Page 86 of A Scottish Teashop in Napoli

Please accept my apologies for not replying to your previous messages.

Giancarlo was so excited at the prospect of doing business with you. With this in mind, I am writing to invite you to the première of a documentary about our factory and our teashop.Tea with the Buffalowill be screened on 9 April at 7.00 at La Luna Cinema, Naples.

Perhaps we can discuss the matter further then.

We hope you can come.

Auguri,

Elena Moretti

The whine and clatter of the electric cake mixer were beginning to make Lucy’s head pound. She ran a floury arm across her forehead, pushed a loose tendril of hair behind her ear and glanced at the clock. Six thirty. She’d been up for two hours and hadn’t even had her first coffee yet. She needed to get the Victoria sponges and the last batch of scones in the oven before breakfast and the morning’s English class.

She rolled out the remaining dough then cut it into small rounds. She brushed the tops with beaten egg, placed them on the baking tray, opened the oven door and slid them onto the shelf.

She then carefully poured the sponge mix into the heart-shaped tins and placed them next to the oven, ready to pop in once the scones were done, and the Valentine’s Day Afternoon Tea prep would be complete. Hurriedly gathering the whisk, wooden spoon, rolling pin, spatula and bowl, she plunged them into the sink of soapy water.

As she washed up, a fond smile spread across her face. Whenever Lucy baked, she could feel her grandmother beside her, sifting the flour, beating the eggs, sprinkling the sugar and kneading the pastry.

She sometimes wondered if it was Granny Oona who’d led her to Italy. During the war she’d met and fallen deeply in love with an Italian airman called Leonardo Rossi. They planned to marry as soon as the war was over, but their plans were shattered when Leonardo was reported missing in action and she never heard from him again.

Their love story was a well-guarded secret, told to Lucy on her granny’s deathbed, when she’d slipped a signet ring onto her finger, engraved with the initials,LR.

‘Grab happiness where you can, darlin’,’ were her parting words to her granddaughter.

‘Buongiorno, Zia Lucy!’

Lucy whirled around, catching sight of Stefano, a strawberry-ganache grin plastered across his face.

‘I’m coming to get you!’ she yelled in a scary voice as she hared after him, brandishing the dripping wet rolling pin.

Squeals of laughter were then accompanied by frenetic barking as Harry hared past them in the opposite direction.

Lucy slapped her forehead. ‘Nooo! Harry!’

She about-turned, careered into the kitchen, launching herself at the table, just as a plate of brownies crashed onto the tiled floor.

‘Che cosa?What’s going on?’ came a sleepy voice through the mayhem, followed by a loud yawn.

Lucy sighed, rolling her eyes in despair at the chocolate mess. ‘I’ve a million things to do this morning before class. I could do without this.’

‘Stefano, go wash your face and brush your teeth,’ Elena commanded. Grabbing Harry, she opened the door with her free hand and ran downstairs, shooing him onto the lawn.

On re-entering the apartment, she found Lucy on her hands and knees, sweeping up the crumbs and splinters of broken glass.

‘I’ll see to that,’ Elena said firmly, taking the dustpan and brush, then frogmarching her to the table. Why didn’t you wake me?’

‘The scones…’ Lucy cried, jumping up from the chair.

Elena peered through the glass door of the oven. ‘I’ll keep an eye on them. You sit there,’ she said, tipping coffee beans into the grinder and pouring them into the Moka pot. With the coffee brewing, she donned an apron, twiddled her hair into a messy bun and continued clearing up.

‘Mmm. The cakes, they all smell amazing,’ she said calmly, hoping to reassure Lucy that despite the bad start, the rest of the day would not dissolve into chaos.

The coffee gurgled and hissed angrily.

Lucy sighed heavily. ‘Be honest, Elena – have we bitten off more than we can chew?’

Elena turned to Lucy mid-sweep, a confused frown flashing across her face. ‘Scusa?’