“Sometimes I swear I can feel my ears pop,” I joke.
Angelika lowers her voice. “It reminds me of my days at the airline. Whenever we were taking off, I used to say to my gay friends, ‘Have you got anything to suck on?’ And they’d say, ‘The pilot’s not bad.’”
I roar with laughter.
“What’s tickling you?” asks Theo.
“Nothing,” I reply, gesturing at the kids. “I’ll tell you later.”
We reach the top and pass the diggers’ equipment on one side, on the other the entrance to the underground chamber, which has been cordoned off. We edge around the grid—each of its squares numbered on little markers in the corners—and over to the wall, and the area Luisa and her team have designated for us. As usual, it’s quieter up here, but we can still hear the crickets rubbing their wings together, a few birds chirping, and a light breeze rustling through the trees.
Stefano lets out a groan of pleasure. “The sound of the country breathing!”
We all smile.
I hand the urn to Angelika and take up position next to Theo. We have to stand, as Luisa and her team are in the process of reconstructing the wall, using the stones recovered from the wall that collapsed at the back of the chapel. I take Theo’s hand and lace my fingers through his.
The sun is preparing to tuck itself behind the mountain. Again, I notice the imperfection of the view but this time it only seems to add to its beauty. Maybe my time in Italy has made me more romantic, but it strikes me that the rays of the setting sun are skipping over the valley, stroking the surface of the sea, and tickling the underbelly of the little fluffy clouds. I feel an ache of regret that Mum didn’t make it here.
Snapping back to the present, I realize I haven’t prepared anything to say.
Thankfully, Angelika speaks first. “Willie, I haven’t laughed as much since I lost you and I miss you every day. But it’s an honor to return you to your happy place, where I hope you’ll rest in eternal peace with the great love of your life, Arnaldo.”
Again, the mood has tipped into somber.
“Oh and say hello to my Edgar,” she tosses in. “Tell him to get lots of golf in because when I arrive all that’ll be stopping.”
We smile and Theo squeezes my hand.
Angelika gently scatters some of Wilf’s gray, finely ground ashes over the hillside, onto the slope along which crawls the vineyard. She passes the urn to Stefano.
Stefano says something in Italian, which Luisa translates as: “You are returning to nature, from where you came. May your energy enrich the earth and give us a bountiful harvest.”
Impressed at her vocabulary, I’m now even more worried about what I’m going to say.
“Uncle Wilf,” I begin, cradling the urn, “I didn’t know you but it’s been a privilege to discover your story. Thanks for opening your life up to me. I know yours was sometimes a struggle but I hope it’s some consolation to know you got it right. Your bravery and self-belief inspire me every day. And I’m proud to call you uncle.”
I tip out some ashes and pass the urn to Theo.
“Wilf, I didn’t know you either but you’ve had a big impact on my life,” he says. “Adam and I promise to honor your legacy by making your home our home and filling it with love.”
When he hands the urn to Mabel, she looks a little self-conscious. I feel bad that I didn’t sit the kids down beforehand and help them come up with something to say. I’m about to tell her she doesn’t need to say anything when she starts speaking.
“We love your home,” she mumbles. “Thanks for letting us make it ours, too.”
“Yeah, it’s mint,” adds Callum, awkwardly.
But I guess they’ve answered my question. As they each sprinkle some ashes, I give them a big smile.
Archie takes the urn from his brother, turns around and trots off.
“Archie, where are you going?” I say.
He stops. “I’m putting mine in the dungeon.”
“No, darling!” Angelika shouts. “I know it only looks like dust but it’s Willie’s body and we have to follow strict rules. We only have permission to scatter it over the hill.”
Archie frowns and pads back.
