Chapter 16
On the first day of August, we wake up to find the storm has ended—but has left some serious damage.
A tree has blown down and is blocking the driveway, the bags of plaster, sand and cement that weren’t covered are spoiled, and the rain has washed away tiles from the roof and patio, plus some of the land behind the chapel, where the retaining wall has yet to be built.
The water has also crept under the turquoise doors and flooded the kitchen, which needs mopping up.
As if all that isn’t enough, our electricity has been cut off.
“How are things up at the castle?” I ask Luisa.
“Actually, fine,” she says, stabbing a hiking stick into the driveway. “Stefano warned me there was going to be a storm so we covered everything with thick black plastic and secured it down.”
Giuseppe tips back the remains of his coffee. “Adam, I am very sorry. Luisa tells me about the storm but I do not believe her.”
It takes me a second to work out he should be speaking in the past tense.
“Yes, but it’s very unusual weather for this time of year,” Luisa counters. “I’m not surprised you didn’t believe me.”
“Look, there’s no point worrying about it now,” I chip in. “Let’s just concentrate on fixing everything. Assuming we can fix everything?”
Giuseppe gives the uprooted tree a pat. “Yes, we move this. And I order more materials.”
Dread curdles in my guts. “And how much is it all going to cost?”
“I pay for the materials,” Giuseppe says. “It is not very much and it is my fault they are damaged.”
“No, I can’t have you being out of pocket,” I insist. “I’ll pay. But what about the extra jobs?”
He tilts his head as he does a rough calculation—and then lets me know. I feel all the heat leave my body.
He gives me a kindly smile. “But remember you pay me for extra work at the end of the job.”
“Yeah, thanks.” But even then I still have no idea how I’m going to get the money.
“Do not worry about the patio,” Giuseppe offers. “We plan to lay new tiles anyway, but we plan to do this at the end of the job so we do not damage them. Next we must push back the land behind the chapel and build the retaining wall.”
I just about manage a weak smile. “OK. And what about the electricity? How do I fix that?”
Giuseppe runs his hand over his freshly shaved scalp. “I take care of this. It is the least I can do. First we need to find out what is the problem, then I call the company.”
He dismisses himself and steps back to issue instructions to his men.
“This evening, you must come and eat at our house,” says Luisa.
I raise an eyebrow. “What, all of us?”
“Yes, you, Theo and the kids.”
I wipe my palms on my shorts. “That’s nice of you, but I’m not sure about the kids. They’re not behaving too well at the moment and I wouldn’t want them spoiling things.”
Luisa gives me a warm smile. “Don’t you worry, I have just the thing to … how do you say in English? ‘Soften them up’?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“But whatever it is,” I want to add, “I doubt it’ll work.”
We’re coming to the end of an incredible meal, the best I’ve had so far in Italy.
We started with a pasta dish—as is the custom, explained Luisa and Stefano—of pappardelle with porcini mushrooms. The mushrooms were picked by Stefano on his own land, and bursting with even more flavor than those Theo and I had on our first night in Lucca.
This was followed by a main course of roast lamb with garlic and rosemary, which was heavenly.
I was relieved when Luisa served the kids meat from the ends of the joint so it wasn’t too bloody and Callum didn’t complain about the rosemary but discreetly scraped it off onto the side of his plate.
Midway through our main course, I received a text from Giuseppe—who was working late to fix the electricity, re-erecting a pole that had come down and liaising with an engineer to reset the circuit—letting me know that we were reconnected.
At which point Theo and I relaxed and enjoyed the meal even more.
“Very often in Italy we eat fruit for dessert,” Luisa explains, as she passes around a big bowl of delightfully chubby cherries and perfectly round peaches.
“I’ve noticed that,” says Theo, cutting up Archie’s peach and taking out the stone.
“I like it,” I comment, doing the same with his cherries. “It’s unfussy and refreshing.”
