Anna shrank into her size six sandals, and wished she could disappear.
‘You’re staying at Giovanna’s too, aren’t you?’ Matteo asked, as the two of them left the class with the other students.
‘Yes, I am,’ she said, feeling a blush rising to her cheeks. So he
had
seen her that morning.
‘Well, why don’t we walk back together, in that case?’ he said warmly. His English was almost flawless, with a slight American accent, as if he’d honed his skills watching films rather than studying grammar in English classes.
‘Sure,’ Anna said. She could do with some company after today. The humiliation of her ice cream going so badly wrong still stung. Cooking was something she was supposed to be good at. Had she been wrong to think she could handle the course?
Matteo seemed to read her mind. ‘Don’t feel bad about it,’ he said. ‘That’s just what she’s like, Bianca. She pushes people really hard. That’s how she gets the results she does.’
His words soothed Anna. Perhaps he was right.
‘How do you know her?’
‘I grew up here. She’s my sister Carolina’s best friend: the two of them were always teasing me when I was little.’
Anna smiled. ‘And now? If you’re from here, how come you’re staying at the house?’
‘My family moved to Siena, so now it’s my turn to be a tourist,’ he laughed. ‘No better city in the world to do it in.’
‘I think I agree,’ Anna said. ‘Every corner I turn here there’s something else beautiful to look at.’
‘Or beautiful to eat,’ he said with a smile. ‘One thing I can tell you’re going to enjoy. Have you got ten minutes?’
Anna nodded. ‘For once, I’m not in a hurry for anything.’
‘Great, let’s get some food to take back for dinner out on the terrace. I told Giovanna I’d treat her.’
Anna walked with Matteo along a cobbled street until they reached a bustling neighbourhood shop, with huge joints of ham and boar hung up outside.
‘Come in,’ Matteo said, sensing Anna’s hesitation. ‘And try some of this.’ He asked the rotund, bearded shop owner to slice off a segment of white cheese for Anna to try. ‘Buffalo mozzarella, fresh.’
Anna smiled with delight at the taste and the way it melted in her mouth. ‘Now, that’s good,’ she said, laughing.
‘And what do you think?’ he said. ‘Shall we take some of this meat too?’ He pointed to the bewildering array of cured and smoked meats in the glass cabinet.
‘They look delicious,’ Anna said. He nodded again and before she knew it Anna had a small plate of samples for them to try.
‘I’m not going to need to eat dinner at this rate,’ Anna said, laughing.
Anna came back into her hotel room, and closed the door behind her. She, Matteo and Giovanna had shared a delicious dinner up on the roof terrace, and she felt a warm glow from both the conversation and the red wine they’d drunk. With Matteo there to translate, she’d been able to talk much more freely with Giovanna, and to ask questions about her children and grandchildren, getting a picture of the life she’d had growing up in Florence.
Anna took her laptop out of her wooden chest of drawers,
loaded up Skype and pressed to video-call Jon. She couldn’t wait to tell him about the trip so far.
‘Hi,’ Jon said, his picture coming into focus. ‘How are things going?’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Well, today was a bit of a disaster, but it’s all better now.’
‘A disaster?’
‘Not volcanic levels,’ she said, smiling now at what had seemed so awful earlier. ‘I just made some really rubbish ice cream.’
‘Is that all?’ Jon said.
‘Yes, silly now I say it. Anyway, how are things over there?’
‘All fine,’ Jon said. ‘Still raining. Oh, and Ed and Jess never made it on their honeymoon.’
‘Oh, no – that’s terrible. What happened?’
‘The travel company went bust. Ed’s back at his job and apparently Jess is sulking in the flat in her pyjamas watching reruns of
Desperate Housewives
.’
‘Poor thing,’ Anna said. ‘I can’t blame her. They were really looking forward to the time away. She must be fed up.’
‘She’s taking it out on Ed, apparently. He was supposed to be organising the insurance, I think. Anyway, not the rosiest start to married life by the sound of things.’
‘What bad luck. How’s everything else? How’s Alfie?’
‘Everything’s fine. Alfie’s good, he’s enjoying nursery and has a new best friend there called Poppy. Always a hit with the ladies.’
‘Sweet,’ Anna said, picturing Alfie’s smiling face. ‘Give him a hug from me, will you? And how’s work going?’
‘Busy,’ he said flatly. ‘I’ve been working late, thought I may as well do it while you’re away. And you? How’s Italy?’
