The Ingredients for Happiness

by Lucy Knott

  The kitchen was a sharp contrast to the rest of the house; the heat from the oven and the stove top immediately wrapped Louisa in a warm hug and she loosened her arms that were tightly crossed over her chest.

  ‘Buongiorno a tutti,’ she spoke loudly, announcing herself above the chatter of Nanna and her three zias. There was rarely a quiet moment in an Italian household; she knew this from growing up with her mum and grandparents back in Manchester and from the visits she’d made to Orzoro when she was younger. She and her sisters would run around with the village kids and numerous cousins while the elders cooked, drank wine and debated in raised voices over which region of Italy produced the best olive oil. Living with her nanna and zias over the last two months had confirmed this Italian trait; the sisters always had something to discuss – chatting over each other, getting in each other’s business. The only time they were quiet was when watching the quiz shows on Rai Uno. Louisa chuckled to herself at the memories while she greeted each inhabitant of the kitchen with a hug and kiss to the cheek.

  Within a matter of seconds shouts of, ‘Mangia, mangia,’ erupted from every mouth and Louisa was guided to the dining table where a breakfast feast awaited her. She did what she was told – saying no to food was never an option, nor was it in her repertoire – with her own cries of, ‘Grazie, grazie’.

  Louisa loaded her plate with fruit, a fresh vanilla cornetto and mozzarella in carrozza and sipped the coffee that had been poured for her. Today she needed her energy. With two days before she was set to display her designs and work at Italy’s Young Designers Fashion Showcase, it was crunch time and there couldn’t be a stitch out of place. Warm butter cascaded onto her plate and trickled down her fingers as the first bite of the smooth, velvety, eggy bread passed her lips. The day had officially begun.

  The bustle of four moving bodies ceased by Louisa’s third bite; her zias and her nanna joined her at the table. Nanna took to her right, sitting at the head of the table. As she eased into her chair, she surveyed Louisa in that way that told Louisa she was on to her. It was that Italian look – lips pursed, eyes slightly squinting, a subtle tilt of the head and fire behind the eyes that dared your soul – a look that would make you think something was wrong with you even if it wasn’t and you were perfectly okay and weren’t harbouring any anxiety or worries or keeping any secrets. Of course, Louisa was harbouring plenty of anxiety over the showcase and a chunk of sadness that she still hadn’t heard much from her sisters. It wasn’t like Amanda to not message her about the parcel and Louisa was eager to know what her sister thought of the incredibly special treat. Nanna knew all this. Nothing got past a nonna.

  ‘Cara, what is the problem, or do you keep it from your nanna?’ Nanna asked, her blue eyes now wide, eyelashes fluttering, lips pursued innocently. In typical nonna style, she had been kind in her question while also guilt-tripping Louisa, leaving no room for her to tell a white lie and pretend everything was alright because, if she did, that would make her a horrible, horrible person.

  She choked on a delicate flake of pastry and cleared her throat.

  ‘I am okay, Nanna, but yes the fashion show is in two days and I’m nervous, but there should hopefully be no problems. Giulia and I have been working non-stop; she is the most magnificent seamstress. I can’t wait for you to see the pieces,’ Louisa said, reaching out and resting a hand on top of Nanna’s.

  Nanna twisted her hand, so her palm was now facing Louisa’s and gave Louisa’s hand a squeeze. ‘I cannot wait to see them, cara.’ Nanna’s gaze never faltered, but Louisa’s smile wavered as she contemplated if she was in the all clear and could return safely back to her cornetto.

  ‘And Amanda, she receives the parcel?’ Ooh, Nanna was good; the Don of the family for a reason. Louisa squeezed her hand back and smiled broadly in defeat.

  ‘Nanna,’ she sighed. ‘I have heard nothing, maybe it hasn’t arrived yet? Maybe they’ve both just forgotten about me.’ Louisa pushed a piece of orange around on her plate with her free hand, her eyes watching its slippery movements. Nanna leaned forward and Louisa bent closer to better hear her words of wisdom.