The tension between Theo and me has eased, possibly because we’ve been dealing with storm damage all day. The force of nature somehow made everything else seem less important.
We’re sitting under an awning on the Fiores’ patio, which is at the back of their house.
This has been concreted—rather than paved—and is more functional than ours, with several items of farm machinery lying around, plus a bright pink mop and bucket.
Then again, it’s decorated with pots and hanging baskets containing well-tended shrubs and pretty flowers.
Opposite the driveway—and across the little road that leads to my olive grove—is a small, corrugated iron garage, which is packed with tractors, other items of farm machinery, implements and tools.
To the right of that, and across the road that leads up the hill, is the first of Stefano’s fields, the slope of which is lined with vines, the flat section at the bottom tomato plants.
Bordering this is a shack housing several hens and one cockerel—probably the one that wakes me up in the morning—surrounded by a wire fence to keep out foxes.
Stefano tops up our glasses with red wine made from the grapes from my vineyard.
I’ve cooked with the oil from my olive grove before—he gave us a vat, which I’ve decanted into several bottles—but this is the first time I’ve tasted the wine.
It’s sweet, not very strong and possibly not the most sophisticated wine, but that’s more than made up for by the knowledge that it came from my land.
Theo asks Luisa for more information on the castle, which she’s happy to give.
“It may seem small by today’s standards but we know that the nobility of Montemagno lived in a luxurious palace at the top.
The castle also housed the military quarters and, for the residents of the village, it was a refuge in times of siege. ”
Archie’s face lights up, his mouth and fingertips stained red by the cherries. “So did they have battles?”
“No question,” says Luisa, slicing into her peach. “Lots of battles!”
“Who were the baddies?” asks Archie. He has a smudge of cherry on his glasses and I lift them off his nose to clean them.
“I don’t know if you children realize,” she says, “but it’s only in the last two hundred years that Italy became one country. Before that it was made up of lots of separate city-states. They often fought against each other.”
“Was Montemagno part of Lucca?” I ask, batting a fly off my polo shirt. I notice that Callum has finished his fruit and is sitting up, listening.
“It was. But it often came under attack from Pisa. Both states wanted to control the castle because it overlooked the Via Francigena.”
Mabel spits a cherry stone into her hand. “What’s that?”
Theo and I flash each other a smile.
“It was an ancient route for trade and pilgrims,” answers Luisa. “It ran all the way from Canterbury in England down to Rome.”
“That’s actually sick,” acknowledges Callum.
I’m about to translate but realize Luisa must understand because she’s smiling. “We know there was a major battle in 1242,” she continues, handing round more fruit, “because that’s when the castle was destroyed.”
“Oh, no, so we lost?” says Archie. Now that his mouth is empty, I notice that his adult teeth have started to come through in the gap at the front.
“We lost, I’m afraid,” confirms Luisa. “But that’s pretty much all we know—which is why we have to keep digging!”
Once we’ve finished dessert, the kids go back to playing with the kittens.
This was Luisa’s plan to soften them up: her cat Camilla has three kittens that have just turned five weeks old.
There are two girls and a boy and they’re gray and white, unbelievably fluffy, and make a cute little squeaking sound.
And she was right: they do have a soothing effect on the kids.
Mabel coos and giggles in a way I’ve never heard before.
Archie shows previously hidden capabilities of being soft and gentle.
Even Callum has a tickle and a cuddle, until Stefano offers to connect him to their Wi-Fi and he switches to flicking through his phone.
“Do you have any pets in Manchester?” Luisa asks.
Theo shakes his head. “The kids always wanted a cat or a dog. …” He stops.
“Our mum’s allergic to pet hair,” fills in Mabel, stroking a kitten with each hand.
“Dad, can we keep one?” asks Archie, scratching a kitten’s stomach. “Can we take it home?”
Theo slips off a loafer and starts massaging his foot. “I only have a little flat, squirt. And the kittens have all this lovely countryside here.”
