Ella's Ice Cream Summer

by Sue Watson

  ‘Great, that feels right. Sophia wanted you to have the café, not me.’

  ‘Yeah, but she left you a portion of the business with the van and you’ve proved yourself,’ she smiled. ‘That’s all Mum wanted to see.’

  ‘Do you think so?’

  She nodded. ‘Oh yes, I know so. Mum once told me that whoever took over the café must love it like she did, I guess she knew that probably wasn’t me,’ she looked at me and shrugged. ‘I’m the black sheep,’ she sighed, ‘but you’re the golden girl. I wouldn’t have come back for a heap of rust, but you’re more caring – you still have a soul, so Mum left the van to you and the café to me. She told Ronald Shaw her dearest wish was for a family reconciliation, but she thought I might sell the café and go back to LA. Apparently she said it didn’t matter, she wouldn’t be here and I couldn’t break her heart any more.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, that must have been hard for you to hear.’

  ‘It kinda broke my heart,’ she said, her voice breaking slightly. ‘That’s why I couldn’t go to her funeral, I couldn’t face her even in death knowing how much I’d hurt her in life. But you changed all that, Ella – when I saw you working the van it made me think of the good old days and your genuine goodness seeped into these cynical mean old bones. I’ve been too long in the Wild West, competitive people fighting for crumbs, and ending up with nothing – just someone else’s toilet to clean. I thought I was different, that I could leave everything behind and start a new red carpet life of glitz and glamour and recognition for my brilliance – but I’ve realised, you only get that kind of recognition at home. At the end of the day, it’s only your family who truly applaud you.’

  She looked like she was about to cry, and I too felt tearful, for all her talk and her sparkle, she’d lived quite an empty life.

  ‘So, look at us now, drinking wine and talking about the café – it’s exactly what Mum would have wanted,’ she said, discreetly wiping her eyes and rallying Gina-style.

  ‘It’s what all of us want,’ I said. ‘And no one’s happier than me that you’re staying here for the applause.’

  She smiled; ‘I could have run away, like I ran away before – but you take all the guilt and the hurt with you, Ella – because in the end, you can’t run away from yourself.’ She gazed out through the window at the dusky sea and tears came back to her eyes; ‘Doing this… with you, it feels like I’m doing something right – and for the first time in my life, I actually like myself.’

  I felt so sad for her, yet happy that I could be part of this; ‘I hope they’re happy tears,’ I smiled.

  ‘Kind of, but there’s always the guilt…’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Oh my mum, your mum… you… Oh Ella, it’s all such a mess. I get glimpses of calm, whispers of how it could be, how things might have been if I’d been a better daughter and then… how can I ever hope to clean my mess up?’

  ‘Gina, it’s okay. Your mum loved you, she was proud of you, when I used to come for my holidays here she’d talk about “my daughter back from the States”, like you were the queen.’

  ‘Did she? I never really saw it myself, looking into my mother’s face reminded me of the mistakes I’d made, the regrets…’

  ‘Our mothers had fallen out when I was a baby, right?’ I started. ‘So tell me, how on earth did Aunt Sophia get Mum to allow me to stay with you here on those summer holidays?’

  Gina shuffled in her seat, took a large gulp of wine, then shook her head, but now she’d begun to open up I decided to press on.

  ‘I mean, Mum never let me do anything,’ I continued, taking a sip of wine while watching her face to see if she gave anything away, ‘… always scared something would happen to me – even Dad sometimes said, “Stop being so paranoid about our Ella, she’ll be fine.” And yet she still allowed me to stay here for two whole weeks.’ I didn’t know what I was chasing, but there was something tangled up in all this that was starting to come loose, if only I could unravel it.

  Gina shrugged and looked relieved when our food arrived, something to distract me perhaps?

  ‘So, where are you going to get your hair cut?’ she asked now, trying to change the subject. My heart sank and I had to let go of the tangled mess, unable to work through it alone. Gina always felt safe talking about the superficial things in life, here she was safe and nobody could hurt her. The beauty makeovers, the hair colours, the celebrities and the lipstick shades of life were where she made her conversational home. She poured the wine and talked avidly about my hair, my bone structure and raved when I showed her the photo of a short, blonde, choppy cut I had lined up for myself on my phone.

