A Taste of Home Read online

  The plan for the trip to town was for us to stock the farm fridge, take books back to the library and pick up a takeaway for dinner, but it was still a bit early for the takeaway part.

  ‘How about I cook instead?’ I offered, when I spotted a smart looking deli at the opposite end of the square.

  Eliot had told Bec not to be too long and if we didn’t have to wait for the takeaways to open, then we’d be back all the sooner and to be honest, I didn’t much fancy fish and chips or a kebab. I was craving a taste of home, but not Nonna’s tart. I was going to save that for a special occasion. Unbidden, my hand checked that the recipe and Mum’s letter were safe where they should be.

  ‘Could you?’ Bec asked, wide-eyed. ‘Could you cook?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘If you think it will be okay and as long as everyone likes Italian food?’

  ‘What like proper Italian, rather than greasy takeaway pizza?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, eyeing the stalls on the market.

  ‘Yeah,’ she nodded. ‘Okay. Great!’

  Bec left me to source the ingredients for dinner while she went to sort everything else. I soon found that the market was local foodie heaven and as there was a fabulous fish stall, I decided to make a creamy lemon and shrimp risotto and an accompanying seafood salad.

  Everyone was very friendly and I ended up buying far more than I needed, but I knew that a taste of Puglia and a few sessions at the stove would help me zen out and stop me stressing about staying at the farm. I thanked my lucky stars that Eliot was going to be there too, although I didn’t like to think how I’d react if I bumped into him half dressed in the middle of the night, especially if he was still wearing that wonderful woody aftershave. Or was it just eau de Eliot that had set my pulse racing?

  I was weighed down even before I reached the deli to pick up the risotto rice and cheese and components for antipasto, but there was such a great array of ingredients on offer, including freshly made grissini and locally cured meats, that I couldn’t resist piling my basket high in there too. The olives weren’t quite up to Rossi standards, but they would do.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting to find such a well-stocked deli in such a small town,’ I told Thomas, the manager and owner, according to his name badge. ‘This place is a real find.’

  ‘We’re new,’ he told me, slipping a leaflet into a reusable bag bearing the shop logo. ‘We’ve only been open a few weeks. But business has been brisk, so far.’

  ‘How exciting,’ I nodded, looking around. ‘Sorry,’ I said, squeezing closer to the counter when I realised there was someone trying to get by.

  ‘You look as though you’ve got the ingredients for a great dinner there,’ said the other customer, flashing me a smile as he looked over my shoulder.

  ‘I certainly hope so,’ I said, feeling my face colour a little as he handed a bottle of olive oil to a woman who was also serving.

  ‘Those grissini are delicious,’ he grinned. ‘I tried some last week.’

  ‘Excellent,’ I smiled back, taking in his blonde hair and deep blue eyes. ‘Nothing beats a personal recommendation.’

  ‘That’s very true,’ he agreed.

  We ended up leaving at the same time and as I was so weighed down with bags, he opened the door for me.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, trying to evenly distribute everything.

  I’d definitely got far too much. I could probably cook Italian dishes for at least a fortnight, rather than the few days I was imagining I was going to be at Fenview Farm.

  ‘Can you manage?’ the guy asked.

  ‘Not really,’ I admitted. ‘But I’m only going over there,’ I added, with a nod to where Bec had parked.

  ‘In that case,’ he said, holding out his hands. ‘Let me help. I’m heading that way too.’

  He slipped his bottle of olive oil into one of the bags and we split the haul between us. Our fingers became entwined during the sorting and he gave me an even wider smile.

  ‘Thanks,’ I swallowed. ‘This is very kind of you.’

  ‘It’s no problem.’

  We crossed the road together and I came to a stop behind Bec’s dazzling ray of motorised sunshine.

  ‘Nice car,’ laughed the guy who I’d named in my head, Mr Helpful.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Bec, suddenly appearing. ‘I’ve had it since I passed my test years ago. Striking, isn’t she?’

  ‘Just a bit.’

  ‘I call her the Banana-mobile.’