  ‘They do not forget you. They forget themselves, maybe. They will know soon. Your sisters they are good girls,’ Nanna expressed. Louisa believed her to be right. Family was important to all three of them. Right now, Louisa had to be patient and understand that her sisters had a lot going on in their lives. She had faith that they would remember the importance of family and answer her calls sooner rather than later. Even when Sabrina had lived in LA and when Amanda had been travelling, they had been better at keeping in touch, so Louisa knew their new roles had everything to do with their lack of communication and she respected her sisters’ work ethic.

  She devoured the rest of her cornetto, knowing exactly where she wanted to go before work this morning to cheer herself up.

  After freshening up and putting together today’s ensemble of a short pink skirt, sheer polka-dot pink tights and a chunky cream knit, Louisa kissed Nanna, Zia Rosa, Zia Emilia and Zia Sofia goodbye, grabbed her favourite teddy coat and made her way down the steep stairs onto the streets of Orzoro.

  The thrill and excitement of the fashion show and living out her dream, had taken a backseat to the negativity she had built up over missing her sisters and her fear of missing out. She was the baby of the family, the one that took care of everyone; she told Amanda when she was being too stubborn, kept Sabrina in the loop when she had lived in LA, was a phone call away from her mum and dad if they needed anything and spent most evenings and weekends with her grandparents. When she thought about it, she had very little time to herself. And that had been the way she liked it. It scared her to think that she was no longer needed. Yet she had decided upon this change; to stay in Italy and do something for herself.

  She walked along the path, taking in the mismatched stone walls along one side of her – the sprouts of green peeking out of the cracks in the pavement – and the vast blue of the twinkling sea to the other. Louisa didn’t think she’d ever grow weary of this view.

  She was grateful that the sun lit up the blue sky today; even in the early hours it had made its appearance known and she hoped they were in for a glorious March day. The cemetery was open when she arrived, having just taken a quick detour to pick up some stunning pink roses for Grandpa. They were his and Nanna’s favourites.

  ‘Buongiorno Grandpa,’ she said, smiling at his picture attached to his white and grey marbled headstone. This, on the other hand, was not a view Louisa ever thought she would get used to. There were days when it took all the courage she could muster to come here, her brain sometimes playing tricks on her thinking that going to visit her Grandpa would mean actually getting to see him and wrap her arms around him. She placed the sweet fragrant roses in the vase next to where he lay and squatted down, tracing her hand over the cold marble.

  ‘Amanda’s finally doing it, Grandpa. She’s opening Torta per Tutti. I can’t wait to see it. I know you’d be so proud of her. And Sabrina, she’s doing really well too, she’s just signed the boys up to a new label and they’re recording their next album in Manchester, so she gets to be closer to everyone. I think you’d be proud of her too.’ Louisa reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a tissue; she wasn’t sure when the tears had started, but it was rare for her to leave without tear-stained smudges in her makeup. She patted softly at her face, spreading the flowers out in the vase so they looked pretty and had room to fully bloom, for distraction.

  ‘Nanna laughs every day with her sisters. I know you’d be happy to hear that. She misses you too of course and she misses Mum, but I think she’s really missed this place and is content to be home. And Mum and Dad are well too. I know Mum talks to you every day, so you probably already know that,’ Louisa chuckled. She spoke to her mum every day on the phone and they shared fond family memories daily.

  ‘I think you’d be proud of me too, Grandpa. I have my first showcase on Saturday. You’d never guess that I’ve been b
ack behind a sewing machine and I think I might even be getting good at it. I hope you can see me.’ Louisa paused, looking away from the headstone and towards the morning’s bright sky. ‘I made one of our designs, that lace one you told me to draw after watching La Vita in Diretta that day when the presenter was wearing that gorgeous lace suit. I love it – you had a keen eye for fashion, hey.’ She let out another small chuckle and stood to stretch her legs. ‘I miss you every day, you know, and I love you even more than that.’ Louisa tapped his headstone in attempt at a chirpy exit and made her way out of the cemetery. She dabbed once more at her face, inhaled a deep breath, filling her lungs with fresh air and determination. She wanted to enjoy every moment of designing the dresses and working alongside Giulia for this showcase. It was a gift and one that she was grateful for. What had Dan said last Christmas? Something about being allowed to miss people but making sure not to forget what you have around you. He had been right, of course. Louisa had Italy, she had Luca, Nanna, her zias and a wonderful opportunity on the horizon. She just needed to find the right balance and stop her self-sabotaging pity parties.

