Page 86 of My Lemon Grove Summer
‘Non.’
‘And . . . it seems you’ve taken it out on the town ever since.’
‘I thought . . .’ He hesitates. ‘I thought I was doing the best thing for my family. I wanted to keep them safe, and close.’
‘And your heart?’
‘Just broken, not ill,’ he says, looking ashamed. ‘I should never have used it as an excuse to keep Luca here. I should have let him go years ago. What is the expression, “If you love someone, let them go”?’
I nod. ‘You’re right.’
And we both take a breath and look at the now low sun on the horizon. At that moment, Sophia emerges from the shop carrying her caged bird, holding it high.
‘I thought Montgomery would like to join the party too. It doesn’t seem fair that he has to stay inside and not be out here with everyone else.’
‘Quite right,’ I say in agreement.
Before anyone can stop her, she opens the cage door and the little bird flies out and up.
‘Isn’t that what you said, Nonno? If you love someone, let them go?’
He puts his hand on her shoulder.
‘It is, my love.’
He turns back to me.
‘I was angry. I told her to go and not to come back,’ and I know he’s talking about his wife. ‘I was angry with everyone. But I wasn’t an easy man to live with. My brother had died. He was the older one, always looking after us all. And my wife had had enough of me ignoring her and what she needed. She needed to feel loved. Isn’t that what we all want, to find our one true love? I had mine and I let her go.’
He looks around.
‘She would have loved this,’ he says quietly.
As we’re all eating and drinking and chatting, a car drives slowly along the narrow street and then stops, just as we always hoped cars would do. The door opens and out gets Emily, Luca’s agent.
‘Oh, hi,’ I say.
‘Well this looks like fun!’ she beams, looking around. ‘May I?’ She takes a glass of limoncello and holds it up, then sips. ‘This really is fantastic stuff.’
‘Are you looking for Luca?’ I say, glancing at Il Nonno, who is clearly interested in the new arrival and why she’s here.
‘No,’ she says. ‘It’s you I was looking for.’ She takes another sip, and suddenly I freeze. Does she know about the kiss too? Does she think I’m stepping on her toes with Luca? Or is it the limoncello?
‘Is something wrong with the order?’ I ask. ‘It’s all ready for bottling.’
Suddenly everyone stops talking and turns to look at her.
‘Actually,’ she says slowly, ‘word has spread. I have more orders, from a restaurant and another shop.’
‘More? Oh God, that’s brilliant! I’m in business!’
‘In fact,’ she says, ‘I need four times the original amount. And more samples.’
I stand frozen in shock. How on earth can I make this work? I look around at the locals, who are all listening in silence.
‘Il Nonno?’
He says nothing; just stares at me.
