‘Bien sûr. Enjoy your evening.’
A pianist was playing quietly, unnoticed in the corner.
Lucy took a quick sip of bubbly to calm her nerves, ran her hand across the cool, marble table and quietly rehearsed what she was going to say.
But her train of thought was constantly interrupted by a sarcastic voice in her head.
Who do you think you are? You think you can fly in there with your fancy ideas and save the day? Hah! Fear not, Mozzarella Moretti! Lucy, the tartan-caped crusader is on her way! What a joke.
She was jolted back to reality by the arrival of a smiling Alfonso,debonair in panama and navy blue blazer, designer logo on the pocket.
‘Buonasera,Signorina Anderson,’he said, removing his hat.
‘Buonasera. Thank you for agreeing to see me at such short notice.’
After exchanging niceties and ordering food, Lucy drew a deep breath.
‘You must be wondering why I invited you here.’
‘I must admit, I am intrigued – and pleasantly surprised.’
‘Truth is, I have a proposition for you.’
Alfonso’s thick eyebrows shot up. ‘Oh?’
‘Sorry, that came out all wrong,’ Lucy said with a nervous laugh. Taking another slurp of champagne and hardly pausing for breath, she continued, ‘I hope you don’t think I’m interfering, and please say if you do, but I’ve noticed Elena is under a lot of strain at the moment. I get the feeling that things at the factory are not so good. Please feel free to tell me to mind my own business, but I was wondering if I could help in any way when I’m not teaching, by maybe showing potential customers and tourists around, so they can see for themselves how your mozzarella is made. I wouldn’t want paying, and of course I’ll need to learn how to make mozzarella myself – properly this time – not that I’ll actually bemakingit, I mean look what happened before, but… och, if you think it’s a terrible idea…’
Alfonso calmly placed his hands over hers and said with a reassuring smile,‘Allora, I think it is a wonderful idea.’
Lucy gasped. ‘Really?’
‘Sì.But of course the decision isn’t mine alone. I will call a meeting with Elena and Valentina tomorrow. If they are in agreement, I will arrange a visit to my cousin’s farm as soon as possible so you can meet the buffalo and see first hand where the process begins.
‘Now, let’s eat! Oh, by the way, this afternoon I try a piece of your grandmother’s Torta al Limone.’
‘And…?’
‘Mwah!’ he said, making a chef’s kiss.
To her relief, Elena and Valentina had been delighted with the plan, so that Sunday, Lucy found herself in the surprisingly easy company of thick-horned, tar-black buffalo.If my mother could see me now,she thought as she brushed a buffalo’s teeth, its tail swishing back and forth in time to Bocelli.
‘The music, it relaxes them,’ the young stable hand told her. ‘And a chilled buffalo produces better milk.’
Had you told Lucy a few months ago that she would find buffalo cute, she would have laughed in your face.
Nevertheless, she was amazed to discover that mucking out stables, sweeping, washing, brushing, feeding and hooking up the herd to milking machines had given her a mood boost, much in the same way that baking did. In fact, when she was asked if she’d like to be a volunteer, she had no hesitation in signing up. She looked forward to getting to know each buffalo by name, and maybe even introducing them to the sounds of the Celtic harp.
Today’s shift at the farm would give Lucy the confidence to address the factory’s potential customers and tourists. She might even regale her audience with that colourful account of her attempt at making mozzarella. ‘… and that, ladies and gentlemen, is precisely why I am here as a tour guide andnotamastro casaro,’ she would proclaim, giving a little bow. Cue laughter and applause. ‘That concludes today’s tour. Thank you for coming, andarrivederci.’
Three weeks later, as she was hanging up her overall after the last factory tour of the day, she heard an enthusiastic clap echoing along the tiled corridor.
‘Brava!’
Lucy spun around. ‘Alfonso! I didn’t know you were in the audience.’
‘I was listening outside the door,’ he said, grinning from ear to ear.
‘Did I pass the audition?’ she jokingly asked.
