The People's Friend Special

A Country Retreat

This charming short story by Stefania Hartley is set in sunny Sicily.

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Melina was sick of being left behind in the city in summer. Why couldn’t she get away, too?

IF I wasn’t desperate, I wouldn’t ask you, Melina,” Giovanna told her with a shake of her head which made her earrings tinkle, “because I know how busy you are, but you and your husband are the only ones left in this building in August.

“If you could water my plants, I would really appreciate it.”

Melina had already agreed to water the plants of another neighbour, collect the mail of the flat below and drop in to check on the flat above, which sometimes had water leakages.

All this was because she and her husband didn’t leave their flat, even in August when the city emptied.

“If the sun is too strong on the sitting-room balcony, can you move the roses to the kitchen balcony?” her neighbour went on.

“And don’t forget to add a drop of fertiliser in the water once a week.

“If the scirocco wind comes, push the pots closer to the wall, otherwise the wind will tip them over and you’ll have to scoop all the soil back in, which has happened to me a few times.

“Thank you so much, Melina.”

Giovanna thrust a bunch of keys into Melina’s hand before Melina had even agreed.

“Melina, I feel like crying. I’ve got so much to do: covering all the furniture with dustsheets, putting mothballs in cupboards, emptying the fridge . . .

“A second home is such a lot of work!” Giovanna sighed dramatical­ly.

“Sometimes I even envy you.”

Even? Melina felt a little offended.

“I’d better get on with it. Thank you for your help, Melina!” Giovanna patted Melina’s arm and disappeare­d into her flat.

Melina grumbled under her breath, stuffed Giovanna’s keys in her bag and went on her way.

Meeting Giovanna had made Melina late for church, which only added to her irritation.

She was about to take her usual place in her usual pew when Elena intercepte­d her.

“Melina, just the one I was looking for!”

“What’s the matter?” Melina answered stiffly, expecting to be asked to read, collect the offertory money or do some other task for the parish.

“In August, Father Pietro is going to his sister’s in the mountains and we need someone to open the church for the priests who will cover for him.”

“Have you asked Peppina?” Melina replied grumpily.

“She’s going to her by the sea.”

“Rosaria?”

“She’s going to her cottage in the country.

“All the others will be away, too, and I’m going to my brother on the southern coast. You are the only one left in Palermo.”

villino

If Elena had told her she’d be shipwrecke­d on a deserted island like Robinson Crusoe and have to live there for 28 years, Melina would have felt less alone.

But she wasn’t the kind of woman who moaned when she was unhappy.

“What makes you think that I might not be away?” she retorted defiantly.

“You hate travelling and you don’t own a holiday home.”

“You make lots of assumption­s about me,” Melina replied.

The idea of jumping on a train and booking herself and Tanino into a B&B was forming in her mind, even if it terrified her.

“Is there something you haven’t told me?” Elena narrowed her eyes, smiling. Melina raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps. I can’t say anything at this stage.”

Her friend smiled.

“I see,” she said, tapping her nose as the bell of the mass rang.

As Father Pietro walked to the altar, Melina prayed.

“Please, God, give me a little place in the country where Tanino and I can spend the month of August.”

Later, after the part of the mass in which everyone thinks about their sins, she changed her petition.

“Please, God, don’t do it for me, but for Tanino.

He’d love a little garden of his own, and he deserves it.

“Do it for our granddaugh­ter – she’d love to have somewhere to ride her bike and she has worked hard at school.”

After mass, on the way home, Melina stopped by the bakery for the evening bread.

“Signora Melina, please be aware that I’ll be closed for two weeks starting this coming Monday,” the baker told her.

“We’re going to our villino by the sea which we share with my brother and his family.”

For the first time in her life, the smell of freshly baked bread made Melina feel sick and by the time she got home she was in a temper.

“You could at least have laid the table for supper,” she told Tanino, who was watching a property programme.

“I never lay the table,” he said, confused.

“All the worse for that!” Tanino ran a hand over his face and braced himself for a difficult suppertime. What could he have done wrong this time?

It wasn’t Melina’s birthday or their anniversar­y, that much he knew, so what could he have missed?

“Are you upset about something? I mean, other than the unlaid table.”

“Do you think that the unlaid table is not enough to be upset about?”

“No.”

“Well, I’m also upset because everyone is going away to their summer houses and we’re left here to look after their plants, their post and to open the church for the visiting priest.

“The only people left in this roasting hot city in August will be the burglars, the inmates and us.”

“No need to open the church, then,” he joked.

“I’m sorry, dear. You should have married a doctor or a solicitor if you were so keen on owning a villino.”

“That’s not true: the baker has one,” Melina retorted.

“It’s the farm where he was born. He was moaning to me the other day that he and his brother spend their holidays repairing it, working like slaves.”

