Page 55 of A Scottish Teashop in Napoli

Nick turned towards Giancarlo’s picture. ‘I hope you will think we’ve done your son’s memory justice, and we thank you for trusting us and opening up your hearts to share your memories with us…’Swallowing hard he continued, ‘So, without further ado, please accept this gift as a token of our gratitude, and may it remind you all of an important moment in the history of Mozzarella Moretti.’

Heartfelt applause swept through the teashop as Alfonso murmured, ‘Grazie, grazie.’

‘Open it, Nonno!’

Alfonso beckoned his grandson forward, and together they tore through the glossy gold wrapping, revealing a framed black and white production still, taken during the week’s filming. They both gasped. There was Nick, the director, crouched behind the lens, the sound engineer holding the boom just a few inches above the master cheesemaker and his young assistant’s heads. Alfonso and Stefano, eyes heavenwards, were holding the paddle up high, a sheet of creamy mozzarella dangling into the vat.

‘Nonno, is you and me,’ said Stefano looking up at his grandfather with his cocoa brown eyes.

Alfonso took his glasses from his top pocket, gave them a polish, and put them on for a closer look. ‘Mamma mia, mamma mia,’ he whispered, eyes devouring every detail of the photograph. Then carefully laying the picture on the counter, he turned to Nick, clasped him firmly by the shoulders, gave him a big man hug and kissed each cheek, to more applause and laughter.

Regaining his composure, Nick held up his hand for silence. ‘Remember, this is not “goodbye”, but “arrivederci”.We will meet again in the spring, here in Naples, at La Luna Cinema for the Italian première, to which each and every one of you are invited!’

This announcement was greeted with roof-raising whoops and cheers. ‘And yes, folks,’ he continued, raising his voice to be heard above the excited chatter, ‘there will be a red carpet and paparazzi, so look out your Hollywood finery, and we look forward to seeing you there!’

A hush of anticipation then fell over the crowd as Alfonso and Stefano wheeled a squeaky trolley to the front, piled high with gift bags.

Alfonso cleared his throat. ‘Before we sayarrivederci, my family and I would like to give you some mementoes to remind you of your time here, at Mozzarella Moretti.’

Stefano took one of the gift bags and removed the first item, holding it up to his audience, just like an auctioneer.

‘Our mozzarella is vacuum-sealed and will keep for four to six weeks,’ said Alfonso. ‘Once you have opened it, please keep it in the fridge and eat within four to seven days. Next, we have…’

Stefano pulled out a slim, cobalt blue bottle, bearing a yellow, lemon-shaped label, with a raffia ribbon tied around the neck.

‘… lemon oil from Franco’s olive and lemon grove. It is made by…’

Franco stood up and gave a little comedy bow, to warm applause.

Alfonso gave a wry smile. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see, George Clooney here is going to beimpossibileafter all this attention. Impossible!’

Laughter rippled through the air.

‘Ahem! May I continue now, Franco?’

Franco nodded and blew exaggerated kisses to the audience before resuming his seat.

‘As I was saying, the oil is made by simply crushing olives and lemons together. Nothing else is added. You can use it as a chicken or fish marinade, and it is delicious sprinkled over salad.’

‘And you can use it to make lemon cake,’ chipped in Lucy.

‘Giusto.That’s right.’ Alfonso directed his next words to Lucy. ‘The recipe for our famous Torta al Limoncellowas handed down by a very special Scottish grandmother, and recreated by giving it an Italian twist.’

On cue, Stefano held up another tall, long-necked bottle withFranco’s Home-made Limoncelloemblazoned across it in hand-painted lettering.

‘Our waiter will now give each of you some limoncello to try.’

Assisted by Elena, Stefano distributed shots of Franco’s buttery yellow elixir.

‘We serve ice cold, and we keep in the freezer.’ Alfonso held his glass up to the light. ‘Be careful. Isverystrong, so we sip, we savour, we enjoy.Salute! Cheers!’

‘Salute!’

A splattering of applause echoed across the moonlit car park as the film crew boarded the trucks.

Horns honking, they chugged uphill in a cloud of dust, amid cries of ‘Arrivederci!’, ‘Thank you!’ ‘Grazie!’,‘See you at the première!’,‘Ciao!’,‘Bye!’

Everyone waved, watching the red rear lights rising and falling with the bumps in the road, until they had disappeared into the darkness.