Chapter 2 #2
‘And we’d sit around eating watermelon and he’d crack them open on the floor,’ Norah recalls.
Now I understand why they’re so silent. This place is rammed with memories, but our uncle’s vivacious presence and trademark laugh are sadly missing.
‘God, that feeling… can you still feel him?’ Norah continues cryptically. ‘The light, his light, there’s always been some magic about this place,’ she says.
It’s a big statement from the sister who is normally so steeped in practicality. We all smile, knowing exactly what she means.
‘To Uncle Lorenzo,’ I say, raising a glass of sangria in the air.
‘To Uncle Lorenzo,’ my sisters all chirp in unison.
‘I AM HERE! I AM HERE!’ a voice thunders across the patio.
My sisters jump with shock, terrified that they have evoked his ghost. But emerging from the trees appears an old man with a white beard and a tanned face, beaming at all of us.
He’s wearing a vest and very tight formal shorts.
He comes over to wrap his arms around me, before turning to the others.
‘Look at you ladies!’ he exclaims in delight.
They all take a moment to recognise him.
‘Miguel?’ Flo eventually says, smiling.
The realisation dawns on all my sisters’ faces and they jump up to hug and greet Uncle Lorenzo’s friend from the village at the bottom of the mountain.
We met many a random here, but Miguel was a groundsman at the villa who would trim the bushes and stay to party.
He regularly wore Day-Glo Speedos and had a partner, Marcus, who used to come over and grill us squid with lots of lemon and fresh herbs.
By night, Lorenzo would hit the clubs with them and they would partake in the island’s party scene together.
Going through Uncle Lorenzo’s belongings, I’ve seen many photos of their adventures, some I wish I could unsee.
‘The sisters, the lovely girls, you are all so grown up and beautiful,’ Miguel says in a sing-song accent, hugging each of them in turn.
‘This was my help,’ I tell them all. ‘I couldn’t have done anything without Miguel and all of his island contacts.’
‘Of course, how could I not help this handsome face?’ he says, slapping my face gently. ‘Doesn’t he look like the actor… what is his name? Pedro Pascal.’
‘I don’t, but…’ I protest.
‘Then thank you,’ Flo says to Miguel, weaving an arm around his.
‘It was, how you say, cosmético. So, we fix. It was fun to be here, to remember. Look at you all.’ Miguel takes us all in, gesturing at how much we’ve grown. ‘I never saw dear Lorenzo happier than when you all visited here in the summer. He always said that you brought love here.’
Norah smiles at this, trying to contain her emotions.
‘I saw him in his last weeks, you know?’ he says sadly.
‘You did?’ Flo replies, a little teary, resting her head on Miguel’s shoulder.
‘He was so sure that you could bring that same love and life here again. Bring back the glow.’
We all look around, absorbing Miguel’s words. There is something about this place for sure – real magic. It was something Lorenzo carefully nurtured over the years through his hospitality and joy for life.
‘So, how do we do that?’ Phoebe asks. ‘Shall we throw parties here? Hire a DJ, some inflatables and a disco ball and have the most epic blowouts?’
‘After all the work and money we’ve just put into this place? That would be a no. I need to get back to the restaurant. The other Lorenzo’s…’ I remind her.
‘Or not?’ Norah says, shrugging. ‘You know, we’re loving being the bosses back home. The restaurant is fine.’
‘Translated: they’re loving the power,’ Phoebe adds. ‘You could spend longer out here, a month maybe. Just have some time to yourself to—’
‘Rest?’ Flo suggests.
‘Or be in Ibiza. Party? Sow some wild oats? Right, Miguel? You could show him a good time?’ Phoebe continues.
Miguel winks at me, a little too suggestively.
‘He’s been having fun, yes? Mowing lawns but doing other Ibiza things,’ Flo asks.
I laugh very loudly. ‘Are you hinting that I should have been spending my time here enjoying a bevy of women and getting off my tits on tequila and coke every night?’
Phoebe cackles at the very thought.
‘Girls, I’m not sure that staying is financially viable,’ I explain. ‘I’m already getting bills for this place. I was thinking of putting it on Airbnb and then maybe getting some returns? I don’t want to borrow any more money from you all.’
Norah wrinkles her brow. ‘That sounds a little boring.’
‘Or financially sensible?’
‘That’s not what Uncle Lorenzo would have wanted.
I think he wanted you to be here, to use the place.
You look so well. Or…’ Phoebe suddenly says excitedly.
‘What if you hosted something here so you could stay? The mountains, the sea, the sun – it’s the perfect place for a retreat or something like that. ’
‘Turn into some shamanic yoga person? Yes, that is so me… I could buy a gong,’ I suggest sardonically.
‘No,’ Flo says, stopping in her tracks. ‘I know… like more of a creative bed and breakfast thing. Writers sometimes have them. People could come and stay, use the pool and enjoy meals cooked by you. Like a foodie retreat. We’d get in nice wine, put in a library corner. I reckon we could market that.’
Miguel nods, looking enthused by the idea too. It’s not a bad one, but I’m in two minds about this, thinking of life back home in London. That said, it’s been so easy to be here for the past two months; I don’t feel like any time has really elapsed.
‘I mean, you should stay for Gloria, at least…’ my sisters say, bunched together. They know there is more gossip to come about my love life, and they intend to find out as much as possible now that Miguel is here.
‘Really. You are attached to Gloria?’ Miguel asks, confused. ‘She shit in the pool.’
Norah jumps back. Phoebe erupts with giggles, her body folding with laughter.
‘Your girlfriend does what?’ Flo says in disbelief.
‘Girlfriend? Benjamin, life is not so bad that you have to date a goat,’ Miguel says. He points beyond the fences to a grove of citrus trees where a herd of wild goats looks back at us and bleats into the air.
My sisters all look at me strangely.
‘I’m not dating the goat. I was trying to be funny. They all have names. Guillermo, Gary. Gloria is the white one. They’re like my—’
‘Friends?’ Phoebe says. They all laugh, a lot. Too much.
This will be the family joke that now comes up every Christmas and beyond. Well, that makes the decision for me. I can’t go home now, ever. Can I?