Chasing Daisy

say.’
    ‘No, I like the way it looks, too,’ I add quickly. ‘And the engine sounds awesome.’
    He laughs and looks across at me.
    ‘Road!’ I frantically point ahead of us and he returns his attention to his driving.
    ‘I’d let you have a go if I didn’t think you might crash it.’
    ‘Oh, thanks very much,’ I say sarcastically. ‘Take a right, here.’
    Eventually we pull into the lane directly outside Nonna’s house. Will peers out the windscreen.
    ‘Pretty,’ he comments, looking over at the house.
    ‘The view is amazing,’ I tell him.
    The front door opens and Nonna comes out.
    ‘Do you want to come in for a drink?’ I offer.
    He unclicks his seatbelt. ‘Sure.’
    We climb out of the car and I usher Will towards Nonna, who’s beaming widely.
    ‘Nonna, this is Will,’ I say in English.
    I told her about Will yesterday evening, but omitted my feelings for him. Now, she welcomes him like an old friend and leads us into the kitchen. My grandparents lived in this house for decades before Nonno, my grandfather, died of a heart attack five years ago at the age of eighty-seven. It was big enough for the two of them, but right now, with three of us in the kitchen, I feel claustrophobic.
    ‘What would you like to drink?’ Nonna asks in Italian.
    ‘Perhaps we could take a glass of mint water out to the terrace?’ I suggest. I translate for Will. ‘Is that okay?’ I ask him. ‘You won’t be too cold?’
    ‘No, but won’t you be?’ He casually rubs my arm.
    ‘Maybe,’ I tell him, although my sudden goosebumps have nothing to do with the climate. ‘I might go and change.’
    ‘Sure.’
    I leave him with Nonna, hoping she won’t struggle too much with her English, while I head off to my small box room. I pull a dark-green jumper out of the travel bag still squashed into the bottom of my wardrobe – I haven’t had the time or inclination to unpack – and swap my black team trousers for jeans. My hair has been tied up into a high bun all day and my scalp is starting to ache, so I unpin it now and it falls down my back in wavy curls. Back in America I used to straighten it to within an inch of its life, but I rarely bother anymore.
    I re-enter the kitchen to find it empty. Nonna and Will have already gone outside.
    I find them out in the vegetable garden where Nonna is pointing out her goats in the small paddock.
    ‘She’ll have you milking them next.’
    Will starts at the sound of my voice.
    ‘I’ll just go and get the drinks,’ Nonna says in Italian, and bustles away.
    ‘Do you need any help?’ I call after her.
    ‘No, no, no!’ she assures me.
    I turn back to find Will looking at me. He quickly averts his gaze, folding his arms in front of his body.
    ‘Shall we go to the terrace?’ I ask.
    ‘Sure.’ He motions for me to lead the way, and I do so, intensely aware of him walking behind me. We reach the terrace and I stop, taking a deep breath of crystal-clear air.
    ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ I say, staring out at the mountains.
    ‘Mmm,’ he says quietly.
    ‘Here you go, children.’ I spin around to see Nonna walking towards the terrace. She places a small tray down on the thick stone wall and hands out the glasses of mint water. We sit in a row on the stone bench with me in the middle.
    ‘Have you lived here long?’ Will leans forwards to speak to Nonna.
    I translate automatically, but she interrupts. ‘I understand,’ she says slowly in English. ‘Fifty-two years.’
    ‘Fifty-two years!’ Will exclaims. ‘That’s exactly twice my age.’
    ‘Mine, too,’ I tell him.
    ‘Are you twenty-six?’ he asks, interested.
    ‘Yeah.’
    ‘Huh.’
    ‘Did you think I was older?’
    ‘No, I’m just surprised we’re the same age,’ he says.
    ‘Mmm, I thought it was a coincidence, too, when I found out.’
    ‘That’s even more we have in common, then.’
    ‘It is.’ We smile at each other. ‘Sorry, Nonna.’ I lean back on the bench so I’m no longer blocking her view, but she jumps to her feet.
    ‘The lamb!’ she exclaims in Italian. ‘Will he stay for dinner?’ she asks me.
    I glance at Will hesitantly. ‘I think he’ll have to get back.’
    ‘Ask him,’ Nonna urges.
    ‘What?’ Will interrupts.
    ‘She wants to know if you’ll stay for dinner. I said you probably have to get back . . .’
    ‘I don’t have to get back.’
    ‘You don’t have to get back?’
    ‘No.’
    I turn to Nonna. ‘He’ll stay.’ She beams and hurries away to the