  *

  The morning had zoomed by in a blur of helping customers in the shop find their perfect outfit for a christening, blogger event, best friend’s wedding and wine-tasting party, and measuring two of her models for Saturday.

  Amidst the numbers, the modifications and Instagrammable outfits floating around in her brain, Louisa failed to hear the shouts from the front of the shop.

  ‘Louisa, Louisa!’ Louisa jerked her attention away from her calculator at the sudden realization that someone was shouting her name and rushed to the front of the store. Giulia was stood with a customer over by the bespoke wedding dresses, waving a mobile phone in Louisa’s direction. Louisa stopped at the register not wanting to interrupt Giulia and her customer or get in their space when she suddenly recognized the ring tone and her brain clicked as to the reason behind Giulia waving the phone frantically her way. She must have dropped it in the pile of unworthy blogger outfits when she was seeing to an influencer earlier.

  Taking two giant strides she took the phone from Giulia’s outstretched arm, muttering ‘Sorry,’ profusely and bowing apologetically all the way to the back. Phones were to be kept in the office, but this morning Louisa had gone against the rules in a bid to keep her customer happy; the blogger had been distraught when her phone notified her that her picture memory was full, and she couldn’t take pictures of each outfit she tried on, so Louisa had come to the rescue using hers. In putting the outfits away, and rushing back to her work in the office, she hadn’t noticed it falling out of her pocket.

  Shutting off the wailing ringtone by sliding the green answer button, she quickly dived into the back.

  ‘Did you really bake that?’ Amanda shouted down the phone. ‘I don’t believe you! No really, did you bake it?’

  Louisa’s heart soared as she let out a laugh. ‘You got my parcel?’ she asked, though she already knew the answer.

  ‘More like I’ve nearly eaten your entire parcel. I’m trying hard to leave some for Dan, but Lou … Lou it’s out of this world. Where did you find it?’ Amanda asked, excitement evident in her rapid speech. Louisa could hear her munching as she spoke. She couldn’t wipe the grin off her face.

  ‘Have you not opened the card?’ Louisa said, pacing her little office, feeling a bundle of nerves and sheer excitement that she was getting to share this moment with Amanda even if she couldn’t see her. ‘Wait, switch to FaceTime.’ She heard Amanda cough and hoped she wasn’t choking on cake crumbs, then hung up and promptly started calling her through her Facetime app.

  She was right. Amanda was sat her kitchen table, the cake and biscuits surrounding her, her doe eyes clearly high on rum and chocolate. ‘Open the card,’ Louisa urged.

  Amanda put down a cinnamon biscuit she was about to bite, and Louisa watched as she flicked open the envelope and wiggled the card out. The delicate, browned, paper slipped out from the folded paper and Amanda’s eyes grew wide.

  ‘Zia Sofia has kept it safe all these years. Grandpa cooked a lot in their kitchen. It was one of the things he used to win over Nanna’s mum and dad. He would join in, help the family and often cook for them all. This was one of Zia Sofia’s favourite recipes he made, and she thought it was time you had it,’ Louisa said, softly and slowly, not wanting to overwhelm Amanda. Amanda’s hand shot over her mouth as Louisa watched her take in the recipe; Grandpa’s scruffy scrawl. Her eyes shimmered through her tears. Louisa tried to catch her own, remembering she was at work.

  ‘I don’t know what to say. Louisa, thank you,’ Amanda said, in short breaths a few moments later. ‘I only hope I can make it as well as you.’ Amanda then laughed. ‘I can’t stop eating it, Lou.’

  The girls conversed for a few more minutes before Louisa left Amanda to eat some more cake and rush to Tesco to collect the ingredients she would need to practise it that night if she was going to make it for opening day. Louisa then placed her phone on the pile of calculations and notes of alterations and wiped away a stray tear on her chunky knit, feeling full of joy to play a part in Amanda’s café opening having shared that recipe. She stood up, wandering over to the outfit she was working on. She fingered the sheer white fabric that wrapped around the skirt, letting it drape over her fingertips, the multi-coloured patterns and fabrics underneath it vibrant and visible. Fashion was to her what food was to Amanda. It was a place where her imagination could be brought to life, where she felt she had a handle on life, like she knew what she was doing.

