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

Then Nonno lines up the finished balls on the floured work surface and, again not looking at me, says, ‘I contacted your brother, and spoke to him in the week.’ He’s still turned away from me, tweaking the balls of dough in their lines with pride, giving them just enough room to grow and prove when he puts them into the walk-in refrigerator.

‘And?’ I ask impatiently. ‘Is he thinking about it?’

Nonno shakes his head. ‘He has too much on, what with his own business and family. He’s never really had the interest in taking over here. It’s a long way from his home. Home to him is Wales now, like you. Not here.’ He gives me a loving smile, which says he misses us, the family, being together, and touches my cheek. I miss it too. I love it when we’re together. But the last time was my brother’s wedding. I’m hoping the next won’t be a funeral.

‘So, he won’t take on the business?’ I ask. In my heart of hearts, I knew he couldn’t. He’s worked hard for what he has. He may have the same Italian traits as me – thick, dark hair, short, rounded body, a love of food – but cooking isn’t one of them. Much as he loves to eat, he’s never had the desire to cook. Unless it’s a barbecue. Even then, I end up taking over as he cremates everything.

I take a deep breath and pick at the clumps of floury dough stuck to my hands. ‘So now what? Does that mean you’ll sell after all?’ I can’t bear to think of this place not being Nonno’s.

Nonno shrugs. ‘There is no one else. Here, it is tradition. We pass on the tradition of the pizza-maker, father to son. Pizzaiolo to pizzaiolo. Like my father did to me. But with your brother not interested …’ His eyes fill again with little tears, like diamonds, and I know he’s thinking of my father and how different things would have been if he was still alive.

‘Won’t you think about taking on more staff, see how you feel in six months?’ But I know that’s not the answer. His mind is made up. I can see that. And it’s for the best really. I know. The restaurant, though, is imprinted in my brain. It’s my happy place when work gets tough. What will happen now, then, if they sell?

‘It will stay a restaurant, won’t it? If you sell it? You could write a clause into the contract that you want it to stay the same. I could arrange that for you.’