Vivien's Heavenly Ice Cream Shop (28 page)

‘Did you like it from the start?’

‘From day one. It’s the only thing I could imagine doing as a job, and I’ve been lucky enough to make it one.’

He leaned back and rested on his arms. The sea was a moody mix of dark greys and greens, seagulls ducking down and skimming the surface of the water, emitting loud caws. The horizon stretched out before them, uncluttered. In that
moment, it felt to Imogen as if they were the only two people in the world.

‘So what do you think?’ he said. ‘I thought you might like it here. The same sea, but wilder here somehow.’

‘It’s beautiful,’ she said. She could sense the energy of the water as it thrashed there in front of her, unsettled, fighting against an unseen force. ‘Fearsome but beautiful.’ Out to the right she could see waves smashing against the dark rocks.

Finn squeezed her hand gently. Their eyes met and he pulled her into his arms, kissing her softly and then more urgently, as they lay there side by side on the blanket.

Anna closed the front door behind her and stepped inside her flat. She was home, and yet – just under a week since her break-up with Jon – everything felt different now. She went into the bedroom and sat down on the bed to rest her legs after another busy day at the shop. She knew, without looking, where the absences were – half the wardrobe empty, two shelves free in the bathroom cupboard where Jon’s razor and aftershave had once been. In the living room, her DVDs and CDs slipping over to their sides now that they were no longer supported by Jon’s collection. While the gaps took some getting used to, she was still grateful that his exit had been swift, and that he hadn’t left the place littered with reminders. It was easier that way.

She’d slept badly since he’d gone, her mind racing with thoughts of what had happened, what she could have done differently, never coming up with any answers. She missed feeling his body close to hers in bed at night, that reassuring sense that if something went wrong he was there.

But the intimacy they’d once shared, the way a conversation
or a joke could leave her smiling for hours – when had she last felt that, really? Looking back, things had started to change as soon as she and Jon had moved in together, maybe even before. She’d been so focused on having everything just right that she hadn’t given herself space to see that really, nothing was.

She got up and and went through into the third bedroom. Because that was all it was now – a small room that would work as a study, somewhere for her to do the accounts and other admin for the shop, maybe. She forced herself to see past the colourful chest of drawers and the tiny bed. Perhaps she could even start a new hobby, with the room as her base. Set up her PC and write – she could put together a cookbook of summertime recipes. Ice creams.

Her hand found the edge of the chest of drawers that Alfie had once run to touch in excitement. Her fingers lingered over the drawer handle, then she slowly opened the top drawer. Empty. The second drawer, the same. The third drawer … it looked empty at first, but then she saw it. There, at the back, was one of Alfie’s T-shirts – the yellow one with a giraffe on the front that she’d given him.

Sitting down on Alfie’s small bed, Anna held the tiny T-shirt to her chest. She remembered the last time she’d seen him wearing it, the way he’d smiled. Saying goodbye to Jon had been one thing – this was another. When the tears came she couldn’t stop them.

The next day, a Saturday, Anna flicked on the lights to illuminate the shop. If the last couple of days were anything to go by she’d have to work quickly to get things ready. Within the hour there’d be a queue building up outside.

Since the seafront party they’d been swamped with customers – and Vivien’s had been getting plenty of publicity in the local papers (positive this time) and tourist guides. The summer holidays had brought an influx of visitors to Brighton and many had the shop on their list of ‘must-do’s’. Word of mouth was spreading, and some tourists were even arriving with lists of flavours they wanted to try.

At this time in the morning, though, no one was after cones and tubs of ice cream. It was Anna’s espresso granitas the adults came for – an early morning pick-me-up, with a dash of calorific joy. A generous layer of freshly whipped cream was sandwiched between two layers of the dark, granular, coffee-flavoured ice.

Anna switched on the till and smiled as one of her new regulars walked in through the door. Tall with wire-framed glasses, he ran a local estate agent and liked to surprise his colleagues with delicious treats from her shop.

‘Morning, Daniel,’ Anna said, wiping clean the menu board. She had two new ice cream flavours to add to the list today.

