The Heavenly Italian Ice Cream Shop (9 page)

‘Brilliant!’ Anna said. ‘I know Bella doesn’t really know what’s going on, and where she’s going – but I can’t help thinking she’s excited about it too, don’t you think?’

He came closer to Anna and touched her glossy dark hair gently, then kissed her on the top of her head. ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘for agreeing to do this. I know it wasn’t an easy decision.’

‘It wasn’t. But I’m starting to feel surer that it’s the right one.’

Hepburn leaped up onto the sofa, and nuzzled against Anna’s lap.

‘The guilt,’ Anna said. ‘What will we do with Hepburn?’

‘Do you think your uncle would take him in at the guesthouse? It was his home once, after all,’ Matteo said.

‘Maybe. I’ll ask him. Or, failing that, my parents . . .’

Anna thought of her mum and dad. She still hadn’t mentioned a word of the Italy plan to them. Even thinking of it made her feel guilty.

She had found herself unconsciously avoiding them, so that nothing would slip out in conversation – telling herself that it wasn’t final yet. And it
hadn’t
been certain. But now it was. With the preparations for the guesthouse opening, her parents had become closer and happier than ever. And now Anna felt deep down that she was about to shatter all of that.

Chapter 10

The midmorning light was perfect, Imogen thought – not too bright, just enough to bring out the colour of each leaf and flower, the shades of grey and green within a wave, the delicate patterns on a bird’s wing.

Or St. Tropez-toned shoulders and the multiple layers of a synthetic wedding dress, studded with diamante.

‘Could we have all of the bride’s side now?’ Imogen said, ushering a crowd of bridesmaids and flower girls, along with elderly relatives, over to where Lauren was standing.

Lauren was setting up her camera to take the photos, out on the pier, and Imogen’s main role was shepherding the party into position.

‘Beautiful, yes. So, if we could just have the flower girls here at the front, please.’

The bride let out a yelp of pain. The pageboy, a toddler, had somehow crept under her skirt unnoticed, and now the bride was looking in fury at her sister-in-law. ‘He bit me,’ she said, sternly. ‘Could you try and keep him under control, please?’

The groom kept quiet, shifting awkwardly.

‘He never bites,’ the sister-in-law said firmly. ‘It must have been someone else.’

‘Who, exactly?’ the bride said, stepping out of the photograph formation. ‘Look at the size of the bite marks.’ She lifted up her skirt, to reveal a reddened patch of her calf.

‘OK, enough,’ Imogen said, over the din. ‘Pageboy on the edge of the shot, please, Bride back in the centre, and let’s get on with the photos, please.’

Imogen felt like a stage manager, running the show. Because that was all a wedding was really, wasn’t it?

When Imogen got back home that night, her spirits were low. Her face ached from keeping a smile on her face all day, and now she was struggling to summon one up for real. She kept telling herself she was lucky to have any work at all, but it didn’t help. She knew it was mean-spirited, but she just hadn’t been able to find it within herself to feel joy on the bride and groom’s special day.

‘How did it go?’ Finn asked, when she got home.

‘It went well,’ Imogen lied.

‘Come on, I can see right through you,’ Finn said.

‘The wedding was a bit intense, I guess. A lot of fuss . . .’

Finn was listening, but she stopped herself. She didn’t want to start moaning about her day to him. ‘But enough about that. How were things at the surf school today?’ she asked.

‘Good – we had a group cancellation, not ideal, but actually it gave Andy and me a chance to chat through the business plan for the shop. We’re meeting with the bank this week about loans. I’m starting to think this is something we could really do.’

We? He was right, of course. They were a team. But deep down it nagged at her – the new shop was Finn’s project. As far as her career was concerned, it was taking a total nosedive.

The next day, Imogen met her mum for tea in the south lanes. She spotted Jan right away, a splash of her trademark turquoise by the window of the busy café, a book in hand. The moment she noticed her daughter approach, she put her paperback down and looked up at her eagerly.

‘Imogen, sweetheart!’ she said, getting to her feet and giving her daughter a hug.

‘Hi, Mum,’ Imogen said, her voice calm and level. She pulled out a chair. ‘What are you reading?’

‘One of my naughty books,’ she said, showing Imogen the cover, which had a pair of handcuffs on it. ‘Elaine from the hairdresser’s recommended this one to me. It’s about a woman who—’

‘Oh, you mustn’t spoil it for me,’ Imogen said, hurriedly. ‘Keep it a surprise. Is that for Bella?’ she asked, looking at a gift bag next to her mother’s coat.

