The Heavenly Italian Ice Cream Shop (6 page)

‘It looks great,’ Imogen said proudly, giving him a squeeze. ‘Thanks for putting it together. Dad and Martin are going to absolutely love it.’ She couldn’t wait to show it off to her family. ‘I’m going round there tomorrow. Dad’s going to have his first proper look round the whole place, so I told Mum I’d come and be there when he does. Anna said she’d join us, too. There’s only a month till it opens, so I think Mum’s told him quite firmly that he needs to get used to how things are, and voice any objections now, while there’s still time to change things. I think Martin’s getting a bit nervous that he’s going to hate it.’

‘I’m sure he won’t,’ Finn said. ‘It looks great, and your dad is a reasonable man. But, in any case, that’s nice – that you’ll both be there.’

‘One thing I am certain of is that Granny would’ve have loved it,’ Imogen said with confidence. ‘You remember what she was like – always welcoming in waifs and strays, inviting friends in. She wouldn’t have wanted to see the house empty.’

Imogen recalled the times they’d spent together at the house when she and Anna were little – playing in the garden and chasing each other up and down the stairs. As she and Anna had grown up, their relationship with their grandmother had changed, and they talked with her more. Imogen had always loved their chats. Her grandmother had always been full of wisdom and positivity, urging her to follow her dreams no matter what. Imogen bit her lip to stop herself crying. Two years after her grandmother’s death, the sadness still caught her out from time to time.

‘I guess with this trip to the Amazon I might not be here to see the launch,’ she said. ‘I’m sad about that.’

The next day, Imogen stopped by at her uncle’s guesthouse. ‘Hi, everyone,’ she said. Her dad was standing in the hallway, looking a little uncomfortable. He seemed uncertain of his own footing in the house that had once been his home, now that it was being transformed into something else. Imogen went and kissed him hello.

‘Anna here yet?’ Imogen asked.

Her mother shook her head. ‘She said she was coming, but I’m not sure where she is. Her phone seems to be switched off.’

‘Weird.’ Imogen tried her, but got through to answer-phone too. ‘I expect she’s on her way. In the meantime, look – I’ve framed some of my prints to decorate the hallway.’ Imogen took them from her bag to show her parents and Martin. ‘To brighten the place up.’

She held them up against the wall, to see how they’d look. ‘And, well, I’ve put prices on them, too. Hope you don’t mind.’

‘I’m sure some of the holidaymakers will take a shine to them,’ Tom said, softly.

Imogen laughed. ‘Never one to miss an opportunity, Dad.’

Imogen watched as her father looked round at the home he’d grown up in. His eyes came to rest on the places his mother’s trinkets and furniture had been, and a sadness seemed to settle into his features.

‘Let’s go for a walk round,’ Imogen suggested. She led him up the stairs, round the guestrooms, and then back down.

When they returned, Martin looked on nervously as his brother took in the changes. Imogen glanced over at him. They were all conscious that Tom, who had been so devastated at the loss of his mother, might find it difficult to accept that the house was now entering a new era.

He turned round to them after what had felt like an endless wait. ‘I think it looks good,’ he said.

Tom soberly shook his brother’s hand, before hugging him too. ‘You’ve done a wonderful job, Martin. I think Mum would like it, don’t you?’

‘Well, I must say that’s a relief,’ Martin said, breathing out. ‘Now all we need to worry about is getting the guests in.’

‘You’ll be fine,’ Imogen said calmly.

Jan nodded. ‘We’ve had lots of local interest.’

‘It’s exactly what we need round here,’ Imogen said, ‘an affordable home from home – classy, not touristy. The launch party next month’s going to be great for building a buzz, too.’

‘Oh, absolutely,’ Jan said.

Tom left the room quietly, and Martin and Jan looked at each other, uncertainly. Imogen followed her father out into the front garden.

He was placing his sculptures of birds around the pond. He turned and saw her there, watching.

‘What do you think?’ he asked her, pointing at the arrangement.

‘They look great, Dad.’

‘I want to get this bit right. The garden. The first thing that guests see. It would’ve mattered to Mum.’

‘Is it strange for you, all this?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘I know it’s for the best – but it still feels a little odd, the idea of people paying to stay here. That’s the truth of it.’

Imogen stepped closer to her dad and they hugged. ‘I just have to deal with things one step at a time,’ he said. ‘It’ll be OK.’