“I know!” says Archie. “How about we keep one here, in Adam’s house?”
Theo frowns and slides his shoe back on. “We’re only here for the summer. And I don’t think these kittens are ready to be taken away from their mum.”
We all look at Camilla, who’s stretched out on the concrete, licking her paws, glancing up every now and then to check on her young.
“Where’s their dad?” asks Mabel. I notice that she’s pushed her hair behind her ears so the kittens can’t claw at it, but she doesn’t seem self-conscious.
Luisa shrugs. “In the animal world, dads don’t always raise their young. Once they’ve mated with the mother, they tend to leave.”
I wince, in expectation of a criticism of Theo. It doesn’t come.
“Where are your kids?” Archie asks Luisa.
There’s an uncomfortable silence.
“I’m sorry,” says Theo. “He can be a bit blunt sometimes.”
“It’s OK,” insists Luisa.
“We do not have any children,” answers Stefano, standing up to slosh more wine in our glasses.
“Why not?” persists Archie.
Luisa gives a sigh. “I suppose when Mother Nature was creating me, she made a little mistake.”
And just like that, I’m ten years old again, watching a TV debate in which a Tory MP said gay men were mistakes, evidence of nature misfiring.
“Not necessarily,” pipes Mabel. “The planet’s overpopulated so people who can’t have children could be part of nature’s plan.”
I’m impressed by her thinking, but also the way she stepped in to relieve Luisa’s discomfort. In my stomach I feel a little flutter.
“That is a very interesting idea,” agrees Stefano.
“It is,” I add. I wonder if any scientists have argued that human beings are gay for the same reason. I remember reading an article about gay animals but can’t remember if it said anything about population control.
“We were very sad at first,” Luisa reflects. “It’s why Stefano gave up his job and we changed our lives. But now we’ve adjusted and are happy. Did you want kids, Adam?”
I’m thrown by her question and take a swig of wine. “When I was growing up, the thought didn’t cross my mind. You just didn’t see queer parents in those days.” But if it weren’t for that, would I have wanted kids?
“The best thing you can do for the planet is not to have children,” declares Mabel.
“Do you want children?” Luisa asks her.
She lifts up a kitten and gives it a nuzzle. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Well, it’s very rewarding,” Theo says. “But it can also be hard work.” He sneaks her a wink.
I notice a half-smile playing around Mabel’s lips. And I feel another fluttering in my stomach.
It dawns on me that I’ve been presented with the chance of inheriting some kind of family—and creating some kind of role within it—however challenging that may be. And it’s a chance people like Wilf didn’t have, so I should take it seriously.
“Well, you’re doing a very good job with those kittens,” Luisa observes. “Maybe you could help us look after them.”
“I will!” bursts out Archie, making the kitten in his hands mewl.
“How about you start by helping us pick some names?” Luisa suggests.
Mabel’s smile spreads across her face. “Really?”
“Yes. But they’ll have to be in Italian. Stefano must be able to pronounce them.”
“Bella!” erupts Mabel. “For one of the girls. I heard somebody say it the other day.”
“Donnarumma!” booms Callum. He looks at me. “He’s Italy’s goalie—and a mint player!”
“Spaghetti!” yells Archie.
Everyone laughs.
After much discussion, we settle on Sophia—after Sophia Loren, Luisa’s favorite actress—Roberto—after Roberto Baggio, apparently another footballer but one who used to play for Stefano’s team, Fiorentina—and we stick with Spaghetti, which pleases Archie no end.
Then Theo announces that it’s gone nine o’clock and past Archie’s bedtime.
I finish my wine and rise to my feet. “Well, thanks for a brill evening.”
Luisa and Stefano stand up and push in their chairs.
“It was our pleasure,” says Stefano.
Luisa turns to the kids. “Come back and see the kittens soon.”
All three of the kids smile. And that’s when I realize the fluttering in my stomach was what I’ve been looking for—hope.