“Peppina and Rocco have a villino, and he’s a greengroce­r.”

Tanino shook his head. “It’s just an allotment where he grows some of his fruit and vegetables.”

“But they have a house there.”

“A glorified garden shed.” “I’d be happy with that.” Melina crossed her arms.

Her husband got up from his chair and wrapped an arm around Melina’s shoulders.

“I have a friend who has a house in the mountains. It was his parents’ home and, from what I understand, it’s empty.

“I can ask him if he would like to let it to us for a couple of weeks.”

Melina’s frown stretched into a smile.

“Yes, please!”

Tanino smiled, too, even though he knew this wasn’t the happy ending yet.

If Melina enjoyed her stay, she’d ask to return. And if she enjoyed it very much, she would pine for a place of their own.

****

“Melina!”

“Peppina! How are you? Are you calling me from your villino?” Melina asked down the phone.

“I’m very disappoint­ed in you, Melina. I never would have imagined that you’d do this to me.”

“Do what?”

“Make me find out from other people instead of telling me yourself.”

“Find out what?”

“About your new villino!

Don’t think that I don’t know.

“As soon as I go to my villino, for you I don’t exist any more and you go telling Elena before me.” “I didn’t!” Melina said. Elena must have misinterpr­eted her yesterday at mass.

“What didn’t you do, tell her or buy a villino?”

Melina thought. This was her chance to set the facts straight, but the thought of her friends ringing each other from their holiday homes to find out more about this rumour . . . All that attention was irresistib­le.

“I didn’t tell Elena anything, but I can’t confirm or deny whether I have bought a villino,” she said importantl­y.

There was a moment’s silence at the other end of the phone.

“I know what the problem is: you don’t want to do a house-warming party.

“Leave it to me, Melina, I’ll look after everything for you.

“Just give me a date and the address and you won’t have to lift a finger.”

“Oh, no, Peppina. I couldn’t ask so much of you.”

“Don’t say that: this is what friends are for.”

Melina suspected that Peppina would stop considerin­g herself Melina’s friend if she wasn’t granted the privilege of organising the party.

But what if Tanino couldn’t get the house?

“If you won’t name a date, I will. The fifteenth of August is a public holiday. So, lunch at your new villino on August fifteenth,” Peppina pressed on.

“I must ask Tanino first.” “Tut, tut. You don’t ask your husband, you tell him. Unless you want to end up like Lucia, who must ask her husband’s permission to breathe.”

“But he might have arranged something,” Melina persisted.

“If he has arranged something and hasn’t told you, all the worse for him.”

****

Tanino didn’t expect Melina to slip into bed with such a gloomy face.

“Aren’t you happy that I’m going to organise a holiday for us, dear?” He had started to get excited at the idea.

It would be nice to have some outside space, a little garden to tend, even if it wasn’t his own.

The only person who could betray Melina’s secret was Tanino

Giacomo had authorised him to help himself to anything that was ripe in exchange for tending the plants.

“I hope that your friend can give us the house, because my friends are coming for lunch on the fifteenth of August,” she said sheepishly.

Goodness gracious! It had only been a couple of hours since he had aired the possibilit­y of renting that house and Melina had already organised a lunch!

“My dear, even after all these years you still manage to surprise me.”

****

The Sicilian lemon and fennel sausages were sitting by the barbecue, the bread was cut and the pizza was in the oven.

Melina had made the pizza herself, kneading the dough, topping it with tomato sauce, onions, anchovies and grated caciocaval­lo cheese.

She could never entertain in her home without cooking some of the food. Even though, technicall­y, this wasn’t her home.

Giacomo had let them the little cottage in the mountains for a peppercorn rent for two weeks, but her friends didn’t need to know that.

The only person who could betray her secret was Tanino. A few minutes before the

guests were due to arrive, Melina looked for him and found him in the garden.

“Dear, I need to tell you something.”

He dropped the hosepipe, which swished left and right between the tomato plants like a crazed snake.

“Don’t tell me that the oven has burned the pizza.”

“No, not that. Just, please don’t look surprised if you hear that this is a housewarmi­ng party.

“My friends believe that we’ve bought this house.”

He scrunched up his forehead.

“Why would they . . .?” “Melina, we’re here!” Peppina chirped from the gate.

“Sorry, dear, I must go,” Melina told Tanino and rushed to unlock the gate.

She saw car upon car filing up the dirt track to their gate. Peppina hadn’t just invited a few close friends, but the entire parish.

If Melina had considered coming clean with her friends about the purchase of the villino, she definitely wasn’t going to do that in front of all these people.

Aluminium trays of lasagne, pasta bakes, rice salads, couscous and cakes poured into her tiny cottage, spilled out of the back door and perched on rocks, tree branches and water butts.

All the while, Tanino’s hosepipe continued to gush water on to the tomato patch, totally forgotten.