  ‘Well,’ he said, putting down the bags. ‘I’ll certainly keep an eye out for her from now on.’

  I thanked him again and then he climbed into the sporty Audi next to us, waved and drove off. He’d forgotten to take his olive oil.

  ‘Who was that?’ Bec wistfully asked, looking after him with a soppy expression on her face.

  ‘No idea,’ I told her. ‘He was in the deli and offered to help carry the shopping.’

  ‘Manners and beguiling good looks,’ she dreamily sighed, giving me a nudge. ‘What a thrilling combo.’

  ‘If you say so,’ I laughed.

  Personally, I thought her big brother had the edge on that particular pairing, but obviously I wasn’t going to tell her that.

  ‘What’s all this then?’ Bec asked, taking in the many bags around my feet. ‘I thought you were cooking dinner for five, not feeding the five thousand!’

  ‘I’m used to Italian portion control,’ I told her, pulling my phone out of my pocket.

  ‘Or lack of it,’ she giggled.

  While Bec loaded the boot, I took advantage of the fact that my phone had enough signal for me to message Marco and give him an update on how the day had gone. I didn’t go into detail, or brag to him about Eliot’s bike, but I knew Alessandro and Nonna would take comfort in knowing that I was staying at the farm. It would suggest to them that all was well and, for now, that was the impression I was keen to convey. They didn’t need to know about the muddle I’d made of my arrival.

  * * *

  When we arrived back at the farm, Louise had gone home and Eliot was washing up. I wanted to ask him what his mum had said to make him change his mind about me staying at the farm, but he seemed a bit distracted and I hoped they hadn’t had words. The last thing I wanted was to be a burden.

  ‘I thought we were having fish and chips,’ he commented, as Bec and I finished decanting the contents of the bags on to the kitchen table.

  ‘Fliss’s going to cook for us instead,’ Bec told him. ‘That’s why she picked up all this lot.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Right.’

  ‘And this wasn’t the only thing you picked up, was it Fliss?’ she said with a much-exaggerated wink.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I tutted as I carefully set the bottle of olive oil Mr Helpful had left behind to one side.

  ‘Yes, you do,’ she persisted. ‘A side order of handsome and helpful isn’t forgotten that quickly.’

  I shook my head, hoping she’d shut up because I was pretty certain the spark I’d felt when I first set eyes on Eliot was mutual and, even if nothing was going to come of it, I didn’t want him thinking that I went through life flirting with every man who crossed my path. Mr Helpful might have been attractive but in a completely different way to Eliot.

  ‘So,’ said Eliot, thankfully ignoring his sister’s silliness. ‘What are you going to make?’

  I reeled off the evening’s menu, embellishing with a few words of Italian. Saying it out loud made my tummy rumble and even just the thought of time spent stirring the creamy risotto soothed my soul.

  ‘But Bill won’t eat any of that,’ was Eliot’s reaction and it well and truly burst my bubble.

  ‘Oh,’ I swallowed, my face flushed with embarrassment.

  So keen to comfort myself, I’d got carried away and only factored my tastes and preferences into the evening’s dishes.

  ‘I didn’t think,’ I apologised. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ said Eliot. ‘It all
sounds great, but your grandfather has a rather less sophisticated palate. He’s more a meat and two veg kind of guy.’

  I felt a total fool.

  ‘Which is why,’ said Bec, coming to my rescue and shooting her brother an accusatory look. ‘I picked up some eggs and Skylark Farm bacon from the butcher. Bill will be happy with that.’

  ‘Yes, that’s more like it,’ Eliot agreed. ‘Though he’s not got much of an appetite and the meds are making him drowsy, so he probably won’t want to eat anything anyway.’

  ‘So why make me feel bad about choosing the wrong thing?’ I snapped.

  ‘I didn’t mean to,’ Eliot said.

  He looked shocked by my outburst and I was mortified to find myself instantly on the verge of tears. Bec looked daggers at her brother again.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to bite your head off.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘It’s been one hell of a day. I’m feeling it myself.’ That no doubt accounted for the change in his mood too. ‘You must be exhausted and I could have put that better. I’m the one who should be apologising. I seem to have a habit of putting my foot in it today.’