  ‘You will ROCK that,’ she squealed, a little too loudly. ‘I wanted to be a hairdresser,’ she continued once she’d calmed down. ‘I sometimes wonder if my life would have been better if I’d stayed here, become a hairdresser and married the love of my life.’

  ‘I didn’t realise,’ I said. I’d no idea Gina had a serious boyfriend in Appledore. Even when I used to visit, there was a parade of boys, but she never seemed to go steady with anyone.

  ‘Oh he was my first love. I adored him, but life and people came between us… you know how it is when you’re young, you don’t have any say.’

  I nodded. ‘Yeah especially with mothers like ours,’ I laughed, wondering if this was part of the secret.

  ‘Love can hurt, but I hope you’ve been happy, darling?’ she suddenly said, a wave of sadness coming over her like a veil.

  ‘Yes, I wasn’t happy in my marriage but…’

  ‘But you had a good family. Our mothers always meant well, you know, Ella…’

  ‘Did they become involved?’ I said, bringing the conversation back.

  She looked at me slightly puzzled.

  ‘I mean, your boyfriend, is he the reason you went to LA?’

  She smiled and patted my hand; ‘I went to LA for lots of reasons, and yes our mothers were very “involved”,’ she said, her face tightening.

  ‘Did they stop you seeing him?’ I was eager to know the details, perhaps this love story held the answer I was looking for.

  ‘Oh apparently he wasn’t good enough for me. My mum hated him, my dad said he was “a lout”, Roberta threw him out of the café and his mother said I was a tramp. Probably as well we didn’t marry, the wedding breakfast would have been an awkward affair,’ she laughed. It was a hollow laugh, the one she used when she was trying to make light of something that upset her. It seemed she still carried the pain of this time just under the surface.

  I was trying to piece everything together, but there was still something missing. I tried to push her, ask more about it, but she’d made it clear she was closed off to any questions. I watched her now, just knowing there was something my cousin wasn’t telling me but decided to save my questions about her first love for another day, I could see in her eyes it was a painful recollection, and we directed our conversation onto happier things.

  We ate our meal together continuing to talk through ideas for the café, her excitement was infectious, and we made so many plans. Mum had warned me that she would do this and then just as it seemed I could count on her she’d abandon the whole project. Before Gina came back I might have put this down to Mum being mean or jealous, but I now realised Mum knew Gina, and said these things to help me. Mum didn’t want to see me hurt and disappointed, and forewarned was forearmed – so I chatted along enthusiastically, knowing that I could cope if she walked away. On a practical level I didn’t need Gina, I knew I would be fine and so would the café if she ever decided to leave again.

  ‘I want us to spend time together bringing our grandparents’ dream back to life – I want it more than any part I’ve ever gone for. I know we can do this, Ella,’ she was saying. And I loved hearing it. We wanted the same thing – even if it might be just for now.

  But that night I didn’t worry about the tomorrows, I drank wine and glowed in Gina’s light, her eyes sparkling as she talked an
imatedly of the future, and of bringing our past back to life. I just hoped it was the past of shared fun and ice cream and not of family secrets and hate.

  We were standing outside Gina’s hotel saying our goodbyes after the meal when I saw Cocoa, the chocolate Labrador from the beach. I looked up from the dog, who’d recognised me and was wagging her tail, expecting to see her owner Peter, but a younger man was walking her that evening and I realised it was monosyllabic Marco from the café. As they came near I bent down to say hello and Cocoa went mad, throwing herself around like a puppy, delighted to see me, so I made a big fuss.

  ‘Hi Marco, I know this dog… it’s Cocoa,’ I said, by which time I was almost straddling her as she pushed between my legs. ‘I feel I need to point out that I don’t usually accost strange dogs on the street,’ I laughed, knowing that Marco would be pretty unimpressed – it seemed to be his default position.

  ‘Whatever floats your boat,’ he said, raising an eyebrow. ‘She’s my uncle Peter’s dog.’

  ‘Where’s Peter tonight then? Is he down the pub?’ I said, feeling like a local, knowing folk by their first name.

  ‘No. He’s dead.’