‘Of course. It’s what she would have wanted, you know – people in here, enjoying her house.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘You’re right.’ He looked at her proudly. ‘You’re becoming quite wise in your old age, Imogen.’

She nudged him playfully. ‘Less of that, eh, Dad? I’m only twenty-six.’

‘Here, there’s something else I want to show you,’ Tom said, going over to his bag. He took out a circular ceramic plate, with the words ELDERBERRY GUESTHOUSE on it in pale green. ‘I fired it over the weekend.’

‘That’s beautiful,’ Imogen said.

‘Help me put it up?’ he asked.

She looped her arm through his. ‘Of course, Dad.’

Chapter 5

Anna was walking on the pebbly beach in Hove on Saturday afternoon, wooden rowing boats on the shore beside her. Up to her right were the bright tones of beach huts, and, beyond that, a backdrop of elegant Regency hotels. Brighton and Hove’s landscape was deeply familiar to her, and she knew the places to go when she wanted to find calm. She had left the ice cream shop that morning, telling Matteo she was going to pick up some more milk – but the truth was she needed some time to think. What Matteo had said, about missing Italy, had really unsettled her.

Almost always, walking this stretch of beach cleared her mind, but today the fog remained. All she could think of was Matteo saying those words: ‘
I don’t want to be that man, Anna
’. Until that moment, she’d always thought she made him happy – it was what he always told her – but in that conversation she’d seen an echoing sadness in him. It wasn’t possible for her to get rid of that feeling for him – and, worse, she’d realised that, by wanting to stay in England, she was the person causing it.

But leaving? Leaving her parents, and Imogen, the business, their home, whether for a whole summer, or – and at this her stomach flipped over – for ever? It seemed too much to contemplate, particularly now that they had Bella. He was asking too much of her. And yet, now that he’d said it, she couldn’t see how it could ever be undone. She would always wonder now what discontent might be there underneath. What might surface after a year, five years, when Bella was grown. It was like a crack in the fabric of their home. She could try to ignore it, avoid looking in that corner of the room. But then one day – when she did – it might have grown so much she would no longer be able to fix it.

A couple and a child were walking towards her on the beach, and, as they neared, she realised it was her ex-boyfriend Jon with Mia and their son Alfie. Her emotions whirled as she saw the little boy – much taller now at five years old, but, in yellow wellingtons and a red coat, he still looked a tiny bit like the toddler she’d known and loved so much.

‘Anna!’ Alfie called out. He ran up to her with his arms outstretched, and her heart swelled with love. She wanted desperately to sweep him up into her arms, just as she would have done with Bella – but she caught herself. Things were different now. They had been different ever since Anna had discovered Jon’s infidelity, tracked back the trail of lies to his ex-wife, Mia. Furious, she’d broken off their engagement.

Anna looked to Mia, and her reluctant nod confirmed that it was OK for Anna to hug her son. While she had been with Jon, living with him in her flat, Alfie had stayed at the weekends, and for a while she had felt almost like a parent to him – but after the break-up that connection had disappeared. When Jon and Mia had reconciled – breaking Anna’s trust, and, she’d thought at the time, her heart – it wasn’t just Jon who left her life abruptly: it was his son, too.

She felt a surge of affection as she hugged Alfie. He had grown up and his mouse-brown hair was longer, but the essence of him was the same, his gurgling laughter, the familiar smell of his shampoo. Anna let go, and stood up to her full height again. Her hand remained on Alfie’s hair, gently stroking it, until a glare from Mia reminded her to step back.

‘Hello, Anna,’ Jon said, coolly. Anna nodded in greeting. The three of them stood there for a while, locked in an awkward silence. Usually, the seafront felt like an extension of home to Anna. On her strolls she’d bump into friendly, familiar faces, other workers under the arches, old schoolfriends, friends of her parents or Vivien. But seeing Jon and Mia brought her up sharply. Anywhere you have history, you are likely to find traces of darker times, issues that resist resolution, emotions and people you’d rather forget. For a moment, looking into Jon’s eyes, she was taken back to that time, when she’d seen their future together, wondered if maybe they’d have their own child, a brother or sister for Alfie. She recalled the rawness and pain of discovering how he’d lied to her, how everything she’d believed and invested in had been a pretence, nothing more.

Alfie looked from his parents to Anna, then finally spoke, breaking the silence: ‘I haven’t seen you for
ages
, Anna.’ He lingered over the ‘ages’, drawing it out. ‘Where is Bella?’

