Page 21 of A Place in the Sun
Luca smiles tentatively, as does Pietro, who joins us and stands beside his mother with a tinfoil dish, a small water bottle filled with red wine and a basket of bread.
Luca’s getting taller, I realize. He’s nearly as tall as me! When did that happen? Sometime between losing Marco and now. I wish time would just stand still. I’m not ready for life to move on.
‘Is that okay, Mum?’ he asks.
‘Yes,’ I reply. ‘If you’d like to.’
Luca looks at Pietro and they smile nervously.
Pietro nods and points. Luca joins him, and turns to walk away with him, Pietro carrying the food and offering Luca the bottle of wine, which he takes. Suddenly he turns back to me. ‘Will you be okay Mum?’
His concern brings tears to my eyes.
‘Yes, yes, you go,’ I say, and wonder if I should tell him that Pietro doesn’t speak. But they smile at each other, wider this time, and I realize I don’t need to say anything. They’re finding their own way without me,or discussing where they’ve come from or why they’re here, as they walk towards the other side of the village. Just enjoying the moment, in the lowering sun.
‘Perhaps Aimee would like to help my daughter Isabella finish decorating the biscuits,’ says Caterina. Aimee looks up at me, clutching Mr Fluffy.
‘Would you like to? Or you can come and deliver the dishes with me. But it might be more fun to stay and make biscuits.’
She nods and smiles shyly as Caterina holds out a hand to her. ‘Come on, I’ll introduce you. But no eating the sprinkles! Well, not all of them!’ Aimee sets off, with Mr Fluffy, clasping Caterina’s hand.
‘Alessandro, can you show Thea which meals to take?’
‘Of course,’ says Alessandro, hopping off the mobility scooter.
‘Are you okay? I can get them. It’s no problem.’ I point towards the kitchen.
Giovanni claps a hand over his mouth, covering a smile – so much like Marco.
‘What?’
Giovanni gives his head a little shake and his black curls bounce. ‘It’s not his scooter. It’s hisnonna’s. He brings it to help with the deliveries. It’s got a big basket at the front.’
I turn back to Alessandro, who is beaming at his own ingenuity and blushing with embarrassment at the same time.
‘One day, I plan to take on Richard Branson at his own game,’ he says. ‘Today a scooter, then a fleet of tuk-tuks, buses and even aeroplanes.’
‘Alessandro has big ambitions and he plans to build his empire right here.’
‘Exactly! Starting with decent transport to get to and from the village. Better roads, taxis that will come here, buses … Everyone will want to come to our village.’
‘I like your thinking,’ I tell him.
‘Now, climb on,’ he tells me.
‘I’ll walk behind you. Just as long as you don’t go too fast.’
9
Alessandro pulls up on the mobility scooter and points towards a house. It’s at the end of a row at the bottom of the hill, not far from where I’ve parked the car. I remember raised voices and a heated argument over a washing line … I look at Alessandro anxiously. ‘Here?’
He nods solemnly. ‘This is Teresa.’
I get the feeling I’ve been set up. The newcomer, who doesn’t know what lies behind the door, has been sent to deliver and sit with the resident for dinner. The resident no one else wants to visit. I don’t know whether to laugh or be cross. But it’s just a quick visit, I think. Drop off the meal and check they have everything they need. Make some small-talk and leave.
I straighten and see something moving outside a neighbouring house in the row. I’m sure I’m being watched, and feel a strange foreboding. But I’m justdoing the village equivalent of Meals on Wheels, I think crossly. Why should I feel unsettled? I take another look at the houses.
Alessandro hands me the meal from the basket on the mobility scooter and the little plastic bottle of red wine. He nods at me, as if to give me courage. ‘I’ll go back to La Tavola, collect the next meal for delivery and meet you here,’ he says.