Anna couldn’t find the right words to explain to Jon all of the new things she was seeing and doing.
‘It’s good,’ she said. ‘Listen, you look tired. You should probably take advantage of being at home and get an early night. I’ll need one too, if I’m going to be any better in class tomorrow.’
‘OK,’ Jon said. ‘Well, goodnight then.’
‘Love you.’
‘Me too.’
Anna reluctantly shut her laptop and put it on the chest of drawers. She looked out of her small room’s window. The piazza was alive with couples eating together by candlelight and drinking wine. If only Jon were here too, then he’d understand.
Today’s news is tomorrow’s fish-and-chip paper
, Imogen told herself, praying that it would turn out to be true in their case. It was difficult to tell whether it was the dismal weather or the food-poisoning scandal that was keeping people away from Vivien’s.
It was mid-afternoon and the elderly man who rented out striped deckchairs on their strip was Imogen’s sole customer, sipping at a mug of hot tea and waiting for the worst of the storm to pass. Imogen was beginning to wonder if summer was ever going to take hold at all. It was June and they’d barely had a glimpse of sunshine so far. Were they destined to have more weeks of grey clouds and the pattering of raindrops on the windows?
‘Grim out there, isn’t it?’ the man said, voicing Imogen’s thoughts. She nodded and forced a smile.
Imogen wished she could escape. Life on the island had suited her a lot better than this. But she owed it to her grandma, to her dad – and to Anna, she reminded herself sternly – not to give up. She couldn’t let Anna come home
from Italy to rumours of poor hygiene standards. She needed to build up some positive PR for Vivien’s to balance out the negativity of the newspaper article. And she needed to do it quickly.
Positive mental attitude, she told herself, as she tidied away the spoons. When Anna got back it would only be a matter of time before they had a product they could feel really proud of. In order for the public to know about it, they needed to line up some really strong promotion.
She glanced up at the wall above the counter, where she’d framed some of the photos from Vivien’s album – children playing on the beach in front of the shop, and parents relaxing in deckchairs alongside them. They would need something that conjured up the spirit of summer. Ice creams = sunny childhood daydreams. But when the sky was grey, what could she and Anna do to remind customers of those hazy warm days?
A gentle tune rang out in her head. The tinny notes that used to make her and Anna’s ears prick up, send them running back to their parents for ice cream money to spend.
That’s it
, Imogen thought to herself. Festivals, beaches, picnics in the park. She had just the plan Vivien’s needed.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the front door opening. ‘Room for one more?’ Jess said, smiling and walking in.
‘I think we can squeeze you in.’
‘Saw that article,’ Jess said, taking a seat on one of the stools at the counter. ‘What a nightmare.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘Oh, don’t fret. No one even reads local press any more.’
‘I hope that’s true,’ Imogen said.
‘And on the plus side, this place really does look a lot better.’
‘Thanks,’ Imogen said. ‘It’s scrubbed up pretty well. What are you still doing here, anyway? I thought you’d be sunning it up in Antigua by now.’
‘Talking of nightmares, that bloody travel company!’ she said. ‘We had hundreds of pounds of honeymoon vouchers, that people had bought us on our wedding list – and now, with it going bust those gifts are all gone. The moment Ed’s work got wind that our Antigua plan was down the pan they jumped at the chance to draft him in to do some more work. So it’s just me. Here. New wife on staycation.’
‘That’s terrible,’ Imogen said. ‘Would you hate me if I said it’s nice to see you, and I’m actually quite glad you’re still here?’
‘Yes, I would,’ Jess said. ‘So to make up for it I want a big cup of hot chocolate, please. Still here in rainy Britain and all on my own too. Even Anna’s buggered off.’
Imogen went over to the kitchen to make Jess’s drink.
‘Not completely on your own,’ Imogen said a moment later, handing her a warm mug.
‘Sorry,’ Jess said. ‘It’s great that you’re here. It’s just been an awful week. Anyway, how’s Anna? She enjoying Italy?’
‘I’ve had the occasional text,’ Imogen said. ‘It sounds like she’s having a brilliant time.’
Jess smiled. ‘Good, she deserves it, doesn’t she? All these
years of cooking obsession might finally amount to something other than her creations ramping me up a dress size or two.’
‘Yes,’ Imogen said. ‘Bet she’s top of class right now, don’t you? Teacher’s pet.’
‘Definitely,’ Jess said, idly stirring the hot chocolate with her spoon.
