Page 51 of My Lemon Grove Summer
‘Apart from love,’ I point out.
He shrugs. ‘That may change,’ he says, not looking at me, reaching up again to a high branch.
The following afternoon, as I finish in the lemon grove for the day and gather my belongings, Luca is getting ready to go to the restaurant.
‘I’ll give you a lift if you like,’ he offers.
I raise a hand. ‘It’s fine. I enjoy the walk.’
‘Okay, if you’re sure. Same time tomorrow? I have to get the crates ready to be delivered.’
‘Through the tunnels?’ I feel a shudder at the thought. ‘Luca, I can’t . . .’
He looks at me and cocks his head slightly, listening.
‘I can’t go down there, into the tunnels. I . . . Enclosed spaces. Claustrophobia,’ I manage to say.
He nods and smiles. ‘I understand. It’s not for everyone.’
‘Actually,’ I find myself blurting, ‘I’m absolutely terrified!’ I realise that my hands are clammy and shaking.
‘It’s no problem,’ he says. ‘You help me harvest them and put them in the crates, then we’ll stack them here and I’ll get them to the pallet in the tunnels. My contact will pick them up from there. That way, no one knows what I’m doing and my father won’t find out. We all need our secrets.’ He gives me a little wink, and just for a moment I think about me and Lennie and I have no idea why.
‘Do you think your father will ever accept us?’ I suddenly ask.
‘Don’t take him head on. He has to see the benefit to him. My father only agrees to things that work for him. But he does love this town and his family, so he will do anything to keep them all here.’
Chapter Twenty-four
‘Something’s not right.’ I hold up one of the bottles of limoncello.
It’s the last day of June, and June certainly is flaming here! I’ve spent the past few days cutting the lemons from the trees in the lemon grove with Luca. As the sun sets over the island, we pack them into crates and talk, about things we like, music, films that kind of thing. It’s my favourite time of the day.
‘It doesn’t look or taste like anything special. I thought it would be, y’know, really different,’ I say now.
We peeled the lemons and steeped them in alcohol and left them for three days. Then we mixed sugar and water, sticking exactly to the measurements in the recipe. We found the bottles in a cupboard under the sink in the kitchen and washed them thoroughly before filling them.
‘Give it time . . . let it percolate,’ says Lennie. ‘A bit like you and me! We’ve turned out okay, haven’t we?’ He smiles.
I put the bottle back down on the table next to my bag.
‘Think I’ll go and see Giuseppe today,’ says Lennie. ‘There’s still no joy finding any work, so we need to do something to try and get some business ideas up and running. The Airbnb has dropped off since the flights took off again.’
‘Morning all!’ says Sherise. She’s followed into the room by Billy and Tabitha, who is looking stressed.
‘You okay?’ I say.
‘Not really. I’m trying to get a writing job. Anything. But I can’t work out what to write about or who to sell it to. I’m not qualified for anything else. I just have a degree in English and a postgrad in journalism. What else can I do?’
‘I know what you mean. We were just saying how it’s gone quiet on the Airbnb now. Thank goodness we have Lennie’s mum here. We need to advertise the place,’ I say, laying out bread on the table from the local baker, along with marmalade, butter, cheese and lovely big tomatoes, all gifts that have been left on our doorstep.
‘Yes,’ says Ralph, joining us in the kitchen. ‘Investing to accumulate. That’s the key.’
‘The thing is,’ says Lennie, ‘it’s all very well a single business advertising, but as we’ve discovered, it’s hard work. When I was working at the estate agent’s, we’d get together with other agents to create a place for people to browse. That way, you bring in more customers.’
‘What, like Rightmove?’ asks Tabitha.
‘Exactly. Similarly, when we all moved here, the story wasn’t about one person moving abroad. You wanted to write about us as a group. We were more interesting that way.’
