Page 54 of A Place in the Sun
‘No, wait … I need the bathroom and I haven’t eaten for hours. They wanted me to go to the hospital, but I know the food there is dreadful. Even your lasagnes would be better than that.’
There is huffing and puffing all round.
‘Perhaps you would like Giuseppe to call in and help you to the bathroom,’ says Nonna Teresa.
Nonna Rosa sucks in her lips, as if she’s sucking a lemon. And I think Nonna Lucia may have chuckled.
‘You cannot insult our food, then expect us to look after you and cook for you.’
‘I’m not expecting it.’ She folds her arms and lifts her chin.
‘Well, how will you cope?’
‘Perhaps I’ll ask one of the young people to show me how to use my telephone and order my food on an appé.’
I can’t help but laugh, as does Giovannni.
‘It’s an app, Rosa, not an appé,’ I say. ‘In the meantime, I brought you pasta.’
‘What? One of theirs? Did no one eat it on Sunday? Too afraid of food poisoning.’
‘Actually it’scacio e pepi. I went to La Tavola and made it.’
No one says anything. They look down at the big foil dish I’ve brought. There are so many unsaid words in the air and a feeling of tension, as if we’re all daringeach other to be the first to speak. I’m holding my breath. Finally Nonna Rosa looks up from the dish, then at the other two women and says, ‘This is what we have come to? The three of us relying on pasta made by outsiders?’
They stare at each other and suddenly, with no warning, they throw back their heads and laugh. They laugh until tears run down their cheeks. Giovanni and I join in. Call it a release, a moment of madness, a line drawn in the sand. Whatever it was, it seemed to work. As they wipe the tears from their eyes, and their shoulders stop shuddering, Nonna Rosa gives instructions: ‘Teresa, get the plates. Lucia, you get the forks. I’m starving,’ she says, bossing them around. Although they haven’t been in each other’s houses for decades, they seem to move seamlessly around Nonna Rosa’s, laying the table and serving the pasta.
Each of them digs in a fork and twirls, lifts it to her mouth and bites, strands of pasta smacking at her cheeks. They look at each other, then dig in their forks for more. And Nonna Rosa says, ‘Well, for a newcomer to the village it is very good.’
‘I agree!’ says Lucia. I created the sauce with the pasta water, which mixed with the cheese, making it creamy.
Nonna Teresa leans in and says, ‘Tell me, what’s your secret?’
‘Well, I made it with the children … like Marco and I used to do. I haven’t done it for a very long time.’
‘Then it’s made with love, and that’s why it tastes so good.’
We all raise a glass.
‘It’s not what you put into the pasta as much as who you share it with.’ Nonna Rosa sips the red wine. She puts her glass on the Formica table as we clear the plates. ‘This has made me think,’ she says pensively. ‘La Tavola has kept us all company over the past few years, while we have been too pig-headed to put our differences behind us.’
The other women nod.
‘We should be very grateful to you, Giovanni,’ she says, looking up at him.
I realize I have a lot to thank him for, too, and grab my moment with both hands: life’s too short not to. ‘The truth is, there is no summer festival happening like we told you. We just wanted to get you all in the same room so we could ask for your help.’
‘No party?’
‘No engagement?’
‘Er, no …’
‘Well, there should be. You two were made for each other,’ says Nonna Teresa.
I catch Giovanni’s eye and blush, but carry on quickly: ‘But La Tavola will have to close if we can’t make some money to keep it open and find a way to make it pay for itself. I’m not staying here, but I did want to thank Giovanni for all the help he has givenme at Casa Luna, and La Tavola. Like you, when I needed it, it was there.’
For a moment there’s silence, then Nonna Lucia says, ‘So, what can we do, three old women?’
