The Good{Expat}Life

# 13 Cobwebs and Coffins

Cobwebs and Coffins 

'Found them!' George shouted from the depths of the house. At one time the room had housed cattle so it had a soil floor, and it was full of stuff left by the previous owner, Valentina. Penny stepped through the cobwebby door.  

'Ugh, George, this needs a damn good clean too.' She tapped at an old cupboard with her toe. 'What's in here? Looks like an upright coffin.' 

George loomed towards her, his hands held high over his head and made a spooky sound. 'Could be Valentina's husband, preserved for eternity.' 

'Don't be stupid, George.' Penny gingerly pulled the door with the ends of her fingers. It was stiff, swollen with damp, so she pulled harder. She almost fell backwards as it suddenly opened and wobbled on its uneven surface. They peered into the gloom. A long salami swung on its noose, like a body. 

'Told you it was for preserving.' He sniffed the mould covered sausage. 'Reckon it's still edible?' 

'Well you can chance it if you want, but I'm not touching it.' Penny wrinkled her nose. 'You don't know how long it's been here, it can all go on the next bonfire. Now did you say you'd found those olive nets? Stop wasting time, it's only going to be light until 4.'  

'But it was you...' Penny glared at him, daring him to continue. 'Of course, poppet. I'm wasting time, of course.'  

She planted a kiss on his dusty nose. 'I'm teasing, silly. But we do need to get on if we want to avoid Graziella finding us out.' Their elderly neighbour had told them that it was sacrosanct to harvest the olives after St Martino, November 11th and not before. Whilst they had welcomed her advice in creating their vegetable garden, they had checked the weather forecast and rain was on its way. As she was away visiting her sister for the week, they'd decided to get on with the task in hand and suffer the consequences after.  

They began to lay the nets out on the ground, though they hadn't got a clue how to secure them. Most of their land sloped downhill so Penny had visions of all the fruit scuttling off towards the small stream at the bottom. At that moment the phone rang.  

'I'll get it,' said George sprinting towards the kitchen.  

'It'll just be a cold caller!' Penny shouted as she watched a small grey cat scrabble around underneath the net pouncing on a solitary olive. 'We'll never get done at this rate,' she grumbled as George returned with a glum face. 'Told you it was a cold caller.'  

George shook his head and sniffed. 'No, no it wasn't,' his voice cracked with emotion. It's dad, he... he died this morning.' 

# 

'Do we have to go?' whined Penny for the third time as they drew up at the airport.  

'Aw, c'mon Pen, give me a break, Dad just died. I have to go to the funeral.' 

Penny patted his knee. 'I know, I'm sorry, it's just that I hate the cattle market that is Ryanair. I feel like a cow being led to slaughter.' 

George checked he'd locked the car and turned the lights off before taking her hand. 'Well, it's cheap, perhaps not cheerful and only a couple of hours and we'll be back in good ol' blighty!' 

Penny sighed, 'Yes that I am not looking forward to either.' 

Penny and George had not anticipated returning to the UK quite so soon after their move. George kept thinking about all the conversations he'd had with his dad; one long barrage of complaints and curmudgeonly moans and groans. Nothing was ever right, nothing would ever be right, nothing had ever been right since George's mother had passed away twenty years ago. He felt a knot of guilt twist in his stomach for his lack of sympathy at the time.