How to Bake a New Beginning

by Lucy Knott

  ‘Keep those out for your sister,’ Mum said, as she passed two more tablets to Sabrina.

  Amanda washed down her own with a big gulp of water, before passing the bottle to her nanna and encouraging her to take some. The car boot slammed shut and Louisa and Dad took their seats in the taxi. Amanda looked around to see everyone focused on the road ahead, their brows crinkled. Simultaneously they all took a deep breath as the car pulled away from the kerb. Closing her own eyes, she prayed for a safe journey and for no one to get sick, before distracting herself by asking her nanna a question.

  ‘Nanna, what was your favourite childhood Christmas dish?’ she asked, placing a hand on her nanna’s.

  ‘Eh, Amanda, people say Italy is magic but the Amalfi Coast, Orzoro, my home, it is like a paradise. At Christmas the food is even better, out of this world.’ A dreamy look appeared on Nanna’s face and a smile grew as memories filled her head. ‘Two days before Christmas, we begin making the cakes. Zeppole, panzerotti, the chestnut pastries Grandpa made, all kinds, all beautiful.’ She kissed her fingers, like you see the Italians do in the movies. Grandpa and Nanna did this all the time when expressing the quality and unparalleled richness of Italian food.

  ‘The mamma and papa and the bambini put out the nativity – oooh, my girls, the nativity is like nothing you’ve ever seen before. Eh, it’s magnificent. Of course the alberi you see everywhere, you’ll see.’ Amanda felt the butterflies in her stomach as the car rolled down the hills. In an hour or so they would be in a place that filled their hearts with so much joy. A place that made her feel so lucky to have a connection to. She wanted to hear every story, every memory that Nanna could share and had to remember to stay strong for her. ‘The laughter around Christmas time can be heard across the village, ooh yes. Everyone is happy, happy,’ Nanna continued.

  ‘It sure does sound like paradise, Nanna,’ Amanda said, resting her head on her nanna’s shoulder. ‘I’m so excited we get to see it at this time of year. I want to see and do all the things Grandpa would have been doing,’ Amanda noted. Listening to her nanna’s words, she couldn’t help but think of how the Christmas foods her nanna spoke of would be perfect for her blog. Re-creating such special stories and sharing such precious memories was where her passion lay, but for now, her blog would have to wait. She was here in Italy for her family and her grandpa and social media was not important. Raising her head from her nanna’s shoulder, Amanda looked out the window and got lost in the views that crept up on them.

  ***

  The streets of Napoli were less manic this morning compared to the summer season. During the height of the holidays there would be bumper-to-bumper traffic, Vespas weaving in and out between cars and people honking their horns at every turn. Now though, in early December, a few cars dotted the roads.

  Amanda thought about informing the taxi driver of this change. He was still driving as though a victory at Silverstone depended on it. There were simply no rules in Italy when it came to driving. If this man wanted to drive in the middle of two lanes, then it seemed no one could stop him. Amanda resigned herself to putting her trust in the driver, telling herself that he knew the roads better than she did and that he would get them to their destination safely. She instead chose to focus on the views that lay before her and the stories her nanna told.

  It was hard to decide which window to look out of. To the left, a vast plane of land with nothing but worn apartment blocks and rusty metal railings that popped up in between a mixture of low and high stone walls and remnants of shops and olive trees went as far as the eye could see. Among the run-down landscape, amidst the fog that rested on the skyline where the sky and sea met, lay Mount Vesuvius. An intimidating gloomy formation that threatened all who were brave enough to inhabit its surroundings.

  To the right, looking past her nanna and Sabrina, the window played host to billboards and trees upon trees upon trees. Off in the distance, if Amanda squinted, she could make out Capri, nestled in the middle of the shimmering sea.

  Amanda closed her eyes and let out a light breath. In the pit of her stomach she was getting that familiar fuzzy feeling, that sense of home she always got when she came to Italy. Now, though, it was mixed with a heavy thudding in her heart. She rested her elbow on the shallow window ledge on the door of the car and laid her head in her hand. Being in Italy was going to be hard without her grandpa. It felt wrong being here without him. Every memory she had of enjoying this magical place included him. She missed him.

