family’s secret recipes since the nineteen fifties.’ Isabella wrapped her arm around the woman’s shoulders and pulled her in tight. ‘Tutto Mio’s secret weapon. Otherwise known as my grandmother.’
The woman undid her cape with a flourish and plucked a white cotton apron from the bag at her feet. She tied it around her waist and pulled herself up to her full four feet eleven inches. She rubbed her hands together in happy anticipation, armfuls of bracelets clinking.
‘Call me Nonna,’ she said.
Nonna knew everyone in the team by name by the time Isabella led her up to the flat. She announced that Amber was a beautiful and strong woman when she heard she was bringing up Jayden alone. She particularly liked Denzil’s handwashing and admired Harry’s manners. She’d impressed them in return by asking them if they knew of a local Pilates club she could join, and Australian Angie declared that she was bonza when she’d enquired where the nearest escape room was.
Sinead promised to introduce her to the macrame gang and Harry’s face lit up when she said she’d never been geocaching, but it was ‘on her list’.
After the team left, Isabella showed her the newly refurbed restaurant. When Isabella opened the doors to the kitchen and Nonna saw the new stainless-steel worktops and the shiny white tiles on the wall, she turned around and hugged herself.
‘Now, here’s a kitchen to make meatballs,’ Nonna said.
‘You don’t think this is going to be too much for you, do you?’ Isabella asked for the hundredth time. She’d been begging Nonna to come and stay with her for months, ever since Mamma and Papà left for their extended travels. She hated the thought of Nonna living alone and wanted her where she could look out for her more. The only way she’d been able to finally get her to say yes was with the suggestion that Nonna did the cooking for the restaurant. Nonna jumped at the opportunity so quickly it made Isabella question whose idea it was in the first place, but she was delighted that her grandmother would be close by– and she was the best possible chef for Tutto Mio.
‘I’ve told you,mia cara, that cooking and family are the two best things in my life. So, no, this will not be too much for me.’
‘But if it does start to be—’
‘Then I will train someone else,’ Nonna said with a shrug and then a nod. ‘I like the look of that Sinead already.’
‘I don’t want to wear you out.’
‘I’d like to see you try.’
Isabella laughed.
As Nonna unpacked her things in the spare bedroom, she hummed away to herself. It was an old Italian folk song that reminded Isabella of being tiny and going to stay with Nonno and Nonna in the school holidays. The patchwork quilt, the smell of lemons. The sounds of her grandparents cooking and talking in the next room when she went to bed. She’d spend a few weeks there every summer, playing under pine trees, swimming in the lake, meeting up with Gabriella and playing with her other cousins. As she closed her eyes to listen, a text came in and brought her reminiscing bang up to date.
Etienne: Wanna play tonight?
Isabella felt a rush of pure lust. But she couldn’t leave Nonna on the first night. It wouldn’t be fair.
Isabella: Sorry, can’t. My nonna’s here.
It was tempting but she hadn’t seen her nonna for almost a year and they had a lot to catch up on.
Etienne: Shame. . . Without upsetting your grandmother, I was imagining what I might do to you first. . .
Isabella chuckled at the same time that her thighs tightened.
Nonna started to hum a new tune in her room.
Isabella: Where did you decide to start?
She grinned to herself, hoping this message chain was having the same effect on him as it was her. Heightening the anticipation. She watched the screen. He was typing.
Etienne: Undoing your shirt buttons, one at a time. . .
Isabella automatically put her fingers to the button between her breasts. Her breathing was deepening.
Isabella: And then?
She flicked a glance at the door to Nonna’s bedroom, at the opposite end of the flat to hers.
Etienne: Tugging your bra out of the way. . .
