Chapter 8
‘This is Alessandro,’ says Giovanni. He’s standing outside the gate that leads into the walled garden when I arrive at La Tavola with the children that evening.
The swallows and swifts are dipping and diving from the stone walls of the deserted buildings, wheeling across the valley and back again.
I’m carrying the dishes, keen to deliver them and get home.
Beside Giovanni, there’s a young man on a mobility scooter. Giovanni has a hand on his shoulder. ‘Alessandro will show you where to return the dishes and deliver the meals.’
‘ Ciao, Alessandro .’ I hold up a hand, balancing the heavy dishes on the other. ‘Luca and Aimee.’ I introduce them. Luca shakes hands with Alessandro and Caterina, who has joined Giovanni outside the front gate. Aimee hugs Mr Fluffy and moves closer to me.
‘Good to meet you, Luca,’ Caterina says.
‘Perhaps you would like to go with Pietro, my son. He is delivering a meal to Francesco, an older resident in the village. No family any more. He gets a little confused. Pietro makes sure he has labels in the kitchen on things like the oven and the washing-machine, so he knows which is which. He once found a bowl of tomatoes in the washing-machine and Francesco’s socks in the fridge. ’
Luca smiles tentatively, as does Pietro, who joins us and stands beside his mother with a tinfoil dish, a small water bottle filled with red wine and a basket of bread.
Luca’s getting taller, I realize. He’s nearly as tall as me! When did that happen? Sometime between losing Marco and now. I wish time would just stand still. I’m not ready for life to move on.
‘Is that okay, Mum?’ he asks.
‘Yes,’ I reply. ‘If you’d like to.’
Luca looks at Pietro and they smile nervously.
Pietro nods and points. Luca joins him, and turns to walk away with him, Pietro carrying the food and offering Luca the bottle of wine, which he takes. Suddenly he turns back to me. ‘Will you be okay Mum?’
His concern brings tears to my eyes.
‘Yes, yes, you go,’ I say, and wonder if I should tell him that Pietro doesn’t speak.
But they smile at each other, wider this time, and I realize I don’t need to say anything.
They’re finding their own way without me, or discussing where they’ve come from or why they’re here, as they walk towards the other side of the village.
Just enjoying the moment, in the lowering sun.
‘Perhaps Aimee would like to help my daughter Isabella finish decorating the biscuits,’ says Caterina. Aimee looks up at me, clutching Mr Fluffy.
‘Would you like to? Or you can come and deliver the dishes with me. But it might be more fun to stay and make biscuits.’
She nods and smiles shyly as Caterina holds out a hand to her. ‘Come on, I’ll introduce you. But no eating the sprinkles! Well, not all of them!’ Aimee sets off, with Mr Fluffy, clasping Caterina’s hand.
‘Alessandro, can you show Thea which meals to take?’
‘Of course,’ says Alessandro, hopping off the mobility scooter.
‘Are you okay? I can get them. It’s no problem.’ I point towards the kitchen.
Giovanni claps a hand over his mouth, covering a smile – so much like Marco.
‘What?’
Giovanni gives his head a little shake and his black curls bounce. ‘It’s not his scooter. It’s his nonna ’s. He brings it to help with the deliveries. It’s got a big basket at the front.’
I turn back to Alessandro, who is beaming at his own ingenuity and blushing with embarrassment at the same time.
‘One day, I plan to take on Richard Branson at his own game,’ he says. ‘Today a scooter, then a fleet of tuk-tuks, buses and even aeroplanes.’
‘Alessandro has big ambitions and he plans to build his empire right here.’
‘Exactly! Starting with decent transport to get to and from the village. Better roads, taxis that will come here, buses … Everyone will want to come to our village.’
‘I like your thinking,’ I tell him.
‘Now, climb on,’ he tells me.
‘I’ll walk behind you. Just as long as you don’t go too fast.’