  The roads were beginning to narrow now. The distance between the car, the low branches and the brick walls were getting terrifyingly thinner and people were popping up under canopies and in doorways, braving the cold for a cigarette. The car climbed higher up the mountain and as far as the eye could see olive trees filled every garden. The mountainside was littered with them.

  As they drove through the town of Agerola, colourful cars lined the streets. Amanda loved these tiny towns. They displayed so much character, each unique and a world unto themselves. They had a mystery about them now, at this time of year when they were still and peaceful, devoid of bustling tourists. The shops were dormant, all the lights were off and darkness engulfed the windows.

  Amanda could make out the shadows of buckets and spades in one tiny window, hanging on pegs waiting for the enthusiastic children in the New Year. She looked to her sister, Sabrina, and offered a smile. Her sister smiled back. Their nanna glanced at each of them with a smile of her own. Amanda then turned to the back seat to look at her dad and Louisa and noticed her dad was paler than usual. British folk weren’t known for their glorious tans, but he was currently passing for Casper’s twin.

  ‘Are you all right back there, Dad?’ Amanda asked.

  ‘Keep looking forward, dear,’ Mum shouted from the front.

  ‘Here,’ Amanda said, passing over a bottle of water. ‘Try closing your eyes, Dad, and keep your head straight,’ she added, as Louisa took his hand in hers. The girls all felt sympathy for Dad. Some of their early trips to Orzoro as children had not been pretty and after one or two messy accidents Mum had learnt to stock up on Wet-Naps and plastic bags whenever they made this trip.

  The roads began to descend, winding down into the depths of the mountain. Amanda gasped noticing a speckle of Christmas trees twinkling from a few of the tiny windows and hotel lobbies. The most dazzling decorations appeared hanging from the streetlights and the views of the sea became crystal clear as the roads dropped and staggered.

  ‘Arrrgh,’ Mum moaned expressively, tucking her knees to her chest and closing her eyes. Amanda looked up and spotted the reason for her sudden outburst. A bus was coming at them in the opposite direction. Everyone let out a collective gasp. Amanda wondered how on earth both the bus and their taxi were supposed to fit side by side on the cliff-top. Apparently that thought hadn’t crossed the taxi driver’s mind as he just kept gunning along.

  As the bus got closer, Amanda pictured the Knight Bus in Harry Potter and prayed it were a real thing, as right now the edge of the cliff was looming, and she was certain the little taxi didn’t stand a chance going up against the larger bus.

  ‘Arrgh, oh God,’ Sabrina shouted, as the taxi whizzed past the bus, the driver not breaking a sweat. ‘Are we OK? Did we make it?’ she asked panting ever so slightly.

  Amanda untucked her head from between her knees, opening her eyes slowly. ‘I think so, yes,’ she stammered. ‘Yes, I think we did.’ She could have sworn she saw the taxi driver smirk.

  ***

  ‘We’re here,’ Mum announced. Amanda had been lost in a trance watching the tiny specks that faintly resembled fishing boats, from this high up, bobbing in the water. She had been completely taken in by the splendid view and hadn’t felt the car come to a stop.

  ‘I forgot how terrifying that car journey is,’ Sabrina said stepping out of the SUV and looking over at her mum, eyebrows raised. Amanda noticed her shivering slightly, unlike herself. Sabrina was wearing one of her trademark floaty dresses
. Even with a teddy coat over the top it was not appropriate for the weather conditions in Italy, in early December.

  Before Amanda could say anything, Mum laughed and nodded. ‘It’s not for the faint-hearted.’

  ‘Oh, my gosh, I thought we were going to drive off the edge of the cliff back there. You’d think they would have made these roads wider by now. Nanna, mamma mia.’ Louisa jumped out of the taxi with boundless energy, making her way over to help Dad with the bags. Everyone looked at her and laughed. Even Nanna couldn’t hold back a grin. The Italian air seemed to be just what the doctor ordered.

  ‘You’re way too sprightly for someone who’s just experienced the road of one thousand turns,’ Dad said with a chuckle and one hand cradling his queasy stomach. ‘Right, do we have everything?’ he asked, patting down his jacket and checking the boot one last time, to a chorus of yeses. He thanked the taxi driver and joined the others.

