Vivien's Heavenly Ice Cream Shop (8 page)

After ten minutes of silence, Imogen reluctantly got to her feet and walked back to the kitchen, where her mum was anxiously looking on through the window. ‘Do you have any Bakewell tarts, Mum?’ Imogen asked. ‘You know what he’s like with them.’

‘Good idea,’ Jan said, opening the cupboard and taking out a packet. ‘He’d normally have demolished these by now. But he’s barely eaten a thing since the funeral.’

She passed Imogen the packet. ‘Can’t really put them on a plate or they won’t fit under the door.’

‘Thanks, Mum,’ Imogen said.

Imogen walked back out into the garden with a fresh wave of optimism. Her words might not be enough to lure her dad out, but she’d never seen him resist Mr Kipling’s finest.

As she approached the studio, she saw a movement, like a shadow passing. Pressing close to the murky window, she tried to make out where her dad was, somewhere hidden from view. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, though, it wasn’t her father’s figure that she saw. It was the dozens of sculptures, on the workbench, on the floor. His delicate birds smashed into pieces.

‘Anna,’ Imogen said. ‘Can you come and meet me? I’m round at Granny V’s house.’

‘You are?’ she replied, sounding puzzled. ‘What are you doing there? I thought you’d be at the flat, packing up your stuff.’

‘I don’t know,’ Imogen answered honestly. How could she explain that when she got off the train from Lewes, she’d simply found herself walking here, dazed? ‘Looking for some answers, I suppose … Just say you’ll come? It’s important.’

‘OK,’ Anna said. ‘I’m just finishing up, give me ten.’

Imogen looked down at the coffee table. The photo album that Vivien had left them in her will lay open in front of her.

On the first page was a dedication, handwritten in black ink:

To my beautiful granddaughters, Imogen and Anna. A little history for you, of this very special business. May you enjoy the ice cream shop as much as I have, all these years.
Your loving Granny V x

Imogen turned the page slowly. There, tacked in with photo corners, was a black-and-white image of the shop, with a note next to it – ‘24 July 1953. Opening Day!’

In front of the shiny shop, Vivien and her husband Stanley were standing proudly. Vivien was wearing a full-skirted dress with poodles printed on it, her hair styled in loose,
wide curls that fell to her shoulders. Stanley had his arm around her, his hair brown rather than the grey that Imogen remembered, and he had on dark-framed glasses. Stanley’s other arm was draped affectionately around his youngest son Martin’s shoulders, as Vivien’s was around Tom’s. The two young boys, in shorts and smart shoes, looked excited and eager.

Dad already risks losing one childhood home
, Imogen thought to herself.
Could they really take Sunset 99s from him too?

She continued to look through the history of her grandmother’s shop. At the back of the album was a much newer photo, printed out in colour and almost filling the page. Vivien was at the centre of it, smiling, her hair pinned up, wearing a navy dress with cream detailing. Surrounding her were her family: her two sons, Jan, and Imogen and Anna. It was before Martin met Françoise, and back when they’d all thought of him as the eternal bachelor. Imogen peered at the image more closely judging by her heavy eye make-up and faded band T-shirt, she must have been about sixteen when it was taken.

Her dad looked so different in the photo, heading up his family – the strongest of all of them. Imogen was pretty sure that was the summer that her English teacher, Miss Carter, had finally diagnosed her dyslexia, after Imogen unexpectedly came bottom of the class in her mocks. Years of difficulty keeping up in English and writing essays started to make sense to Imogen and her family at last. But her dad had been there all along – each time she’d come home in tears after
being made to feel stupid, or lazy, by her teachers. He knew, like her, that it would take more than a diagnosis to undo all of that damage. Tom had gone straight into school, thanked Miss Carter personally, and then demanded to see the headmaster to find out what had gone wrong, and to demand better special-needs provision in the future. Imogen had been outwardly embarrassed, but was secretly proud that her dad would do that for her.

