I’m not sure if you can get tea bags out there in Italy, so I’m attaching the recipe for the hazelnut and pretzel ice cream for now. Maybe you could try it out yourself?
Anna
The atmosphere in Tom and Jan’s living room was bordering on toxic. Anna and Imogen were sitting on one sofa, with Françoise and Martin directly opposite, their dad sitting awkwardly on the armchair and Jan hovering over them with a teapot.
‘Well, thanks everybody for coming,’ Jan said. ‘It seems like there may have been a few misunderstandings lately and I thought we should try and sort them out, sooner rather than later.’ When everyone had shaken their heads no to more tea, she perched on the edge of Tom’s armchair. He seemed to be gazing beyond the walls of the house into a place none of them had access to. Imogen wondered if he was even able to take in what they were saying.
‘By misunderstandings, Mum,’ Imogen said, the argument the other day still fresh, ‘you mean that Françoise has been trying to bully Dad.’
‘I have been doing no such thing,’ Françoise said, putting her cup and saucer down on the side indignantly. ‘I have merely been trying to protect your family’s interests, Imogen.
And perhaps if you’d made those a priority in the first place, I wouldn’t have needed to say anything.’
‘Sorry,’ Anna said politely, ‘but that’s not really fair, Aunt Françoise. Imogen and I have been trying really hard to make the shop work. All new businesses have their teething problems.’
‘It does seem as if you’ve had more than your fair share,’ Françoise said. ‘And Martin certainly hasn’t enjoyed hearing about all the bad publicity, damaging your grandmother’s reputation and legacy. Have you, Martin?’
‘It hasn’t been quite like that,’ Martin said awkwardly. ‘I mean I have to admit I was unhappy when Françoise showed me the newspaper article. In all the years Mum worked they didn’t have any problems with food safety and it seemed a shame to have people think badly of the place.’
‘And this is what convinced Martin that the shop would be better off in our hands,’ Françoise said.
‘Come on,’ Martin said to his wife, in hushed tones. ‘That’s not exactly what I said.’
Imogen was fuming. Anna put a hand gently on her sister’s arm to hold her back from letting loose and kept her own voice steady as she spoke. ‘We’re both sorry about what happened. It was an accident, and one we’ve learned from. It won’t happen again.’
‘No, it won’t,’ Françoise said, determination in her voice.
‘Granny V left the shop to us,’ Imogen said, feeling her cheeks colour, ‘and she trusted us to run it. You can’t buy something that we don’t want to sell.’
‘I think this is another misunderstanding,’ Françoise said, her expression all innocence. ‘You see, I know that – and I’m not trying to force you to do anything. But Martin and Tom have a right to know what you’re doing to their mother’s business. Then it’s their decision if they want to talk to you about it.’
‘You know what, Françoise,’ Tom said, sitting forward, startling Imogen with the unexpectedness of his voice, ‘I think it’s about time I spoke up here.’
Françoise crossed her stocking-clad legs defensively.
‘Because I don’t think you do have Martin and my best interests at heart. Not really. If you did, you wouldn’t have come here insisting that we sell Mum’s house to people who plan to flatten it before we’ve even had a chance to scatter her ashes.’
‘Oh, Tom,’ Françoise pouted, ‘I’m sorry you’re upset, but someone needed to be practical. We’ll have the inheritance tax to pay and—’
‘And
now
,’ he said, raising his voice to cut her off but keeping calm and controlled, ‘you seem intent on making me and my brother – and I’m sorry about this, Martin, but I’ve gone long enough without saying what I think – doubt the abilities of Imogen and Anna.’
Françoise fell silent, and Martin glanced around awkwardly, his eyes refusing to settle on any one point.
Jan placed her hand on her husband’s arm, and gave him an almost imperceptible nod, encouraging him to go on.
‘What you don’t seem to realise,’ he continued, ‘is that I
– that we –’ he moved his hand to take hold of Jan’s – ‘will always trust our daughters to do the right thing.’
Imogen looked over at him. He looked bolder and stronger than he had in weeks.
Go Dad
, she thought to herself.
‘No matter what mistakes they make, and no matter how their ideas might differ from ours. They are determined and capable, and we couldn’t be more proud of the women they’ve grown up to be. Their grandmother had faith in them, and I get the feeling that you, Martin, do too.’
