by Sue Watson
He got up from his chair and smiled, then began fumbling about in his pockets, the calm, eloquent diver and dining companion replaced by the bumbling solicitor.
‘I have all the keys,’ I said, in case that was what he was looking for. ‘And the trading licences…’
‘No, I…’ he tried to retrieve whatever it was in his pocket and in doing so managed to wobble the little table and knock over a half-empty glass of wine and the candle. The glass smashed into a million pieces and the candle caught a paper napkin which flew up in the air like a Chinese lantern. Then Delilah set off barking and twirling, and as chaos reigned around us he stood before me, holding out his hand, oblivious to the circus around him. He looked like a proud little boy.
‘It’s for you, a good luck thing for tomorrow,’ he said, as I took the paper packet from his outstretched hand and carefully opened it. Inside was a silver ice cream cone necklace, I held it up and it twinkled in the darkness.
‘Oh Ben, it’s so kind of you. I feel like I shouldn’t accept a gift, you’ve already done so much – but thank you, I love it.’ I was so touched, I really loved the necklace and the fact that he’d thought about me. This was the first time anyone had bought me jewellery for a very long time and I felt a lump in my throat.
‘Shame I had to create fire and flood to give it to you,’ he pulled an ‘awkward’ face.
‘I wouldn’t expect anything less,’ I laughed, looking around at the mess, the napkin had burnt out and the glass lay there twinkling in the candlelight.
‘Wear it tomorrow, it’ll bring you luck, Ella… I hope.’
‘I will,’ I sighed, putting it on my neck and trying to fasten it.
He moved around behind me to help, moving my shoulder-length hair away and brushing his hand on my neck for a moment too long. I could feel his breath behind me, on me, and I inhaled the salt, aftershave and sun cream that was Ben. It was intoxicating, and I couldn’t help myself, I just leaned back into him.
His arms instinctively enveloped me from behind and I felt like I was sailing on a warm, beautiful boat at sunset. We stayed there for a little while, both facing out to sea, the stars above and the sea silvery and calm, and he gently turned me round, which made my heart thud so loud I could hear it.
Wordlessly he lifted my chin with his hand and, looking into my eyes, he reached down and kissed me full on the lips. His mouth was soft and warm and I wanted more, but he pulled away saying gently, ‘Night Ella… I’ll see you tomorrow – I’ll buy your first ice cream.’
‘Don’t go…’ I heard myself say. For once I wasn’t planning or worrying about what might happen, I was going with ‘now’. He was attractive, I liked him and it seemed he liked me too. I wasn’t looking for love and marriage and neither was he, so who said I couldn’t have a brief summer fling. It may only last for tonight, but who cared?
He immediately took both my hands and we started to kiss again and he led me into the living room. Slowly we sat on the sofa, still kissing, and we were soon lying down, and I felt his hands on my skin. He lifted my T-shirt and together we pulled off my jeans and soon we were naked in my apartment by the sea.
Only a few weeks before I wouldn’t have believed something like this could happen in my life and here it was, soft kisses, stars outside the window and strawberry ice cream in my heart. And as the kissing became more urgent, I melted into him, our bodies swirling together, legs and arms wrapping around each other, his kisses hot on my shoulder, my chest, working their way down. I remembered this – or something like it – but it had never been as gentle or as beautiful. This was special, Ben was special, he wanted me, made me feel desired, and held me in his arms telling me I was beautiful, and I couldn’t help it, I cried.
13
Salty Pistachios and Strawberry Ice Cream
The next day when I woke I felt Ben beside me and opened my eyes to see one big brown eye looking back at me. Delilah was lying between us, happily snuggled in her little pink-striped pyjamas. Ben’s hand appeared over her and caught mine.
‘It’s nice to wake up next to someone… and I don’t mean Delilah,’ I laughed, as she heard her name and licked my face. ‘Have I done the right thing?’ I sighed.
‘You mean last night or the van?’
‘Both,’ I giggled.
