Page 22 of My Lemon Grove Summer
‘Scusi, have you seen Giuseppe, the mayor?Il sindaco?’
‘Non,’ they all say, looking at me like I have two heads.
I walk on, heading down the hill, in amongst the swoosh of swaying pine and palm trees, hoping to find someone who can saysì. I hear a voice and follow it.
‘Hello?Buongiorno?’ But there’s no reply.
I see a gate in a stone arch, with initials engraved on it: ‘F & A’. It’s down some steps, and the land seems to drop away more steeply here. There’s a barn at the top end and what look to be crates inside, neatly stacked.
I push open the gate and it bangs shut behind me in the wind. My head throbs.
‘Hello?Buongiorno?’ I say, looking around and feeling like Alice in Wonderland entering a different world, because here there’s one big difference to the rest of Città d’Oro. Here the lemon trees are all looking lovely and healthy and cared for.
‘Hey! Hi!’ A voice interrupts my thoughts and makes me start. I glance around, but see no one. ‘Up here!’
I look up to see Luca waving at me from a balcony, his thick hair ruffling in the wind. My heart flips over and back again, and I tell myself it’s just the surprise of hearing a voice from nowhere.
‘Come up. I’m making coffee,’ he calls over the rustling lemon leaves, pointing to the wooden steps.
‘Oh no, I just . . .’ But he’s gone inside.
I walk tentatively up the steps, head still feeling like someone’s squeezing my brain. I hold the railing firmly, but for a moment it feels like my whole world moves and shakes. I stand still and focus on the immaculate lemon grove.
‘This place is amazing,’ I say when I reach the top and the open front door. I take a big breath of the heavy air and step in through the beaded curtain, which is rattling despite being tied back.
‘Grazie,’ says Luca, pointing to the table on the balcony, where his phone sits. That must have been the voice I heard. ‘Come in, please, have a seat.’ He carries out coffee and two cups.
‘Oh, I really shouldn’t stay. I’m looking for Giuseppe. The mayor. Have you seen him?’
Luca shakes his head. The sky is dark, thick and hazy, but it’s warm, very warm.
‘No, I haven’t.’ He puts the coffee on the table. ‘Please,’ he gestures to a seat again, and I have to say, it is lovely here, with the breeze coming in off the sea over the terraced lemon grove.
He looks at me, and we seem to just hold each other’s gaze. There’s something between us, but I don’t know what it is. This man is being kind and welcoming, one of the few here who is.
‘Are you okay?’ he finally asks, tilting his head. ‘Would you like some water?’
My head throbs. I’m not sure if it’s all the concerns I have about us being here, the fact that I can’t find Giuseppe, or the heavy air.
‘Water would be great. Thank you,’ I say, and he smiles and turns and goes into the kitchen.
Suddenly I feel my whole world move and shudder again. Like on the stairs, only this time worse. I grip the table, and the coffee cups rattle in their saucers. I hold the table tightly, and the wobbling seems to subside, just as Luca appears with a glass of water, looking worried. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
I take the water and drink it down in one. He watches me, his eyes flicking out to the windy lemon grove and then back to me with concern.
‘Are you okay?’ he says again.
‘Thank you,’ I finally say, handing him the glass. ‘Just . . . a weird feeling.’
‘It happens sometimes.’ He looks around the lemon grove again. Clearly he’s used to people getting light-headed occasionally.
‘Thank you again,’ I say.
‘Grazie,’ he corrects me.
‘Grazie,’ I smile.
I watch as he pours the coffee. Perhaps he can help put some of my fears to rest, I think. Although he looks as if he has worries of his own as he concentrates on the cafetière.
