Chapter 49
On Friday, the builders put the finishing touches to the cottage, including applying a second coat of paint to the bedroom.
We didn’t want a color that would be too overpowering so opted for a soft ivory.
The bathroom, on the other hand, has walls that are painted an oyster gray, which complements its new ivory suite.
The whole cottage looks stunning. If it weren’t for the smell of paint, I’d be tearful.
I go outside to water the garden for what I realize will be the last time this summer—before Stefano takes over.
It’s the first day of September, so the season will be changing soon.
Already, there are noticeably fewer flowers and less color than just a few weeks ago, although there’s still just as much greenery.
The grapes on the vine twisting through the pergola are almost ready to harvest—I know this because Stefano has examined them and said they’re “OK,” which Luisa joked means the same as “excellent” from anyone else.
The cycle of nature will indeed continue without us. Again, it’s enough to make me tearful.
Towards the end of the morning, Theo and I take the kids up to the castle to see Luisa and her team of diggers.
They’re supposed to be packing away, as today is their last day before Luisa, a couple of other middle-aged teachers and the young student start the new academic year.
I expect everyone to be in a downbeat mood but there’s excitement in the air, overlaid with loud chatter in Italian.
“We’ve found another wall!” Luisa trills.
“It’s at the back of the castle,” adds Vito, equally upbeat. “And it looks well-preserved.”
“Amazing!” I say.
“Superb!” chimes Theo.
“Can we see it?” asks Archie.
Luisa and Vito lead the five of us through the site and indicate the very top of a stone wall peeping through the earth.
“It’s a shame we don’t have time to excavate it properly,” comments Vito.
“But at least we’ve got something to look forward to,” Luisa adds.
We discuss when the dig can be resumed. Although the dates will be dictated by academic holidays, I no longer feel the need to be present when the team are on site.
On the other hand, if we get any bookings for the house, they’ll have to work around those.
But this still hasn’t happened—and I’m starting to think I may have to tout myself around for some contract work in HR when I’m back in Manchester.
It’s a grim thought and one I’m keen to suppress, at least until the end of our holiday.
I break into a smile. “Well, it seems to have been a successful dig. I had no idea you’d find so much.”
“I know,” says Luisa. “And who knows what’s to come?”
We leave the diggers to pack up their tools, trowels and rolls of tape and load up their trolleys.
When we arrive back at the house, the builders have finished in the cottage and are in the process of vacating it.
The five of us move inside to clean everything, install the furniture and ornaments, and hang a few of Wilf’s watercolors on the downstairs walls, discussing what we’ll do with the upstairs walls after they’ve dried.
Theo and I had intended to move back into the cottage for our last few nights but the delay put paid to this—and now the smell of paint is too strong.
But we work as if we are moving in, as we want to show off the place to our guests tomorrow.
And all this we do to the sound of Wilf and Arnaldo’s opera records, which I tell myself is probably the last time we’ll hear them this summer. But I’m determined not to feel sad.
Outside, the builders switch focus onto loading their workbenches, wheelbarrows, dust sheets and boxes of tools into the van.
The skip has already been collected for the last time but they have plenty of unused materials—half-full bags of plaster, sand and cement, piles of stones and tiles, plus lengths of piping, trunking and electric cabling—that also need transporting away.
As it’s clear they won’t be able to take everything today, I agree they can stash what’s left in the garage and collect it next week.
“Just as long as it doesn’t get in the way of the party!” I tell Giuseppe.
“Don’t worry,” he says, “nobody sees anything.”
Talking about the party reminds me that we still need to finalize our outfits.
Towards the end of the afternoon, Theo drives me and the kids into Lucca to buy a few items of clothing to supplement what we already have.
As we drive down the tree-lined main road, through village after village, over the two baffling junctions, I realize this is something else we’re doing for the last time this summer. Again, I feel a dip of sadness.
Pull yourself together, Adam. You’ll be back soon!
Theo drops us off just outside the city walls.
“Are you not coming, Dad?” asks Archie, putting on his cap.
“Sorry, I’ve got to go and pick up the spare chairs,” Theo says. He gives me a wink. “I’ll see you back here in a couple of hours!”
And, with another wink, he drives off.
We set off down Via Fillungo—Archie’s hand in mine—and call into several clothes shops.
