Chapter 13 – Luca
‘We’re going to be late.’
My dad is a punctual man. He does things correctly and enjoys a certain order.
But today he’s in no rush at all. He collects stray crumbs, polishes glasses that are entirely spotless and tinkers with the cash register, which occasionally opens on a whim and causes bruises and dropped plates.
It has been acting up for months, but apparently Dad has decided that now is the time to fix it.
‘It’s just a ten-minute drive,’ he says, inspecting the depths of the till.
‘Which means we’re running a good five minutes behind.’
That gets his attention. He gives the till a nudge and it shuts with a renewed ease.
‘Perfect,’ he announces, and shoots me a grin. I’m not sure if he means the cash desk or the fact that we’re late.
The streets are still wet from this morning’s shower, and it takes us a while to get out of town, with the ongoing festival.
People are clogging the sidewalks and horse-drawn carriages block the roads.
Dad smiles and occasionally waves to townsfolk like a princess in a parade.
It’s only when we reach the country road that he spots the bouquet by my feet and drops the smile.
‘What are they for?’ he asks.
‘I don’t know, Dad. When I walked into Betsy’s flower shop this morning, I thought to myself, why not feed the sheep some expensive chrysanthemums?’
‘You got my parents a gift? That’s very thoughtful, but don’t expect any thanks. She finds flowers garish. Common, is the word she uses, if I remember correctly. At least the sheep would appreciate them.’
‘You’re making that up,’ I say, apprehension making my voice hitch.
He snorts. ‘Anna Brandenburg needs no embellishment.’
We turn on to a driveway enclosed on both sides by tall trees and dense hedges. For the first time in my life, the brambles are trimmed, and the ivy that used to rule this wood is nowhere to be seen. Everything glistens, even though the sun hasn’t yet managed to break through.
Dad stops the car on the circular driveway, and that’s when it sinks in.
After seventeen years of believing them dead, I’m going to meet my grandparents.
Officially. Over food and drinks, like the oddest of first dates.
If Graham Brandenburg is anything like the steely man I looked up online, I doubt I’m ready to face him.
The flowers I bought suddenly feel silly.
Dad and I are glued to our seats. We take in the tremendous azalea bushes that surround the drive.
In its centre, a moss-covered dryad gazes up towards the manor’s towering roof.
I don’t know when a manor becomes a castle, but I can see turrets and stained-glass windows and red ivy eating up the walls.
All that’s missing are gargoyles, so maybe that’s where it fails to fulfil the castle requirements.
I open the door, but Dad stops me.
‘Just . . . think of what I said. They are—’
‘Utterly and categorically selfish. I remember, Dad.’
I want to call him overdramatic, but since we’ve reached a truce, I hold back. We walk up to the double doors beneath a stone arch. At its peak a small creature is carved into the stone, but I’m struggling to make out the details.
‘It’s a mermaid,’ a voice says, and both Dad and I jump. We turn, and there she stands, wearing a crimson waistcoat over a white blouse, the sleeves left unbuttoned. Her casual elegance exudes wealth. ‘Rather tacky, if you ask me, but the building is listed, as I am constantly reminded. Follow me?’
She disappears behind the house, and we do as we’re told. When I turn the corner, a wide lawn stretches out in front of me, and beyond it, the sea. We reach a stone patio that overlooks the tennis court and a huge garden, twice the size of Lombard’s town square.
‘I still have to acclimatise to this weather. One moment it’s the Genesis flood and the next you’re at risk of heatstroke.
But I set my mind on an al fresco lunch, and I tend to get what I want.
’ She spreads her arms towards a set of chairs dotted around a beautifully set table.
The tablecloth is blindingly white and flutters in the sea breeze.
‘Show-off,’ Dad says under his breath.
Anna arches a plucked eyebrow. I notice that her forehead barely moves. ‘Don’t mumble, darling. It’s bad manners. As is showing up late.’
Dad opens his mouth, undoubtedly to repeat what he just said, but before he gets the chance, she approaches me with a dazzling smile. ‘Flowers! For me? How thoughtful.’ Though there’s an air of performance to her every move, her reaction seems genuine. ‘They are gorgeous!’
‘Thanks,’ I reply. ‘Dad chose them for you.’
‘Oh no, I can’t take any credit,’ he says forcefully.
Anna gives us a long look that I can’t read. ‘I’ll ask Susie to find a vase for the dining table,’ she says.
‘Susie?’ I ask, puzzled.
‘The maid,’ Dad explains with a judgemental undertone.
‘My PA,’ Anna corrects him.
