BooksBarbecue
Back Escape to the French Farmhouse Save as PDF
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

‘Can’t you just get in more staff to help?’ I say, rerolling the dough in my hand and then on the worn, flawed surface, just as I have for years, from when I first stood on a chair beside Nonno, was given a piece of dough and helped to make my first tiny pizza. I remember the glee I felt watching it cook, then eating the misshapen base, heavily loaded with all the toppings I liked: Nonna’s sauce, cheese and prosciutto. But never pineapple. You never mention pineapple on pizza when Nonno is in the kitchen. I smile at the memory.

‘Now roll it and push it, roll it and push it,’ he says, as if I’m learning from scratch, and I can tell he’s trying to keep his thoughts under control, as well as mine.

We focus on the balls of dough in front of us.

‘So, let me get this right,’ I say slowly, rolling the dough and pushing it, rolling and pushing rhythmically, with the heel of my hand. ‘You want to retire? I mean, the doctor hasn’t told you you should?’

He shakes his head.

‘You want to?’

He nods. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘It’s time.’

I take a deep breath, and once the shock starts to pass, I can see it makes sense. It’s just I never see my grandparents getting any older. Not before this trip anyway. They always seem the same. A few more grey hairs for Nonna maybe, and in Nonno’s case white ones, but otherwise just the same.

‘Are you sure you don’t feel you just need a bit more time off? Maybe you came back to work too soon.’ I’m hoping this might be a hiccup.

He shakes his head. ‘It’s time to hand it on,’ he says, sadly but firmly. ‘I’m getting older and, much as I hate to admit it, it’s getting harder. I want to pass the legacy on while I’m still alive to see it.’

‘You’re not going to sell it, are you?’ Again, I stop what I’m doing. It had never occurred to me that Nonno’s restaurant might be sold one day.

He stops kneading. ‘I hope not, lovely. I hope it won’t come to that. I hope I’ll be able to hand it on to someone who really wants it,’ he says reassuringly, with an encouraging smile. ‘Someone who wants it and will carry on doing what I’ve been doing here, your great-grandfather before me.’

‘Well, that’s something at least.’ We carry on kneading in silence, until we’ve dealt with all of the dough.