The Heavenly Italian Ice Cream Shop (25 page)

She walked the sterile corridors, looking out for Matteo. The first she saw was Elisa, cradled in Matteo’s arms, the two of them sitting on plastic waiting-room chairs. Her usually strong, determined face was creased with anxiety, and Matteo was holding her so tight it wasn’t really clear who was supporting whom.

‘Anna,’ her mother-in-law said. ‘You’re here.’

Anna bent to kiss her and then hugged Matteo. ‘I couldn’t bear to wait at home. I’m so sorry.’

Elisa shook her head. ‘I warned her about that road,’ she said. ‘I said to her, “Stop being in such a rush, take the long route . . .” But she always was impatient, that is her way.’

‘It’s a dangerous road, notorious around here,’ Matteo said. ‘But I guess she thought she could handle it. They say a van caught her on the corner. The moped went off-road and she fell.’

‘That sounds terrible,’ Anna said. ‘How serious is it?’

‘It’s bad, I think,’ he answered. ‘Bad enough for her to be in intensive care, damage to her internal organs.’ Tears came into his eyes and he hurriedly brushed them away. ‘The staff here are incompetent. We’ve been waiting here for three hours now with no information, not a word from anyone.’

The note of anger and frustration was something she’d never heard in his voice before, and she held his hand tightly, wishing she could ease his grief.

‘Did you know?’ Elisa asked, looking up at Anna.

‘No . . . I had no idea it was her—’

‘I don’t mean that,’ she said. ‘Did you know about the baby?’

Anna felt numb with shock. Of course, the doctors would have found that out, and told them. ‘Yes, I did.’

Elisa nodded. ‘I thought so.’ Her expression was tired and pained.

‘She was planning to tell you. She wanted time to get used to the idea.’

Matteo looked at his wife. ‘You kept this to yourself?’

‘I had to,’ Anna whispered. ‘She made me swear not to tell anyone.’

‘Well, I’m glad she wasn’t alone with it,’ Elisa said, her voice tight with emotion. ‘And from what Matteo’s just told me about Filippo . . . well. I wonder what I knew about my daughter at all. Perhaps that doesn’t even matter now,’ she said, tears coming to her eyes.

Matteo put an arm around his mother’s shoulders. But, instead of feeling as if they were in two camps, as she normally did, Anna had the sense they were all in it together now, with Carolina’s wellbeing at the forefront of all their minds.

‘I’ll get some coffee for us all,’ Anna said, checking for change in her purse.

She looked up and Matteo’s eyes were fixed on hers. ‘I’m glad you came, Anna. I needed you here.’

Anna made herself an espresso and got the ice cream shop ready for the early-morning customers, cleaning down the counters and putting the ices they would sell that day into the glass cabinet. Raspberry, strawberry, lemon . . . The bright colours and fresh fruit aromas offered a little comfort in their familiarity. She’d got a call from Matteo saying that Carolina was being taken in for surgery, and he was going to stay at the hospital until she came out. To think of her sister-in-law lying in theatre, unconscious and alone, gave Anna a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. But they’d decided that the best thing to do was to open the shop. They needed to retain some normality while so much was out of their hands.

Anna closed the shop early that afternoon though, and took Bella with her to the hospital. The taxi pulled up outside the entrance.

Matteo was outside on the edge of the car park, smoking a cigarette and staring into the distance. She’d never seen him smoke in all the time she’d known him. He’d told her he’d given up at thirty. He looked older, and she could see the strain on his face.

She kissed him hello briefly and he reached down to take Bella into his arms; she gurgled as he lifted her up and cuddled her. ‘Papi,’ she said, delighted to see him again.

‘I’ve missed you, sweetheart,’ he said, putting her gently back down onto her feet.

‘Have you seen Carolina?’ Anna asked.

‘Yes. I saw her an hour ago. God, Anna, she looks terrible, her face all bruised, and all these wires.’ He motioned to the veins on his hands and arms.

‘But . . .?’

He bit his lip. ‘She’s conscious. It’s amazing. I talked to her. She talked back.’ Tears sprang to his eyes.

‘Sad,’ Bella said, pointing at her father’s eyes.

He shook his head. ‘No, love. Happy.’

Anna took his hand and squeezed it.

‘She’s out of intensive care. They think she’s going to be OK.’ He choked on the words.

‘That’s wonderful news,’ Anna said, a wave of relief coming over her.

‘And there’s more,’ he said.

‘The baby?’ she said quietly.

