Chapter 50 #2
Amy pulled her into a huge hug. ‘I feel like I’m about to start the biggest adventure of my life.’
Marta clapped her hands together. ‘I don’t care if it’s only ten in the morning, this deserves a celebration. Who’s coming back to the bar with me?’
‘I’ll meet you there,’ Amy said.
‘I think I can guess where you’re going.’ Stella smiled. ‘Go on, run and tell him your news.’
Amy didn’t hesitate a moment longer, dashing across the courtyard and running down the winding street as fast as she could on the uneven paving.
She was bursting to tell Mum and Dad her news, not to mention Jack and the friends she hoped she could persuade to come out and visit her.
But before she did any of that, she had to find Leo.
She couldn’t wait to see his face when she told him she was here to stay.
In her haste she almost shot past the entrance to his workshop.
‘Leo!’ She had to yell above the sound of Oasis blasting from his old CD player.
‘Amy?’ He removed his goggles. ‘I didn’t expect to see you until later on.’
‘Oh.’ A pang of doubt hit her. What if he’d said all his sweet words safe in the knowledge she’d soon be gone? ‘I had to see you. I…’
‘Don’t look so worried. What is it?’
‘That second-hand potter’s wheel you mentioned. Do you think it’s still for sale?’
‘You mean…’ He sounded as nervous as she did.
‘Yes,’ she butted in. And then it all came tumbling out: the old alimentari, Stella’s plans, Amy’s part in it all, the pots and jars she planned to make.
‘Stop!’ Leo said.
‘Sorry, I know I’m jabbering on.’
‘It’s not that. I want to hear everything but I need to leave in a few minutes to meet Nonna. And if you don’t stop talking I won’t have time to do something I have to do this very moment.’
‘Oh, what’s that?’
He reached out a hand and traced her upper lip with a rough fingertip, the look in his eyes telling her more than any words could say.
And now his mouth was on hers, sending a thrilling shiver right through her.
She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tighter, heedless of his dust-covered overalls pressed against her clean cotton dress.
‘You’re staying,’ he murmured between kisses. ‘I can hardly believe it.’
Eventually, he let her go. She opened her eyes, almost surprised to see she was still standing on the concrete floor, surrounded by slabs of marble and a tool-strewn workbench.
The setting wasn’t nearly as romantic as the old archway where they’d shared their first kiss but this moment was another she would never forget.
* * *
Stella watched Amy’s departing back. ‘Okay, let’s get going. It’s a bit early for a drink, but who cares?’
‘Sure,’ Marta said. She set off towards the bar at an ambling pace, pausing to admire an array of pot plants by someone’s front steps, stopping to chat to an old man carrying his shopping home and bending to stroke a cat.
Stella was surprised by her sister’s tardiness, it was almost as though she were waiting for Amy to come back and catch them up.
As they got nearer to the bar, Stella could see there was only one empty table outside but that still didn’t cause Marta to speed up.
‘Let’s sit inside,’ Marta said. It seemed a strange decision on such a nice day but Stella was on too much of a high to argue.
Marta appeared to hang back as Stella pushed open the door. Her brother Giovanni was standing just inside.
‘You decided to get out of bed at last,’ Stella quipped.
‘It’s not every day my big sister turns sixty.’ Giovanni grinned.
‘You remembered!’
‘Of course we did. We all did.’ Marta gestured towards the Buon compleanno banner strung across the wall behind the bar.
A cork popped loudly. Stella swung around. Gino was holding an open bottle of basurà rosa.
‘Happy birthday, my darling!’
Stella accepted a glass. ‘To old friends and new ones! Talking of which…’ She looked towards a rather pink-faced Amy, who’d just flown through the door.
‘Ah, there you are, Amy, I thought you’d got lost,’ Marta joked. She held up her glass. ‘Happy birthday to Stella! And a toast to all of us, to adventures, near or far.’
Amy’s hand reached for the coin nestling at the base of her throat. ‘And to Grandpa Lance and Violetta, for changing all our lives.’
‘And now we have cake,’ Leo said, appearing from the door leading to the kitchen. ‘Papà wanted to try and make you a torta sacripantina.’
Stella thought of the fancy tiered liqueur-soaked sponges. ‘That would be impressive.’
‘But sadly too ambitious,’ Gino said. ‘So, I was persuaded to leave your cake to the experts.’
‘You can come out now, Nonna,’ Leo called.
And out of the kitchen stepped Fernanda, her arm through Domenico’s. He was carrying a pale-yellow sponge cake on a round tray crowned with six lit candles. A panarello: the soft almond birthday cake beloved by every Ligurian child.
‘I didn’t think we could fit sixty candles on,’ Domenico said.
‘You made this?’ Stella said.
He laughed. ‘Don’t be daft, Fernanda did.’
‘I hope you like it,’ Fernanda said.
Tears filled Stella’s eyes, blurring the diamond pattern Fernanda had so carefully stencilled on the top. ‘I haven’t had one of these for years. Too many years.’
‘Blow out the candles, Stella, make a wish,’ Marta urged.
‘Go on, Stella!’ Amy said.
‘What are you going to wish for?’ Gino asked.
‘I can’t say. You know it’s bad luck to tell.’
In truth, Stella had nothing left to wish for. She closed her eyes and blew softly on the flames.