  For a moment I thought Marco was just being Marco. Was he going to add ‘tired’ to the end of the sentence? But he didn’t, he just stood there, his face like stone.

  ‘Peter? Dead?’ I said, repeating him and sounding like a surprised parrot. I’ve never been very good at handling death – who is? But now I was even clumsier than normal. ‘But he was on the beach yesterday, what happened?’

  ‘He died.’

  He wasn’t making this easy – but then Marco never did.

  ‘Yes… you said, but… how.’

  ‘Heart attack.’

  ‘I’m so sorry… and he’s your uncle?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘And you’re now looking after Cocoa?’

  ‘Looks like it.’

  ‘What’s your name?’ Gina suddenly said.

  ‘Marco.’

  ‘Your surname?’

  ‘Lombardi. Do you want to know anything else?’ he grumbled.

  I sensed tension, but after a few glasses of wine I was feeling warm and kind, even towards Marco. After all he had just lost his uncle so it was understandable he’d be spikier than usual – if that was possible.

  ‘I didn’t realise you were Italian,’ I said. ‘We must arrange to meet up with you, about the café?’

  ‘It’s closing.’

  ‘No it isn’t,’ I announced. ‘We are reopening it.’

  Marco half-smiled, which was clearly a big deal. I’d met Marco a couple of times but never seen the glimmer of a smile.

  ‘Nice to see you smile,’ I said, pointedly, ‘we’ll need lots of smiles if you’re staying on at the café. We’re going to redecorate, bring in a new menu, fresh ideas… ice cream cocktails, brioche…’

  ‘I can make brioche. I’m a baker.’

  ‘Oh I didn’t realise.’

  ‘Sophia took me on when I was eighteen, paid for my day release training at college….’

  This was the most I’d ever heard him speak. And perhaps it explained why he appeared so down; he was disappointed with the way his life was turning out. He’d hoped for an exciting future using his skills, being part of something – and here he was alone in a café going nowhere. Until now.

  ‘Well I’m so glad we had this chat, why don’t I pop in tomorrow and we can have a proper chat?’

  He nodded, and there was an almost smile again.

  ‘Such a shame about your uncle,’ I sighed.

  By now Cocoa was straining at the leash, she had seen a greyhound across the road and was keen to make his acquaintance so I said goodbye to Marco and turned to say goodbye to Gina. Her happiness from only minutes before had suddenly transformed into a shivering mess.

  ‘Gina, what’s the matter?’ Had I said too much to Marco? Perhaps she didn’t want me discussing business outside a hotel in the dark, which I could understand.

  ‘I’m fine, darling, I’m just cold, it’s really chilly and I need to get to my bed. Night night,’ she kissed me on the cheek and suddenly disappeared into the hotel. I reassured myself this was perfectly natural, but she seemed odd.

  Walking back to the apartment, I tried not to dwell on Gina’s weird goodbye. Instead I just wanted to imagine the café, in pink and white, Reginaldo in matching colours, bunting rippling in the breeze, standing proudly by.

  I phoned Ben as I wandered through the winding roads and told him all my news.

  ‘I’m happy for you,’ he said, ‘you deserve this.’

  ‘And I’m happy for you, when do you go?’ I asked, my heart crumpling like tissue paper.

  ‘I’m flying out first thing.’

  ‘So soon? I thought you might be here a few more days…’ I felt the ground moving underneath me, my world was shaky without him.

  ‘There’s nothing to stay for – and I hate goodbyes.’

  ‘Oh Ben, I’ll miss you,’ I said, knowing this was the right thing for both of us – for now. ‘But if you ever come back you’ve got ice cream for life at the café.’

  ‘I’ll miss you too, babe. And don’t worry I will saunter into that café and sweep you off your feet all over again – after a hazelnut crunch of course.’

  ‘Of course,’ I laughed, my voice cracking. ‘I can’t wait, but I’m still going to work some days in the van if the weather’s good, so look for me on my beach.’

  ‘I will, and if you find yourself driving aimlessly, make it a road trip to Hawaii,’ he said. ‘I’ll be waiting on my beach with a bowl of water for Delilah and an ice cold mai tai for you.’