  As relieved as I was that he hadn’t meant to make me feel bad, at the same time, I wanted to tell him not to be nice to me either. Kindness and understanding would tip me completely over the edge, but because I didn’t trust myself not to blub, I didn’t.

  ‘I think I’ll just freshen up,’ I sniffed. ‘Do I need to go upstairs?’

  Eliot succinctly explained that there were four rooms upstairs – three bedrooms and a bathroom – and I rushed off, keen to have a minute to myself. I could hear Eliot and Bec talking in the kitchen below and made a mental note to talk in whispers whenever possible for the next few days in case my grandfather caught the sound of my voice.

  The doors to two of the bedrooms were closed but the spare was open and the bed was made with my rucksack sitting next to it. Thanks to the open window, the room was filled with warm spring air and I pushed the curtains further back to take in the far-reaching Fenland view. I pulled out my phone and took a photo. The Rossis would love that. I would send it next time I had enough signal.

  I wasn’t sure what I was expecting of Fenview Farm, but from what I could make out, it looked to be nowhere as big as the Rossis’ plot. There were a couple of fields full of blossom-heavy trees and I could see a few large cages filled with soft fruit bushes as well as rows and rows of strawberry plants. There was no straw on any of them yet, but I knew that would have to go down soon.

  The season would be starting in just a few weeks, sooner if it stayed warm, and if the berries weren’t going to be spoiled, then they’d need that straw buffer between them and the earth. Modern, commercial farms grew the berries off the ground and under cover, but Fenview Farm looked distinctly old-school and I felt my back groan at the thought of bending and filling punnets. I would no doubt be long gone before they ripened, but it didn’t stop my body reacting to the thought of the back-breaking work. I wondered who my grandfather would get to pick them. That was one job his new hip wouldn’t be up to so soon.

  I looked back to the orchards. Even from this distance I could make out that they weren’t quite so tidily kept as some I’d seen on my journey from Peterborough, but they weren’t in as poor a state as others I’d glimpsed courtesy of Google. Was it really only a few hours since I’d been in the hotel and looking at these views online? It felt like a lifetime ago.

  My stomach growled again and after freshening up I pulled myself together, took a deep breath and went back downstairs to set about preparing my Italian feast.

  * * *

  ‘That,’ said Bec, as she wiped her mouth on her napkin, ‘was the best meal I’ve eaten in for ever.’

  I was delighted she had enjoyed it. I had soon found my way around the Brown kitchen and had loved preparing the food as much as eating it. Losing myself in the familiarity of it all was exactly what I needed after a stress-filled few hours and insisting that we eat outside on our laps as the weather was so wonderful, had made it all the better.

  ‘I have to agree with you sis,’ said Eliot, stretching back in his chair and rubbing his hands over his tummy which still looked washboard flat, in spite of all the carbs he’d crammed in. ‘That was phenomenal, Fliss. Where did you learn to cook like that?’

  I flushed at the compliment which found its way straight to my heart. I was never happier than when folk were enjoying my food and I knew Nonna would have been proud.

  ‘Not from her mother, that’s for sure,’ Louise, who had come back to join us, laughed. ‘From what I can remember from cooking at school, Jennifer was as good at burning toast then as I am now.’

  Mum and Louise really had gone a long way back then.

  ‘You’ve got a lot more going for you than being able to find your away around a kitchen, Mum,’ said Eliot, closing his eyes.

  ‘Just as well,’ she laughed, ‘because I can’t!’

  ‘And before you think it, Fliss,’ Eliot quickly said, opening his eyes again. ‘That wasn’t me saying that’s all you’ve got going for you. Although even if it was, that’d be no bad thing because that meal was amazing. I mean… I know you can do more than cook… not that it would matter if you…’

  ‘Eliot,’ Bec squawked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘For pity’s sake, shut up.’

