Page 9 of A Place in the Sun
I walk down the hill, past the terraced houses with the washing on the lines that’s causing so many arguments.
The car is where I left it, as good a place as any. I plug my phone in, turn on the ignition and gather a few more of our belongings to carry to the house. By the time I’ve staggered up the hill, I’m hot and hungry. ‘Right, lunch,’ I say, clapping my hands together, suddenly quite excited at the prospect of the cheeses and bread in our bags. Luca and Aimee help me wipe down the table and open the packages.
‘Mum, a man came to the door,’ says Luca.
‘But we told him we weren’t allowed to open it,’ Aimee jumps in quickly.
‘A man? Who?’ My heart starts to race. ‘Was it the electrician?’
Luca shakes his head. ‘I opened the window and asked him. He said he wasn’t an electrician. He was the mayor. I said you were out and he said he would come back later to see you and welcome you to the village.’
‘Okay, okay, good,’ I say. ‘That was nice of him.’
I walk to the back door and open it. When I lookabove the overgrown grass and bushes, the view is amazing. I breathe it in, then have a thought. I go back into the house, pick up a chair and bring it outside. I stamp down some grass and place the chair under a fig tree, with what looks like a swing hanging from a big branch. Luca appears at the back door, then does the same thing. Aimee joins in with the stamping and we create a pathway to the house. Then Luca helps me move one of the many small tables from the living room under the tree. I fling a single duvet cover over it from the bedding bag I’ve brought from the car.
Then we look in all the cupboards in the packed dresser, pull out piles of plates, bowls and cutlery, and take them to the sink. I turn on the tap, which gurgles and splutters. For a moment I think it’s about to give up trying, but it gives a big cough and splurges out water, showering us. We jump back, laughing. We rinse the plates and dry them with a hand towel from the bag. Then we wash the big fat tomatoes with water and carefully lay the table under the fig tree. I even pick some daisies and find a small jug to put them in. From its place in the shade we can sit at the table and see over the fields.
‘We’ll hear the door when the electrician comes,’ I say, reassuring Luca.
I pour a small glass of wine and take it to the table under the tree, the branches wrapping themselves around and over us, protecting us from the sun. At first the children say nothing as they stare at the food.
‘Look, I know it’s not …’ I’m waiting for complaints and demands for chicken nuggets, which are what they were living on while I ran the restaurant on my own. Anything that was quick and easy and could be pulled from the freezer. Sometimes I’d bring back food from the restaurant but they’d turn up their noses and I didn’t have the energy to argue. As long as they were fed.
To my amazement, the children dive in, filling their plates with the bread, cheese and salami. They eat hungrily, without saying they don’t like tomatoes or asking for cheese triangles. I watch in amazement. This is a far cry from the life we’ve just left.
Aimee devours the bread with butter and slices of cucumber. Luca eats salami as if it’s a quarter-pounder with cheese. Neither complains about having water to drink, not squash or something fizzy. Just for a moment, time seems to stand still. I wish it could stay like this, I think, with us all content in the moment. Even if we are in a rundown house with a neglected, overgrown garden.
As we finish, Aimee slides from her chair and strokes a cat that has strolled in and lain down beside us on the flattened grass. She is grey and white, and is lazily stretching out her paw to pat at passing butterflies. Aimee leaves Mr Fluffy on the chair as she strokes the cat, then reaches for her rabbit and introduces him.The cat is neither interested in nor bothered by Mr Fluffy’s presence.
I sit and sip the robust red wine, which is rough yet fortifying. I gaze at the fields and, just for a moment, I don’t worry about what I have to do next. The long list of things I need to achieve so that I can sell the house, then find a property I can afford back home and a job that will have nothing to do with hospitality. I wonder if, once we’re home and sorted, I’ll feel this kind of peace again. I hope so.
I look at Aimee playing happily, watch the butterflies and finish my wine. Then I shut my eyes and fall into a deep, welcoming sleep. I dream that Marco is here, laughing and playing with Aimee, until the cat has grown huge and is chasing us—I jolt awake.
For a moment, I have no idea where I am. My heart is racing as I remind myself I’m in Italy with the children. We’re in a remote hilltop village in Tuscany that seems to have been ignored by holidaymakers and abandoned by its residents but, just for a moment, I thought it was the most peaceful place I’d ever been. A large fly buzzes, insistent on settling on our leftovers from lunch. The peace has gone. I look around for Luca but can’t see him. And the list of things I must do is piling up in my head.
‘Luca!’ I call, with the familiar anxiety of not knowing exactly where either child is.
‘Luca’s not here,’ says Aimee, casually, as the cat wanders off.
I swing round. ‘What?’ Alarm bells are ringing in my head.
‘He said he was going for a walk. He wouldn’t let me or Mr Fluffy go. ’Spect he’s ’sploring.’
My heart is thundering now. He’s only eleven! He can’t just go exploring on his own, in a foreign country, when we don’t know the place or anyone in it. I jump to my feet and check my phone, I have no idea why. He has my old one, but it’s not charged, because we have no electricity. What made me think I was in some kind of rural idyll, sitting there drinking wine and dozing in the sunshine? There’s a reason we give youngsters phones these days: to keep in contact and ensure they’re safe.
Oh, Luca! I wish he didn’t feel older than eleven. I should be happy he’s gone exploring but he hasn’t even got his phone.
I can’t leave Aimee, who’s only seven, on her own. I go to the front door and open it, then look up and down the street. He’s not there. I chew my lip. He can’t have gone far. I step back into the house and leave the door open, wondering how long I should wait before alerting the police. How would I get in touch with them? I’m reminded me all over again of the night Marco kissed me goodbye as he left for work, saying that he’d be back as soon as he could. An hour passed, two hours. He didn’tanswer his phone. I couldn’t leave the children. In the end, I bundled them into the car in their pyjamas and we went to find him.
But, I tell myself firmly, today Luca has only gone for a walk. I was asleep. It’s fine if he wants to explore. I’m just glad he didn’t take Aimee with him. I mustn’t let myself fall asleep again in the middle of the day. I shouldn’t have let down my guard like that.
I turn to Aimee. ‘Let’s get tidied away and start emptying the cupboards so we see what’s there.’ I’m keen to keep busy, with one ear on the door.
As we put the crockery into the dresser and on the shelves under the work surface, I hear a voice.
‘Ciao?’
I jump up, ‘Hello?Ciao?’ and run to the door.