Many of them have discounted their summer stock, so we try on tops, shirts and T-shirts.
As I slip on a pair of silver mesh espadrilles, I can’t remember the last time I wore socks.
I realize I’ll have to get used to that again as soon as I’m home.
I grab some more clothes and take them into a fitting room. When I step out wearing them, Callum says, “Nice drip.”
We all laugh.
As well as buying a few clothes for myself, I pick up a patterned linen shirt for Theo and treat Callum to a double-pocketed utilitarian shirt in gray, Archie to a bright green T-shirt emblazoned with the word Ciao!
, and Mabel to a lilac crop top that shows off her newly flat stomach, a metallic purple lip gloss, and a bead-making kit she spotted.
“Why do you want that?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I’m going to make something to match my outfit.”
Just as we’re leaving the shop, my phone vibrates to tell me I have a message. It’s from Theo.
All it says is, “Passenger on board.”
We drive through the olive grove and park in front of the garage. As we get out of the car and grab the bags of shopping from the boot, my heart does a cartwheel. What are the kids going to say when they see who Theo’s picked up from the airport?
We reach the patio, where our guest is waiting.
It’s Kate.
As soon as they spot their mum, the kids drop their bags and rush towards her. In an instant, I know we’ve done the right thing.
“Wait a minute,” says Callum, breaking out of what’s become a group hug, “this doesn’t mean we’re going home, does it?”
Kate squeezes his shoulder. “No, sweetheart. Adam invited me to your party.” Her voice cracks and she pretends she has to clear her throat. “Isn’t that nice?”
Callum stretches up onto his tiptoes. “Yeah, it’s sick!”
Mabel gives a little squeak. “It’s incred!”
Archie throws his hands around Kate again. “I love you, Mum!”
I had the idea of inviting Kate after she seemed genuinely remorseful for lying about the job and keen to make amends to the kids.
I figured I could handle her company for a couple of days—even if she does take the odd swipe at me—as I’ll be so caught up in the party.
I also figured it would be good for Theo to have the chance to tell her the truth about that time he cheated on her.
I wasn’t expecting him to do it straight away but he messaged me before picking us up to say they’d already had the conversation and he was glad he’d got it off his chest. But I couldn’t find out any more, as when we met I was with the kids—so I’ve no idea how she responded.
As I step towards Kate, I can’t help my spine stiffening. I hold out my hand. “It’s nice to see you.”
She smiles and shakes my hand. As she does, I sense a tremble coming from hers.
“Your house is beautiful!” she burbles. “Theo gave me a quick tour—I love what you’ve done with it. Very understated and classy.”
I force out a wobbly smile. “Thanks.”
I thrust my hands into my pockets and start playing with a chewing gum wrapper.
“And look at you kids!” Kate gabbles on. “Cal and Mabel, you’ve gone so blond! Look at your golden tans! Archie, look at all your freckles!”
She bends down and kisses him several times on the head and cheeks, and he squeals with delight.
“You’re so gorgeous I could gobble you up!” she says.
Archie leans against her and gives her a nuzzle. “You’re gorgeous too, Mum!”
He isn’t wrong: Kate’s taller than I remember, her features less sharp, her skin enviably smooth and clear, even with a light tan. She’s wearing a coral blue, patterned, flowing sundress, with three-quarter-length sleeves.
Spotting her suitcase, Mabel asks, “Are you staying with us?”
Theo sucks in a breath. “I’m afraid there’s no room. Giuseppe says no one’s allowed to sleep in the cottage for a few days.”
“I’m staying in an agriturismo just at the bottom of the hill,” Kate explains. “I’m not quite sure what that means but I guess I’ll find out when I check in.”
“It’s very nice, apparently,” I say, a little too chirpily. It was Angelika who recommended it, telling me she often uses it when she has an overspill of guests.
“Well, thanks for making the booking,” Kate says, with a tight smile.
“My pleasure.” I realize I’ve rolled the chewing gum wrapper into a tight ball.
It’s obvious that Kate feels as uncomfortable as I do, so I excuse myself, saying that I have to make a start on dinner—which isn’t a lie. As I pick up all the bags and take them inside, she unzips her suitcase and starts handing the kids presents she bought them in Atlanta.