‘After siesta, we make pesto.’
Harper licks her lips and smiles at Tilly. ‘Mmm, I love pesto.’
‘You haven’t tried pesto,’ scoffs Constanza, ‘until you have triedmypesto.’
After a lunch of tomato salad, fresh fruit and crusty bread everyone retreats into the cool of the stone-walled villa, shutters closing and a hush descending on the hillside apart from the background murmur of the cicadas, bees and the softly cooing hens.
Tilly’s room is plain and comfortable, most of the space taken up by a four-poster bed with soft white sheets. She climbs into bed and reaches for the book on the bedside table, her latest from Joe, collected last week. From inside the pages of the orange clothbound hardcover she withdraws a letter, sinking back against the pillows as she rereads it.
Dear Tilly,
I remember you once saying that poems are like medicine. That whatever your ailment, there’s a poem out there for you. I hope you have been enjoying your year of books. It makes me happy to think about these books bringing you even a little bit of joy. But I also know that life can’t all be joy (oh, how I wish it could). There are the quiet moments and the dark moments too. I wish I could be there to help you through those moments now.
The Poetry Pharmacyseemed like the perfect choice: a book of poetry prescriptions to help you when you need them. I hope they bring you comfort. And I hope that the words of other people help you to see that you are not alone.
I love you.
Joe x
When she collected the book, Alfie was alone in the bookshop. It felt awkward at first, remembering the feel of his hands on hers and how for a mad moment she had hoped he might hug her. But the moment passed once Tilly told him about her upcoming trip to Tuscany and he started grabbing books from around the shop that were set there:A Room with a View,Under the Tuscan Sun,Diary of a Tuscan Bookshop,Still Life…
As she was about to leave, arms heavy with her next book parcel and a whole stack of his recommendations, Alfie said in a soft voice, ‘It’s Joe’s anniversary soon, isn’t it?’
She blinked back at him, stunned that he had remembered.
‘When I’m in Italy.’
‘I’ll be thinking of you.’
She picks upThe Poetry Pharmacynow and turns to the ‘Love and Loss’ section. But before she can begin to read she is interrupted by the sound of her sister’s voice in the room next door.
‘I know … I’ve told you why I … Raj …’
Her sister’s voice is tight with tension, completely different to the carefree voice she has used all day. Through the wall Tilly hears a defeated sigh that sounds very muchnotlike Harper.
‘Now isn’t the right time …’
Tilly is dragged away from her eavesdropping by the sound of her phone pinging on the bedside table. Harper’s voice immediately quietens on the other side of the wall andTilly feels guilty for listening in. It’s none of her business. But whatever Harper and Raj were talking about, it didn’t sound like a happy conversation.
Rachel:
So, how’s pasta making in Italy? Not that I’m at all jealous … Hope the sun is shining for you. I know this week will be hard but I hope you’re able to have fun too. I’ll be thinking of you on the 15th. xxx
It feels strange to have Rachel mention Joe when they still haven’t talked about the months of silence following his cancer diagnosis. Maybe she should have brought it up by now, but they’ve only just found their footing with one another again.
Tilly:
Thank you. The sun is shining and the place is incredible. I learnt how to make pasta dough this morning, and tonight we’ll be cooking it with pesto we’re going to make in a bit. x
She attaches a photo taken from her window, faded green shutters giving way to a view of open countryside.
Rachel:
Wow, that looks idyllic. xx
Tilly:
It is.