‘There isn’t a right thing,’ he said as he moved closer, taking me in his arms. ‘We’re all faced with crossroads at different times in our lives – and whichever road we take there are days when it feels like the wrong decision and days when it feels right. You’ve got to do what you want to do – and if it feels good, keep doing it. Oh, and I’m talking about the van and last night,’ he said, with a smile on his face.
I put my hand to his stubbly cheek and took him in, his eyes reaching into me, his hands warm on my body. ‘I can’t decide if you’re a wise philosopher or a confused dreamer,’ I smiled.
‘I like the first one.’
‘I like both.’
I raked my fingers through his hair and went downstairs to make coffee. It was very early and I had a lot to do, but I also wanted to be on my own for a little while to let things sink in. What had happened last night? Was it a one-night stand? Or was it more than that; was this the beginning of something? Did he want that? Did I? And why was I agonising about it anyway? This was my summer of letting go, of barefoot Bohemia, it didn’t matter what happened tomorrow or next week, this was now. Already my feelings were being whipped up like a vat of cloudy pink ice cream. Everything was swirling in my head, my heart felt very full and happy, but I had to learn to trust my heart – just because it had let me down before didn’t mean I had to keep it locked up.
Then instantly back in ‘mum’ mode, I thought about what the kids might say about me having a fling with a diving lawyer, before immediately reminding myself that they didn’t have to know. Unlike Delilah’s outfits and the renovation of the van, I didn’t need to send them photos of my burgeoning love affair/one-night stand. Thank God. Mind you if my mother had found out, she’d have had a field day – I’d been warning her about casual sex for a long time and there I was sleeping with the family solicitor/local diver boy within the first week of my arrival. No I wouldn’t be telling anyone any time soon, this was my lovely secret, just for me and I’d just see where it went.
Back upstairs, we ate breakfast together and made small talk. I went on far too much about strawberry ice cream, but that was because I suddenly felt uncomfortable. When I’d considered him a friend, I’d been able to laugh with Ben, tell him all kinds of stuff, but suddenly sex had come between us and changed our dynamic. He was exactly the same, still teasing and warm and easy – but I felt a little vulnerable now.
I had only had sex with a few people in my life and when I was single in my teens an encounter like last night would have been scandalous, but times had changed. I just hoped that I could change enough to let go and embrace the carefree summer the universe was now laying before me. It was scary and exciting, and despite the tang of fear in the pit of my stomach, I wouldn’t have changed this feeling for anything.
It was soon time to head to the kitchens to collect the ice cream and Ben kindly offered to come with me and help. This made me feel a bit better about whatever had happened between us, but I still felt I needed to clear the air.
‘So, last night was fun, but I don’t want it to change our friendship,’ I said as he helped me put the ice cream in the van.
‘It won’t, we’re still friends aren’t we?’ he looked up from behind the freezer.
‘It’s just that I’ve only known you a few weeks and I really value your friendship.’
‘What is this?’ he said, a puzzled smile on his face.
‘I don’t know… I just feel mixed up that’s all.’
What I wanted to ask was what’s in this for you? But I thought that would be rude.
‘Ella, relax. It’s fun and I like being with you, I find you attractive and amusing and I enjoy talking to you… and last
night I enjoyed… what happened. Do we need any more than that?’
‘No, it’s just a bit new to me and I’m not sure what it is.’
He shuffled a bit and became the ungainly, awkward Ben who spilled his coffee and tripped over dog leads. ‘It doesn’t matter, but whatever it is or isn’t, let’s enjoy it – who knows what’s going to happen tomorrow, it’s about the now remember?’
He was saying exactly what I tried to tell myself. No ties, no more commitments just free spirits… so why did I feel a little let down?
We continued to take the ice creams from the kitchens to the van and I gave myself a talking to about what this summer was about. This was my adventure, no one else’s and if Ben came along for some of the ride that was great, but I had to prove to myself I could do this. Carrying the tubs we passed each other and our eyes met. I felt a little shimmer run through me and just knew whatever this was, we both felt good about it. When we’d finally moved all the ice cream I needed and everything was ready, he kissed me on the cheek.
