‘Yes.’
‘Like inOutlander?’
‘Well, yes, I believe it is featured inOutlander.’
Matteo raised his hand.
‘Where is Lo… Lomond?’
‘LochLomond is situated on the west coast,’ said Lucy, pointing it out on the map. ‘Here. “Loch” meaning “lake”. In fact, I understand much ofOutlanderwas filmed on the banks of Loch Lomond.’
This juicy bit of information was met with contagious enthusiasm and excitement: ‘bellissima!’‘madonna mia!’‘fantastico!’ ‘ma va!’
And that was Lucy’s lightbulb moment.
Twenty-five miles south of Glasgow, on the banks of Loch Lomond, stood Glenmara Lodge, her grandparents’ former home. The family now ran it as an Airbnb rental and the winter months were usually quiet…
Step back in time to Outlander country!
3 nights’ free accommodation for 4 people
in November on the bonnie banks of Loch Lomond
in exchange for 4 days’ work at the teashop – June 16-19
The morning after she’d posted that notice on the students’ Facebook page, Lucy had poured herself a strong espresso and gingerly fired up her laptop, knowing this was her last attempt at getting Elena, Stefano and Alfonso on board that plane to Glasgow.
She closed her eyes, hardly daring to look. Lowering her glasses onto her nose, she drew a deep breath and peered at the screen, mouth falling open. The number of enthusiastic comments and ‘likes’ exceeded her wildest dreams.
But it wasn’t long before her euphoria had turned to worry; with only four places up for grabs, how was she to choose who should go and who should stay? Oh dear. Perhaps it hadn’t beensuch a good idea after all. The students had all grown close and something like this could cause ructions among the group.
‘There’s only one thing for it, pet,’ her mother had said on the phone. ‘Put the names in a hat and draw four winners.’
‘I know, but still so many of them will be disappointed.’
‘Well, I’ve been talking to your father, and during the low season any of them are welcome. No charge – as long as I don’t have to clean and shop for them.’
‘Really, Mum?’
‘Aye. Now stop your mithering. You’re starting to sound like me.’
‘God forbid.’
The shrill buzz of the cake timer made Lucy jump, the sweet smell assuring her that the cake was ready.
Now, where were the oven gloves?
It was over. She’d done it. All those evenings of rehearsal with Lucy as her imaginary audience had paid off. She hadn’t lost her thread or allowed her emotions to get the better of her. Admittedly, her voice had wobbled a bit in places, but that vulnerability, that fragility, coupled with her Italian accent had melted the audience, who’d hung on every word of her speech.
Gripping the edge of the table, Elena drew a calming breath, face split with a smile. She felt a tear trickle down her cheek as her gaze landed on Stefano and Alfonso, unmistakeable pride etched across their faces.
They say adrenaline has the power to guide you through stressful situations, but there was no doubt in Elena’s mind that her inner strength had come from Giancarlo.
Mr Conti walked up to the front and kissed her on both cheeks. The applause died down.
‘Mille grazie,Elena. My dear friends, I want to thank everyone for coming here tonight – the Moretti family especially for making the journey from Naples to Glasgow to share Giancarlo’s story with us.’ Holding up the book he said, ‘This is different to our other cookbooks. Inside you’ll not only find recipes, but the history of Mozzarella Moretti. Let’s start with the buffalo farm…’
The window blinds were lowered as Mr Conti began.
