Page 54 of My Lemon Grove Summer
‘I’m Zelda. Zelda Dickenson,’ I say.
‘I know who you are,’ he replies flatly. ‘Why are you here?’
I reply without missing a beat.
‘To start a new life. To set up a business and hopefully bring customers to the town. We want to make Città d’Oro our home. I think we all have something to offer that will help you. The houses here are empty, the streets deserted. Even the lemon groves are dying. No one comes here. But we did. To start a new life. Not to take anything from yours.’
I feel slightly light-headed after my impromptu and heartfelt speech. Must remember to breathe, I think, but my chest is tight and my throat dry. Still holding my flowers in one hand, I grab the water bottle from my bag – the bag that I found in the box of clothes. Luca’s grandmother’s bag. Romano’s mother’s bag, I realise. He looks at it.
Finally, he speaks again.
‘No, I mean, why are you here on my doorstep?’ He looks at me. Well, I think he does. All I can see is myself, staring back at him in his sunglasses.
‘Oh, right,’ I say. With a sinking heart, I realise that nothing I said has made a difference. He’s not suddenly going to invite me in for an Aperol and an olive. I suddenly feel very uncomfortable. But I have to make him see how brilliant this idea of Lennie’s could be if we all joined in.
‘We at Il Limoneto, the farmhouse, we all want to work and start up new businesses,’ I say. He snorts, and I’m not sure I have much more time here to pitch this idea. ‘We want to create an event in the town, a street party. Get people to come and browse, spend some time.’ He snorts again. ‘We’ll serve street food—’
‘Then you are competing against my restaurant,’ he says sharply.
‘No . . . we’ll be workingwithyour restaurant. People will come and want to eat. The more people who come, the more . . . I’ve brought you this.’ I attempt to give him the bottle of limoncello I’m holding. Then, when he doesn’t hold out a hand to take it, I add, ‘And these,’ offering him the flowers too.
He waves a hand at me, and I feel like I’m being shooed from his front door.
‘If you get involved, agree to it, others will too,’ I say. But I’m being dismissed. I try to stand my ground, but find myself taking a step back, being pushed out.
‘You aren’t wanted here. There is not enough business for all of us. It’s a ridiculous idea, letting just anyone move to the town. There is little enough to go round as it is. I am just looking out for my family.’
He waves his arm at me again, and I’m at the bottom of the steps, being forced back down the path towards the imposing gates, which are slowly opening behind me with a creak.
‘We don’t want you here, taking our business. We don’t have room for refugees, wherever you are from. Go home!’
I drop my flowers, but he’s advancing on me and I don’t have time to pick them up. Then I am out of the gates and they are whirring shut in front of me.
‘Please . . .’ I go to say. ‘Just listen . . . We can help each other.’ But the gates clunk, whirr and then go silent, and I am left staring at the brown-painted metal inches in front of my nose. ‘We’re not here to fight you!’ I shout. But there is no response.
My blood bubbles up and boils over. I was pushed out of the business I loved by greedy landlords; I am not going to be bullied out of here. No way! Romano may be a narrow-minded bigot, but we’ll show him. We can make this work. I think of my flowers, now strewn across his path. Lots of people want us here, for the wedding if nothing else. I’m determined to prove him wrong.
‘I’ll show you!’ I shout furiously. ‘If you want a fight, you’ve got one.’
As I turn away, I see a statue standing by the gates. I march over to the overgrown lemon grove opposite, pick up a fallen branch, carry it back to the gates and swing it at the mannequin. I watch as its head falls clean off. Then I look up, straight into the blinking eye of the CCTV camera there.
Cheeks burning with indignation and rage, I set off back to the farmhouse, which, strangely, is beginning to feel more and more like home.
Chapter Twenty-seven
‘You did what?!’
‘Swung a lemon branch at his statue and knocked its head off,’ I say. My anger has turned to embarrassment and regret, and by the time I arrive back at the farmhouse, I am utterly mortified.
‘Oh Zelda! You and your impulsive behaviour!’ says Valerie, who was there for every argument I got myself into during my time at school and afterwards. She always saw my side of the story and supported me, even though she’d tell me I’d handled things wrong. When I started a demonstration on the high street with placards against the rising business rates, she didn’t tell me to stop making a show of myself; she just picked up a placard and stood beside me. What has always enraged me most is injustice. I just can’t bear bullies.
‘I know, Valerie. I’m sorry,’ I say, wishing I could tell her I acted with great dignity and that she could be proud of me.
It was Valerie who read a piece in one of the daily papers about ADHD in girls and women and helped me to get diagnosed. I thought it only affected boys and just made them run around a lot. Turns out not. ADHD sufferers are impulsive and chaotic, acting in the moment, seizing each day as it comes and throwing themselves into it. Which might explain why I was always the last person standing at parties and never really slept properly at night, my mind whirring away. Why I couldn’t stay in any job, until I set up in business on my own. Taking risks was never an issue for me. I just did it, without a thought about what could go wrong. That’s why I always found myself in trouble at school and later in life come to that. But it’s also what gave me the courage to start up on my own. Starting my own business suited me so well: something different happening every day, only myself to answer to.
Valerie helped me to understand why I behave in certain ways and to learn how to deal with it. Although maybe not today. One day I’ll make her proud. The wedding will make her proud, I think. I want to repay her for all she’s done for me. But first, we have a street party to organise.
‘Right, Ralph, what are your barbecuing skills like? We are going to have this street party whether Romano likes it or not!’
