by Sue Watson
She smiled. ‘Yeah, shall we have a cuppa?’
‘I think we need more than a cuppa, Mum, it’s good news… it’s great news, I think. Gina’s going to let me buy half the café – she’s going to keep the other half and we’ll be joint owners, but I’m just trying to fathom this… it says the total payable is £5, but that can’t be right can it?’ I held up the papers as she walked down the stairs.
‘So she’s finally done something good in her life?’
‘Mum, now is not the time for this… we all have to move on. I talked to her tonight and she never lived an amazing life in LA, she doesn’t have a rich husband and a pool and she isn’t working on a film with…’
‘Leonardo DiCaprio?’
‘No.’
‘Damn, I was hoping I could get her to say he ate our ice cream, thought she might even bring him along to Appledore.’
I had to smile; having hated the idea of coming here Mum was now completely invested in the business and the life.
‘You love it here, don’t you?’ I said.
She nodded as she sat down on the sofa next to me.
‘So let’s make this work – Gina is handing us the golden ticket, Mum, so let’s just embrace it, embrace her and all be a family again?’
‘It will never work, love, too much water under the bridge. But I do want to stay here – I’m needed on deck every morning, and Delilah needs me,’ she smiled at a semi-drowsy Delilah lying on the sofa in her baby doll nightie, her little tail wagging sleepily at the mention of her name. Along with everything else, I was dreading Aarya coming back and wanting Delilah. We’d have quite the custody battle on our hands and a tug of love over a Pomeranian was the last thing I’d need after this summer. Mum was right at me, ‘You couldn’t do it without me, could you, Ella… the business?’
‘No I couldn’t,’ I smiled, putting my arm around her, she felt small and frail like a little butterfly. She was right, I couldn’t have done it without her. My ice cream was good, but Mum had made it better – she’d added ingredients, ideas and flavours. We really had become a team. Then there was the whole social media element which she managed so well, putting us in front of people, making the community and the tourists aware of our presence. And thanks to Mum and Delilah people travelled for miles to buy our ice cream and meet our little furry girl.
‘Just think, Mum, we can make a go of the café – it’ll be like old times.’
‘I don’t suppose you’ll want to work with me if you’ve got Gina,’ Mum suddenly said, sounding like a slighted teenager.
‘Just because Gina’s selling me half the café, it doesn’t mean I’m going to be in her pocket. And as you say, I need you,’ I added. ‘Gina won’t be doing much work, she’s talking about retiring, being a sleeping partner.’
‘Mmm she’s been a sleeping partner to quite a few if you ask me.’
After all this time I still couldn’t fathom my mother. Here was Gina offering me everything I’d asked for at what seemed to be only £5 and still she had to have a dig at her. Mind you I was still bemused by the £5 and desperately hoping it wasn’t a typo. I decided not to respond to her comment and I think she realised it was perhaps time to begin to embrace what was happening, if not for her, for me.
‘We did well today, very busy,’ she said, and started telling me all about Delilah’s antics and the way her ‘Summer Surpise Sundae’ had sold out and what a godsend Ben had been turning up when she was really busy. And listening to her I thought perhaps this summer stint was her La Scala audition. It wasn’t about accolades, awards and money, it was about doing what made you happy, and singing and being sociable and the centre of attention was Mum’s thing. I hoped I could persuade her to come on board with the café, maybe she just needed a bit more time and like she had with the van, she’d find her place.
Eventually she went to bed and I noticed Ben had called, so I returned the call.
I wrapped a throw around me and, wandering out onto the now chilly balcony, just hearing his voice warmed me.
He asked how things had gone with Gina and I gave him the edited highlights – it would take too long to tell him everything. In all honesty, I wasn’t too proud of some of the things I’d said. Then again, perhaps Gina needed to realise I wasn’t the same little girl she could walk over any more.
‘That sounds like great news,’ he said when I told him about the £5 offer on the café. ‘So you’re definitely staying here?’
