“Will you excuse me for a minute?” I ask Luisa.
“Don’t worry about us,” she insists. “We can look after ourselves.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! We’ll speak later.” She chuckles. “We’ll be here all summer: soon you’ll be sick of us!”
I laugh and insist otherwise but I can’t help wondering if she may be right. Is it going to be too much having the dig take place at the same time as all the building work?
Well, it’s too late to do anything about it now.
I stride over to greet Giuseppe, who gives my hand a firm shake. He’s in his thirties, with a muscular physique, jet-black hair in a buzz cut, and a short beard.
“Good morning,” I say, not bothering to attempt any Italian.
“Good morning!” he replies in English.
He introduces me to his builders, listing their names and nationalities. They’re mainly from Eastern Europe, although there’s also a Tunisian and an Egyptian. But their names are unfamiliar and I only catch one of them—Arjan, who’s from Albania.
“What an international team,” I observe. “But how do you communicate if you all speak different languages?”
“In English!” says Giuseppe. “The international language!”
Thank fuck for that!is what I think. What I say is, “Brill!”
Then I ask, “So are you all set? What’s the plan?”
Giuseppe takes out a stack of notes and spreads them out on the bonnet of his truck.
“Today we split into three teams,” he explains. “One team starts making the road wider.” He points to the gravel driveway snaking around the bottom of the hill and up into the olive grove. “This is the most important job: after that, the trucks can come with our materials.”
I nod, briskly. “Fab.”
“The second team works on the roof,” he goes on. “As you do not have money to replace this, they see which tiles are broken and which tiles are missing. They fix everything.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“The third team works inside the house,” Giuseppe continues. “There is a lot to do here so we need to start. Today they destroy the first bathroom!”
“Fine by me,” I chirrup. “Destroy away!”
“And remember we switch off the water in half an hour,” Giuseppe says, one eyebrow raised. “That is still OK?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
Wait a minute, is it?
As the men start unloading their tools, I glance back at the house. I wonder how Theo’s getting on rousing the kids and making sure they’ve all had a shower. I hope they slept well and won’t be as cranky as yesterday.
At least they each had a bed to themselves. After the bust-up at the castle, I went to a hardware store to buy more mosquito nets, plus plug-in repellents and some citronella candles and spirals the assistant recommended. I also picked up three fans that look like they belong in an office but should help with the heat. And Theo insisted that all the kids went to bed early. Theo and I also had an early night as our alarm was set for seven—although the cockerel woke me up again at six. But I feel much better, at least physically. And I haven’t got any new mosquito bites, which is a major result.
I wish the builders well and leave them to set up the portable toilet in the garage, where it’ll also be accessible for the diggers. Then I go back to the house to start preparing breakfast.
I’m being much less ambitious today, just laying out a buffet ofcereals, toast and hard-boiled eggs. It goes against my instincts as someone who prides himself on being a good host but I have to remember this isn’t a normal holiday and it’s fine to serve a functional, no-frills breakfast.
Archie comes down the stairs first, clutching an action figure in each hand, his ginger hair sticking up not just at the kink but all over.
“Ciao!”he cheeps, grinning and revealing the cute gap between his front teeth. “Dad says that meanshi!”
