Page 26 of A Place in the Sun
I don’t want people to think of me or the children as rude or standoffish. Marco would have wanted me to join in. He’d have been waiting at home to hear all about it when I came in.
I follow her inside. At least it’s cooler in here.
The table is set as it was in the other two houses, with a colourful tablecloth, a jug of water and wine glasses.I sit, without questioning it. I’m so full, I’m wondering if I could feign sickness and leave, or fake a phone call from the children, asking me to come home.
But before I can think of anything, another plate of pasta is put in front of me. I thank my lucky stars there is noantipastias a forerunner to the main event.
I take another sip of wine and I’m feeling tired.
‘Grazie millefor the lasagne,’ I begin. ‘It was very kind of you.’
‘So,’ she lifts a fork, and nods for me to do the same, ‘you are in Casa Luna.’
I put a piece of pasta on my fork, stare at it and am determined not to be beaten.
‘You are here with your children.’
‘I am.’
‘You said your husband he’s dead?’ she growls and the hairs on her chin even quiver.
I nod. I take a mouthful and chew quickly, washing the first down with a sip of water. I twist more pasta, hoping that the sooner I finish what I can, the sooner I can get away.
‘I see,’ she says, and encourages me to eat by nodding at the plate. I know that if I don’t carry on, she’ll think I don’t like it and find me something else,
I take a deep breath. ‘My husband …’
‘Marco,’ she confirms.
‘Yes.’ I brighten. ‘You met him when he was here?’
‘Yes,’ she growls again. I eat as quickly as I can.
I finish most of the bowl and put down the fork, like a weary marathon runner crossing the finish line. I ease down the last forkful with a large gulp of wine.
Nonna Rosa stares at me. I’m hot, and very, very full. I’d like to leave. ‘Your husband Marco,’ she says, narrowing her eyes. ‘It is a shame he’s gone.’
And I’m jolted back to when he first died. The pitying looks. Here, it had been good not to be ‘the young widow’ and just Thea.
I take a deep breath, mostly to ease my tight waistband, but it’s reached capacity and cuts into my stomach, making me wince.
‘He was a nice man. I was looking forward to speaking with him.’
‘Indeed,’ I say, and with that, I try to stand.
‘You haven’t had dessert!’ She’s affronted.
‘Perhaps,’ I say bravely, ‘I could take it with me, to share with the children.’
She nods curtly. ‘I will give you plenty,’ she says, and I’m definitely not going to insist she doesn’t. This is a non-negotiable situation.
‘How long will you be here for?’ she asks, cutting an almond tart into slices, then putting it into a tea-towel and tying it.
‘Till the end of August. I have to get the house finished. Or I have to pay the full price of the house to the previous owner.’
She nods. ‘Our mayor is looking out for the community,’ she says.
‘Yes. We never expected it to take so long to do it up. But things got in the way.’