‘It looks like it. At the moment I can’t believe it and keep wondering if I’ll wake up tomorrow and it was all a dream.’
‘Actually I have good news too. I rang earlier to tell you that Dad said if I stay around he’ll start bringing me in on the big accounts.’
I didn’t answer him, I didn’t know what to say. I was happy that he cared about me enough to want to stay here – but this was overwhelmed by my feelings of guilt that he wasn’t chasing his dream. And it would be my fault.
‘Did you hear me? It means I could stay and build a career here, and we could…’
‘I know… I know…’
‘So is that not what you want?’ He sounded confused, hurt even.
‘It’s not just about what I want. It’s what you want that worries me. You’re Ben, you don’t want to be holed up in an office 24/7 working on big accounts – you want the open ocean.’ He was doing this for me, but I still wasn’t convinced this was the right thing for him at this time. Would he resent me for this further down the line?
‘Ella, things change, and if it means I can stay on here and be with you, then it’s worth the sacrifice.’
As much as I wanted him to stay, the very fact he’d used the word ‘sacrifice’ in the same sentence as ‘be with you’ made me feel like this wasn’t right.
‘Ben, I don’t want you to sacrifice anything, and I don’t want you to change. That’s why we work, because you’re you.’
‘I’ll still be me.’
‘No you wouldn’t. That’s why I love you, Ben, because you do what you want, you don’t conform, you’re not like everyone else.’
‘You said “love” then.’
‘Yes I did. And I do love you, which is why you have to go to Hawaii, you have to see that ocean, take your last exam.’
‘I can’t leave you.’
‘Yes you can.’
‘But what if you meet someone else?’ I recognised the fear and sadness in his voice, I felt it too.
‘You might meet someone else too, but we can’t worry about the future, we have to do what’s right for now. You’re not ready to stop in one place yet, Ben, and I don’t want to be the one responsible for you being here instead of on a barrier reef in the Pacific, I couldn’t bear the guilt.’
‘Is that it then…?’
I felt tearful, but I had to be strong. ‘It isn’t just about what’s right for you, I have to find my own barrier reef too and I’m not ready to be swallowed up into another life. I just want to be me for a while, see how I fit into the world.’
‘I don’t want to say goodbye,’ he sighed.
’Let’s not make this a final goodbye, let’s make it “see you later”,’ I said. ‘You do you for a while and I’ll do me and then, who knows, at some point in the future we might bump into each other on a beach somewhere.’
His silence killed me, and I was almost tempted to say, ‘Please, Ben, stay, don’t go, let’s buy a small cottage and live by the sea together forever.’ But I had to remind myself that I didn’t want Ben to settle down with me and then twelve months, two years or more down the line suddenly want to go again. If we met in the future, and if we felt the same, I would know this was it – there were no sacrifices, just love. But for now, I had to let him go, because that’s what loving someone means.
He put down the phone and I felt sore and empty inside, my heart was broken and I knew Ben’s was too – but it wasn’t the right time. I loved him more than anyone I’d ever loved, and because of that I couldn’t ask him to give
up his dream. He’d helped me to achieve mine, so how could I? I knew there would be no one else for me, but he’d made my summer. He was perfect for that easy, laid-back time of sunshine, ice cream and kisses and who knew what our tomorrows might bring.
This whole summer adventure had felt unreal and it was hard to trust our feelings. It had been like a wonderful holiday romance where we’d been thrown together through timing and geography and as someone who’d only ever had one relationship before I had to ask if that was what love was? A chance meeting, a sliding doors moment of fate? My heart was filled with Ben, but my head wondered if our mismatched lives would be enough further down the line. For now we had to accept that we both had independent journeys that might or might not end up in at the same destination. Our lives might not fit, but when we were together our hearts knew how to dance.
24
A Brioche and Beyoncé Boost!
The following morning, Mum and I set off for the beach early and as we drove she talked about the business, well, about watermelon juice to be precise.
‘Beyoncé’s invested in a watermelon juice company, I think it will be huge, a million-dollar brand. Let’s get ourselves some of the action before those fat cats suck it all up,’ she was saying.