‘Yes, just a little thing.’

‘You know that Anna’s put an embargo on more pink, don’t you?’ Imogen said. ‘“Normal, not princessy”,’ she told me.’

Jan took a look at Imogen’s outfit – boyfriend-cut jeans and an orange T-shirt, her tousled hair pulled up into an untidy topknot.

‘Well, normal is a little different from when I was young,’ Jan said. ‘But don’t worry: it’s only a pair of leggings. I’m sure she’ll approve.’

‘Cool.’

‘Anything you’d like to tell me?’ she said.

Jan looked at her daughter expectantly.

‘Like what?’

‘Nothing,’ Jan said.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ Imogen asked, bringing one hand up to her cheek. ‘Have I got something on my face?’

‘No, you’re fine,’ her mum said, with a knowing smile. ‘Was it a good weekend?’

‘It was great, thanks.’ And it had been, most of it. Right up to the point she and Finn had argued. Even after that, the next morning they’d slowly got back to normal, not talking any more about their relationship, just going out into the forest and taking in their surroundings. ‘Beautiful out there – horses, a stream, so peaceful.’

‘That’s nice,’ Jan said. She raised an eyebrow as if she was waiting for Imogen to say something.

‘What?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ Jan said, her cheeks colouring a little. ‘Forget I said anything.’

‘What is it?’ Imogen asked, growing irritated. ‘You obviously meant something.’

‘Here’s your tea,’ the waitress said, putting down a red teapot. She glanced at the two women and, sensing from the atmosphere that she’d interrupted something, stepped back. ‘Flapjacks coming right up,’ she said.

‘It’s nothing, really,’ Jan said. ‘I must’ve got the wrong end of the stick.’

‘Just say it.’

‘Oh, don’t, Imogen. You know I’m terrible with secrets. And I don’t want to ruin the surprise.’

‘What surprise?’ Imogen said.

Jan’s cheeks turned a deeper pink. ‘Finn came over to ours last week.’

‘To speak to you?’

‘To your father.’

‘To Dad?’ Imogen said.

‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘They could have been talking about anything . . . But I suppose I did wonder . . . Silly me, jumping to conclusions. But with Granny Vivien’s ring at our house, and the traditional way of doing these things, I just assumed . . .’

‘Don’t assume,’ Imogen said, her skin burning hot. ‘You don’t know a thing about my relationship.’

Imogen cycled quickly through Brighton’s narrow lanes, the fresh breeze on her arms and face a welcome distraction. She couldn’t stop thinking about what her mum had said. Finn had gone to see her dad, and they’d talked together. She’d never known Finn to go on his own to the cottage.

Imogen locked her bike down by the arches on the seafront. She had a meeting with Lauren coming up, but she needed to be on her own for a few minutes. She walked down the beach away from Hove, the ice cream shop and Finn’s surf business getting further and further away from her. She should feel elated right now.

She loved Finn, didn’t she? So why did the thought of his proposing feel like a stone in her stomach?

Chapter 11

Imogen had intended to cycle straight home that evening, after her meeting, but instead she’d found herself down on the seafront again, this time at the ice cream shop. She propped up her bike and went in. Her sister was bent over wiping down the tables, her dark hair pinned up on top of her head and an emerald-green shirt dress on with T-bar shoes.

‘If it weren’t for the apron and the Marigold gloves you could almost be a film star,’ Imogen said.

Anna laughed. ‘Really?’ Her cheeks glowed. ‘That’s as close as I get to a compliment these days, so I’ll take it.’

‘Please tell me you’re in the mood for noodles,’ Imogen demanded.

‘Always,’ Anna said. But then her brow furrowed. ‘I don’t know, though. We’ve got the till to do, and Bella to pick up from nursery, the—’

Matteo put his head out of the kitchen. ‘Imogen, take her out,’ he called out. ‘She needs a break.’

‘Thanks, Matteo,’ Imogen called back.

Anna turned to her husband. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course! Go on, get out of here. I can close up and get Bella.’

Anna undid her apron and pulled off the gloves. ‘OK, then. Let’s go.’

The sisters walked together past the fish-and-chip shops and amusement arcades on the seafront. The city was still relatively quiet and they had both learned to appreciate the lull of late winter, the calm before the Easter holiday storm. Normally Imogen might take the lead in a conversation, and Anna would follow, but that evening both of them were quiet, and they made their way to the small Japanese restaurant barely saying a word.