Martin shuffled awkwardly. ‘Of course I do. Listen, I don’t want a fuss,’ he said. ‘It was just intended as a point for discussion, really … ’
‘If you think for just one moment, Françoise, that you are going to persuade me to turn on my own daughters,’ Tom continued, ‘then I have to say I don’t feel you’re welcome in this house any more.’
Anna and Imogen got back into Anna’s car in the late afternoon. They travelled in silence until they got onto the A-Road, both still stunned by the events of the day. Eventually Imogen spoke up. ‘Well, I don’t think any of us were expecting that.’
‘No,’ Anna said. ‘He really put her in her place, didn’t he?’
‘He was brilliant. Do you think this means that the old Dad is back?’
‘Hopefully. It certainly looked like it today. But we shouldn’t expect too much. These things take time.’
‘Well, she was totally lost for words. When I talked to her
the other day, my anger only made her more resolute. But when Dad spoke up just now she totally crumbled.’
‘With any luck, this is the last we’ll hear of it. Françoise has to accept that Granny left the business to us, and leave us to it.’
‘And there’s no part of you that’s sorry?’ Imogen said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that while we both know Françoise is a nightmare, she was also a potential buyer. I’m not deluded, Anna. I know how annoyed and disappointed you’ve been since you got back and heard about everything that’s happened. I can’t blame you, and I would understand if you didn’t want us to go on working together. Or if you wanted to sell up altogether, come to that.’
‘I’m sorry, Imo,’ Anna said. She stopped at traffic lights, her hands resting on the wheel, and turned to face her sister. ‘You’re right. I did doubt you. Us.’
Imogen swallowed her pride and tried not to feel hurt. Anna was only confirming what she’d already suspected, after all. ‘I had such high hopes when I was out in Italy, for what the ice cream shop could be, what we could make it,’ Anna went on. ‘I came back feeling really inspired. So to be confronted with all this … all this
reality
, nothing but problems we need to fix, that was difficult. It doesn’t mean I love you any less – you’re still the best sister I could ever wish for.’
‘I understand,’ Imogen said. ‘And thanks for still loving me.’ She smiled. ‘I don’t know why I thought I could do it on my own. It was really hard. Far harder than I’d ever imagined.
And the truth is that while I’m committed now, I still miss the way my life used to be. It was all so simple.’
‘Don’t you go giving up on me now,’ Anna said. ‘It feels like we’re finally starting to make some progress. I’m trained up, and with Dad’s show of strength just now, at least we won’t have a family feud threatening to undermine the progress we’re making.’
‘But what progress?’ Imogen said. ‘Thanks to me, money is going to be tight, really tight.’
‘We’ll think of something,’ Anna said. ‘Now, where am I dropping you off – back at home?’
‘Can you leave me by the shop? I know you’ve only just forgiven me and everything, but I’m paranoid I might have left the door unlocked.’
Imogen said goodbye to Anna, and took the steps down to the seafront. In the fading light of dusk, the West Pier looked eerily beautiful. The Granville Arches stretch was quiet this evening. She looked over to where the AA men had towed the van the other day, a short walk from the shop. Its silhouette was unmistakeable, with the ice cream cone model on the top.
As she approached it, Imogen saw that the bonnet was open, and a man was leaning into it.
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ Imogen called out, acting on instinct.
The man stood upright and took a step towards her. Imogen squinted to make him out – grey T-shirt, jeans, dark-blond
hair … His face was lit from the side by the glow coming from the surf school.
‘Finn?’
‘Yes,’ he said calmly. ‘Were you expecting someone else?’
‘I wasn’t expecting anyone to be interfering with our van,’ she said. ‘It’s our property.’
‘I’m not sure I could do much more damage to it, to be honest,’ he said, wiping his dirty hands on his jeans.
‘That doesn’t seem to have stopped you from trying,’ Imogen said. ‘What gives you the right … ’ She felt a flush of annoyance come to her cheeks.
‘Imogen,’ he said, ‘maybe you could stop jumping to conclusions for a minute.’
‘OK,’ she said, taking a breath. ‘Tell me what the legitimate reason is why you’re tinkering under the bonnet.’
‘I don’t know why I bothered,’ Finn said, shaking his head. ‘But I saw the van getting towed back the other day, and – well, I was an apprentice in a garage once. I thought maybe I could work out what went wrong.’
‘Oh,’ Imogen said, words deserting her.
‘And I think I have, if you’re willing to listen. Shall we go inside?’
