Page 74 of My Lemon Grove Summer
‘I’ll get our coats, Billy,’ says Sherise.
‘Let’s stick in pairs,’ Ralph orders. ‘And swap numbers.’
We all pull out our phones and I give them Luca’s number as well, just in case.
‘I’ll contact Matteo, see if he can check the abandoned houses,’ Lennie says, stabbing at his phone.
Outside the farmhouse, we split up, our thin waterproofs totally ineffectual against the rain now filling the courtyard, and turning the track into a muddy river.
The others spread out into the lemon grove outside the farmhouse. I decide to head into town. Lennie veers off at the narrow cobbled street before the archway to help Matteo search the old houses there. I keep marching on, looking up and down all the little lanes, some no wider than the breadth of my shoulders, all gushing with rainwater pouring off the mountain.
‘Sophia!’ I call. ‘Sophie!’ But there is no response.
I turn back. Luca is coming out of the restaurant.
‘I wondered if she might have gone there,’ he says. ‘She sometimes hides from her mother under the tables, usually when she’s avoiding doing her homework.’ He tries to smile, but can’t. Worry is etched all over his face.
The town is the busiest I’ve ever seen it. Locals are out with coats clutched around their bent bodies, searching in sheds and in old cars. All of them nod a greeting, but everyone is looking worried.
‘When did you last see her?’ I ask.
Luca thinks.
‘I’m not sure. What about you?’
‘I don’t think I’ve seen her since we gave her the ride in the minibus yesterday evening.’
We look at each other with dawning looks spreading over our faces.
‘You don’t think . . . ?’ I swallow. Guilt washes over me. ‘You don’t think she followed me there this morning, do you? When I went to check on the verdello?’
Neither of us needs to answer the question. As if working in total sync with each other, we head up through the square towards the slippery cobbled street that leads to the lemon grove. The water is ankle deep, and Luca stops and turns back to me, holding out a hand.
‘Take it steady,’ he says as I bound forward. ‘Slow down. We don’t need another casualty.’ But I carry on blindly, desperate to get to the lemon grove no matter what.
Suddenly there is an almighty crack overhead. Luca stops abruptly and I crash into him as he holds out his arms to stop me. Directly in front of us, an old balcony crumbles and collapses. The rubble hits the road, and the water quickly builds, bubbles and diverts up and over and around it, like a dam bursting its banks.
We both look up, and I know he’s thinking the same as me: that we were within a fraction of a second of that coming down on us. Me and my bloody impulsiveness, never thinking about the consequences!
Come on, brain, engage! And I don’t know if I’ve said it out loud or not.
‘It’s okay,’ says Luca calmly, whilst my heart is thundering like a Duracell bunny banging its drum. He holds out his hand again. ‘Just take it one step at a time. No need to rush. Just think about where you’re stepping. Listen to the voice inside you; it’ll guide you right.’
And whilst part of me is saying, ‘Don’t take his hand, you’ll start to have those feelings for him again,’ another part is urging, ‘Do it. Work together. It’s all right.’ And as I reach out for him, suddenly all the pieces of the jigsaw slot into place.
Together we negotiate the pile of rubble and the torrid river now running down the cobbled street. On the other side, we stay holding on to each other. This time we’re moving a little more slowly and steadily, as though we’re sure of where we’re going with the other there to support us, and it feels for the first time in my life that I’m working with someone as one.
I love Lennie, strong, reliable, dependable Lennie, but the little voice inside me tells me this is different, and I hear it. Luca and I are both scared, but we’re doing it together. And I realise that I am falling in love with this man, and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.
Chapter Thirty-eight
We’re nearing the lemon grove when we hear a voice calling Luca’s name. We both look round to see that an elderly man has fallen, and his wife is trying to help him up.
‘Go!’ I tell Luca. ‘Go and help them. I can do this.’
‘Are you sure? You’re not just saying that?’ He holds me by the elbow.
‘I’m sure.’ Somehow I feel responsible for Sophia coming after us yesterday, and maybe again this morning, and now she might have ended up in the tunnels, which will be filling with water. Because that’s what they’re designed to do . . . fill with water!
