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‘Bene, Grace,’ he said, flashing her a giant smile.
Oh, here we go. He’s making the rounds. Once again, he had nothing but praise for the others. As he arrived at the foot of the table to view my efforts, I braced myself for more criticism.
‘Thinner, thinner. Keep rolling. Dough must be thin so you can see through it.’
Grrrrr. Am I that crap?
Okay, chill, Soph. Stop taking it personally. He’s trying to help you. Just try a bit harder.
I carried on whilst the others progressed to the next stage of rolling the dough, then cutting it into tagliatelle strips.
Eventually I caught up, but again it seemed like my strips were a little too wide or too thick. What was wrong with me today? I just couldn’t seem to do anything right.
We put all of our tagliatelle efforts into one large bowl, and off it went with Lorenzo to the kitchen next door. The old me would have worried about the fact that so many people had been handling the pasta and wondered how well everyone had washed their hands. But I was determined to be strong and continue to try and shake off my uptightness and cleanliness OCD.
I glanced at my watch. Wow—it was nearly 8 p.m. We’d been cooking for at least three hours.
‘That was fun!’ said Daniel.
‘Yeah, it was, but easy for you to say, Daniel. You took to it like a duck to water,’ I said, still feeling disappointed that I hadn’t performed better.
‘Well, I do all the cooking at home, so I get a lot of practice. Oh, and call me Dan. We’re all mates here!’
‘So, apparently dinner will be ready around eight forty-five,’ said Grace. ‘Dan, I know you need to call your wife, so would you ladies like to go for a little walk around the grounds whilst it’s still light?’
‘Love to!’ replied Francesca.
‘Count me in too,’ I added. ‘Let me just run upstairs and grab a shawl.’
The grounds were even more beautiful than they’d appeared from the window. I couldn’t resist snapping another dozen photos on my phone. As we disappeared into the walkways, which were alongside the rows upon rows of olive trees, the air felt deliciously fresh. I took a deep breath and I swear I could feel my lungs expanding. This was a million miles away from the smog-and-pollution-filled surroundings I encountered in London every day.
We all took it in turns to talk about how we had come to find ourselves here.
Sadly, Grace had been recently widowed. She had been married for forty-five years to Robert, who sounded like he was the most adorable husband and father a woman could have asked for. For the past four months, she had been visiting her daughter in Cambridge and helping her look after her three grandchildren whilst her son-in-law was working overseas. Her daughter had suggested this as a well-deserved getaway to give Grace a break from the cooking, cleaning and babysitting she’d been doing for them.
Fran, as she told us she’d preferred to be called, was a relative newlywed who had married the love of her life, Andy, just nineteen months ago. Having spent twenty-three years being a doting wife to her first husband, Nigel, once her kids had gone to uni, she realised she no longer had anything in common with him and that she’d lost her identity. So Fran had got a job and saved up for a few years. By the time she was forty-four, she had enough to be independent and left her husband to start her new chapter. Five years on from taking the leap, she couldn’t be happier.
I told them all about my break-up with Rich, and they both nodded sympathetically.
‘So now, like it was for me, it’s your time to discover the new you, then,’ said Fran.
‘Yeah. I’m not expecting it to be easy, but now that I’ve got my head around becoming single again, I’m up for the challenge,’ I replied.
‘Good for you, girl! That’s the spirit,’ said Grace.
‘Have you thought about what you want now?’ Fran asked. ‘Another relationship? Kids?’
‘Well, I’m ready to meet someone. But nothing too serious to begin with. I feel like after coming out of such a long relationship, I need to have a bit more time to rediscover myself,’ I said, reflecting. ‘I want to start by having some fun. I’d love to have kids, although I’m not even sure if doing that naturally is still an option, with my age and everything,’ I added, doubt evident in my voice.
‘Yeah, that’s true,’ said Fran bluntly. Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but as she was a nurse, perhaps she might know more about whether these things were possible.
‘Yes,’ I said, now feeling even more certain of what I wanted. ‘I’d like to start dating. Or maybe not even date as such. I haven’t been intimate with anyone for a while, so perhaps a passionate snog or even more would be nice for starters, and then I’ll just see how it goes. My friends keep lecturing me about how I need to get out there, flirt, practise and all that stuff. They keep trying to get me on those dating sites too,’ I said, rolling my eyes.
‘Oh, I don’t envy you youngsters with all that Tittering you all have to do these days,’ said Grace, grimacing.
Fran and I let out a little chuckle. We weren’t sure whether she was referring to Tinder or Twitter. Either way it was funny.
‘This walk has been wonderful,’ said Fran enthusiastically. ‘Such breathtaking views and wonderful company. I’m relieved everyone here is so lovely! I was terrified about it, and my daughter and husband have been messaging me constantly all afternoon, dying to know what each of you are like. We’ll have to take some pictures at dinner to send to them.’