‘You’ve been watching The US Apprentice again haven’t you, Mum?’
She nodded.
‘So, in Apprentice-speak, how would that translate for us – Beyoncé’s investing in watermelons so we could make watermelon sorbet?’ I said. I was trying to be enthusiastic, but couldn’t think about Beyoncé or her bloody juice, all I could think was that Ben would be leaving soon.
‘Yes… sort of. I was thinking, a tropical sundae, or a frozen watermelon smoothie – a Beyoncé Boost!’
I didn’t point out that there may be copyright or some kind of ownership of the name Beyoncé – then again, how would she find out? I couldn’t imagine Jay Z and Mrs Carter turning up in Appledore at my van any time soon.
‘Have you heard from trailer trash this morning?’ she suddenly said.
‘Mum, if you mean Gina, that’s unkind…’
She huffed and folded her arms in a defensive gesture, which wasn’t easy with her bust and her seat belt. ‘We haven’t seen her for thirty years and suddenly here she is, giving away businesses like a bloody magnate.’
‘She’s sharing the family business, it’s quite a different thing.’ I said, determined now to go for it, this was a fantastic opportunity. Without Ben around I would throw myself into it – and hopefully take my mind off missing him.
‘I’m your mother and you don’t even care what I think about taking up her offer,’ Mum was now saying. ‘You’ve made up your mind and you won’t listen to me. How do you think that makes me feel? Invisible.’
‘I know, Mum, I know. You don’t want me to do this – but I think it’s the right thing to do. You wouldn’t want me to miss a chance like this would you?’
The realisation that she might hold me back seemed to calm her down; ‘Ella, I know it’s your dream and of course I’d never stand in the way of that.’ And just when I thought we were winning, she added, ‘But don’t expect me to speak to her. Ever!’
I’d had enough, I was about to lose Ben and I couldn’t cope with playing Piggy in the Middle between Gina and Mum again over some ancient feud.
‘Why won’t you speak to her? Mum, why will nobody talk about these sodding teabags?’ I asked.
She shot me a look, and despite being only 4 foot 10 and weighing about 7 stone I felt myself wither under her gaze. Mum wasn’t to be trifled with. But this clearly was about more than teabags and if we were all going to be working together it was now necessary to find out just what had happened all those years ago.
‘I’m not a child,’ I said, ‘though sometimes you still treat me like one. You can tell me, you know? I mean if for example someone in the family had an extramarital affair in 1970s I am old enough to deal with it.’
But she didn’t answer and I just continued driving to the beach where we silently opened and set up our van for the day. We muddled along all morning, the weather was mixed and when it began to rain I became ridiculously excited imagining how all the people who weren’t coming out onto the beach would soon be able to come to the café. For a moment I forgot we weren’t really speaking.
‘Mum, you will work with me, won’t you, when the café’s up and running?’
‘I don’t know, you’ll have to check it all with she who sleeps with the fishes.’
‘Thing is, as I mentioned, Gina wants to retire,’ I said, ignoring her comment, ‘so you won’t have to see her often.’
‘I don’t intend to…’
‘No, okay, but we will need to be civil, and I worry that if she’s dead to you or sleeping with any fishes it might make for a bit of an… atmosphere if we’re all in the café at the same time. I mean, Gina doesn’t have a problem with you…’
‘Oh she does. Ask her.’
‘I have and she doesn’t.’
‘Nice to know I’m being talked about.’
I couldn’t win, everything around Gina was toxic as far as Mum was concerned.
It was now August, and if I had my way the café would be open before September so we could make the most of any late holidaymakers, but we had to find a way of working together. If I could find out just what had gone on all those years ago I might be able to talk them into forgiving and forgetting whatever it was. I was imagining the opening of the café – and Mum and Gina fighting over who would cut the ribbon. The last thing we needed were photos all over the North Devon Journal of Mum threatening Gina with the ribbon scissors.