  Amanda threw her backpack onto her back and pulled her fluffy hoodie tighter around her neck before taking hold of Nanna’s arm and guiding her away from the taxi. Mum walked behind with the rough noise of rolling suitcases beginning to fill the once peaceful town, as Mum, Dad and the other girls dragged the heavy bags along the cobbly path.

  ‘You hold on to Amanda, Mamma. OK? I’ll be right behind you,’ Mum told Nanna as they reached the staircase of a hundred or so jagged, concrete steps that would take them up to Nanna’s home. The steps were mildly steep, sprouts of weeds peeking out of the creases where one step met the other. Every ten steps or so they were met with a white or brown door to the left of them, that led to other people’s homes, some of whom had been friends of Nanna’s since she was a bambina.

  ‘We got this – you ready?’ Amanda said, noticing Nanna’s eyes were starting to water. It was rather windy and cold out, but her heart tugged. She knew the tears forming in her nanna’s crystal blue eyes were from sadness and not the cold. ‘It’s OK, Nanna, you take your time. I’m here,’ Amanda added.

  She could recall countless stories Nanna had told her growing up. As a child, Nanna and her sisters and brothers would race up and down these stairs playing games. Other times they would be so eager to see their papa when he came home from work, they would race to the bottom to welcome him. Or every other day when her mamma went shopping and needed help with the bags, they would rush to help her, giddy about the treats that awaited them.

  Amanda herself remembered the summers she would jog up and down them, counting as she went. Over a hundred steps to get to the top. It was perfect for a morning workout or stroll to clear your head. But it had been twenty years since Nanna had been home, twenty years since she had climbed these steps. Amanda wanted her to take her time and savour the moment and the memories.

  She watched her nanna closely as they began climbing. Amanda felt so much love in her heart, it almost hurt. She was grateful beyond belief that she was getting to experience this with her nanna and couldn’t wait for her to be reunited with her sisters. On the other hand, her ears kept pricking up waiting to hear her grandpa shout out from behind her to pick up the pace. He wasn’t one for getting old; he was a big kid at heart and would never have let these steps defeat him.

  She tried to push those sad thoughts to the very back of her mind. It would do her no good to have a breakdown in the middle of these steps. Her thighs were already seizing up. She hated to think of what pain her elderly nanna must be in. Bar the watery eyes, Nanna was putting on a brave face. She had to push forward for her family and be strong.

  ‘Eh, Valentina, what’s taking you so long?’ Speaking of sisters: as they reached halfway, Amanda and the rest of the family looked up following the beautiful Italian accent that sang out from the mountains. Three heads were peering over the balcony, three women waving frantically and yelling. Amanda looked from their faces to her nanna’s. Nanna’s whole being lit up, her face beaming as the tears fell freely and the roars of laughter most definitely could be heard all across the village.

  ‘I’m not young any more,’ Nanna shouted back, throwing her head back with a howl, before continuing to press on with a whole lot more bounce in her step.

  ‘You haven’t changed – still beautiful, our sister,’ Zia Sofia bellowed. They neared the top of the stairs and the laughter turned to wails and ‘mamma mias’ as Nanna’s sisters reached out to envelop her in a warm hug the minute her toes touched the pavement. They pinched her face and kissed her cheeks and there wasn’t a dry eye to be seen. Amanda turned to help the rest of the family heave the bags up the last few steps and placed them next to the large dirty-white iron front door.

  ‘Valentina, Valentina, you’re here,’ cried Zia Sofia, Nanna’s youngest sister. She was glued to Nanna’s side, with her arms wrapped around her, her grip snug.

  ‘We’ve missed you so much,’ Zia Rosa cried. Nanna’s eldest sister was shaking a tissue in the air, her watery blue eyes, which matched her younger sister’s, were looking Nanna up and down.

  Amanda stood back with Sabrina, their arms around their mum. Louisa stood with their dad. Amidst the heartbreaking events of the past week, it felt like a new bud had bloomed: a fresh life and a sign of hope. In the middle of an old balcony, on the moutainside of the Amalfi Coast, this moment was taking place. A reunion of sisters, a celebration of family. It was one of the most beautiful yet heart-wrenching scenes Amanda had ever witnessed. The love and admiration she had for the women before her was incomparable.

