Page 10 of My Lemon Grove Summer
‘Great,’ says Ralph with what I think may be a heavy dose of sarcasm.
I look at Lennie, who raises an eyebrow, and I stifle a nervous giggle. Not only is this like the first day in the office; it’s like the first day in theBig Brotherhouse. What if we just don’t get on? Am I going to find myself homeless all over again?
Chapter Five
‘So, to the restaurant,’ says Giuseppe, as we stroll down the track from the farmhouse, avoiding the potholes, and out onto the road into town, bordered by overgrown hedgerows full of wild flowers and Etna broom.
I’m soaking up the last of the rays from the setting sun by holding my face towards it as we walk, basking in its energy-giving rays. Lennie is walking beside me, and I wonder if I should hold his hand, but instead I hook my arm through his, like we always do, with one hand in his pocket. My silk scarf drapes between us as it slips lazily off my shoulder.
Lennie is the only thing here that seems to be making any sense right now. I’m sure the houses will be ready soon and we’ll be able to start our life together. For now . . . well, it’s just on hold for a couple of weeks, that’s all, and we’re simply carrying on like we’ve always been. Me and Lennie, comfortable with each other without having to think that we’re anything more, or how our relationship will work in the future.
The occasional car comes down the lane and we all stand in to the side, brushing our calves against the grasses there. There is a smell of warm soil and flowers.
‘What are those, Giuseppe?’ I ask, pointing to the overgrown orchards all around us.
He looks at them as if suddenly seeing them for the first time in a long while.
‘Lemons,’ he says. ‘They are lemon trees. These are all lemon groves.’
‘They don’t look very well looked after,’ I say as we walk.
‘Well,’ he shrugs, ‘theywerelemon groves. Not so much these days . . .’
He puts his hands behind his back and his head down as we stroll on. A few battered old cars slow down as they pass, their drivers staring at us as though we are a circus act. Giuseppe raises his hand and greets each one. It becomes a little worrying when two cars meet each other, neither seeming to know which side to pass the other on. They finally work it out, watching us all the time.
‘Can we see our houses?’ asks Sherise.
‘Maybe not this evening,’ Giuseppe says. ‘Let the builders get on and then I’ll show you.’
‘How about tomorrow, then? Be good to see where we’re going to be living,’ says Barry. ‘You have got houses for us, haven’t you? It’s not some scam?’
‘No, I have houses. You will see them, I promise.’
‘Tomorrow then?’ Sherise isn’t giving up.
‘Tomorrow,’ he agrees, although I sense some reluctance.
‘Are they near here?’ asks Tabitha.
‘Yes, just down there.’ He points to a side street leading off from where we are.
‘We could go now, couldn’t we?’ she says.
Giuseppe hesitates. ‘Well, we have to get to the restaurant . . .’
‘Oh yes, could we?’ says Sherise.
‘Well . . .’ Giuseppe falters some more.
Tabitha is already striding away. ‘Here?’ she says, then starts taking photographs with her phone. She seems to photograph everything, like a teenager addicted to their Instagram feed. We all follow her down the narrow street with its faded pink walls. The houses are the ones we spotted on our way here. The ones that need a heck of a lot of work!
‘Like I say, in need of some repair, but it will be done.’ Giuseppe wags a finger with determination.
I look at the houses. There is no glass in some of the windows, shutters are broken, doors are peeling, balconies crumbling, but even so, my heart skips a beat. It might not be the farmhouse, but one of these houses, full of character and old features, would make me very happy. I can see myself in one already . . . us, I correct myself.
‘They’re beautiful,’ I say, taking in the old stone and worn ironwork.
‘They’re knackered,’ says Barry, sniffing disparagingly.
