A Taste of Home by Heidi Swain (the beginning after the end read novel TXT) 📕

internet and how from then on, I would be able to keep in touch on a regular basis.

‘Finally,’ Nonna smiled in approval.

‘And how is life on the farm?’ Alessandro asked. ‘How is your nonno?’

‘Grandad is very well,’ I said. ‘He’ll be here in a minute so I can introduce you, and we have exciting new plans for the farm.’

I told them all about the secret supper club idea and how the following evening was going to be a trial run. Nonna wanted to hear all about the menu I’d devised and whether her cherry and almond tart was going to be the main attraction.

‘I haven’t made it yet,’ I told her.

‘What, no taste of home?’ she tutted.

‘I’m waiting until our cherries are ripe,’ I told her. ‘I want it to be a proper Rossi-Brown amalgamation.’

She willingly accepted my reasoning and agreed that would make it all the more special. She also gave her blessing to the dishes I’d decided upon, which went some way to settling my jangling nerves. If they were good enough for my nonna, they’d be good enough for our first guests.

‘You’ve settled in well, Fliss,’ Alessandro smiled, once I’d told them more about the place and what I’d been doing.

‘You look healthy,’ Nonna observed.

‘No wonder you’ve abandoned us for so long,’ Marco quipped, and his father nudged him so hard he nearly fell off his chair.

‘By the way, Marco,’ I said, just to get my own back. ‘I have a friend with a Ducati.’

Marco looked enraged, Nonna shook her head and Alessandro groaned.

‘Thank you for that,’ he tutted. ‘He’s not talked about bikes in weeks!’

‘I’m not really teasing you Marco,’ I giggled. ‘I just thought it might encourage you to come and visit me once the olive harvest is finished there and you need a break from trying to fill my shoes. I have another friend I think you might like too.’

I told him all about Bec and by the time I’d finished he was ready to book his ticket to come and meet her. We chatted a little longer and I was just about to give up on Grandad when he finally crept back into the kitchen.

‘Come and say hello,’ I insisted, budging my chair along and pulling out another for him.

He sat down, looking awkward.

‘Ciao,’ he then shocked me by saying. ‘Piacere di conoscerti.’

‘Nice to meet you!’ I gasped as the Rossis all laughed at my obvious surprise. ‘I didn’t know you spoke Italian, Grandad!’

‘I don’t,’ he said. ‘But I thought I should learn a few phrases now we’re all connected.’

I was more touched than he probably realised. With introductions made, Nonna and Grandad fell to chatting as if they’d known each other for ever and when talk turned to Mum, Alessandro, Marco and I said our goodbyes and left them to it.

I could still hear them talking long after I’d had my shower and climbed into bed. It felt wonderful to finally have my two lives running on the same track but, as comforting as it was, it didn’t help me sleep.

Throughout the night, my thoughts ran rampant, flitting from how seductive it had felt to kiss Eliot, to then wondering what Grandad and Louise were scheming, and on to whether Anthony was going to say something indiscreet during the supper club.

When Saturday finally dawned it was soft, bright and thanks to the rain, refreshed. Which was more than could be said for me.

‘No arguments,’ said Grandad when I winced at the sight of the cooked breakfast he’d prepared. ‘It’s going to be all hands to the pumps today and you’ll need your strength. Did your mother never tell you that breakfast is the most important meal of the day?’

‘Funnily enough, she didn’t,’ I said with a wry smile. ‘But Nonna did.’

‘What a woman,’ he wistfully said.

‘I heard you talking late last night.’

‘I hope we didn’t keep you awake?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘You didn’t.’

If anything, the sound of their voices drifting up the stairs had been a comfort. Much like when I was little and used to listen to the Rossi babble from below in the kitchen, not that the murmur had helped me nod off last night, but then nothing would.

‘She told me so much about your mother,’ Grandad carried on, sounding a little choked. ‘And the woman she became.’

I daresay Nonna could tell him things that not even I knew.

‘It was all rather a surprise,’ he said, with a watery smile, ‘but a good one.’

‘I told you she was different to the tempestuous teen you had to try and cope with, didn’t I?’

‘That you did,’ he said, turning back to the stove. ‘And Marta and I are going to keep in touch, so I daresay I’ll hear more about her soon.’

‘I’m sure you will,’ I smiled, thinking how wonderful it was to hear Nonna’s name on Grandad’s lips, even with his Fenland accent.

Rather than pile my plate high, he added only a little of everything to tempt me and as I slowly worked my way through it, I began to feel better.

‘So,’ said Grandad, tucking into a succulent Skylark sausage, ‘what’s on the itinerary ahead of the grand launch?’

I had told Grandad of Jake’s plans to sign a contract with another venue and he had apologised for not agreeing to my idea straightaway and giving me the chance to get in first. Consequently, he was now as mindful as I was as to how much was riding on the evening’s success.

‘Actually,’ I said, looking down my list which hadn’t been more than a couple inches from my side all week, ‘thanks to Eliot’s help yesterday, there’s nowhere near as much to do now as I had expected. It’s all finishing touches in the barn and simple makes in the kitchen.’

The few tasks still to be completed, such as dipping the strawberries in chocolate, were thankfully stress free and repetitive, real nerve soothers.

‘He’s a good lad,’ nodded Grandad. ‘And it was a pleasure to see you both getting on so well yesterday, even