Imogen followed him into the surf school, feeling sheepish. The walls were lined with boards of different shapes and sizes, and in the corner there was a small kitchen, with an old kettle and lots of mugs hanging up.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘First things first, can I offer you a cup of tea?’ he asked. ‘Or something stronger?’
‘A beer would be good,’ Imogen said.
Finn opened a bottle of beer from the fridge, and passed it to her.
‘It’s always easier to apologise when you have alcohol nearby, I find,’ Imogen said. She braced herself. ‘I was wrong about you,’ she added. ‘And I’m really sorry.’
‘Thanks. Apology accepted. So, can we talk like normal people now?’ he asked tentatively, taking a seat.
‘Yes,’ Imogen said. ‘Yes, please,’ she continued. ‘It wasn’t you, was it, who leaked the story to the press? I can see that now.’
‘Of course it wasn’t,’ Finn said. ‘That’s the last thing I’d do.’
‘I read the situation badly. I wasn’t thinking straight. What with one thing and another it’s been a weird time. The article, my aunt being a nightmare. Someone posting horrible reviews online.’
‘Oh, you’re got one of those, have you?’ Finn said. ‘Nasty.’
‘Yes,’ Imogen said. ‘They’re posted on a few sites, too. It would be OK if they were balanced out by some more positive ones, but at the moment we haven’t had enough customers for that. I imagine it’s the same person who leaked the food-poisoning story to the press.’
‘Any idea who it could be? Now that you’ve ruled me out, I hope?’
‘Our Aunt Françoise was trying to make life difficult for a while, but it’s really not her style. Other than that … ’ Imogen thought back on the past weeks, and tried to look at things objectively. She’d been so caught up in accusing Finn she might well have missed something. ‘Actually there is someone we’ve upset.’
‘And that is?’
‘Sue.’ Imogen recalled her face with vivid clarity. ‘The woman who used to help my grandma out in the shop.’
‘Ah, yes. I remember her,’ Finn said. ‘She was there quite a lot, but never really seemed to be doing much.’
‘Exactly,’ Imogen said. ‘That’s what we suspected, which is one of the reasons why we didn’t offer her the job back. That, and we don’t have any money to pay her.’
‘And now she’s got an axe to grind,’ he said. ‘Sounds a likely candidate.’
‘I don’t know how I’ve missed it till now,’ Imogen said. ‘What do you reckon we should do?’
‘If you want my honest advice, I wouldn’t do anything.’
‘Really? But what she’s doing isn’t fair.’
‘She reported something to the press that was – and don’t hate me for saying this – true. She vented some of her understandable anger online. Everyone gets the odd nutter giving them a bad review. You guys are moving forward, you’re training up, and positive word of mouth will follow, just wait and see. That’s what matters.’
‘I should just ignore it?’ Imogen said, taking a sip of beer.
‘It’s up to you. But probably, yes. You’ll get through it,’ Finn said. ‘And she may well run out of steam soon.’
‘You may be right.’
‘All I’ll say is that if you’re willing to let a few negative reviews throw you off, then you might as well jack it in now. You’ve found out already that when you’re running your own business you need a thick skin. Andy and I lost money for the first three years, but we kept going, and it was worth it.’
‘So you’re saying we need to toughen up?’ Imogen asked.
‘I think you’re pretty tough already,’ Finn laughed. ‘Just use it when you’re working from now on, not on your neighbours.’
Imogen smiled. ‘Thanks for being OK with all this.’
‘It’s nothing,’ he said. ‘A misunderstanding.’
They stood in silence for a moment.
‘And if you’ll let me,’ Finn said, ‘like I said, I can sort out the van. Shouldn’t cost much for the parts.’
‘I’d appreciate that,’ Imogen said, with a feeling of immense relief.
The moon was full in the sky, and after checking that the front door of the shop was locked properly, Imogen walked the long route home via Brighton Pier. The fresh air cleared her head, and the beach was full of people partying around campfires and barbecues. The beers she’d had with Finn had left her with a warm buzz, and she fell into step with the sound of the bongos.
She remembered the full-moon parties in Thailand – dancing till dawn with old friends and new ones she’d met, learning how to juggle. Those parties would still be going on, out in the islands, all the way across the world. She tried to stop wishing herself back there.
Anna looked at the TripAdvisor page for Vivien’s, and spotted two recent one-star reviews. The usernames were new, but the tone was unmistakably familiar: