Page 29 of My Lemon Grove Summer
Lennie is just finishing clearing out his stuff as we arrive at the barn room. Sweat beads are already forming across my brow, and my eyes are stinging in the hazy heat. The dust is making us all cough every now and again, catching in our throats.
‘All done?’ I ask croakily.
‘All done,’ he confirms, picking up his case, then he takes me quite by surprise by planting a peck on my lips. And actually, it was really quite nice, making me smile and feel, well, special.
‘Oh, I love kissing!’ Sherise says. ‘Me and Billy used to kiss all the time. I don’t think he’s kissed me . . . well, since the cows went. Nothing’s been right since the cows went.’
‘Barry! Hang on,’ says Lennie. ‘I have just the thing for you!’ He disappears into his room again and reappears through the French doors pushing . . . a bike! ‘Da-nah!’ He beams, and we all join him.
‘Perfect!’ says Barry. ‘Brilliant! Haven’t ridden one of these for years.’ He takes the bike and swings his leg over. ‘My round changed to a van ages ago. Took some of the joy out of the job for me. That and the collie at number sixty-four.’ He starts to pedal, tentatively and slowly, and we all take a couple of steps back and watch him. Lennie comes to stand beside me.
‘That’s brilliant. Fancy you thinking of that!’ I smile at him.
‘I thought he might like to get back in the saddle, so to speak.’ And we both manage a little laugh. ‘There’s loads of stuff in there, boxes as well as that bike. We’ll have to clear it out if we’re going to Airbnb it.’
‘Best get started then!’ I say, pulling on sunglasses to protect my stinging eyes, ready to get stuck into whatever needs doing. Barry is now riding steadily around the courtyard, creating patterns in the fallen black ash, while Tabitha films him and shouts words of encouragement.
‘This is such a great plan, Zeld!’ Lennie says. ‘I knew you’d think of something. You always do. That’s what I love about you!’ He pulls me close and kisses the top of my head, then releases me.
I smile up at him. This is exactly how it’s meant to be. Me and Lennie. A slow-burn love. It’s always there, constant low heat. And that is exactly what I want from life. I just have no idea what will happen when the dust settles, quite literally, and we have to return to our old lives . . . but there’s a lot of dust to get through and cleaned up first, that’s for sure.
Chapter Sixteen
‘We’ve got a booking!’ shouts Tabitha from the house.
Sherise and I have moved out all the boxes that were stacked up in Lennie’s room and are giving it a good clean, while Barry is tinkering with the bike in the open-sided barn, where there’s an old minibus that looks like it’s been parked there for years. He’s also found some wood there for his signs.
‘A booking!’ she calls again, and we stop what we’re doing as she arrives in the courtyard with her computer cradled in her arms. Barry abandons the bike, and Ralph comes out of the other bedroom wearing rubber gloves and a pinny with a frill around the edge that could well have been Giuseppe’s mother’s.
‘Where did you get that?’ I ask.
‘It was in one of those boxes,’ he says, and I suddenly experience a glimmer of excitement, but Tabitha’s news is far more pressing.
‘Look!’ she says.
We all gather around the computer.
‘They want both rooms!’ says Sherise.
‘And dinner!’ I add, suddenly wondering what on earth we’re going to offer. ‘Ralph, what kind of budget have we got for food shopping for tonight?’
He pulls out pen and paper, does a quick sum and shows me.
‘It’s not much,’ I say.
‘Not if we want to make a profit,’ he agrees.
I start drying my wet hands on my apron.
‘Who’s up for cooking? Ralph? You said you could cook, didn’t you?’
He moves his head from side to side. ‘When I said I could cook, I mean I love food. I do a mean steak. Actually,’ he says, as if thinking back for the first time in a while, ‘I used to love cooking, but over the last few years I just ate out most of the time. With clients, meetings, keeping them happy . . . probably why my wife left me. Don’t expect she remembered who I was. Same for the kids, I suppose. I was too busy making money to appreciate my family while I had it.’
We all fall silent for a minute.
‘I’m more of a pop-it-and-ping-it man myself,’ says Barry, breaking the awkward silence, and we all smile.
‘Okay, I’ll go into town, see what I can get. Maybe pasta of some sort . . .’ I start peeling off my apron.
