Matteo nodded, a cloud passing over his face.
Lucy placed her arm around his shoulder, tears teetering on her lashes. ‘It’s perfect.’
Matteo let out a mournful sigh. ‘I never knew my father, but Giancarlo, he treated me like a son.’
‘I wish I’d met him,’ Lucy said. ‘And he’d be so proud of you.’
Matteo clenched his fists and stared into the middle distance, his eyes dark with emotion. Lucy sensed that there was something unsaid, the same something she’d felt with Valentina; something about the accident.
‘Is anything wrong, Matteo? If you want to talk…’
‘It is better for you not to know, Lucy.’
Swiftly snapping out of his melancholy he said, ‘Next weekend we play a gig in town. You wanna come?’
Lucy’s mouth fell open. ‘Erm, that’s very kind of you, Matteo, but I think I’m a little old to be going to gigs, don’t you?’
Matteo rolled his eyes.‘Rubbish! Here’s the deal – you stay half an hour. If you don’t like, I call you a cab.D’accordo? Agreed?’
Tucking her scissors into the pocket of her apron, Lucy clasped his hand firmly. ‘D’accordo!I only hope I won’t have to stand all night, though.’
He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Don’t worry, Nonna. You will have a front row seat.’
Chapter Eleven
The factory was buzzing with anticipation at the opening of the teashop that afternoon.
As Head of Marketing, Valentina had invited the local press who were sending along a reporter and photographer.
Lucy and Elena had burned the midnight oil, while juggling jam-making, egg-whisking and flour-sifting.
The sun was up by the time they had dried and put away the last mixing bowl.
Lucy set her alarm. Her head was just about to hit the pillow when a sharp rat-a-tat-tat echoed from the hall. Who could that be? She crept along the corridor and quietly opened the front door.
‘Buongiorno!’boomed the excessively cheery deliveryman, thrusting a giant cardboard box into her arms, bearing the Stirling Brew Tea Company logo. ‘Sign here, please.’
Summoning a sleepy smile, Lucy scrawled her signature on the electronic device. She then nudged the door shut with her bare foot and staggered into the kitchen.
Taking a knife from the drawer, she ran it along the edges of the box.
As she lifted the flaps, the earthy aroma of her beloved homeland was released into the air. She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, she noticed a note protruding from one of the cartons.
Lots of love & luck,
Mum & Dad xx
With a fond smile, she filled a pot with water and put it on the stove to boil.
Tipping some leaves into her hand, she crunched them between her fingers, held them up to her nose, then dropped them into the warm teapot.
As Lucy sipped her early morning cuppa, she practised her introductory spiel. The addition of William Wallace having a cup of Stirling Brew to calm his nerves before charging into battle was, of course, completely untrue. But she reckoned if Mel Gibson could get away with embellishing Sottish history inBraveheart,then why shouldn’t she?
Giancarlo’s
The paint had barely dried on Valentina’s beautifully scrolled lettering on the door, when the invited guests began to arrive.