  I turned off my phone and walked slowly home. I couldn’t think of anywhere I’d rather be than on that beach with Ben in Hawaii but my future was here, waiting for me under a big Devon sky.

  25

  An Ovaltine Tin of Secrets and Lies

  I walked slowly back to the apartment. I wanted my eyes to dry and to be composed when I arrived home, in case Mum was up; I didn’t want her to see me upset. I hoped she’d be up because I wanted to ask her about Gina’s first love and to tell her all about the plans for her to work in the café. Mum loved the van, but I think she found it a little cramped on chilly days and would welcome the comfort of the café, where she could help out behind the counter in the warm. I didn’t want her working too hard, so would make sure we had enough staff so she could be the maître d’, welcoming people to their seats, chatting and just being the friendly face of Caprioni’s.

  ‘Coffee, Mum?’ I asked, but looking at her, I immediately sensed her mood. Dark.

  She shook her head, and I went and turned the kettle on, taking just one mug from the cupboard. She wasn’t going to ask me about the café so I thought the best thing would be to just tell her, get it out there and she could dissect, warn and post-mortem all she liked. But I wasn’t giving up on this dream.

  I poured water on my coffee and went through into the living room where she sat on the big white sofa alone. She looked so tiny and forlorn, I was taken aback, so sat down and hugged her.

  ‘Mum, I want you on this journey with me,’ I said gently. ‘I am so excited about this – and so is Gina, but she isn’t you, she won’t take your place. You’re right about her, she isn’t a hard worker,’ I said. ‘We can’t count on Gina for the hard graft… but I’m counting on you to be there for me.’

  ‘Gina was never around for the hard graft or the hard yards.’

  My heart sank, I didn’t want another anti-Gina diatribe. ‘I know what you’re saying and I agree, she’ll probably fly away, and I’m ready for that, Mum – emotionally and practically.’

  ‘I hope so, love,’ she shrugged, but thankfully didn’t add any more vitriol. She hadn’t said she wouldn’t work in the café either so I clung to this tiny flake of hope and continued. ‘We talked tonight about working the van in other areas, it’s our opportunity to spread the word – and if I’m going to be working t
he van, we’ll need you in the café.’

  I thought this would make her happy, but she seemed a bit defeated that night, like nothing mattered.

  ‘Let’s see shall we, love? I’m tired, it’s been a long day,’ she said, before kissing me on the cheek and heading upstairs.

  I knew Mum would come round eventually, but could she and Gina ever be reconciled? When I’d questioned Gina, she’d taken on the same mantra as Mum that the past should stay in the past. But there was something tickling the back of my mind. Like chocolate and chilli, the first mouthful smooth and delicious segueing into something unexpected, slightly dangerous.

  I was pondering this as I sat on the sofa cuddling Delilah in her nightie. I knew I wouldn’t sleep, I was missing Ben and still going over the conversation with Gina, so I headed for the kitchen. I thought I’d seen Ovaltine in one of the cupboards, God knows how old it was but if it wasn’t too out of date I would make myself a comforting drink.

  Aunt Sophia had always given me Ovaltine when I’d stayed with her and couldn’t sleep. I’d shared a room with Gina in their home over the café and Sophia would make me a camp bed. I’d lie there waiting for Gina to come home from dancing or a date, being scared of the David Bowie poster on the wall, a man/woman with one weird eye, the face painted in a jagged line – I thought it was a creature from space. I was always relieved when Gina arrived home in her sparkly shoes and beautiful dresses. I remembered her leaning out of the window smoking into the dark night, and then she’d tuck me in and kiss my forehead. I’d close my eyes, but the wonderful scent of perfume and alcohol mixed with woody smoke told me she was close.

  Sometimes though Gina didn’t come home and I’d wake in the night and look at the alarm clock by her bed. Once I could read the time it would worry me if it was after midnight, and I’d pad into Aunt Sophia and Uncle Reggie’s room and say I couldn’t sleep. Sophia would carry me down into the kitchen at the back of the café and take down the huge, catering size tin of Ovaltine. She’d always sing the song from the TV ad, ‘I Can’t Get over Ovaltine’. This always made me laugh and I’d join in until the hypnotic effect of the slow, soporific stirring of warm milk kicked in and my eyelids drooped.