He nodded. ‘The doctor told me – she hasn’t lost it.’

‘They’ve told her, too?’

‘Yes.’

Anna and Matteo walked with their daughter through to the ward Carolina was recovering on. In the room, Anna saw instantly what Matteo had been talking about. Carolina looked like a shadow of herself, her body seeming more frail somehow. Elisa was at her side.

‘Let’s play outside,’ Elisa said to her granddaughter.

‘Is it too much for me to visit her, do you think?’ Anna whispered the question to Matteo.

‘No,’ he said, firmly. ‘You’re family. You go in and visit her. She’ll want to see you.’

They closed the door, leaving the two women alone in the room.

Anna stood for a moment, taking in the scene. Carolina, normally so immaculately made up, was barely recognisable, dark bruises all over her face and chest.

‘I look a mess, right?’ Carolina said, a trace of her familiar warm smile on her lips, the skin around them swollen.

‘The swelling will go down soon, I’m sure,’ Anna said, attempting to comfort her.

‘It sounds like they did quite a job on me. My lung had collapsed. Urgh! Anna, when I think about it – if my fall hadn’t been broken by that tree . . .’ She shook her head but only a millimetre, and even then the movement made her wince in discomfort.

‘You’re here now,’ Anna said. ‘That’s what matters.’

‘And the baby is still here, too.’ Carolina’s expression softened.

Anna held back, giving her space to continue. After a pause, she did.

‘We both got a second chance,’ Carolina said.

‘You’re feeling more ready?’

‘Yes. I know it’s going to be difficult. And the whole thing is crazy, really. But I’ve never felt more certain about anything. I’ll make it work.’

Anna looked at her sister-in-law, bruised but stronger, and felt honoured to know her.

‘I should leave you to rest,’ Anna said, touching her arm gently. ‘But we’re all so happy to see you getting well, and we’ll be here for you every step of the way.’

‘Thank you,’ Carolina said. ‘And thank you, Anna. For listening.’

Chapter 39

It was a hot August day and Evie and Imogen were sitting together eating lemon sorbets in the ice cream shop. The morning rush had passed, and there was only one regular there, an older man immersed in his newspaper.

‘What on earth am I going to write to Luigi?’ Evie said, quietly. ‘His letter was lovely. But it’s been such a long time.’

‘Just tell him what you’re doing,’ Imogen said casually. ‘Talk to him about this place. Or tell him about the last book you read, the swim you went for this morning. It doesn’t really matter – he’ll just want to hear back from you.’

‘Do you really think so?’ Evie said, smiling with a hint of shyness.

‘I know so,’ Imogen said.

‘Well, he says he’s still running the restaurant, so perhaps he doesn’t expect me to’ve changed the world too much.’ She fell silent for a moment. ‘What did you think of him, Imogen?’ she asked softly.

‘I liked him. Warm. Funny. Honest.’

‘That’s just how I remember him. Devoted to his family, of course.’

‘Let’s put some photos in. He loved seeing the one of you and Granny.’

‘Oh, I’m not surprised: that one was ancient. But I’m an old lady now. I don’t think I even have any photographs of me from the last few years.’

‘Well, perhaps it’s time we fixed that.’

Imogen tidied a lock of Evie’s hair and shifted the chair she was sitting on slightly so that her face caught the light.

‘There we are,’ Imogen said. She stepped back and set up her camera. It hadn’t taken long to get her equipment, and the post-lunchtime lull afforded them the perfect opportunity.

‘Think back to Italy,’ Imogen said. ‘Let’s try and capture some of that same Evie.’

Evie laughed. ‘Oh, Imogen, I was so much younger then.’

‘That’s it – perfect,’ Imogen said, snapping photos.

Sensing some action, Hepburn bounded over to Evie and leaped up into her lap.

‘Hepburn!’ Evie reprimanded him. Unconcerned, he settled into her lap comfortably.

‘OK. Well, we can work with this. A couple of shots with the dog, too,’ Imogen said, taking a few more.

She then zoomed in for some more close-ups.

‘Right, all done,’ Imogen said.

‘Finished already?’ Evie said.

‘Yes. You were the ideal model. Now, let’s take a look and see what we’ve got.’ She pulled up a chair beside Evie.

‘That one’s rather nice, isn’t it?’ Evie said, pointing at the screen. ‘I think that’s the one where I look most like me.’

‘Great. I’ll edit that one and a couple of others this afternoon and print them for you.’

