Page 3 of A Place in the Sun
‘We’re here,’ I say, a touch of disappointment mixed with a sigh of relief. ‘We’ve made it. Finally, we’ve found you, Casa Luna.’
For a moment, I stand and stare. The house I’ve heard so much about, in which I’ve invested so many dreams. It’s real. If only the dreams were. There’s a tug at my hand.
‘Mum … Mr Fluffy still really needs the toilet.’
‘Oh, yes. I just need to unlock the door.’ I reach into my bag and pull out the big metal key with the cardboard tag on it. I push it into the lock but I can’t get it to turn.
‘Mum, Mr Fluffy really doesn’t like this.’
‘Me neither,’ says Luca, quietly. ‘It’s too hot here.’
‘It’ll be fine.’ I try to sound calm. ‘Really. Once we’re in and sorted it’ll be lovely, you’ll see.’ My heart is pounding with the heat and I’m wondering what I’ll find once I open the door. I feel queasy.
‘I really need to wee, Mum! And so does Mr Fluffy!’
My nerves are jangling. This was the best plan. It was the only plan, a voice says in my head.
I give the key another firm twist and the lock clunks. Finally. We’re in the right place.
‘There!’ I say, wiping my brow and pushing at the door. It won’t open.
‘Mr Fluffy can’t hold it, Mum!’ Aimee does a little dance.
And now she’s said it, I really want to go too. It’s been a long journey from our last overnight stop at the border.
‘Help me,’ I say to the kids, who step forward and shove at the door. It opens with a creak.
I’m out of breath. ‘Well done, both of you. I’m really proud of you. Let’s just get inside and find the light switch.’ I feel for it. It’s pitch black in there with the shutters closed and, despite the warmth of the day, the house is cool.
I can feel rough stone crumbling under my hand as I try to locate the switch, running my fingers over the uneven surface. I touch something soft and sticky and pull them back. ‘Argh!’ I shake my hand.
‘What was it?’
‘Did something bite you?’
‘Mr Fluffy is scared!’
‘It’s fine,’ I repeat.
I think even the kids know it’s not. We’re somewhere in the middle of Tuscany in a hilltop village called Città dei Castagni, town of the chestnut trees. It’s supposedly full of Tuscan charm, according to Marco. He’d come home and told me what he’d done with our life savings, which didn’t amount to much.
‘Hey, both.’ I turn back to them standing on the doorstep. ‘There’s nothing to be scared of. Dad wouldn’t have bought this place if he didn’t think we’d love it and want to spend time here, would he?’ I put my hands on their shoulders to reassure them and myself. I remind myself of Marco’s good intentions and how impulsive he was. I loved that about him.
They nod.
‘He chose this place for us to have holidays here. One day it’ll be our for-ever home … once you guys have flown the nest.’ I smile, unable to imagine that right now.
Then Aimee says, her voice wavering, ‘I don’t want to live in a nest and neither does Mr Fluffy.’ She starts to sob.
I crouch down to her. ‘Not a real nest, honey.’ My chest tightens: I’ve got it all wrong again, a fairly constant state right now. I wish I knew it would be fine. But I don’t.
‘Come on.’ I straighten and take her hand. ‘We just need to find the light … It’ll be like camping. Like the time Dad put the tent up in the garden.’
‘And a mole tried to burrow under it and scared you to death!’ Luca laughs, then Aimee joins in and so do I. It’s how we’ve got through, with laughter and our memories of the fun times. We’re a tight little unit, helping each other. I’d tried to hide the worst of it from them but they’ve seen me struggle these last couple of years. When I thought they were in bedand sat crying my eyes out over reruns ofVirgin River, I’d discover them sitting at the top of the stairs and have to blame the tears on my favourite TV characters. Then I’d chivvy them back to bed, knowing they hadn’t believed a word I’d said. I’d often fall asleep with them, all of us tucked up in my bed. With Marco dying, the restaurant going, losing the house and now moving to another country, these children have had more than most to deal with. But the holiday home is all I’ve got left. Even thinking about losing the house makes my blood boil, and tears sting my eyes. It was our home. I tried, I really tried, to keep it all going.
‘Mum?’
‘I’m fine.’ There’s that word again. Fine.