Imogen thought back to the broken sculptures she’d seen in her father’s studio that afternoon. It was hard to connect the father who’d hidden, holding back from talking to her, with the open, dignified man she was looking at now. When she flew back to Thailand tomorrow, what would be the next thing she’d hear? Maybe her dad would be back to his usual self in a couple of days, but what if … ? She couldn’t bear the idea of hearing he had got worse when she was so far away.

Her mind had been fixed on the island – on the sun, yes, and Luca – but above all, on getting back to the photography project she was putting together. She wanted it to be good, she wanted to exhibit it, and the one person, above everyone else, who she wanted to see it, was her dad. He’d nurtured her ambition from the start, bought her her first camera, helped her set up a darkroom. She wanted him to see that his efforts hadn’t gone to waste, for him to be proud of her.

But being on the other side of the world wasn’t going to help him now, she realised, with a stab of guilt. What he
needed was support from those who loved him in order to get better. To see that his family were there for him and that they’d all work together to keep Vivien’s memory alive.

Imogen thought of the promises she’d made to Luca. Everything was set for her to leave England the next day, if she wanted.

But her dad had put her and Anna first since the day they were born. How could she leave now, when he needed her?

The doorbell rang, breaking into her thoughts. She saw Anna’s tall frame through the stained-glass window and opened the door. ‘Come in,’ she said, leading her into the living room.

‘What’s with all the urgency?’ Anna asked, settling into the armchair.

‘I can’t do it,’ Imogen announced.

‘Do what?’ Anna said, putting her bag down on the floor and rubbing her temples. ‘Today’s been a nightmare at work, Imo. I can’t process riddles.’

‘I can’t go back to Thailand right now, and we can’t sell the shop,’ Imogen said, still standing, energised by her decision. ‘Definitely not to Françoise. But perhaps not to anyone.’

‘Right,’ Anna said slowly. ‘Are you OK, Imo? You seem a bit wound up.’

‘How could we break Dad’s heart all over again?’ Imogen said, starting to pace up and down the dark wooden floorboards. ‘He needs us.’

‘Dad’s heart … ’ Anna put a hand to her brow. ‘What are
you talking about? And do you think you could sit down while we talk about this? You’re making me feel dizzy.’

‘Sorry,’ Imogen said, and took a seat on the sofa, perched on the edge. ‘It’s just … I saw Dad today, Anna. Well, I didn’t exactly see him. He’s a mess. He wouldn’t talk to me, and I saw in his studio that he’d smashed up some of his sculptures.’

‘God, really?’ Anna said, sitting up, her eyes wide. ‘That’s not like Dad at all. What on earth’s going on?’

‘It sounds like Françoise is pressuring Martin to sell this place,’ Imogen said, gesturing to the walls of the house that had been their father’s childhood home. ‘Which is understandable, of course, with the inheritance tax and everything – but they want it to go to developers who are going to knock it down, and they’ve barely waited a week to tell Dad that.’

‘That woman … ’ Anna said, shaking her head. ‘I know she’s supposed to be family, but she’s never really acted like it. Martin would never be doing this if he was single.’

‘Well, we can’t change any of that. But what we can change is
this
.’ She picked the photo album up off the coffee table and turned back to the photo of Sunset 99s on opening day.

‘Look at this, Anna,’ Imogen said. ‘It’s Sunset 99s through the ages. Here’s a photo from the sixties, that’s Dad’s motorbike parked up outside – check out his hair! And that sign they had was cool, wasn’t it, with the orange and pink lettering?’

Anna smiled. ‘This is lovely. But I don’t get how—’

‘The shop was his second home, back then,’ Imogen
explained. ‘You know how he’s always talked about it. We can’t let the final piece of Granny V’s legacy disappear. Not without even trying.’

‘Are you thinking what I think you are?’ Anna said, hesitantly.

‘Imagine if we could bring it back to the glory days,’ Imogen said, brightening. ‘For Dad. For Granny V.’

Anna paused for a moment. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘This is all quite sudden. It’s a lot to take on.’

