Chapter 36
We wave off the minibus and somehow, after turning down Sebastian, I feel freer. I know I don’t want to go backwards. But I still don’t know which way is forwards.
I think about the nonna s and the children, trying to match-make Giovanni and me, no doubt in the hope that I’ll stay on here, and that they can too.
I absorb the view. And it occurs to me that I don’t need to have a man to stay here.
If it’s right for us as a family, why take the children back to Cardiff?
What is it that makes it home? Home is the people you’re with, isn’t it?
Wherever it may be. Why couldn’t it be here? What if we were to stay?
In the kitchen at La Tavola most of the clearing up has been done. The nonna s are in the garden under the olive tree enjoying a well-earned glass of wine and congratulating themselves.
‘Of course, my tiramisu was a triumph.’
‘It could have done with more coffee.’
‘More coffee? Your tastebuds were pickled in the wine you drank!’
‘Next time I’ll do my almond cake.’
‘Next time? Who said anything about next time?’
‘I can’t wait!’
‘Me neither!’
They laugh.
‘I can’t help thinking Giuseppe looked rather smart at lunch …’
‘I did too!’
‘You both have sand in your eyes! But he complimented me on my dress!’
‘He said my hair looked nice.’
‘I think I’ll make him a lasagne …’
‘I’ll make him a tiramisu.’
‘I’ll make him one of mine. My mother gave me the recipe.’
In the kitchen, Luca and Aimee are crying.
‘Hey, you two! What’s happened? We had such a nice lunch. What’s the matter?’
Giovanni is beside me. ‘Are you hurt?’
They shake their heads. ‘It’s Stella!’
‘What about her?’
‘She’s gone.’
‘Gone?’
‘Gone where?’
They shrug. ‘She doesn’t know. She just said it was time to move on. The house is being sold and we’re leaving so it was time for her to move on too.’
The one thing I know for sure is that we have to find her. ‘Stay here. Don’t go anywhere.’
‘Are you going to find her?’ Giovanni looks at me.
‘I’ll try,’
He nods.
‘Please, Mamma , get her to come home!’
And there it is: home. Not where we are, but who we’re with, and Stella, I know now, is a part of that. I have to find her.
‘Look after Bello,’ Giovanni tells the children.
‘And the nonna s! Don’t let them stand on any chairs!’
‘Let’s take my bike, much easier,’ says Giovanni, handing me a helmet. I don’t think twice, just put it on. ‘Here, climb aboard,’ he says, and holds out a hand to me. I grip it and swing my leg over the seat. He takes the bike off its stand and climbs on in front. He starts the engine,
‘Hold on!’ he says, and I don’t need telling twice.
We head down the narrow cobbled street, swinging this way and that to avoid the big bumps.
With every swing, my body shifts closer to his.
My arms reach around him and my body is up against his, my head to his shoulders.
My legs are wrapped around his thighs and there is nothing I can do except go with the movement, our two bodies moulded together as one.
‘Where are we going?’
‘She’ll be heading for the main road. It’s the only route out of here.’
We head down the lane and steer around the bend onto the main road, and there, just a short distance away, is a lone figure on the side of the road, sticking out a thumb. My heart rips in two just a little more.
We pull over.
‘Stella!’ I say, tearing off the helmet.
‘I didn’t think I’d see you riding a bike!’ She giggles.
‘Well, sometimes you have to take a little risk … maybe a big one to do what your heart is telling you,’ I say.
‘I didn’t take anything from the house if that’s what you’re thinking.’ She’s back on the defensive.
‘Of course not.’ I put up my hands. ‘That’s not why I’m here.’
‘Oh, it’s the kitten then. I know I said I’d look after him when you left, but maybe Giuseppe will, or even Francesco. He seemed to like him.’
‘Stella, it’s not the kitten.’ I know I need to get my thoughts together quickly. I glance at Giovanni, who gives me a reassuring nod.
‘Look, I don’t really know how this would work or where I’ll find a job. But how would you feel if we decided to stay on? Me, Luca and Aimee.’
She looks at me. ‘Stay on? For another week, a month? Nice holiday.’ She’s back to her prickly self, all her barriers up.
‘For good,’ I say. Giovanni is gawping at me. This is news to him. It’s sort of still news to me, really. It settled as an idea after the storm blew through, letting me see things clearly.
She stares at me. ‘You, Luca and Aimee?’
‘Yes.’
‘But what about you and Giovanni? I thought you said you weren’t going to be together. We shouldn’t have tried to match-make you.’
‘No, you shouldn’t.’ I have no idea what Giovanni’s thinking.
‘I thought you and Sebastian were going to get it on,’ Stella says.