‘Go get ’em, Ella,’ he smiled.
‘Thanks, for everything,’ I said.
‘Please don’t feel like you have to keep thanking me, because when you get to know me better you’ll realise I only do what I want to do. And I want to help, and if it makes you feel better I’m helping Sophia too… with the van and stuff.’
‘That’s kind of you.’
‘Not really, I feel like I owe Sophia big time.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, she was my mum’s friend, and I don’t know what we’d have done without her when Mum was ill, so it’s my chance to repay her – through you.’
‘Sophia was a special lady, wasn’t she?’
‘Yes she was, when my mum was ill Sophia really looked after her. My dad had the business and me to take care of and Sophia just seemed to always be at our house, holding Mum’s hand, reading to her, bringing her ice cream. My mum died of cancer; she didn’t eat much in those last few weeks, but she always ate Sophia’s ice cream, said it reminded her of when she was a child. We had tried to take her to the café, but she was too weak and she’d said: “Just bring me that strawberry ice cream and I’ll imagine I’m looking out of the café window onto the beach.” And every day Sophia would turn up with a bowl of strawberry ice cream for Mum.’
He had tears in his eyes and I touched his arm, unable to say anything, just reassuring him that I felt for him.
‘Today when I sell my first strawberry ice cream I’ll think of your mother,’ I said, climbing into the van and starting up the engine. I looked at his face and saw the child who’d lost his parent – and how all these years and all this life later her death still brought tears to his eyes.
He smiled at me and I felt the tension lift between us. I wish I could have stayed there with Ben and talked some more, but I couldn’t put it off any longer; it was time to go.
‘Well, Reginaldo, we are off on our first day,’ I said, feeling nervous.
‘I think you might need to rethink the name,’ Ben said. ‘He’s pink and white… shouldn’t he have a girl’s name?’
‘You might be right… though my daughter would say we mustn’t gender stereotype with colour.’
‘Yeah, but it looks like a princess and sounds like a football team – the Reginaldos.’
‘OMG, stop being so hetero,’ I said in a mock lilting teenage voice.
He laughed and touched my cheek and I thought about how much I’d miss him today.
‘Hey, before you go…’ he said, he was now fumbling in his pockets. ‘I promised to buy your first ice cream, but I have to be at the office so can I buy one now?’
I laughed, ‘Of course,’ and climbed into the back of the van, opened up the hatch and served my very first ice cream. It was quite a moment and when he offered me the cone to try somehow it felt intimate and delicious. Eventually he finished the ice cream and seemed as reluctant as I did to part; ‘That was the best ice cream I ever tasted,’ he said.
‘That was the best ice cream I ever sold.’
We both laughed and then he helped me pull down the hatch and I moved into the driving seat and we said our goodbyes.
After he’d gone I tried to concentrate on the morning ahead, but my mind was on his mouth. My head took me to the night before and what we did and how it felt. I thought about everything he’d said about ‘us’ – whatever we were – and after I’d processed it all, it made a sort of sense. I mustn’t see Ben and this ‘thing’ between us through the prism of my old life, because it wouldn’t fit – this was about here and now. And I didn’t need a relationship any more than Ben did at this time in my life. He was off to Hawaii in September and I’d be going back to Manchester soon after. I had to be free and uncomplicated, I mustn’t get my heart hurt again and a ‘no strings’ approach was perfect. I could enjoy being with him but at the same time I was also able to stop myself from falling into something with this man, something that might hurt me. Wasn’t I?
The air was laced with salty promise as I drove onto the beach that first morning and wound down the window, breathing in the freshness. Like eucalyptus it tingled in my nostrils, clearing my head and all my worries, I felt open, able to embrace whatever the day was going to bring.
On this beach leading out to this vast ocean, my life was small, I was a middle-aged woman with a little van full of ice cream. Today I was going to find out if I could make it on my own, just me and my van and Delilah of course. This was a new beginning – and if it worked, and I could make enough to live on then I might even be able to pursue this dream beyond September. It was the first time I’d considered this, until now I’d seen it as a summer job to tide me over and do something different for once. Was I being foolish to think it might be more? Had I been spending too much time with Ben who was putting all these ideas in my head? But he reckoned you could do anything you wanted to. So why couldn’t I believe that too?
