Page 61 of A Place in the Sun
I give a huge sigh of relief. Once we’re gone. ‘I have to get to La Tavola, to confirm everything for the workshop next week,’ I say. ‘I’ve got accommodation to find, and a taxi company. Come on, guys. You can come too,’ I say to Luca and Aimee.
‘And Snowy!’ Aimee says, holding the kitten with one hand, the other in Stella’s. I don’t want my daughter’s heart to be broken all over again. I have to work out how to do the right thing for all of them.
29
A week to the day, and a week after the kitten arrived into our lives, and I’m up early. I push open the shutters to lose myself in the view. The orange sun is rising over the fields and cypress trees, perhaps a little lazier than the past few weeks, as if taking the pressure off, signalling the start of late summer. The cicadas are singing and I have butterflies in my stomach. In a good way. It’s the workshop. And once I’ve shown Giovanni how this can work, I’ll be leaving here knowing I did the best I can.
I hurry to dress, dropping in on the children, who are still in bed, and putting a kiss on each of their heads, then telling them to dress and come with me to La Tavola.
I head downstairs into the brightly painted living room, clean and fresh, then straight out of the backdoor, into the morning, lifting my face to the sun. Then I go back into the kitchen to make and drink coffee as the children get ready without argument. Gathered by the newly painted front door, we walk outside. I close it behind me and step onto the cobbles, heading up the hill. The warming stones under the soles of my shoes are becoming familiar. A familiarity I like. I look back at the little house, cleared of the weeds at the front, shutters open, cleaned and painted by Enrico. It is a very different house from the sad, closed-up one we encountered when we first arrived. A lot has changed since then.
I haven’t seen Stella. I’ve asked Giovanni.
‘It’s best to wait and let her come to you,’ he told me.
Tonight is the Friday dinner and thenonnas will work in three teams, making the food for the village and delivering it. Each student will visit a village resident with dinner. Tomorrow will be a market visit to the neighbouring town and the guests will have lunch there, enjoying the cafés, the street food on sale, and pizza at La Tavola in the evening.
And on Sunday, there is lunch, with one last important decision to make: whose lasagne recipe shall we use?
I unlock La Tavola’s door and leave it ajar so that anyone can come in to join me for coffee and a chat.
The place is spotlessly clean because I scrubbed and scrubbed all week. All I need to do is lay out what’sneeded at three different work stations. I put my bag on the table, and it’s only then that I realize I’m still carrying Mr Fluffy around in my bag. Exhausted and finally retired, he looks as if he deserves a good rest and now needs to be put into a darkened drawer to recover.
I smile at him. ‘Thank you, Mr Fluffy. You’ve been amazing.’
Outside I can hear Aimee showing Isabella the kitten, taking it in turns to hug, kiss and love it.
I head into the kitchen and make straight for the coffee pot.
‘Can I help?’ I jump and spin round to see Stella standing there.
I falter. ‘I really have to get on. We have students arriving,’ I say, trying to put off the conversation. But she doesn’t move. ‘I’m sorry for how I reacted last week. It was a shock. It’s all been a bit of a shock,’ I say.
‘You’re right, I shouldn’t have brought the kitten. It was irresponsible. I’m sorry. So stupid.’
She sighs, drops her head and, with it, her guard. She starts to cry.
‘It was impulsive, not stupid. It was a kind thing to do.’ I point to a stool at the work station. ‘Come on, sit,’ I tell her.
‘Impulsive. Yes. I am.’
‘Well, at least I know where you get that from!’
She chuckles, and sniffs.
I make the coffee and put a cup in front of her. Its steam rises, a phoenix from the ashes, spreading its reviving roasted-coffee-bean scent, and she lifts her head slowly. ‘I wish I’d known him more.’
‘You’re very much like him in many ways. You probably just need to look at yourself to know who Marco was. He gave his all to whatever his plan was at the time.’
She smiles again and goes to wipe her tears on her sleeve. I reach for the kitchen roll instinctively and hand it to her. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t know about you. But that night, after you’d gone, I went through his emails. I know you’d only just met. And he planned to introduce us, here, once we came out together to see the house. I see that now. We just never had that moment.’
She blows her nose, loudly.
‘And it’s just that—’
‘You want to know how I happened? If he cheated on you with my mother?’
I nod. ‘Yes, I do. I want to know if my memories of us are still special.’
