Page 67 of My Lemon Grove Summer
‘The lemon grove is the only thing I have here. I love that place. It was my grandfather’s. He loved it too. I think I told you how he used to say that a man only ever becomes a lemon farmer for love. Sadly, lemons are never going to make you rich. And my father could never understand why you would choose love over making money. But I could.’
His words hang in the air. I want to hug him, but know I can’t. I want to go and smash another statue, but know I can’t do that either.
‘What are you going to do?’
He drops his head and his hair falls over his face like curtains once again.
‘He’ll be keeping a close eye on me, on the lemon grove. Or rather he’ll be getting Matteo to do it.’
‘He is strangling this town, Luca. Killing off anything that is good in it. What are we going to do?’
‘He won’t be watching Il Limoneto.’ Luca raises his head, smiling. ‘We’re going to make your limoncello and make sure Emily has enough bottles to meet the order. He’s so busy starving this town, starving the trees, that the trees are making more verdello than ever before!’
His smile spreads right across his face, and I could kiss him. But I don’t. And I won’t . . . I won’t. I don’t want anything to ruin things here. Nothing must spoil this.
Chapter Thirty-three
‘Right, everybody!’
I’ve called a meeting in the kitchen early the following morning and am channelling my inner Alan Sugar as he hands out the tasks inThe Apprentice. There is a tray of cannoli laid out on the table, crispy, sweet tubes filled with cream. A gift from the baker, no doubt.
‘We need to pick as many of those little green lemons from the grove as we can. Billy, you’ve made a way in, right? And it’s still okay to get in there?’
‘Certainly have. Farming and fencing have been my life. Yes, there’s no connection to the electric fence there now.’
‘So we’ll all go out and pick, then we need to peel and I’ll start to put it in jars. We’ll bottle in three days. We need more bottles. Luca has plenty at his place. He’s sorting them out now but we’ll need to bring them over. Could you help, Barry?’
‘Righto!’
‘I’ll take the minibus over,’ says Valerie. ‘Barry and me can go together.’
‘This is brilliant. I’ll take photos,’ says Tabitha.
‘I think you probably need to put the camera down and pick fruit with us today,’ Ralph says, and it’s probably the most he’s said to her since we found out about the magazine article.
‘Of course,’ she says, and without any complaint, she puts her phone on the table.
‘We’ll all need a little knife or scissors. It’s not easy to get the verdello off the trees,’ I say.
‘What if we’re spotted?’
‘Yes, what if Matteo is passing?’
‘Matteo won’t be passing, not at this time of day. He’ll probably be working on the gym.’ We all look at Lennie, impressed by his insider knowledge. ‘He told me the other day, when I saw him in town. We talked. He was fine. He’s just doing his job. It’s Romano that has all the power around here.’
‘He’s keeping an eye on another lemon grove on the edge of town at the moment,’ I say. ‘But if he is passing, we’ll just say we’re rounding up some chickens that have escaped . . .’
We all make our way into the lemon grove, and the chickens seem to love the idea of company, trotting around us and pecking at the ground. We’ve got a selection of baskets and bowls. Even Valerie is with us as we step through the wild flowers, drawn towards the trees by the citrusy smell.
We pick until it’s too hot to pick any more. Luca has joined us too. Every now and again, the two of us seem to look up at the same time, like magnets returning to home, and I find myself quickly averting my gaze and my cheeks pinking up. But it’s the excitement of the deal, the prospect of finally making some money and being in business that wins out. It’s finally happening.
Ralph and Barry bring out chairs and flatten down an area of grass in the shade of a row of lemon trees. Barry has been working in the kitchen, making big bowls of pasta, just like Luca showed us that night. Valerie goes to help him carry them out, along with a board of bread and wonderful caponata that Sherise has made from vegetables she’s been growing and nurturing in the overgrown veg patch.
‘This is fantastic, Barry,’ I tell him. ‘Thank you.’
‘Actually, I loved it. I always wanted a big family to cook for,’ he says. ‘But it never worked out for me.’
‘Me too. For so long it was just me and Lennie. Now there are three of us.’ Valerie beams at me. ‘And who knows, maybe . . .’ She looks at my belly, and I blush.