‘Thank you, Imogen. You are kind to do this. Then I suppose I’ll put one in with my letter to Luigi. Send that out.’ Evie’s natural confidence seemed to waver for a moment. ‘What if he . . .?’

‘He will love getting your letter and your photo,’ Imogen said. ‘I just know it.’

The bell that announced the arrival of new customers rang out, and Imogen looked over to the door. Clarissa came in; her dark red hair was swept up into a pleat and she wore a knee-length flowered dress and sandals. It was the first time Imogen had seen her outside of the rooms in the guesthouse. She looked energised and her cheeks were prettily flushed.

‘Hello,’ Imogen said, as Clarissa came in. ‘This is a nice surprise.’

‘Do you mind if I join you?’ Clarissa asked. Imogen introduced her to Evie, and she said hello politely, but there was a slightly wild excitement in her eyes.

‘I’m sorry, this is so rude of me to interrupt,’ Clarissa said to them both. ‘But I had to come down here and talk to you. The most unusual thing has happened, and I can’t bear to have it all just sit here in my head.’

Evie went to make them all some tea, and Imogen led Clarissa over to one of the booths to sit down. By the time that Evie returned, with a large red teapot and cups, Clarissa was gradually getting her breath back.

‘Washington Street,’ Clarissa said. ‘I’ve been thinking about it ever since you showed me that address, Imogen.’

‘Oh, dear, I guess I opened Pandora’s box with that one,’ Imogen said, biting the inside of her cheek. She hadn’t properly thought through how it might leave Clarissa feeling.

‘Yes. I suppose you did,’ Clarissa said. ‘I’ve not been able to stop thinking about it, who might be living there now – after all, it’s over forty years since my mother left it. I even got so far as to reach the end of the road, only to turn back around again.’

‘I’m sorry – perhaps it was insensitive of me to suggest it,’ Imogen said.

‘No,’ Clarissa said. ‘You didn’t push me into anything, did you? Just put the idea out there, for me to make up my mind. But then I started to think that maybe I wasn’t brave enough. I wondered if they – these strangers – would even be alive, let alone whether they would be open to talking to me.’

Evie quietly poured the tea, staying out of the conversation, but not moving to leave, either, her presence quietly calming.

‘So what did you decide?’ Imogen asked.

‘That I wouldn’t be able to go back to London, never knowing. That I didn’t want to think on it too long, only to find I’d left it too late, like I did with your grandmother. So I went,’ Clarissa said. ‘I went there today. To the house.’

‘And?’ Imogen said, barely able to contain her curiosity.

‘They’re still alive, both of them,’ Clarissa said. ‘Vincent and Catherine.’

She paused, and when she started to talk again, her voice was unsteady. ‘And it seems they did want to see me. Very much so, in fact.’ Tears filled Clarissa’s eyes, balancing on the lower rims of her eyes.

Evie passed her a handkerchief, and she dabbed them away.

‘They were so vibrant,’ Clarissa laughed, her tears still falling. ‘That’s one plus of Mum having me so young, I suppose. I was expecting to see these elderly people, if indeed there was anyone still alive at all, and instead there’s Catherine, who volunteers in the library, and Vincent, who’s fit and healthy too. They’re both full of energy still. Not that it matters, but . . .’ She dabbed again at her eyes, taking a moment to compose herself.

‘You spoke to them?’ Imogen asked, reaching out a hand to touch Clarissa’s shoulder. ‘About the past?’

‘Oh, yes. There was no stopping us, really,’ Clarissa said.

‘Had they . . .?’ Imogen started.

‘Ever looked for me?’ Clarissa asked. She nodded. ‘Yes, they’d looked. They feel terrible about what happened, what they did. So much so that, when I first explained who I was, and they asked me in, we all just sat there in silence in their living room. Complete silence. I realised they were waiting for me to say something, to be angry. But when I saw their faces – they were about to cry, both of them – that wasn’t what I felt, not at all.

‘They told me they’d always assumed that Mum would come back, in time. They realised they were wrong almost as soon as she left – I think it had sunk in that whatever choice their daughter had made wasn’t worth losing her for. My father’s wife had found out and was distraught, calling Mum every name under the sun, and they had felt so shocked and humiliated that they acted before thinking, they said.’

‘Did you tell them, about the way things really happened? The fact your mum didn’t consent?’

Clarissa frowned, and there was pain in her eyes then. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No. I couldn’t face it. What an awful thing to know. I find it hard enough – but they’ve been living next door to that man all these years. But I will, in time. I think it’s important that they know the truth.’