Page 14 of My Lemon Grove Summer
‘There is a . . . tradition in the town, a . . . how you say? Supercilious?’
‘Suspicion?’ asks Barry, and glances at the party at the window table.
‘Superstition?’ I try. Giuseppe points at me and nods.
‘Like a legend?’ says Lennie.
‘Of course. Excuse my English . . .’ His English is way better than our Italian. He smiles and sips and carries on. ‘It’s not something I was going to mention – well, not straight away. Like I say, it’s a superstition. But now we have this wonderful news, I feel I can tell you.’
We all lean in, intrigued.
‘It is said that a wedding in the town every ten years will bring good luck. Mount Etna will bless us and Città d’Oro will prosper. If we do not have a wedding, Etna will be unhappy and . . . Well, we are nearly out of time. But now . . .’ He throws up his hands. ‘But now you are here and have brought good fortune back to the town.’ He wells up all over again.
‘Congratulations,’ Luca says as he hands me a glass of Prosecco, his smile not quite as wide as before. My hand is shaking as I reach out and take it. Our fingers touch and I feel like I’ve been buzzed with an electric shock, so I whip the glass away, taking a huge gulp.
‘A wedding! We are blessed!’ Giuseppe throws up his arms with a look over to the other table. ‘You hear that? Our town is going to have a wedding. Finally!’
The man in the hat gives a gentle nod but doesn’t smile. None of the table do. In fact, I might be imagining it, but they seem to be positively glowering. What’s wrong with them? This is exciting news. Most people would be happy and congratulating us. I would if a couple got engaged in a restaurant back home.
Engaged! I say the word to myself, then lean over to Lennie and whisper into his ear, ‘Engaged, and now getting married?’
He suddenly looks solemn. The joking Lennie gone for a moment and a new, serious man in his place.
‘That is okay, isn’t it? It’s what we were planning – the whole marriage, family, together-forever thing,’ he whispers back, looking at me earnestly.
‘You could have warned me!’ I try and joke.
‘Sorry. Maybe your impulsive behaviour is catching,’ he jokes back. ‘But you are cool with it, aren’t you?’
I see Tabitha typing on her phone. She shoves it away quickly when she catches me looking, and raises a smile and a glass to me. I wonder if our news is spreading across social media already. Though why would her friends and family be interested? But then I suppose she’s here on her own, and I know how that feels. I’m the lucky one.
I glance at Luca and get that jolt again, and it shocks me. I look back at Lennie and focus on his face.
‘Absolutely!’ I confirm with a nod and a broadening smile. ‘As long as that means I get to plan a vintage wedding.’
‘I wouldn’t expect anything less.’ He laughs, and so do I.
‘And as long as that bloke with the sour face isn’t on the guest list.’ I nod to the other table, and raise my glass to the man in the hat. He still doesn’t react. Just carries on chewing his wasp.
Focusing on my own wedding is exactly what will stop any silly thoughts about attractive Sicilian restaurateurs. I’m getting married, I tell myself, still feeling a little stunned, and take another swig of Prosecco. But my treacherous eyes are inexplicably drawn back to Luca, like some uncontrollable attraction.
A younger me would have said that my reaction to him was love at first sight. Ha! That would be ironic. I’ve been waiting all these years for a man I want to settle down with to come along, then, like buses, two come along at once. But that’s where I’ve been getting it wrong. I know now that instant attraction doesn’t last. I want a forever partnership, something solid. I want to marry Lennie. It’s just come as a bit of a shock.
Tabitha stands up and snaps a photograph of the two of us and says, ‘Congratulations! Okay if I post it on my Facebook page?’ And I can’t help feeling slightly odd that the world is starting to hear my news before I’ve even had a chance to get used to it myself.
Chapter Eight
‘Please, everyone, enjoy.’
Giuseppe holds out his hands and we dive in, hunger and tiredness suddenly needing to be fed. I can feel the table next to us watching us, but I’m too focused on the soft, melt-in-the-mouth ham to be bothered by them. I take a triangle of cheese, clashing hands with Lennie as we both reach in and laugh. I dip it in the amber liquid as Giuseppe is showing me from his end of the table, and then put it in my mouth. Oh my God! It’s honey, warm honey, with just a hint of citrus, coating the sharp, tangy cheese, satisfying every corner of my taste buds. It’s probably the most amazing thing I’ve ever tasted, the ultimate marriage made in heaven.
It’s a sign, I think, a brilliant sign . . . Like me and Lennie, not a couple you would automatically put together, but when you do, they work beautifully and effortlessly in tandem. More people need to know about this.
I take another piece of cheese and dip it into the other bowl: a sweet, soft onion marmalade, Giuseppe tells me, and again, a wonderful pairing. But my heart is with the honey and cheese.
We drink red wine from the vines on Mount Etna, poured from terracotta jugs. Giuseppe and Lennie have their pasta course, and I’m impressed by Lennie’s stamina as he attempts to embrace Sicilian eating culture.
‘Where do you put it all?’ I ask him.