‘What was that quote Granny would always come out with?’ Imogen said. ‘From
Alice in Wonderland
. “Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” Anna, I’ve changed my mind, it’s time for us to believe some impossible things. I think we should give it a shot.’

‘After the day I’ve had, this all sounds very appealing,’ Anna said, starting to smile. ‘I suppose we really could do it, couldn’t we?’

Imogen nodded. ‘Why not?’

They sat there in silence for a minute as the decision they’d just made together began to sink in.

‘But … ’ Anna started, ‘I thought you wanted to go back to the island?’

‘I do,’ Imogen said. ‘I really do. But it doesn’t feel right to go back now, when Dad’s like this. I could stay long enough to help you get the place set up, and for us to pick a good assistant to replace me.’

‘And then you’d go back?’

‘Yes. My flight’s valid for another six months, I just have to pay a bit to change the date.’

‘And what about that guy you met, Luca?’

Imogen touched the shark’s-tooth necklace around her neck, remembering him.

‘I’ll tell him,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how he’ll react. But I feel like I need to put our family first right now.’

Imogen called Luca’s mobile and heard the foreign dialling tone. Her heart beat hard in her chest as she waited for him to pick up.

‘Imo,’ he answered, sounding drowsy.

She checked the time on Vivien’s grandfather clock. Damn, it must be the middle of the night over there, she’d completely forgotten about the time difference.

‘Hi, Luca,’ she said.

‘You’re nearly home,’ he murmured sleepily.

The words she wanted to say caught in her throat.

‘Everything’s ready – the guys at Komodo have reserved an area for us on Thursday night for the party, and I’ve invited Santiana, Davy and all of your dive friends along.’

‘Thank you,’ Imogen said, the guilt of what she had to say weighing heavily on her. ‘But actually that’s the reason I was ringing. I know I was going to be flying home tomorrow, but it turns out I can’t come back right now.’

‘You’re kidding,’ Luca said, suddenly alert.

‘I need to sort some family stuff out. It’s important.’

‘And I’m … I’m what, Imogen? God, I knew you’d do something like this. How long are we talking?’

‘I don’t expect you to wait … ’

‘How long?’

‘Four months, maybe five,’ she said. ‘I’d be back by September, definitely.’

‘September. Are you serious?’

‘You could always … come here and visit. If you wanted,’ Imogen said, realising as she spoke how unlikely it was.

‘Right,’ Luca said, and Imogen heard the hurt in his voice. ‘Listen, I need to think about all this. I don’t know what to believe from you right now.’

‘Here you go,’ Jon said the following Friday, passing Anna some tea in her favourite Orla Kiely-print mug. She pulled her duvet-covered legs up towards her and cradled it in her hands, taking a sip.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I need a bit of perking up to be ready for today.’

Jon sat down next to her on the bed, doing up the buttons on his white shirt.

‘You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?’ he said, his green eyes meeting hers. ‘It’s all happened so quickly. Monday night is the first I hear of it, and I’ve barely seen you since then, with you and Imogen beavering away on that business plan every evening.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Anna said. ‘I’m not sure if the whole thing is a crazy pipe dream or a real-life possibility for us to run our own business. All I know is we need to find out.’

Her head still felt fuzzy from the late night; she and Imogen had been up until three a.m. finalising details.

‘Today should give us more of an idea,’ she said. ‘The small
business advisor was really helpful when we saw her on Wednesday, and now that we’ve got more to show her, she should be able to help us firm things up.’

‘Well, good luck with it,’ Jon said, kissing her on the nose. ‘It’s nice to see you so passionate about something, even if I can’t quite understand why you’d give up the security you have in your job. But it sounds like you have to see this through.’

‘There’s no risk – at least not yet,’ Anna reassured him. ‘If the figures don’t add up, then I still have my job to go back to. I haven’t said a word to anyone in the office yet – I told my boss I was taking today off to do some DIY.’

‘That’s good. Leaves your options open. What do your parents think about it all?’

‘They’re excited. Apparently it’s making a difference to Dad. Mum said it was the news about us looking into running the place that got him to open the door to her.’