‘Hi Anna. You look nice today,’ Daniel said politely.

‘Do I?’ Anna said, straightening out her apron. ‘Staying
up all night making ice cream will do that to a girl, I suppose,’ she added with a smile.

She still felt raw inside from everything that had happened with Jon, but after her tears the previous night she’d started to feel something else, something she hadn’t expected – a kind of freedom. Her flat was her own space now, tranquil and quiet, and her life was once again in her control.

‘Well, whatever it is, it seems to suit you,’ Daniel said.

After she’d managed the morning rush, Anna put on the radio, still tuned into the same familiar station, and checked the shop laptop. There were a few orders for local ingredients she needed to put in, so she quickly fired off some emails. Back in May, she’d never have believed that soon she’d be so busy with customers it would be hard to find a moment to catch up on orders. There had been days back then that she and Imogen hadn’t had anything to do but twiddle their thumbs.

Halfway through typing an email, a message popped up on her Gchat:

She felt a rush of excitement. Matteo was there, online, right now. And he’d enjoyed her recipe! She smiled and typed back a reply.

As she waited for a reply Anna thought again about the postcard from him she’d tucked away in a book at home. She smiled remembering Florence, the golden sun on her shoulders, the smell of fresh pasta with a full-bodied red wine …

A shadow fell over Anna’s hands on the keyboard, and she looked up with a start.

‘Imogen,’ she said, shutting the window on her laptop abruptly. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘It’s where I work,’ Imogen said with an easy laugh. ‘I told you I’d be in again today, didn’t I?’

‘No,’ Anna said, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks. ‘You didn’t.’

‘Well, anyway,’ Imogen pulled up a stool opposite her sister, ‘there’s something I wanted to talk to you about,’ she said in a conspiratorial whisper.

‘There is?’ Anna said, furrowing her brow. ‘Does it explain why you’re acting so weird?’

‘Me?’ Imogen said. ‘You’re the one being all snappy, and secretive with the computer. But I’m not going to pry, because I have more interesting things to think about. I had a
really
good day yesterday.’

‘You do look all sort of radiant, much as it pains me to say it. Am I sensing romance?’

‘Yes,’ Imogen said. ‘Or at least I think so.’

‘Anyone I know?’

‘Yes, in fact it’s someone very close to us.’

‘
Finn
,’ Anna said, smiling at the revelation. Imogen’s smile instantly confirmed her suspicions. ‘Nice. That should keep neighbourly relations smooth for a bit then.’

‘Should do,’ Imogen said.

‘I can see you’re dying to tell me all the details. Go on.’

‘Right. So we got on really well when we were in Glastonbury together, but for some reason nothing really happened. There was just all this nice chemistry going on. Then we went out the other night after the party down here, and everything sort of clicked. It feels easy with him, chatting, even about serious things.’

‘And yesterday?’

‘He took me out to a beautiful isolated cove and taught me to surf. Then we spent the afternoon having a picnic and chatting.’

‘Sounds blissful,’ Anna said. She couldn’t help secretly
admiring any man who could keep up with Imogen, let alone keep her interested.

‘It was,’ Imogen said. ‘It is. I feel a bit deranged. In a nice way.’

‘I may not be an expert in love – as evidenced by the wasteland my own romantic life is right now – but I’m pretty sure that’s all good. When are you seeing him again?’

‘Tonight, he’s taking me out for dinner. Somewhere posh. I’m going to hit the shops now and get something to wear.’

‘He sounds really keen,’ Anna said. ‘And he certainly seems like a lovely guy. You’ll be gentle with him, won’t you?’

‘Of course I will,’ Imogen said, rolling her eyes. ‘What on earth makes you say that?’

‘I thought we could try something a bit more high-end this time,’ Finn said, smiling as he poured Imogen a glass of champagne.

They were tucked away at a quiet, candlelit table in a French restaurant. Imogen had picked up a red dress in town and a black pashmina from one of the discount shops, and splashed out on some new black heels. She was glad she’d made the effort.

