Page 24 of A Place in the Sun
‘And your husband?’ she persists.
‘My husband?’ Then I spot it. A matching white dish with flowers on the heavily laden dresser.
‘Yes, your husband.’
‘My husband is … Marco,’ I say.
‘Marco. Your husband?’ She raises her eyebrows.
‘Yes.’ I smile. ‘Did you meet him when he was here?’
‘I did,’ she says. ‘A charming man.’
‘Anyway,’ I stand, ‘grazie millefor dinner. And here,’ I hold out the dish, the one with flowers on, ‘graziefor the lasagne.’
She looks at the dish and smiles. ‘My recipe is still the best in the village!’ She practically blooms in front of me.
I pick up my basket with the two other dishes in it. ‘I’ll return these too,’ I say, clearing away the empty containers from the work surface and scooping them into my basket, to return to La Tavola.
‘Tell Giovannigrazie,’ she says. ‘One day we will find him the perfect woman to make him a happy man!’ Again she clasps her hands over her chest, and I fear for her glasses. ‘If only I were ten years younger,’ she says, as I walk towards the door.
Ten years! That’s optimistic but it makes me smile. What’s wrong with optimism? We could all do with a little hope.
‘He is a good man. If only we could find him someone to be a husband to. What a shame you still have yours.’
And this time I have no words …
‘I must go,’ I say. ‘I’ll tell him you saidgrazie. And, yes, I hope he finds a wife, if that’s what he wants.’
‘Ah, men do not always know what they want. Likemy husband. He thought his mother made the best tiramisu … until he tasted mine!’ She beams, and I feel full all over again.
I pull open the door, hoping for a little coolness in the air. Alessandro is waiting for me with the mobility scooter.
‘Ciao, Nonna Teresa,’ he calls.
‘Ciao, Alessandro. How are you and your brother?’
He says they’re fine.
‘Ciao– sorry, what’s your name?’ asks Teresa.
‘Thea,’ I say.
‘I will bring you another lasagne,’ she says to me.
‘Really, no need.’
‘I insist!’ she calls after me brightly, waving, as I hurry back to the scooter, where Alessandro is waiting as the bats flit in and out of the stone walls.
‘Right, who’s next?’
‘Nonna Lucia,’ he says. ‘She can be scary, but she’s fine once you get to know her.’
‘Okay,’ I say, as he leads the way on the scooter to the house next door.
10
Nonna Lucia’s house is much the same as Teresa’s. I knock at the door and she frowns as she opens it a crack. I explain I’ve come with dinner from La Tavola and Giovanni and she ushers me inside.
