BooksBarbecue
Back Escape to the French Farmhouse
Chapters (79)
  1. COVER
  2. About the Author
  3. Also by Jo Thomas
  4. DEDICATION
  5. ONE
  6. TWO
  7. THREE
  8. FOUR
  9. FIVE
  10. SIX
  11. SEVEN
  12. EIGHT
  13. NINE
  14. TEN
  15. ELEVEN
  16. TWELVE
  17. THIRTEEN
  18. FOURTEEN
  19. FIFTEEN
  20. SIXTEEN
  21. SEVENTEEN
  22. EIGHTEEN
  23. NINETEEN
  24. TWENTY
  25. TWENTY-ONE
  26. TWENTY-TWO
  27. TWENTY-THREE
  28. TWENTY-FOUR
  29. TWENTY-FIVE
  30. TWENTY-SIX
  31. TWENTY-SEVEN
  32. TWENTY-EIGHT
  33. TWENTY-NINE
  34. THIRTY
  35. THIRTY-ONE
  36. THIRTY-TWO
  37. THIRTY-THREE
  38. THIRTY-FOUR
  39. THIRTY-FIVE
  40. THIRTY-SIX
  41. THIRTY-SEVEN
  42. THIRTY-EIGHT
  43. THIRTY-NINE
  44. FORTY
  45. FORTY-ONE
  46. FORTY-TWO
  47. FORTY-THREE
  48. FORTY-FOUR
  49. FORTY-FIVE
  50. FORTY-SIX
  51. FORTY-SEVEN
  52. FORTY-EIGHT
  53. FORTY-NINE
  54. FIFTY
  55. FIFTY-ONE
  56. FIFTY-TWO
  57. FIFTY-THREE
  58. FIFTY-FOUR
  59. FIFTY-FIVE
  60. FIFTY-SIX
  61. FIFTY-SEVEN
  62. FIFTY-EIGHT
  63. FIFTY-NINE
  64. SIXTY
  65. SIXTY-ONE
  66. SIXTY-TWO
  67. Epilogue
  68. Acknowledgements
  69. RECIPES
  70. Lavender shortbread
  71. Apricot jam sponge cake
  72. Lavender lamb
  73. READ MORE
  74. Prologue
  75. ONE
  76. TWO
  77. THREE
  78. FOUR
  79. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

‘Yes, yes.’ She waves a tea towel and looks at me. ‘You’re a good girl, Lucia.’ She cups my face and kisses me, like only a grandmother can, with pure love, leaving her lips on my forehead long enough for me to know how she feels. Those kisses say everything.

I take a big sip of wine.

‘Don’t rush. Finish your food,’ she instructs. ‘There’s more if you want it.’ She points to the pot on the big old cooker. Then she sighs. ‘The stove is getting old, like me and Nonno.’

‘You’re not old, Nonna.’ I laugh but there’s a hint of sadness in her eyes. ‘You never change. Never any older.’ And it’s true. I don’t remember her ever looking any different. Nothing here changes, and that’s why I love it. Just the way it is.

She laughs, her chest wobbling with her chins. ‘But it would be nice if I had a cooker that worked better!’

I finish my pasta, wipe out the inside of the bowl, noting its familiar worn pattern, with a piece of ciabatta and pop it into my mouth. I’m so full I can barely move, and happy, really happy. I can feel my shoulders dropping and the tension easing in my neck.

‘I’ll go and meet Nonno,’ I say, standing and picking up my bowl.

Nonna takes it from me. ‘He’ll love that,’ she says, turning back to the sink, where I think she has probably stood all her married life. ‘Just be careful walking through the square. Those youngsters can be boisterous. And walk back with Nonno.’

‘I’ll be fine, Nonna,’ I say, kissing her again and grabbing my bag.

I leave the apartment and cross the piazza, the town square, and walk towards the cobbled street leading off it. The piazza has stone arches all the way around it, under which people sit and eat in the more expensive tourist restaurants. Not that Castel Madrisante is teeming with tourists, but those who arrive in Naples and are looking for some countryside often head out here in search of a rural idyll. Well, it may have been rural once, but it’s not now. More and more people moved out of Naples for the countryside and it’s grown into a busy little town, with apartments built up around the main piazza. The ones above the arched terraces go for huge amounts of money these days, mostly to city people wanting a weekend retreat.