Page 46 of A Place in the Sun
Luca’s head drops. There’s a lull and everyone looks at their phones or drinks their coffee.
‘What about Stella?’ says Aimee. ‘She said she wanted to hang around for a bit over the summer.’
‘Who?’ I double-take at Aimee and I’m freezing suddenly.
‘Stella. Daddy’s friend, who was here the other day. She’s cool.’
I’ve no idea what to say. Who is this young woman and why is she talking to my children about Marco?What on earth is she playing at? Whatever her game is, it’s sick. I’m suddenly furious.
Giovanni is gazing at me, as if he’s instructing me to take a deep breath.
‘I’m not sure Stella is a cook or anonna,’ he says kindly, to Aimee.
‘I’m happy to wash up,’ says Caterina, still hanging on to the only idea we’ve had so far.
I chew my bottom lip and try to focus on the problem in hand, and not that Stella has been talking to my children, Marco’s children, about their father.
‘Even if we could find someone to teach, what sort of people would want to come and learn to cook here?’ says Giovanni.
My phone pings. I look at the screen.
Hi, Thea, long time no speak. Great to hear from you!
‘Luca,’ I say slowly, ‘did you send this link to all my contacts on my phone?’
He shrugs, half guiltily, half nonchalantly – in a thoroughly Italian way. ‘That was Pietro’s idea. What with all your contacts from the restaurant, we thought you might know some people who’d be interested.’
I turn to Giovanni.
‘Who’s that?’ he asks.
‘It’s someone from the past.’
‘Your restaurant days?’
‘Someone from my old company. The headhuntersI used to work for before I set up the restaurant with Marco.’
I scroll through the message. ‘It says,’ I swallow, ‘they’re looking for a team-building trip and this looks perfect. They want to come here.’
We stare at each other, wide-eyed.
Luca slides down in his chair, clearly a little regretful.
‘You should have spoken to me first, Luca. It’s a great idea, but with Giovanni working on Casa Luna, and me just covering here and helping with the house, it’s not feasible.’
Luca picks up my phone. ‘Mum,’ he says, so quietly that I barely hear him.
I sigh.
‘Mum!’ I feel Luca tug at my soft white shirt sleeve.
‘Just a moment, Luca,’ I say. ‘We’ll take down the post in a second.’
‘But look!’ he says. ‘Mum, look at the rest of the message.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Your old company friend. Look what they say. Their budget … Look what their budget is for a weekend of learning to cook in a traditional Italian kitchen.’
