Chapter 33
Back at Casa Luna, Giovanni and the boys are clearing up. The house is finished.
‘It looks … amazing!’ I say, dazzled by the blank-canvas white walls, ready to have the new owner’s personal touches added when someone buys it.
I run my hands over the newly painted window frames.
The light is pouring in. And now that just the essential furniture is in here, not all of the stuff that littered the place when we arrived, it feels airy and much bigger.
‘Just these last few chairs and the table to take up to La Tavola, if you’re still happy for that?’ says Giovanni.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘We could use them tonight, eat outside. What do you think?’
‘Perfect.’
Summer is coming to an end, like my time here. The house has had a facelift and is ready for a new beginning. For new hopes and dreams.
We leave the house, Enrico and I each picking up a chair while Giovanni and Alessandro carry the table between them. At La Tavola we arrange them under the big olive tree.
‘I made more bunting,’ says Caterina, ‘from the old clothes at Casa Luna, and cushions!’ Stella is there, admiring Caterina’s handiwork.
‘Oh, wow! That’s fantastic!’ I say, fingering the lovely cushions.
‘Let’s get this place looking its best.’ Right now, I could do with the distraction rather than contemplating Sebastian and his suggestion.
But it’s there, turning over in the back of my mind as we all work together to string the bunting across the courtyard and arrange tables, candles stuck into bottles, Stella taking charge.
How proud Marco would have been. I’m doing everything I can not to think about Sebastian and his offer, though I know I should, when suddenly he’s there, in the courtyard.
‘This looks amazing!’ he says, gazing at the bunting strung from the olive tree.
‘It does,’ I say, with a sense of shared pride in the place.
‘Hey!’ says Giovanni. ‘Good time at the market?’
‘Great,’ Sebastian answers. ‘I thought I’d come over and give you a hand setting up for this evening. The youngsters are sitting by the pool, having a siesta. Thought I could make myself useful.’
‘You certainly can,’ says Giovanni. ‘We have a few more tables and chairs to bring up from Casa Luna.’
‘Of course,’ says Sebastian. ‘Happy to help.’ He smiles at me and I smile back. Giovanni gives me the merest wink, making my insides flip, which isn’t helping me make my decision.
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 to do.
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 three nonna s 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.
The nonna s 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 taking a turn to be pizzaiolo under 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 good option 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 the nonna s 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!’
Our hands collide and there might almost have been streak of lightning, though not in the sky.
We stand still, holding the bottle, rain pounding down on us, our breath fast and furious, the water seeping into our clothes, which are clinging to our bodies.
I can feel a pull like I haven’t felt in a long time, dragging my body, thrusting me against him, and we’re there, alone, in the courtyard, the rain hammering down on us.
The only thing I can see is him. The only thing I can feel is his closeness.
The only thing I can hear is his heavy breathing and the sound of my heart pounding in my chest.
There’s another clap of thunder and more lightning.
‘ Mamma! Hurry!’ It’s Luca, calling me in.
‘I have to go,’ I say, my feet not moving. I see him nod. One hand brushing the water from his face, the other grabbing my free hand and holding it as we run together into La Tavola’s dining room where the candles have been lit. Everyone is wet, but laughing.
‘ Gelato! ’ calls Nonna Lucia to cheers.