‘Do you remember my wedding here?’ Flo says, laughing.
We all grin. Lorenzo was so happy to host it; he filled the place with candles and flowers. But he also Cossack-danced at the reception and ripped his trousers, and later I caught him out the back of the villa getting a blow job from the flautist who had played as Flo cut the cake. I was nineteen and all I remember is him telling me that I should always engage in sexual congress with anyone from the wind section. ‘Excellent breath control,’ he had said. ‘Never with the cellists, dear boy. Mad as hell and their grip is far too strong.’
Phoebe goes and sits by the edge of the pool, putting her feet in; she’s uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. ‘God, this pool. I remember him flinging us in here. Mum screaming blue murder at him. Feeling like I could fly,’ she says.
‘And we’d sit around eating watermelon and he’d crack them open on the floor,’ Norah recalls.
Now I understand why they’re so silent. This place is rammed with memories, but our uncle’s vivacious presence and trademark laugh are sadly missing.
‘God, that feeling…can you still feel him?’ Norah continues cryptically. ‘The light, his light, there’s always been some magic about this place,’ she says.
It’s a big statement from the sister who is normally so steeped in practicality. We all smile, knowing exactly what she means.
‘To Uncle Lorenzo,’ I say, raising a glass of sangria in the air.
‘To Uncle Lorenzo,’ my sisters all chirp in unison.
‘I AM HERE! I AM HERE!’ a voice thunders across the patio. My sisters jump with shock, terrified that they have evoked his ghost. But emerging from the trees appears an old man with a white beard and a tanned face, beaming at all of us. He’s wearing a vest and very tight formal shorts. He comes over to wrap his arms around me, before turning to the others. ‘Look at you ladies!’ he exclaims in delight.
They all take a moment to recognise him.
‘Miguel?’ Flo eventually says, smiling.
The realisation dawns on all my sisters’ faces and they jump up to hug and greet Uncle Lorenzo’s friend from the village at the bottom of the mountain. We met many a random here, but Miguel was a groundsman at the villa who would trim the bushes and stay to party. He regularly wore Day-Glo Speedos and had a partner, Marcus, who used to come over and grill us squid with lots of lemon and fresh herbs. By night, Lorenzo would hit the clubs with them and they would partake in the island’s party scene together. Going through Uncle Lorenzo’s belongings, I’ve seen many photos of their adventures, some I wish I could unsee.
‘The sisters, the lovely girls, you are all so grown up and beautiful,’ Miguel says in a sing-song accent, hugging each of them in turn.
‘This was my help,’ I tell them all. ‘I couldn’t have done anything without Miguel and all of his island contacts.’
‘Of course, how could I not help this handsome face?’ he says, slapping my face gently. ‘Doesn’t he look like the actor…what is his name? Pedro Pascal.’
‘I don’t, but…’ I protest.
‘Then thank you,’ Flo says to Miguel, weaving an arm around his.
‘It was, how you say,cosmético. So, we fix. It was fun to be here, to remember. Look at you all.’ Miguel takes us all in, gesturing at how much we’ve grown. ‘I never saw dear Lorenzo happier than when you all visited here in the summer. He always said that you brought love here.’
Norah smiles at this, trying to contain her emotions.
‘I saw him in his last weeks, you know?’ he says sadly.
‘You did?’ Flo replies, a little teary, resting her head on Miguel’s shoulder.
‘He was so sure that you could bring that same love and life here again. Bring back the glow.’
We all look around, absorbing Miguel’s words. There is something about this place for sure – real magic. It was something Lorenzo carefully nurtured over the years through his hospitality and joy for life.
‘So, how do we do that?’ Phoebe asks. ‘Shall we throw parties here? Hire a DJ, some inflatables and a disco ball and have the most epic blowouts?’
‘After all the work and money we’ve just put into this place? That would be a no. I need to get back to the restaurant. The otherLorenzo’s…’ I remind her.
‘Or not?’ Norah says, shrugging. ‘You know, we’re loving being the bosses back home. The restaurant is fine.’
‘Translated: they’re loving the power,’ Phoebe adds. ‘You could spend longer out here, a month maybe. Just have some time to yourself to?—’
‘Rest?’ Flo suggests.
‘Or be in Ibiza. Party? Sow some wild oats? Right, Miguel? You could show him a good time?’ Phoebe continues.
