Page 6 of My Lemon Grove Summer
The awkward moment over, he holds the car door open and I smile. Back to our normal selves. I take one last look up at the terraced house and see Maureen standing behind the twitching curtain. As the taxi speeds off down the road in the direction of the airport, I feel like a prisoner leaving behind her cellmate, feeling lucky to be getting out and finding my freedom.
I try and sleep on the plane, but I keep reliving that awkward kiss and hug, and I can’t help wondering what it’s going to be like when we actually have to sleep together. We once had a drunken fumble at college, when we shared a bed after a party. Afterwards, we both agreed we’d had too much to drink, and that it was a bad idea anyway. Why ruin a perfectly good friendship? But it was always there, the elephant in the room. People assumed we were together or would end up together.
It was after that drunken fumble that we made the pact. And now here we are. I actually think that this time maybe a few drinks will help things along. That and the sunshine. I’m sure once we’re there we’ll be relaxed and ready to find our way around the bedroom. I don’t need sparks and wild passion; just a nice time will do me fine. I look round at Lennie’s familiar profile, his head lolling back as he sleeps, and try to summon up some sexy thoughts. But they don’t come, and I put it down to tiredness. I lay my head against his firm broad shoulder and shut my eyes.
When I wake, the captain is telling the cabin crew to take their seats for landing.
‘Window blinds up, please,’ the flight attendant tells me on her way through. I do as I’m told and am immediately dazzled by bright morning sunlight. As my eyes adjust, I look out and catch my breath. There is the imposing bulk of Mount Etna filling my window like she’s centre stage in a photograph. She stands tall and proud as if looking down on her subjects below, slowly puffing out smoke that sits like a white crown around her snowy head.
‘Wow!’ is all I can say, and I feel Lennie’s weight leaning in to me to catch a glimpse too.
‘Wow indeed!’ he says as we finally touch down on sunny Sicilian soil for our new life together.
Emerging through the sliding doors into arrivals, I feel like I’m entering a whole new world, and the butterflies in my stomach agree. We stand with our trolley and look around at all the people holding signs, trying to find our names. It’s like looking at a sea of sunglasses, on top of heads, on foreheads and tucked into the necklines of jumpers. There are shiny platform-heeled trainers everywhere, and despite the bright light outside, everyone is in coats and puffa jackets. To us, it looks like high summer, but clearly to Sicilians, this is still not hot. There is the sound of little dogs barking from under their owners’ arms all around the arrivals hall, and the smell of hot coffee and sweet pastries makes my stomach roar.
None of the signs seem to have our names on them.
‘What if it’s all a hoax?’ I blurt out, doubts and fears suddenly flooding into my anxious mind.
‘Yes, but no one has actually asked us for any money yet,’ says Lennie, the voice of reason as always. He’s right: no one has asked us for money. Quite the opposite, in fact: they’re actually paying us to move here. A lump sum when we arrive, and another in three months if and when we decide to stay. And we’re being charged a peppercorn rent for a house.
I look around at the friends, families and colleagues kissing each other in greeting, and feel another surge of happiness. I definitely need to practise my kissing.
‘I’ll text the number I have and find out what’s going on,’ Lennie says. ‘Why don’t you get a couple of coffees and something to eat?’ He pulls out some euros from his wallet.
‘Okay. I’ll pay you back,’ I say, taking the notes. ‘As soon as I get my fee.’ Maureen wiped me out when I gave in my notice, insisting on all sorts of costs for cleaning carpet and curtains, claiming it was in the contract.
‘No need to pay me back,’ says Lennie, throwing out a long arm and wrapping it round my shoulders. ‘We’re a couple, a team. What’s mine is yours!’ He beams, and I smile back. It gives me a lovely warm feeling, being a team.
By the time I get back, carrying two strong black coffees and eating a warm deep-fried bun called an iris fritter, filled with sweet and creamy ricotta and chocolate chips, I feel like I’m in heaven. For Lennie I have a ciambella, a sugary circle like a doughnut. He loves doughnuts. The Sicilians clearly have a sweet tooth!
‘Here.’ I hand him a coffee and the paper bag with his ciambella in it. ‘But first you have to try this.’ I hold up the iris fritter and he takes a bite. Warm ricotta oozes from the sides of the bun and the corners of his mouth.
‘Oh!’ He rolls his eyes in pleasure. ‘That was worth coming here for!’ he says through a mouthful of chocolate and cream cheese.
‘So, what’s the news?’ I ask, reclaiming my iris. ‘Oh, I got these too,’ I add, pulling out bottles of bright orange juice from my bag and handing one to Lennie.
‘I spoke to the mayor himself. He said he was sorry, he’d been delayed and he’d be here shortly. I told him we’d wait outside. He has our photographs from our application, so he’ll recognise us. We might as well go and soak up the sun while we eat our breakfast.’
Juggling coffee cups, grease-soaked paper bags and serviettes, we push the trolley out through the glass doors and into the warm, bright sunshine, where we stand and look at each other, neither of us really believing we’re here. Mount Etna is there, tall and proud, and I find myself giving her a nod in greeting as we locate a bench and tuck into our breakfast buns, coffee and orange juice. I already feel like everything is working out just as I hoped it would.
‘Mi dispiace! Mi dispiace!’
We both drop our heads forward from where they’ve been tipped back towards the sun, sunglasses on and eyes shut. Lennie pushes his glasses onto his forehead like the other men I’ve seen. See! We’re practically locals already! A man in a dark blue suit, a light shirt, top button undone, and a dark tie loosened at the neck is striding towards us, dodging moving cars. He has a dark brown face, with deep lines around his eyes and either side of his large nose.
‘Welcome, Zelda and Lennie!’ He holds out a hand towards us and we stand to greet him. He takes my hand, shakes it vigorously and then kisses both my cheeks. I deal with it effortlessly. Again, I think, like I was born to be here. Then he does the same to Lennie, who is a little more taken aback but attempts to go with it and makes a loud kissing noise on the second peck. ‘Welcome, citizens of Sicily!’ The man smiles as warmly as the sun and then smooths down his grey hair across his head. ‘I’m sorry for my delay. I had . . . some problems. But please,’ he waves a hand towards the car park, ‘come with me. I will take you to our town . . . your new home.’
‘Problems?’ I ask.
He suddenly looks hot, and his forehead shines in the sunshine. Then he fixes a wide smile across his face. ‘Nothing that can’t be sorted. Now, please . . .’ He leads the way to his car, and as we follow, Lennie gives me a reassuring quick wink and a smile.
The car, a dusty silver Fiat, has a number of dents in it. Not quite what I was expecting. Not exactly fitting for the mayor, I think, but then he did say he was late because he’d had some problems. Maybe it was car problems, and this is a borrowed one.
We leave the airport at speed and make our way onto the autostrada, and I watch as my new world whizzes by. At last we turn off onto more narrow minor roads. Everywhere I look, there are yellow flowers, growing on overhanging branches beside and above the bumpy roads.
‘What is that plant?’ I ask, my curiosity going into overdrive. I want to know everything about my new surroundings.
‘Etna broom,’ the mayor tells me. ‘It grows here and in Sardinia. Where the ground is sunny and open, and on poor stony soil.’