‘Is there a better way to say that?’
Giovanni tuts and folds his arms.
‘Okay, get together,’ she says, with attitude.
‘Well, he asked me.’ I can hear a bus coming up the road. I watch Stella as she gestures to flag it down. ‘But I said no. I want to stay here. In the house. I want you all to be happy. The three of you.’
‘What?’
The bus pulls up and the doors open. The driver looks at us through his reflective sunglasses. Stella picks up her rucksack and steps forward.
‘I’m not going anywhere, Stella. And Casa Luna is as much your home as it is Luca and Aimee’s.’
The driver calls to her.
She looks at Giovanni. ‘She’s shitting me, right?!”
He straightens from leaning against the bike. ‘If I know one thing about Thea, it’s that she’s not someone to mess you around. She says what she means. She’s not going with Sebastian, and she’s staying here. I believe her.’
‘And our home is your home,’ I add.
She looks between us. ‘I’d love that.’ She hurls herself at me and hugs me hard, nearly knocking me off my feet.
The driver tuts, then smiles and shuts the door. He and I wave to each other.
‘Come on, let’s go home,’ I say, picking up her rucksack, and the three of us walk back towards the village, Giovanni pushing the bike.
At Casa Luna, Stella’s is rucksack propped against the wooden pillar in the living room, a big bright space, The children, all three of them, are sitting in front of me at the table.
‘I should go,’ says Giovanni.
‘Are you sure?’ I say. ‘Can’t I offer you something to eat or drink?’
He laughs. ‘Spoken like a true Italian! Looks like this village has adopted you and made it your home.’
‘I hope so.’
‘I’ll leave you to it.’ He turns to go. ‘If I don’t get a chance to say it, grazie mille again. For finding a way to keep La Tavola going. I know it’s in safe hands.’
‘Well, between us all, I’m sure it’ll have a good chance now. But, like the kitchen, it was team work.’
He says no more and leaves.
‘So, where to begin?’ I turn back to the table. ‘How would you feel if …’
I stare at the faces in front of me, feeling the weight of responsibility as I finish telling them my plan.
‘ Mamma? ’ says Luca, slowly, as if letting things settle in his mind. ‘Do you mean it? We can stay?’
‘We can stay!’ yells Aimee, and hugs Stella around the neck. ‘And Stella is moving in!’
‘Well, now the house is finished, it’s ours to do what we like with. Sell it or live in it.’
‘And we get to stay and go to school here, with Pietro! And can we carry on helping at La Tavola? What about pasta-making weekends? All different types of pasta. And cheese weekends, all different types of cheese and recipes and maybe Christmas recipes. We could put the nonna s on TikTok too!’ Luca gabbles.
‘Wait!’ I laugh. ‘Sometimes it’s better to get on with what you have than want more.
’ And Luca looks crestfallen. ‘But yes! We can do other things at the cookery school. I’m sure there are lots of people who want to come and enjoy a slice of real Italian life.
And that way we can still help the people who need it. ’
With the children helping Stella to settle back into the bedroom she has been sleeping in for the last couple of years, now cleared of junk and having been given a fresh coat of paint, I head up to La Tavola.
When I arrive, I step over the lip and in through the wooden gate. The courtyard is looking wonderful. The barrels and pots Caterina planted when she first arrived are blooming and thriving with the care she’s lavished on them.
‘ Ciao? Giovanni?’
I walk through the dining room, following the smell from the kitchen at the back. As I do, I pass a rucksack. I’m confused: I’m sure we left Stella’s rucksack at Casa Luna’s. But I must have been mistaken. It’s been a long day.
‘Hey,’ he says, as I walk into the kitchen where he’s cooking.
‘Hey,’ is all I can say. I’m feeling exhausted, but seeing him lifts my spirits. He pours wine into a short stubby glass and hands it to me. ‘Here,’ he says. ‘And I’m making you pasta.’
‘Thank you. But you don’t need to cook for me.’
‘You’ve been looking out for everyone else today so I think I can cook for you.’
I pull up a stool at the counter. ‘It’s you who needs to remember to eat!’ And my heart swells at the same time as my stomach flips. My whole body feels alive, very much so, with this man.
He puts a big bowl of pasta in front of me.
‘ Cacio e pepe! ’ I smile. ‘Just like when I first arrived!’
He gives me a fork.
‘Are you having some? There’s loads!’
‘Okay,’ he says, ‘but I’m saving on washing-up.’ He grabs another fork and pulls up a stool at the corner of the kitchen island.
All my nerve endings stand to attention. ‘Thank you for this.’
‘It’s fine.’ He has twisted the fork in the soft tangle of pasta and put it into his mouth.