  ‘I learned to cook in Italy,’ I said, answering Bec’s question and pretending I hadn’t noticed that Eliot had got himself in a muddle again, ‘and I had the most amazing teacher.’

  A vision of me wearing one of Nonna’s aprons, standing next to her at the old stove and stirring a vast pot of rich tomato sauce, popped into my head and yet another prickle of tears accompanied it. When I’d decided to come and find the farm, I hadn’t taken into account that as well as still missing Mum, I’d be bereft without the Rossis too.

  ‘Tell us about them,’ said Louise, settling back in her chair.

  ‘Another day,’ I sniffed, standing up. ‘I’d best get tidied up.’

  ‘Oh, no you don’t,’ said Bec. ‘You cooked this feast, we’ll tidy up.’

  ‘I better check on Bill first,’ said Eliot. ‘And I need to get the bike undercover.’

  ‘Any excuse to get out of the washing up,’ tutted his sister.

  ‘I really don’t mind helping,’ I said.

  ‘You stay where you are,’ said Louise. ‘Sit back down, have another glass of wine and enjoy the sunset.’

  The Fenland spring sunset really was a sight to behold. The cloud streaked sky turned gold and then orange as the great orb slipped gently towards the horizon and then slowly sank below it. I closed my eyes, listening to the chatter of a robin which was swiftly followed by a blackbird. He sounded keen to announce the farm as his own.

  It was all every bit as tranquil as Puglia and for the first time since I’d arrived, I thought about how there might be a possibility of my roots working their way into the soft, dark earth beneath my feet. It was probably down to the wine, but it was a settling sensation nonetheless.

  * * *

  ‘I’m not asking you to pay for it. I’m giving it to you for free.’

  My eyes snapped open. There was a chill in the air but someone had laid a blanket over me, so I hadn’t felt it. The dishes had all been cleared away, along with my empty wine glass and I could see the drive was empty. Eliot must have put his bike away and Bec and Louise had gone home. I was sorry not to have said goodbye, but I hadn’t heard a thing. I must have been out for the count.

  ‘Yes, mate. I know, and believe me, I was looking forward to it too, but it can’t be helped.’

  I wondered who Eliot was talking to.

  ‘I’ve asked Bec to forward you the booking email and I’ll let the organiser know you’re taking my spot. You’ll need your insurance documents. Okay, well, have fun and do not even think about stopping by here on the way back to tell me how it went.’

  He ended the conversa
tion and I called over to him, momentarily forgetting I was supposed to be keeping quiet.

  ‘Everything all right?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, wandering over with the phone from the kitchen still in his hand. ‘Just a change of plan for tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh,’ I yawned. ‘What were you supposed to be doing?’

  ‘A track day on the bike. It’s been in the diary for months.’

  ‘I’m sorry you’ve had to cancel,’ I said. ‘You must be really disappointed.’

  ‘Yeah, well,’ he shrugged. ‘There’ll be other days, but there’s only one Bill.’

  I smiled, but didn’t know what to say to that.

  ‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘Had you got anything planned you need to call off now you’re staying?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I came to England with the sole purpose of doing this. Not that I expected it to work out the way it has so far.’

  ‘It must have been quite a shock, finding out about this place.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It was. Come to that, it still is and I’d no idea it was going to be just my grandfather here on his own.’

  ‘And I daresay you’re going to be in for a few more surprises given that you still know so little,’ Eliot pointed out.

  ‘Thanks for that,’ I said, giving him a rueful smile.

  ‘Sorry,’ he smiled back. ‘I don’t know what it is about you Fliss, but you do seem to get me tongue-tied in double-quick time. Nothing I’ve said to you today has come out right, has it?’

  ‘No,’ I sighed, trying not to think of his tongue. ‘Not really.’

  ‘Come on,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘You go up to bed and I’ll lock up.’

  I rested my hand in his and as he pulled me to my feet, an explosion of fireworks coursed through my system and turned my knees to jelly.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, resting his other hand under my elbow to steady me.

  ‘Too much wine and not enough sleep,’ I bluffed, taking a step away. ‘Night Eliot.’