I always lit a candle for Josh, whenever I could. Eight years without him, but the pain still hit hard. I watched the flame flicker, as the silence of the church connected me to my thoughts. Would this feeling of loss ever go away? The deep sadness of a life not lived; our future together cut so tragically short. Four years married and eight years gone. I kissed my finger and tapped the diamond in the middle of my gold necklace three times. Once for him and twice for me.
Nine
Tuesday 6thAugust
It was a fifteen-minute walk in the heat, or a six-minute cycle to Holly and Xavier’s restaurant, so I decided to borrow one of the knackered old vineyard bikes and give my thighs a workout. The roads were dusty and full of potholes, flanked either side by olive trees, and it was tough going with no gears to help me out up the hill, but I got there eventually. I’d worn a pale denim halter-neck dress, and my hair was washed and poker straight. The breeze billowed through both as I rode the last few metres up the drive and propped the bike against a tree.
Lavedrine Xwas impossible to miss, with its illuminated sign, like a beacon on the road, welcoming people in. The entire front of the restaurant was open, with huge bifold doors pushed back against the walls. The tables were all set for dinner, each one beautifully decorated in a white tablecloth, with a yellow vase full of olive leaves. Holly’s influence was clear to see. The restaurant felt rustic and relaxed, and I knew the food would be exceptional. People came for miles to sample Xavier’s Michelin-starred menu and he ran his culinary school as part of the restaurant, with ten trainee chefs working alongside him to learn his style in both French and Italian cooking. Holly ran the show front of house, all top-class service, and smiles – each of them playing to their strengths to offer an amazing foodie experience. Hash tag serious couple goals.
I walked past a table of happy diners and went inside. The kitchen was right at the back, with a copper hatch that stretched the full width of the restaurant and a counter heated by food lamps, where Xavier took the orders in, and the chefs got the food out. It was a meticulous operation and from a distance seemed calm and quiet. I was used to big kitchens being stressful and angry from my teenage waitressing days, but that didn’t seem to be the case here. Xavier’s approach had a relaxed, easy feel about it. I spotted Holly briefing the team and waved. She was wearing an aubergine dress, with zigzagging gold threads, so she wasn’t working. Not officially anyway.
‘Good evening, Madam, welcome toLavedrine X,’ she sang, grabbing two menus and making her way over. ‘I’ve saved us the best table… this one here.’ We were at the front of the restaurant, next to the garden, without having to beinthe garden, batting off mozzies.
‘This is gorgeous,’ I said, looking up at the pergola, wrapped in honeysuckle. ‘I’m so proud of you, Hols. The restaurant looks amazing.’
‘Do you think?’ she replied, happily. ‘Wait until you taste the food – you’re in for a treat.’
It was mostly couples and families, apart from one preppy-looking guy eating on his own. He was taking photos of his food from different angles, then did a 360 of the restaurant before diving in.
‘Don’t see many of those around, do you,’ I said, nodding over discreetly.
‘Oh, I knowww – I thought that myself. He’s just flown in from LA apparently. Visiting family and said we’d been recommended.’
‘Noted,’ I said, looking at the menu. ‘Every single dish sounds beyond delicious, so I’ll have whatever you recommend and a large glass of red. No sneaky courgettes though, thanks. They remain my most hated food.’
‘In your red wine?’ Holly asked.
‘Is that a thing out here?’
‘Not yet, but nothing would surprise me with Xavier’s imagination. OK, well let’s have the tasting menu, that way you can try a bit of everything.’
‘PerfettoGrazie mille.’ I bowed.
‘I might put the order in myself, actually. It’ll be quicker.’ Holly jumped up and went over to the serving station, while I eyed up Mr America. Short back and sides, dark hair, blue eyes, only here for a few days. Potentially more fun than playing Man Roulette on Italian Tinder. He glanced up and caught me staring, and I quickly looked away.Shit. Not cool, Abs. Especially as it might look like I was on my own as well. It was a relief when Holly reappeared with a bottle of Chianti and a plate of focaccia.
‘Here we go,’ she said, glugging out the wine as I covered my plate in olive oil. I took a second sneaky peek at the handsome one, and he was still looking over. He raised his glass in a cheeky cheers to show he’d caught me looking twice. I laughed. It was a fair cop. And he was hot, whoever he was. Nothing wrong with being friendly.
‘I think we need a toast, don’t we?’ Holly said.
‘We do. I’ll start. Here’s to your beautiful restaurant, beautiful man, and your beautiful new life,’ I said, holding up my glass.
‘Thank you, Abs, I’m glad you approve. And here’s to you having a beautiful, well-deserved rest and anything else your beautiful heart desires while you’re out here.’
‘Hmm, mine doesn’t sound as exciting as yours,’ I said, trying the wine. ‘Yesterday was a total disaster – I waited nearly an hour for the bus to turn up and by the time I got into San Gimignano, all the shops were shut for lunch.’
‘I did warn you that they were unreliable.’
‘I couldn’t even Uber home! You don’t have Uber out here?’
Holly winced. ‘I know, I meant to say…’
‘I ended up walking around all day doingnothing! It was a complete waste of time.’ I dunked a chunk of focaccia in olive oil and shoved it in my mouth. It was soft and olive-y and salty andbloody delicious. Oh my God.Well, that shut me up.
‘Doing nothing is not a waste of time, Abi, trust me. If you want to “do Italy right”, then that’s the way to go about it. Lose that list of yours and ask Paolo and Mia for some suggestions on what to see. Local knowledge is the way to go around here.’
‘Aren’t you a local?’ I said, confused.
‘Yes, but those two will know all the good stuff. They are authenticlocallocals. My recommendation would be to sit in the square, eat chocolate gelato and people-watch all day, which I know you won’t want to do.’