‘That’s what I said,’ he counters.
Susie arrives on the patio, interrupting their bickering. Everything about her says ‘neat’, from the kitten heels to the nondescript haircut.
‘Susie, meet my son and grandson, Matthew and Luca. Might as well get acquainted since we’ll be seeing them frequently from now on.’
‘We will?’ Dad remarks, but if Anna hears him, she shows no reaction.
‘Tell my husband the boys have arrived, yes?’
Susie nods politely, first to us, then to Anna, and disappears into the depths of the manor with the bouquet in her arms.
‘Sit, sit,’ Anna urges, and takes the chair at the head of the table. ‘Graham will be with us in a moment. No doubt he’s micromanaging the chef about the correct temperature at which to grill a tomahawk.’
‘I don’t see a barbecue,’ Dad says, and grabs the seat furthest from her.
‘Please, I don’t want such a monstrosity on my patio. It’s in the kitchen, where it belongs.’
I grab the chair between them, facing the ocean, glad to sit down, dizzy as I feel.
I don’t know if it’s whiplash from their relentless back and forth, or the unreal situation I find myself in; having lunch in the shadow of a castle owned by my estranged and very posh grandparents.
I’ve decided it’s a castle, despite the absence of gargoyles.
Anna’s presence doesn’t help. She is as striking as the first time I saw her, maybe more so, now that the shock has worn off.
Nowadays the Brandenburgs lead a reclusive life, shunning the media and rarely making public appearances.
The mystery around Anna makes her even more captivating.
I’m not saying she exudes warmth, but there’s something magnetic about her.
She meets my gaze and I try not to blush.
‘Luca, it’s wonderful to have you here,’ she says with a sincere-sounding joy. ‘I should have led with that. It’s not every day that you get to meet your grandson. I . . .’ She halts, shaking her head. ‘Your grandfather should be here for this. I’ll fetch him myself.’
Seconds later, she too is swallowed up by the manor, leaving only a whiff of citrus perfume in the salty air.
I turn to Dad. ‘Can you not?’
‘What?’ he says defensively.
‘You’re prickly.’
‘Am not.’
‘Like a hedgehog with goosebumps. You take offence at every word she says and insult her whenever you can. I’m nervous enough as it is, and you’re not helping.’
He breathes out loudly through his nose. ‘Fine. But she’s just as bad!’
‘Maybe, but you’re not fourteen!’ I hiss.
Anna returns and as she crosses the patio, the grace in her step is unparalleled.
‘Any second now,’ she claims, and plucks a bottle from a cooler. ‘Wine, anyone?’ She fills our glasses before we get a chance to protest. As she sinks back into her chair, blonde hair swinging, her face lights up. ‘There he is!’
I turn my head, setting eyes on my grandfather for the first time.
Once again I’m reminded how much he looks like Dad.
They share the same facial features and a wavy shock of hair, though Graham’s is silver where Dad’s is a deep brown.
Next to them I’m the odd one out, which stings more than it should.
‘Could it be, my own grandson?’ he exclaims, and stops right in front of me, bypassing Dad without a glance.
His blue eyes gleam, set off by a green polo shirt so dark it almost matches his black chinos and loafers.
Insecurity sweeps over me. I don’t have the slightest idea what to do, how to act.
My body gets up of its own accord, but that’s as far as I get.
Do I shake his hand, do I hug him? How do you greet the grandfather you’ve never met?
‘Let me look at you,’ he says and takes both my hands in his with a self-assured grip.
In my mind he was ten feet tall, but Anna, with her long legs and the neck of a swan, towers over him, over all of us.
Graham might be shorter than me by a couple inches, but with his air of confidence, he feels like a giant.
He takes a step back and scans me from head to toe.
I spent hours panicking over what to wear, but in the end I opted for my favourite high-waisted trousers, a faded blue vest, and the pearl on a chain from Simo, which I remove only to sleep.
If I couldn’t impress them, at least I’d feel at home in my clothes.
‘A true Brandenburg, if ever I’ve seen one,’ Graham decides.
‘It’s great to meet you,’ I manage, my voice sounding way too high-pitched in my ears.
‘And you,’ he says almost conspiratorially, pulling me close again. He still holds my hand as he turns to Dad.
‘Matthew,’ he states, and his voice is a noticeable few degrees cooler. ‘It’s been a long time.’
Dad watches us, his father and his son, with a detached expression. He made no effort to dress up, and I count at least two coffee stains on his T-shirt. His jaw shifts, and I know he’s fuming. ‘It has,’ he agrees, but leaves it at that.