****

Tanino felt a little dizzy at the sheer number of cars snaking up the dirt track to their gate.

For a moment, he wondered if you needed permission from the local authoritie­s to throw a party this big.

But he felt much better when he saw the trays of food pouring in and he sprang into action, welcoming guests, sorting out the parking and carrying bottles and dishes.

He was starting to enjoy playing host when he spotted someone emerging from one of the cars and his blood ran dry.

It was Giacomo, the friend who had let them the cottage.

Why had he turned up? Had he been informed of the party and disapprove­d of it?

Heaven forbid that he had heard from Melina’s guests that the cottage was theirs!

Tanino sprinted down the lane and locked his friend into a hug that was more like a tackle.

“My dear Giacomo, what a surprise!”

“The surprise is mine, too!

“My wife told me that we were going to a barbecue at a friend of a friend’s. She couldn’t tell me who nor where.

“So we followed the other cars and . . . ended up here!”

“I’m sorry, Giacomo, if I haven’t invited you, but I hardly knew what was going on. My wife organised it all.”

“It’ll be a welcome change to be served in my home. Watching you struggle with my barbecue makes me laugh already.”

“Actually, old friend, I was thinking of sneaking out of the party.

“While the women chat, you could show me any interestin­g places to go near here.”

Giacomo wagged a finger at him.

“You just want to chicken out of lighting the barbecue. Don’t worry, I’ll help you.

“The secret is arranging the bricks in a certain way. Come, I’ll show you.”

****

“Ah, there you are! It’s time to start the barbecue,” Melina told Tanino when she saw him cross the gate with another man.

“Melina, this is Giacomo,” Tanino said, moving his eyes strangely.

He looked very pale. “Good, you’ve found a friend. Please, get on with the barbecue,” she said on her way to the kitchen.

She had the feeling that Tanino wanted to tell her something, but she was too busy for chitchat now.

All through the meal she felt as if Tanino was trying to attract her attention, but so was everyone else. Whatever Tanino wanted to tell her, he could do it once everyone had gone.

It wasn’t every day that she hosted a party like this.

After the cakes, Peppina raised her voice.

“May I have your attention, please?”

Everyone stopped talking and looked her way.

“It’s so wonderful that Melina and Tanino finally have their own little place in the country.”

A man harrumphed and stood up.

“I’m sorry to contradict you, but the house is mine.”

Melina recognised the man that Tanino had just introduced to her and everything clicked.

People gasped. Melina felt like grabbing Tanino’s hoe and digging a hole to hide somewhere near the centre of the earth.

“But if you want to buy this place, Tanino,” the man added, turning to her husband, “I’d be happy to sell it to you.

“Every weekend I have to tend the plants, check the house, do repairs.

“I’m sick of it, but I haven’t sold it because I felt that I should pass it on to my children like my parents passed it on to me.

“But I would be passing on to them a hot potato.”

“I’d love to buy this house, Giacomo, but I can’t afford it,” Tanino admitted.

“I’ll grant you the use of this place for as long as you live, in exchange for you looking after the house and the garden. Then you can enjoy it and my children can still inherit it.”

“Giacomo, that would be wonderful!” Tanino cried. “What do you say, Melina?”

Melina gave a little squeal which everyone must have taken as a yes, because they all clapped and whooped.

****

It was July and almost an entire year had passed since Giacomo had so kindly granted them perpetual use of his villino.

Tanino’s enthusiasm for the place had grown with the tomatoes, the peppers and the aubergines that he had planted, but Melina had started to get stressed about the amount of preparatio­n needed to move there for the summer.

As she stretched dustsheets over the sofa and the dining-room table, she remembered Giovanna complainin­g to her, a year ago, about all the work she had to do every summer.

And then there was dog care to arrange (thankfully, her sister-in-law didn’t mind stepping in) and the fridge to empty.

She rallied together all the sauces, cheeses and pickles that would not survive the hot car journey and went to knock on her neighbour’s door.

“Hello, Giovanna. Would you like to use these things? We’re going to the villino and I can’t take them with me.”

“Oh, yes, thank you. And I’ll water your plants for you!” Giovanna replied, excited.

“Thanks, but I need to find someone who will be here in August, too.”

“I will. Haven’t I told you? I got fed up with all the work of keeping two houses functionin­g, so we’ve sold our villino. I’ll happily look after your plants and your post.

“I can’t believe that I can finally pay you back for all you’ve done for me, Melina.” Giovanna smiled.

Melina thanked her and returned to her work in the flat.

Mothballs needed to be put in cupboards, plug holes needed taping up and forwarding addresses needed to be given out.

But Melina didn’t get much chance to carry on, because the doorbell rang over and over.

As Giovanna spread the news that Melina was going on holiday, all the other people in the building flooded to her door, keen to pay her back for all the help she had given them every summer.

The End.

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