‘Jess,’ Imogen said. ‘Seeing as you’re here … ’
Jess raised an eyebrow suspiciously.
‘Can I just run something by you? If you wanted to find a van, where would you start looking?’
‘A van?’ Jess said with a smirk. ‘Are you planning on going somewhere? Anna always said you were a bit of a hippy.’ ‘It’s not for me,’ Imogen explained. ‘It’s for the business. An ice cream van. I’ve decided it’s time – I mean it will be, when Anna gets back – for us to go mobile. What do you think?’
‘A van.’ Jess pushed her unruly shoulder-length curls back behind her ears, weighing up the idea. ‘Like an old-school ice cream van?’
‘Exactly.’
‘I like it. There’s a friend of Ed’s down in Worthing who does up old vans, most of them VWs and stuff, but I bet you could find something there.’
‘Brilliant,’ Imogen said, lighting up at the idea.
‘Depends how much you know about car engines though,’ Jess said. ‘Some of them still need a fair bit of work.’
‘Oh, I’m pretty practical,’ Imogen said. She’d changed a few tyres, and fixed her beach bike more than once.
‘Great,’ Jess said. She scribbled down the website of the
place on a napkin. ‘Here you go. Ask for Graham. It’s probably best if you go down there in person, so you can see the van and work out what’s right.’
‘Dreams on Wheels,’ Imogen read out, smiling at the name. ‘That’s what it feels like, Jess. This way, we can take our ice cream dreams on the road.’
‘Just don’t let on to your sister that I’ve been encouraging you,’ Jess said. ‘Not sure she’ll take kindly to me helping you with this madcap scheme.’
‘I won’t say a word,’ Imogen said, already reaching for her mobile and bringing up the website. ‘And there’s nothing mad about this, I assure you.’
Imogen took Anna’s bike and cycled over to the address that she’d found online. She came to a stop in the gravel outside Dreams on Wheels, and leaned it up against the brick wall. The garage owner slid out from his position under an orange VW van and turned his head to greet her. His face, ruggedly handsome, his hairline receding slightly, was streaked with oil, and he was wearing dark blue overalls.
‘You must be Jess’s friend. Imogen, was it?’ he said, coming all the way out from under the van and slowly getting to his feet.
‘Yes, that’s me.’ Imogen said with a smile. ‘The ice cream lady.’ He reached out an oil-covered hand for her to shake – then, clocking her hesitation, pulled back, wiping his hands on his overalls.
‘Best not, eh?’ he laughed.
‘Now, I have to say it felt like a stroke of luck when you called. You see, I’ve got an old ice cream van – from the seventies, it is – that I’ve been trying to shift for a while. It’s not right for the ordinary customer, of course, but it might fit the bill for you. Just needs a lick of paint – come and have a look.’
Graham led Imogen round to the back of his workshop and past a row of vans, an old yellow school bus and another van with ‘Girl Guides’ written on the side.
‘I can offer you a pretty reasonable price, if you’re interested. Seven hundred should do it, as it’s been here a while and to be honest I could really use the space. It’s a good little runner, still got the freezers inside there and everything.’
Imogen’s eyes adjusted to the dark at the back of the garage and she could make out the van in front of her. Yes, it looked faded, but it had four wheels and a brilliant ice cream model on the top. Perfect.
‘That’s the one,’ Imogen said. She could just picture it – with ‘Vivien’s’ written in script on the side – selling ice cream at festivals, by other south-coast beaches, at local parks. When Anna got back she would fall in love with it just as much – she wouldn’t care less about the other things that had happened while she’d been away.
‘I’ll give you four hundred for it,’ Imogen said. In her satchel was five hundred pounds in cash, the last of the money their grandmother had left them to start up the
business. OK, so she and Anna had had it earmarked for ingredients, but just as soon as they got the van out there they could make that money back in a week.
‘Four hundred and fifty,’ Graham said firmly, but with a smile in his eyes, ‘and you’ve got yourself a deal.’
Giovanna had laid out an array of delicious-looking breakfast pastries on the roof terrace, and Sian and Matteo were both sitting at the table drinking coffee.
‘Morning, all,’ Anna said with a bright smile, sitting down with them. ‘I didn’t realise you were staying here, Sian.’
‘Got here late last night,’ she replied. ‘I was in a hostel nearby, a right dump. I was feeling pretty desperate about it actually, but then Matteo recommended this place to me and luckily there was a room available.’