‘I like it,’ Imogen said. ‘I’m not really used to restaurants like this, if I’m honest.’

‘Maybe you’ll have to get used to them, what with the shop taking off like it is.’

‘It has been quite a summer,’ Imogen said. ‘And we seem to be making a bit of money now at last. Thank God.’

‘You two have really made it work, haven’t you?’ Finn said, looking over the table at Imogen. ‘I mean, I hold my hands up here, I was hard on you at the start … ’

‘You had good reason,’ Imogen said gently.

‘But you’ve done it. Over the last few weeks the shop’s been
packed with customers, and all I hear about these days is what’s on the specials board, or which celebrity is raving about your ices.’

‘Thank you,’ Imogen said. ‘It’s still sometimes hard to believe that we’ve made it happen. That we’ve done something that our granny would be happy to see, and that actually seems to be pulling Dad out of the slump he’s been in. It’s always been Anna’s dream to do something like this – she’s been a foodie since she was a kid. She might have lost sight of it for a bit, but you can see it now, can’t you – she’s born to cook.’

‘And what about you?’ Finn said.

‘What about me?’ Imogen said, taking a sip of her drink.

‘You’ve mentioned your sister, your dad, your grandma. All of their dreams are tied up with Vivien’s being a success, and you’ve helped to make those dreams come true.’

Imogen felt warmth spreading in her chest at Finn’s words and a smile came to her lips. Because it was true. Despite all of the hiccups – no,
outright disasters
 – she had been responsible for along the way, she had done it. She had helped to make her family happy.

Finn’s hazel eyes fixed on hers. ‘What I mean is, is the shop
your
dream?’

Imogen thought about it.

‘I don’t know,’ she said.

After dinner, Imogen and Finn walked along the seafront, his arm around her, holding her close and warding off the
cool breeze. She felt good and a little tipsy from the fizz she’d been drinking. Everything felt so natural with Finn, as if somehow she already knew him.

‘Do you ever think about the future, where you’ll be?’ Imogen said, looking out towards the sea.

‘Are you getting all philosophical on me?’ Finn laughed.

‘I suppose so,’ she said with a shrug. ‘Just a little bit. But you were the one who started asking about dreams.’

‘Feels a bit early for this conversation,’ Finn said, looking at her and slowing his pace. ‘But if you really want to know?’

‘I do,’ Imogen said.

‘I suppose,’ he said, ‘I see myself here. If I’m lucky, with a wife I love, and a house full of kids who make a mess of the place, and make us laugh. I see my brother Sam – once the eternal bachelor – and his family now, my nephew, Heath, who’s brilliant. I’m pretty sure he’s happy. Happier than he was back then, at any rate.’

Imogen listened. Her head felt foggy: perhaps she shouldn’t have had that last glass. ‘That’s what my dad says,’ she said finally. ‘He used to love travelling – he had this big motorbike he was inseparable from, and he went around Asia in the sixties, when it was more dirt tracks than internet cafés and banana pancakes. I would have loved that … ’ she went on, thinking of the tales her dad had told her. ‘But he said that for him it had an end date. When he met my mum, he knew. It was time for his life to change.’

‘He sounds like an interesting guy,’ Finn said. ‘And your mum must be quite something.’

‘That’s one way of putting it,’ Imogen laughed. ‘I can’t always see it myself. But she’s the yin to his yang, he says. Are you close to your parents?’ she asked.

‘We all get along,’ Finn said. ‘Christmas, birthdays … They moved over to Dublin when we left home, so we don’t live in each other’s pockets. I think they did a pretty good job raising us though, and I’m grateful to them for that.’

‘It’s funny, isn’t it?’ Imogen said. ‘That as you get older you realise what a tough job that must really be. That your parents are human too. They get some things right, and some things wrong.’

‘Exactly. And that whatever mistakes you might judge them for, you’ll probably make some a hundred times worse,’ he smiled.

‘Listen,’ Imogen said. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling this conversation – or another one – or indeed,’ she said, squeezing his hand, ‘no conversation at all … might be more fun back at your place.’