  To reduce the chance of the floodgates opening Amanda went to busy herself with the bags, playing with the ribbon on one of the carry-ons. She was studying her address label when Nanna waved her arms in their direction, welcoming the family to say their hellos. The crying and ‘mamma mias’ started all over again the minute her aunties laid eyes on Mum. Well, really they were Mum’s aunties but ever since they were little the girls had always referred to their mum’s aunties as their own. It had been more than ten years since Mum, Dad and the girls had visited, so of course they had to be given the once-over to make sure they were eating right and had enough meat on their bones.

  ‘Valentina, she’s all grown up,’ Zia Emilia, the second eldest sister shouted through tears, gaping at Mum. ‘Il mia bambina.’

  Mum was smothered in kisses, checked up and down and squeezed so tight, Amanda couldn’t help but chuckle. Her aunties were strong for such small women. Amanda joined in with the welcoming party, cuddling and squeezing her aunties back before Dad ushered them all in out of the cold.

  The house smelt exactly like Amanda remembered it: a mix of florals. Her nanna and aunties had always loved flowers and given the occasion there were flowers everywhere and many pictures of Grandpa next to his favourite Saint: Padre Pio. A cool freshness blew through each room. There was no carpet, just tiled floors with giant patterned rugs, yet there was warmth. An elegant old-fashioned perfume tickled Amanda’s nostrils and made her feel instantly high and joyful with its powerful scent.

  She wandered around looking at all the pictures of her grandpa. He had been a tall and handsome man when he was younger. He had a look of Frank Sinatra or James Dean about him, a look that wouldn’t go amiss beaming from your TV screen. Grandpa himself used to say: ‘I was a very busy young man,’ which would have the girls in hysterics. Amanda didn’t doubt him. They would simply laugh and tell him he was cheeky.

  The black-and-white photos were truly precious. His smile shone bright from each one and clearly showed his zest for life. You couldn’t help but feel inspired when you were around him. Amanda’s favourite photos were those of him and Nanna getting married. Right here in their home of Orzoro, down by the water, in front of the famous orange beach hut. They had a square coffee table on the cobbles and a top of it was a small round wedding cake decorated with a smattering of pink flowers of all kinds – nothing fancy, a simple thin sponge sat on a cake stand – as all the family gathered around, mouths open wide, all caught in the middle of laughing.

  Amanda loved looking at pictures of her nonni
. She could get lost in imagining what life was like back then. From what her nonni told her, they didn’t have it easy. Growing up was an adventure in the mountains.

  ‘That’s my favourite too,’ Louisa said, appearing at Amanda’s side and pointing at their grandparents’ wedding picture.

  Sabrina joined them too. ‘I keep expecting him to walk through the door with a goofy look on his face, like it’s all been one big joke,’ Sabrina said.

  Amanda sighed heavily. ‘It wouldn’t exactly be the funniest of jokes, but I’d take it over this.’ She glanced around the flower-filled room once more, feeling like her bravado could only last so much longer. Italy certainly had an aura about it that made her feel close to her grandpa, but at the same time the ache of his absence weighed on her heart.

  ‘Everyone’s making coffee in the kitchen. Would you like some? Ooh and I’m pretty sure I can smell those biscuits we used to have as kids – you know the cocoa ones with the little white stars?’ Louisa said, with a tight smile that didn’t quite match the false excitement in her voice. Amanda appreciated her attempt at trying to cheer up her big sisters and in turn wanted to be there for Louisa.

  ‘Sounds great, Lou,’ she responded, allowing her sisters to lead the way. She struggled to steer her eyes away from the photos, but thinking of Louisa’s torn face from moments ago, she took a deep breath and followed after them.

  Chapter 6

  Italian Coffee (The best coffee)

  What to do:

  Fill up the filter funnel of the Bialetti with Lavazza. (Store Lavazza in fridge.)

  Add the water to the bottom of the Bialetti, assemble and place on stovetop.

  Allow to boil until coffee appears and fills the top. (It’s like magic every time.)

  Enjoy in espresso cups (not giant mugs – how much coffee is too much coffee?) with an amaretti or two.