By 9 a.m. that morning I was in situ, aware that this was early in the day for ice cream, but as it was only the beginning of July, this was essentially a dress rehearsal. My customers would be old-age pensioners, students finished early from university, men walking their dogs and kids skipping school.
The first hour proved to be very quiet – I sold nothing – so to stop myself worrying about lack of customers I decided to make some plans. I was determined to make a go of this little business, but like any budding empire-builder I needed to work out how things were going to be. If the van was a success over the summer, that was great – but what if I decided not to go back in September, what if I did decide to stay?
When autumn came no one would be buying ice cream. The van wasn’t an all-year-round option, but ice cream eaten indoors could be, especially if Gina had plans to keep the café. I could perhaps manage it for her in the winter months? I knew she had a big, exciting life in LA and probably wanted to sell, but what if I talked to her and convinced her to let me run the café?
I kept telling myself I had to stop trying to run before I could walk. Here I was sitting in the van having sold precisely nothing and I was wondering about taking over the bloody world, starting with the café. I needed to see if people even liked my ice cream first.
I’d made the ice creams as faithful to Aunt Sophia’s as I could remember, but not all had turned out as I’d hoped. The lemon ice cream wasn’t as tangy and the chocolate didn’t have the depth, but without her recipes I’d just have to make the best I could. My own invention – salty pistachio, or ‘A Day at the Seaside’ – was wonderful, and the strawberry was sweet and fruity. It was a simple recipe but like magic to me as a child, and Sophia and I always made it together when I visited.
Looking at my prices, it was clear my ice creams would cost a little more than those at the supermarket. But I was hoping that just by tasting them people would realise how special they were and be happy to pay a little extra. Ben had said that when he’d taken the van out for Sophia, people had paid well for good quality
products. But that had been Sophia Caprioni’s ice cream – and this was Ella Watkins’s version.
So on that first day I sat on a little stool behind the counter, the hatch opened, hope in my heart, waiting for my first customer.
Delilah was sitting on her throne in the passenger seat; she wasn’t allowed inside the van for hygiene reasons but was dressed in a rather fetching floral playsuit. She was keen to make friends with other dogs along the beach and would bark and wag her tail at every passing mutt. An old man wandered past with a beautiful chocolate Labrador and smiled when he saw Delilah jumping up and down in the window. We chatted a while and he told me his name was Peter and his dog’s name was Cocoa.
‘She’s very excited,’ he laughed, nodding at Delilah.
‘Yes I think she likes the look of Cocoa,’ I said, ‘she wants to make friends. She probably thinks she’s a great big Labrador too!’
‘Your little one can always come walking with us. Me and Cocoa don’t mind if she wants to be a Labrador, she can be anything she wants to be, can’t she, girl?’ His beautiful, brown eyed dog looked up and wagged her tail in agreement.
I thanked him and said I was sure she’d love to. Having a dog certainly helped make friends.
‘Does she always wear clothes?’ he asked.
‘It’s got to the stage where I feel like a bad parent if she goes out naked,’ I said and explained about Aarya and the extensive wardrobe.
Peter laughed and wandered off, throwing a ball for Cocoa to chase at a hundred miles along the sand.
‘You might have a bit of catching up to do there, Delilah,’ I said, as we watched the huge dog race along the beach. She panted and wagged her tail happily.
Everyone was so friendly here and though there weren’t many people on the beach, most of them said ‘good morning’ as they passed. But as the morning breeze gave way to a milder midday, still no one had bought anything. By 12.30 I wondered if I should cut my losses, sell up and move back to Manchester. What the hell had I been thinking? I’d left my mother looking after my house while she entertained ageing lotharios on the sofa and here I was in a van in the middle of an empty beach hoping someone would buy an ice cream.