  This design in particular had been inspired by her grandpa; the colour that he added to her life and the light that he encouraged her to be. She sent up a special prayer to ask him to look after Amanda and for her opening day to be a success. Then Louisa got to work.

  Chapter 10

  Nanna’s Custard

  Ingredients:

  2 pints of milk

  Vanilla

  Orange and lemon rind

  4 tbsp flour

  4 egg yolks

  What to do:

  Over low heat whisk together flour and egg yolks to make a roux.

  Pour in milk and vanilla and add orange and lemon rind.

  Don’t stop whisking until custard becomes thick.

  You will know when its cooked, but you can check by making sure it covers the back of a spoon.

  Taking a step back to survey her café, Amanda exhaled. It was everything she had dreamed it would be and more. The golden specks in the pearly-white painted walls sparkled under the lights from the open bulbs. The wooden frames bearing the most stunning pictures of Orzoro made Amanda’s heart hum a happy tune each time she looked at them. The no-filter shots were captivating and added that special touch of home, especially as Amanda had taken them herself.

  The light oak furnishings reminded Amanda of the place she, San Francisco Beat and Nikki had eaten at on her last night in San Francisco. It gave her café a hip rustic vibe, while the yellow and blue chairs that sat in the bay window added that warmth and Italian texture. She couldn’t quite believe it had all come together.

  She kept the matte gold blinds down still, wanting to keep her café to herself for a while longer and embrace all that she and her family had achieved. She also couldn’t be sure of who would be lurking in the bushes and didn’t want the paparazzi to welcome her café to the world before she did, now that San Francisco Beat were in town. She wanted that honour and felt she deserved it. Tomorrow there would hopefully be a crowd of hungry customers lining the streets; a buzz in the air of excited anticipation when she finally revealed the delicacies behind the blinds.

  Kate bustled about in the kitchen while Liam triple-checked the plumbing and all the electrical outlets. He had been popping in regularly over the last few weeks, not only to keep Amanda sane when she heard a slight rumbling from a drain pipe or when she couldn’t figure out how to use the coffee machine, but also to test out her food and aid her in deciding the menu for
opening day. Liam had turned out to be an awesome guy to have around and Amanda greatly appreciated his dropping by whenever she needed a hand in securing light bulbs and shelving units; his witty banter and his ability to be blunt with her and snap her out of her negative thoughts as opening day drew closer had been welcomed too. She had been grateful of Louisa’s parcel, understood Sabrina’s manic job and Dan’s hectic schedule, but it was safe to say she had missed them all terribly in preparing her café.

  It had meant a lot to her to have Liam and Kate by her side, cheering her on during the stages when she had lost hope; loose floorboards and no sign of light could do that to a person.

  Feeling confident that Liam and Kate knew what they were doing in the back, she continued collecting shots of her beautiful café for her blog – of the oak tables, yellow and blue ceramic napkin holders and tiled coasters. A small pang of guilt over having neglected her blog in recent months toyed with her gut. Amanda had never dreamed of being a blogger, but the more uninspired she had become at her previous job at Rusk and the more frustrated she felt with her ex sous-chef, Jeff, the more she had the urge to share her thoughts and recipes with the world. She had located her Instagram from the depths of her phone and taken to scrolling through it a few times a week. She had noticed that food pictures were very popular, and that Sabrina was really holding out on her and Louisa. Every other picture on her feed was her with the likes of Ed Sheeran and Liam Payne – she’d tut as she pressed the ‘like’ button.

  Often these food pictures linked to a person’s blog. This piqued Amanda’s interest and curiosity and she found herself getting lost in reading blog after blog with her morning coffee. One day she decided to go for it and from the comfort of her own kitchen she began taking pictures of the food that truly inspired her. It was a welcome break from the mundane food she was cooking at Rusk.

  As her enjoyment for writing up recipes and sharing her stash of her family favourites grew, and with the confidence from the few hundred likes on Instagram she was getting, she set up her blog ‘Mangia’. Amanda didn’t really feel like a blogger and her pictures were no way near themed or perfect, but they were real and that’s what she wanted to be.