We closed a little earlier that day, the weather was turning and by 4 p.m. there weren’t enough customers to justify standing in a van on a rain-swept beach with my grumpy mother. Her resentment truly blossomed when I told her I was meeting up with Gina after work to discuss the business.
As I walked into the Seagate pub to meet Gina, I felt rough, like I had the beginnings of flu, but it was probably because I was already missing Ben. I bought a coffee and took a window table looking out onto the promenade and tried not to think of him, I had to throw myself into this life now.
The pub was busy with tourists and day trippers eager to drink up the last of the summer before their minds were filled with new school shoes and office desks. The pub was one of those lovely seaside places where everyone was welcome, including dogs, so Delilah came along in a rather fetching sailor suit with jaunty hat. Life had been pretty hectic and emotional recently, so I’d been a bit lax on the Delilah front regarding photos and while waiting for Gina I took the opportunity for a quick doggie photo shoot.
Delilah was a natural and posed happily for photos as I snapped her looking out to sea from the pub window. It was a moody shot, the light was going and there was a glass of wine in front of her. I put it on Instagram with the caption, ‘Delilah enjoying the last of the day and reflecting on the summer she’s had in Appledore’. I was becoming quite poetic with my captions, I also sent the photo to Ben saying Delilah was missing him – I thought he’d understand what I was saying.
Gina arrived late – she was always late and always beautiful. Her blonde hair was caught in a messy updo, with dusty pink lips and perfectly manicured nails.
I had a new-found respect for Gina, despite the act, she’d been as insecure as the rest of us. And that vulnerability shone through when she’d finally told the truth about her life. I was proud of her for opening up instead of running away again. ‘Your hair is lovely like that – you are so… LA,’ I said, hugging her. ‘I feel a bit dowdy without my make-up.’
‘Honey, you always look gorgeous,’ she smiled, holding my hand and stepping back to look at me. ‘I could do your hair like this if you like,’ she said, touching her head and taking her seat opposite me at the table.
‘Thanks, but I’m going to get mine cut, very short – keep the blonde, but make it more my own, you know?’
Sh
e smiled a knowing smile and looked at me; ‘Yeah, I know, I guess the butterfly got its wings.’
The waitress arrived with menus and before she could ask, Gina had ordered a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and I was glad I wasn’t driving the van that evening.
‘Gina,’ I said, once we’d ordered our food and the wine had arrived, ‘I’ve considered your offer and I share your dream, but that’s what I want – to share it. I don’t want you to “give” me half the café or…’ She tried to respond but I spoke over her, I’d thought about this long and hard and had to make my feelings clear on this without offending her. ‘Gina, I really appreciate your offer, I feel like you’re my fairy godmother – but I have to pay you for my half of the café. I don’t actually have a lump of money, but my own house has just been sold and when I get the money I could give you something as a down payment, then pay you monthly for my half.’
‘It all goes to you anyway when I’m gone, I’ve done a will and everything,’ she said.
‘That’s very kind, too kind. What about your friends? And what if you meet someone and want to leave everything to him?’
She smiled. ‘Oh I won’t be leaving anything to some man. If I’ve learned one thing in my sixty years – it’s that men are not worth giving anything up for. By the way, don’t tell anyone how old I am,’ she winked.
I smiled back. ‘Thing is, Gina, I want to feel I played my part – to genuinely feel like it’s mine, like I earned it.’
She looked at me. ‘Stubborn madam aren’t you?’ she smiled. ‘But I get you. You want to do this your own way, make your own mistakes with no safety net.’
I nodded. ‘That’s exactly it.’
‘Ha, we’re thrill seekers you and I – more alike than you’d think.’
I’d never considered myself a thrill seeker, but perhaps in some ways I was becoming one, I certainly wasn’t frightened of life. And as for doing something every day that scared me – well, these days it was rare if I hadn’t done something that petrified me.
‘Okay, so to keep you happy, put some money in my account every month,’ Gina was saying. ‘I sure as hell could do with the money; we’ll work out a figure between us.’