The last time they’d seen each other, Bella had been a newborn, and Anna had been carrying her in a sling. Alfie had delighted in the way she was curled up there, like a pea in a pod.

‘She’s at nursery today,’ Anna explained. ‘She’s a much bigger girl now. She can walk now. She can even say a couple of words.’

‘Cool,’ Alfie said. He kicked a stone with his welly. ‘I liked her.’

‘How are things, Anna?’ Mia asked, her smile forced. ‘I hear the shop’s doing well.’

Mia had never set foot inside the ice cream shop, and probably never would. The two women skirted around one another. When Jon and Anna had first broken up, Anna had seen Alfie from time to time, but those visits had become less frequent – Anna could only assume that Mia had had something to do with that. She could understand it. At least Mia and Jon were still together, and Alfie had his family – it had all been for something, that pain.

‘The shop’s doing well, thanks,’ Anna replied.

The conversation ran painfully dry, and Jon glanced around awkwardly.

‘Listen, I’d better get going,’ Anna said. ‘It’s quite busy in there this morning and we’ll be needing some milk soon. It was good to see you, though.’ She bent to Alfie’s level. As he looked at her, his eyes wide, Anna felt a tug at her heart. She would do anything to spend an hour with him, to play together as they’d used to.

She pictured Bella’s room in their flat. One time, not that long ago, it had belonged to Alfie. She and Jon had decorated it just for him. She had thought he would be a part of her life for ever. It still hurt, to know for sure that he wouldn’t be. She hugged him goodbye, and bit her lip to stop herself from crying.

When Anna got back to the ice cream shop, she felt dazed. Seeing Jon and Alfie again had brought memories, both welcome and unwelcome, flooding back. Matteo was busy in the kitchen, and Anna realised part of her was avoiding talking to him. When she and Imogen had first taken over Vivien’s, she had thought Jon and Alfie were everything she wanted. She had been wrong, and, since she and Matteo had got together, she’d never once looked back – but it felt like a slight betrayal to be revisiting those thoughts.

She saw Imogen’s face at the door of the shop, and her spirits lifted instantly. She walked out from behind the chrome-and-pistachio counter and greeted her sister with a warm hug.

‘Come and sit down,’ Anna said, leading Imogen in the direction of the counter and bar stools.

‘I will, but first, what’s up?’ Imogen asked. ‘I was expecting to see you at the guesthouse last night.’

‘Oh . . . God, I forgot about that,’ Anna said, putting a hand to her forehead. A pang of guilt shot through her. She’d been so caught up in her own thoughts that it had completely slipped her mind. ‘I’m sorry. How was it. Was Dad OK?’

‘Yes, it went well,’ Imogen said. ‘Dad had a bit of a wobble, but that wasn’t a surprise to anyone, really. He seems much better now.’

‘Oh, good,’ Anna said, relieved. ‘And how’s it all coming together for the launch?’

‘It looks great. Finn’s finished the website. Have you seen it?’ She got her phone out to show her sister, but Anna seemed distracted.

‘You OK, Anna?’ Imogen said, putting her phone away. ‘You seem miles away today. Is something on your mind?’

‘Oh, I’m all right. I just saw Alfie and it shook me up a bit.’ She bit her lip, the tears threatening to return.

Imogen touched her sister’s arm. ‘You must miss him.’

‘God, I do. I really do. And at times like this part of me wonders if it wouldn’t be easier if we weren’t still living in the same place.’

‘Exes should automatically leave town. I think that’s a good policy, in general,’ Imogen said.

‘You’ve done a great job of leaving yours scattered across the globe,’ Anna said.

‘Yes. All carefully planned,’ Imogen agreed. ‘Although Finn and I still ended up going to Thailand, where I met Luca. Thankfully he was long gone by then.’

‘Are you two still in touch?’

‘No.’ Imogen shook her head. ‘Easier that way, like you say.’

Anna paused for a moment, and went quiet.

‘Listen, is this really all about Jon and Alfie?’ Imogen asked. ‘I mean, that doesn’t explain you missing the other night. Is something else going on?’

Anna glanced behind her, into the kitchen. ‘Actually there is something else. Matteo and I were talking the other night, we had a . . . a differing of opinion.’

‘An argument?’ Imogen said, her eyes widening. ‘But you guys never argue.’