Page 72 of A Place in the Sun
Giovanni directs Sebastian out of the gate.
‘So, you and Thea were once together?’ I hear Giovanni say. ‘It’s great you have stayed good friends.’ And I have no idea why he’s asking.
‘Yes, before she dumped me, went off with the massively more charismatic Marco and gave up the life we’d planned … I guess the four-bed house, the Labrador and skiing holidays just weren’t tempting enough – or the pensions and yearly bonuses.’ He laughs but I can hear regret in it.
Is that what I could have again? Is this my second chance at life, to give the children a fresh start and a stable life. Maybe it is. Maybe coming here, setting up the cookery school, was all part of the journey to take me back to a more settled way of life with Sebastian, in Wales, by the sea. Seeing the children settling into a new school and home, where I’m not always rushing, juggling childcare arrangements and crying into my pillow at night, wishing Marco was still there. I need to talk to Sebastian, see if he really thinks we could make it work. And I should talk to the children, but maybe, I think, with a smile, this is exactly what we need todo. Sebastian, the children and I, a new beginning for us all. Another thought strikes me: what about Stella? What will happen to her after we leave? Where will she go?
As the afternoon wears on, La Tavola gets busy and it’s a good feeling. Alessandro’s brother Enrico is there, helping Caterina pick the tomatoes from the hanging baskets outside for dinner.
The threenonnas arrive, ready to make pizza dough. Giovanni is showing off his pizza-throwing skills to the delight of the children and Walt, who insists they have a dough-throwing competition, ‘Just to make things really interesting.’
The outdoor pizza oven is lit. Smoke billows out of the chimney as it gets started and Giovanni feeds the fire with wood.
Then the table outside is laid. Everyone joins in, the children, the students, Francesco and Giuseppe. Thenonnas issue the instructions and we carry them out. For once, they seem to be singing from the same song sheet. Glasses of wine are handed around, bowls of glistening olives, coated in olive oil and dried wild herbs, and the late-afternoon air is heating up rather than cooling down. The courtyard is filling and every time I think to take Sebastian to one side, something distracts me. Fun and happiness are filling the air, which feels heavier by the moment.
Pizzas are cooked on the open fire, everyone takinga turn to bepizzaiolounder Giovanni’s guidance. There are triumphs and disasters as we all applaud the varying degrees of success. We raise a glass to all of the chefs as the pizzas are placed on the tables under the olive tree, where the bunting is swinging enthusiastically in the wind that has picked up. The candles flicker and blow out but, regardless, spirits at La Tavola are rising.
‘This is the best team-building weekend I’ve ever been on,’ says Sebastian, sitting next to me. ‘Really brilliant!’ He beams.
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘I’ve actually enjoyed it. I didn’t know if I would. I haven’t had the heart to go anywhere near a kitchen since Marco died. But here, at La Tavola, I seem to have made peace with kitchens and hospitality. This place has a way of working its magic.’
‘I can see that.’
And I wonder if I could let myself fall back in love with him. After all, I was in love with him once. What if we could find that again? The wind whips up and more candles go out, leaving just the tea lights in the jam jars on the tables and hanging from the branches of the olive tree among the bunting.
‘Pizza,’ says Walt, passing another – hot, freshly made – down the table. It smells delicious. Golden, semolina-dusted base, bubbling around the edge, with richly seasoned tomato sauce, topped with oozing, stringy mozzarella, a shower of Parmesan and freshly ripped basil leaves. Some have shreds of salami,shining with spicy red oil, and a scattering of olives. Others have artichoke hearts and caramelized red peppers from the market. The selection is as varied as the people gathered around the table at La Tavola.
We pass pizzas between us and bowls of salad. Everyone is helping themselves and others to the food, topping up plates with extra slices or spoonfuls of greenery. Glasses are refreshed with wine, water for the younger ones. Everyone is smiling and I haven’t been so happy in a very long time.
Giovanni is sitting next to Glenda, who is staring at him adoringly as he laughs. I feel something I haven’t experienced in a long time, a little stab of … jealousy.
‘So, if you were thinking about it at all, I thought we could set the wheels in motion, so to speak.’
‘Sorry, Seb, I wasn’t …’ I shake myself out of whatever I was thinking. He looks down the table to where my eyes were fixed and back at me. ‘Tell me, what were you saying?’
He takes a deep breath. ‘I was—’
‘Actually …’ I stop him. It’s me that needs to take action. Do what Giovanni says, enjoy the moment. Live for the now ‘… I’ve been thinking about what you were saying, Seb.’
He smiles tentatively. ‘And?’
‘And …’ Suddenly I’m feeling really hot. Perhaps Marco is looking out for me, bringing Sebastian here. No, that’s mumbo-jumbo. But this is a very goodoption for me and the children. Press reset and go back to life before Marco. The wind is blowing up. There is a strong smell of soil and the ground warming—
A huge thunderclap crashes overhead, accompanied by a flash of lightning. Everyone jumps and some scream. And then, as if someone was throwing huge handfuls of water, raindrops are falling.
We jump up, grab plates and cushions, as people start to run inside La Tavola, Stella shouting instructions. Pietro and Luca are helping thenonnas to their feet. Aimee is guiding Francesco, who doesn’t know which way to go.
‘Get everyone inside, kids,’ Stella shouts, and they do as she says.
Another crack opens up overhead and a huge electric flash lights the sky.
‘Grab the rest of the cushions,’ calls Giovanni to me.
Bottles holding candles fall over and begin to roll. We see one heading towards the edge of the table and make a dive for it. The rain is pelting down, so my eyes are screwed up against it. We grab the bottle.
‘I’ve got it!’
‘Got it!’