They ordered bottles of beer, and their usual noodle dishes, and then looked at each other over the table. Imogen took in the fine lines around her sister’s pretty eyes, and the slouch in her shoulders. Anna seemed to be noticing her sister’s less-than-bright appearance, too.

‘Why do you look so miserable?’ Imogen said.

‘Why do
you
look so miserable?’ Anna said. The tension broke as both of them collapsed into an easy laughter.

‘Go on, I asked first,’ Imogen said.

‘Because I think we really might be going to Italy. And I can’t believe I’m really going to leave behind all of the good things that we have here. And I can’t bring myself to tell Mum and Dad.’

Imogen touched her arm. ‘Yes. Not an easy one.’

‘With the guesthouse about to open, and how sensitive Dad’s been recently, I don’t want to land them with this. Not right now.’

‘But you know you have to tell them sometime, right?’

‘Yes – and I need to do it soon. Everything’s been moving so quickly out in Italy – if things continue smoothly we should be out there by May.’

‘That soon?’

‘Yes. Mad, isn’t it? One minute I was talking about it with you, it was all just a vague idea – and now it’s really happening.’

‘Why don’t you tell them at the party?’ Imogen suggested. ‘When the guesthouse is actually open it should all be easier, right? Everyone will be relaxed, and you can tell everyone in one go rather than separately.’

‘Yes,’ Anna said, still looking nervous. ‘That could work, I guess.’

‘You’re probably worrying about nothing, anyway,’ Imogen said.

‘Really?’ Anna laughed. ‘You really think that? Mum reacts badly enough when you go away. I’m the one she expects to stick around.’

‘She’ll get over it. She’ll have to,’ Imogen said.

‘So, go on. What’s eating you?’

‘If I say it, it’s going to sound ridiculous. And spoilt. I know that.’

‘Both things I am used to hearing from you. So fire away.’

Imogen wrinkled her nose and made a face at her sister. ‘I think Finn’s planning on proposing to me.’

‘Really?’ Anna said, unable to keep the excitement from her voice.

‘Yes,’ Imogen said, the unshakeable nature of her feelings clear now. ‘Only I don’t feel excited about it. Not at all.’

‘Right,’ Anna said.

‘I don’t know if this is even just about Finn,’ Imogen said. ‘I don’t really know what’s going on. I just feel in a slump. The Amazon project falling through, nothing new in the pipeline . . . I feel stuck here at the moment, just like I did that first summer when we set up the shop. And me and Finn – well, I love him. I really do. That’s not in question. But all I can think is that getting married would tie me down even more. Does that sound horrible?’

‘It sounds like the truth,’ Anna said.

‘It is. Maybe I’m overreacting. I may’ve got the wrong end of the stick anyway. It was just something that Mum said that made it seem like he might be planning on asking.’

‘Well, it wouldn’t surprise me,’ Anna said. ‘I mean, he clearly adores you, anyone can see that, and he’s always said he wants to have a family, hasn’t he?’

‘Yes!’ Imogen said, her emotion welling up. ‘That’s it. You see? I feel like everything’s racing ahead, far more quickly than I’m ready for, Anna. Marriage, a family, this expansion he’s planning for the business, things that would keep us here for the long term. Of course I want to support him, and I definitely want to stay with him. But I want it to be relaxed like it used to be. Spending time with each other because we enjoyed spending time with each other, the simple pleasure of that, taking a day at a time.’

‘I know what you mean,’ Anna said. ‘But I think there comes a point in any relationship when that needs to change. Don’t you?’

‘Maybe. But now? I’m only twenty-six,’ Imogen reminded her sister. ‘I never thought the age gap would matter. It’s only a few years, but now . . . I’m starting to wonder. I feel like we’re in different places right now.’

‘You should talk to him,’ Anna suggested.

‘I know,’ Imogen said. ‘But seriously – how can I talk to him about something that hasn’t even happened?’

Chapter 12

The next morning, Imogen and Finn were sitting in their house by the window, a breakfast of croissants and eggs on the table between them. Imogen had woken up to the smell of fresh coffee, and for a moment everything seemed perfect. Then she’d remembered the conversation with Anna, the feelings of unease she’d had over the past couple of days that were refusing to shift. As she looked at Finn now, dressed in a grey T-shirt and his favourite jeans, his sandy hair falling in one eye, she tried to push those thoughts aside. She was lucky. She just needed to get her head straight, that was all.