Page 85 of My Lemon Grove Summer
‘You will always be like a daughter to me,’ she says. ‘I only want the best for you. I’m sorry I interfered. I just want you both to be happy. I know you won’t be coming back to live with me in the UK, but at least I’ll be able to picture you here whenever I want to.’ She looks around at the town square, at the twinkling lights and the burning orange sun setting in the sky.
I feel something in me twist, and I think briefly of Luca and remind myself that marrying Lennie is the right thing to do for everyone.
‘Buonasera.’ A voice interrupts us. ‘Is everything okay, ladies?’
‘Yes,’ says Valerie. ‘Sì.Everything is fine.’
Giuseppe hands us both a glass of limoncello from a nearby tray. He raises his own glass and we follow.
‘Oh, wait! Let me take a picture,’ says Tabitha, grabbing for her phone. ‘I was thinking, if it’s all right with everyone, there is one last story I’d like to write before I hang up my pen, so to speak. How about: “When life hands you lemons, make limoncello. How lemons changed our lives”?’
‘Saluti,’ Giuseppe says, and takes a sip. ‘This is wonderful,’ he says, and looks out at the setting sun.
‘Well let’s hope everyone else thinks so and joins us,’ I say.
‘And if they don’t, well, we will have tried. You especially, Zelda.Grazie millefor believing in my dream,’ he says, watery-eyed. He raises his glass again, and I shut my eyes briefly.
I wish it could have worked. I wish the town had accepted us.
And at that moment, we hear voices and Il Nonno appears at the top of the town hall steps in his big black hat, flanked by his family. Carina is there with Sophia, as well as Romano’s cousin and his daughter.
The song comes to an end on the record player and there is just the sound of the disc spinning on the turntable.
For a moment, no one says anything. Giuseppe looks up at Il Nonno. I see his hand tighten around his glass, anxiously, and I step up to stand beside him. Valerie moves to his other side, and then Barry, brandishing his long-handled tongs, and Ralph, followed by Tabitha, Sherise and Billy. It has been a long time since this fractured community has come together like this, to socialise and eat and drink and forget their grievances. I hold my breath. I just hope they can.
Il Nonno walks slowly down the steps, the rest of the family following like flying ducks in formation.
Il Nonno finally comes to a standstill on the bottom step and looks at me, then at Giuseppe again. Then, they both break into a wide smile, and shake hands and kiss each other on the cheeks.
‘I heard there was a party going on here tonight,’ Il Nonno jokes. ‘And that the limoncello is some of Sicily’s best.’
And suddenly we all breathe a collective sigh of relief and the music starts up again, with Dean Martin singing about ‘Amore’.
Tabitha steps forward with drinks and hands them round. Then Giuseppe steps up to Valerie and holds out a hand in invitation. She looks at it in disbelief, and I can tell she’s about to say no and shake her head politely, so I step forward and place her hand in his. She looks at me, and then smiles like all her birthdays have come at once, and Giuseppe takes her in his arms and leads her in a waltz around the worn stones of the town square, in the footsteps of the town’s past and the golden light of the setting Sicilian summer sun.
Then, like the Munchkins coming out from their hiding places when Dorothy lands in the land of Oz, the villagers begin to emerge from their houses, dressed in their best suits and dresses. They take the glasses of limoncello being offered to them before heading to the dance floor. And when the dance ends, the gentleman who gave me the flowers turns to me and holds out a hand, with his wife smiling and urging me on.
‘Oh, I don’t know if I can!’ I blush.
‘Go on,’ says Lennie. ‘Follow your instincts, you usually do!’ and they all laugh.
Valerie dances again with Giuseppe, and Sherise and Billy dance and then swap partners with another couple of locals. Smoke is swirling skywards from the barbecue, and the smell of roast pork fills the air. There is wine from the barrel that Carina has brought out from the shop.
I’m standing eating roasted artichokes and porchetta from a foil dish when Il Nonno walks up beside me.
‘Well, it looks like once again we are indebted to you, Zelda.’
‘It was you who suggested we put it on again!’ I smile.
‘But you and your party had the idea in the first place. You could see what needed to be done here. You could see what none of us could. Me most of all!’ He looks around. ‘It has been a long time since Città d’Oro has come together like this. Not since . . .’ He swallows and turns back to look at the big orange setting sun. ‘Not since my wife left,’ he says, the pain still clearly there, etched onto his face. ‘You know she . . .’ He bites his lip and looks out over the view.
‘She made a mistake?’ I finish for him.
‘Sì,’ he says quietly.
‘And you’ve never forgiven her for that.’
He keeps his eyes on the sunset, not looking at me.
