Page 13 of A Place in the Sun
My heart swells with pride at my daughter’s good manners, and I’m cross with myself for forgetting mine.
He looks down at her, pushes his dark curls off his face and smiles. ‘Some water would be lovely, please.’
‘Probably the saftest option,’ Luca jokes, his eyes roaming around the stacks of boxes and someone else’s belongings. He moves to the kitchen area, and pours a glass from the bottle we brought back from the shop and gives it to Giovanni.
He takes a big gulp of the water and nearly finishes it. Then he looks around. ‘You have a lot to do here.’
I try not to sigh or think of the mayor and his deadline. I lift my chin. ‘Yes. But it’ll be fine.’
He smiles, and I can’t help but smile back. I hold up both hands and look at Luca, ‘I know, I know.’
‘And, really, no problem about yesterday. It was my pleasure.’ He finishes the water, puts the glass on thetable and turns to leave. ‘Well, I’ll be off.Ciao.’ He opens the front door, and the bright light from the sun streams in.
‘Just one thing, Giovanni,’ I call.
He holds up a hand up against the sun and turns back.
‘Why did you serve us yesterday?’
Luca frowns at me as if I’m embarrassing him.
‘If you’d waited long enough and not rushed off,’ Giovanni replies, ‘I could have told you.’
It’s my turn to frown. ‘Told me what?’
‘La Tavola, where I live. The house I rent. It’s not a restaurant, but it is a community kitchen.’
‘What’s that?’ asks Luca.
Giovanni explains patiently, ‘It’s somewhere people come for company, to help their community, and where we provide meals for some of the people who need it in the village.’
I jump in quickly. ‘I wasn’t looking for charity, honestly. I can pay.’
‘Really, no need to be so prickly. I was happy to help. You looked ready to drop!’
Luca frowns at me again, clearly to remind me of my manners.
‘Well, thank you, and it looks like you’re doing a good thing. Let me know if I can repay the favour some time, while we’re here, which won’t be for too long,’ I gabble.
‘Well, we could always do with a helping hand at La Tavola. As I said, we provide meals for those who need them, delivering on a Friday night, and on a Sunday we make dinner for anyone who wants to come, those without family, on their own. Or who need company.’
‘That sounds great!’ says Luca. ‘My dad was a chef! And Mum …’
‘Maybe you could help me some time,’ he says to Luca. ‘If your mum lets you.’
‘I’d love that! Mum?’
All my fears rush up to meet me, a tsunami of worries about us, a tiny family, the children, their future. I suddenly feel hot. Really hot. ‘Well, we’re not sure how long we’ll be here. I need to tidy this place and get it on the market.’ I’m floundering, reaching for the back of a chair to lean on, hoping he can’t see my flushing cheeks, or the worry that’s etched on my face that Luca will start to love cooking, like his dad. What if he wanted to go into that industry? It destroyed us. The long hours, the stress, the pressure of rising costs, fewer people going out to eat … Unexpected tears rush into my eyes. We lost everything.
And with the lights on and the shabbiness of the house laid bare, I brush away any traces of tears.
‘It’s good this place is going to get some attention,’ says Giovanni, looking around.
‘It’s rammed with stuff but surprisingly well kept, considering no one’s been living here for so long. Did you know the person who owned it?’
‘A little. She was well respected and much liked but she was the last of the line for a big family. Their Sunday lunches were legendary apparently, hence all the furniture. She had no siblings or cousins, so no one to leave it to when she was gone.’
I’m suddenly seeing not the mess or the dreams Marco had for this place, but someone’s home, their place of safety. And now it’s mine too, safety for me and my family. The door is open: Aimee spots the cat and skips off to stroke her on the step. It makes me smile and I want to remind them that it’s okay to be happy. We don’t have to be sad all the time.
