The Heavenly Italian Ice Cream Shop

by Abby Clements

  Bella flung the rusk down onto the floor and started banging her hands on the high chair, shouting gleefully.

  ‘We’d better get ready,’ said Anna. ‘We’ve only got twenty minutes.’

  She lifted Bella out of her chair and tried to persuade her fidgeting feet into a pair of shoes.

  ‘I’ll call Carolina and get the recipe,’ Matteo said, getting his phone.

  ‘What recipe?’ Anna said, distracted by the Velcro on Bella’s shoes.

  ‘The cannoli,’ Matteo reminded her.

  ‘Oh, yes. Right. Good idea,’ Anna said.

  Matteo’s sister-in-law, Carolina, kept the book of Bonomi family recipes with her at home in Siena. ‘How is Caro, by the way?’

  ‘Good,’ Matteo said. ‘She and Filippo have just had a swimming pool installed, Mum said. Apparently, sales at Filippo’s company have been the highest ever this year.’

  ‘Wow!’ Anna said. ‘Impressive.’

  Anna’s gaze drifted to the framed photo of Matteo’s family on their kitchen wall. All of the family, bar Matteo, lived in Siena, where their family business, a large ice cream shop, was located. Long-established, it drew customers from all over the country.

  Carolina, a chic Italian woman in her mid-thirties with waist-length black hair, was standing next to her brother, with their parents – Elisa and Giacomo – just behind. Carolina and Matteo were close, just a couple of years apart, and had spent a lot of time together when they were growing up in Italy. They were both tall, with the same dark brows and deep-set eyes. Elisa was a little shorter than her children, her hair dyed a deep red-brown and her face heavily made up. Anna had tried so hard to get on with her demanding mother-in-law – she really had. But she’d gradually accepted that their relationship would be healthiest if kept to small doses.

  Matteo’s father, Giacomo, was tall and grey-haired, a hardworking man who generally kept quiet while the rest of the family chatted animatedly over the latest drama.

  Next to Carolina was her husband Filippo, a self-made millionaire in the olive-oil business, a charismatic man who tended to dominate the room. Carolina seemed to hold her own in the marriage, but Anna had wondered recently if her confidence had dipped since she gave up her job to concentrate on running the household.

  ‘At least someone’s going to be able to keep our parents in their old age,’ Matteo said, with a wry smile. ‘We’ve got a minute, right?’ he said, scrolling down on his phone.

  ‘Not really—’ Anna started.

  ‘Caro!’ He began chatting in rapid-fire Italian.

  Anna raised an eyebrow and pointed at the clock.

  ‘One minute,’ he mouthed back.

  Anna looked at Bella – her face still covered in biscuit crumbs, one shoe on. She needed to be dropped at Imogen’s before they opened the shop, and time was rushing by.

  ‘Sí, sí . . .’ Matteo said, cheerfully, going through into the living room to talk to his sister.

  Anna was tempted to insist that they go, but stopped herself. She got to talk to her family almost every day – while Matteo’s were in another country. His moments catching up with them were precious, and she and Bella could go ahead of him if need be.

  ‘Now, Bella,’ Anna said, half to herself, looking around the room. ‘If we ever make it out, we’ll need your coat. It’s tipping it down out there.’

  ‘There!’ Bella said, pointing to the back of the door.

  Anna smiled in surprise at the reply.

  There it was, Bella’s tiny yellow anorak hung just where it should be, on the coat hook. At least one person in the family was on top of things.

  Vivien’s winter specials:

  Warm waffles with praline and whipped cream

  Spanish churros with thick hot chocolate

  A selection of crêpes with indulgent ice cream

  ‘Two chocolate-ice-cream-and-hazelnut crêpes,’ Matteo told Anna as he passed the freshly made dishes to her that afternoon. ‘Extra hot chocolate sauce.’ Anna carried the laden plates across the ice cream shop to the waiting customers.

  ‘Fantastic!’ A young woman and her friend took the crêpes gratefully. ‘Just what we need on a day like this.’

  Brighton was still wet and blustery, but Vivien’s Heavenly Ice Cream Shop, under the arches, was a haven, sheltered from the chill south-coast wind and rain. The pale-pink-and-pistachio interior, large mirrors and retro 1950s bar stools and booths had all been put in by Imogen and Anna when they’d first started the shop, giving it a vibrant, vintage look. In the summer months, the pistachio-and-chrome counter had customers crowded around it.

  The past year, as autumn came and the nights drew in, Anna and Matteo had decided to make a few seasonal changes. Anna had warmed up the interior of the shop, hanging hand-sewn drapes at the window and putting fairy lights along the walls, scattering cushions in the booths and lining the bookshelves with paperbacks and board games. Locals had continued to come during the usually quiet winter months, and the changes had attracted new customers to the family-run shop. In her three years of running the shop, first with her sister and now with Matteo, Anna had learned that she could never stand still. Innovating and adapting – adding new recipes to the classic ones on their menu – was what kept the café full, and meant people were always talking about it.

  Anna glanced back towards the counter, watching Matteo get plates ready, taking his time over the presentation, frowning slightly in concentration as he swirled on the chocolate fudge sauce. When Matteo had arrived in England, insisting that he was still thinking of her after their time together in Florence, and that he was willing to move to England to be with her, Anna knew she was taking a risk. But it had paid off. As much as she loved Imogen, working together in the early days, after they’d inherited their grandmother’s rundown shop, had pushed their relationship to breaking point – they’d navigated past near-bankruptcy and bad reviews, finally emerging with a strong business, but both slightly frayed.

  Imogen’s ambitions had always been elsewhere – and when she left to go travelling with her boyfriend Finn, committed to building up her portfolio of nature photos, it had seemed a natural progression, and in some ways a relief for them both, when Anna took the lead. Now Anna and Matteo – with their shared passion for creating gelato and sorbets with the most enticing textures and indulgent flavours – ran the shop together, and, aside from the occasional good-natured complaint about the weather, Matteo seemed happy with all aspects of his new home.

  With a brief burst of cold air, Imogen entered the shop. ‘Hey, sis,’ she called out cheerily. Her light-brown hair was swept up in a turquoise hat, a few strands escaping. Even in her duffel coat there was an air of summer about her, her skin tanned and freckles bridging her nose. Bella was toddling along by her side, wearing a red bobble hat and mittens.

  ‘Two of my favourite people,’ Anna said, smiling, lighting up.

  ‘Mamma!’ Bella called out. Anna brought her daughter up into her arms and hugged her tight, kissing her cool cheek. ‘Hey Bella. Have you been good for your Auntie Imogen?’

  Bella opened her clenched fist and showed her mother the pink and grey swirled shells clutched inside.

  ‘We were doing a little beachcombing,’ Imogen explained. She took a seat on a bar stool at the shop counter. ‘Walked up to the pier and back, and found these down on the shore.’

  ‘They’re beautiful,’ Anna said, admiring them. ‘We’ll put them up in the bathroom so you can look at them when you’re splashing around.’

  Bella looked at her and nodded as if she understood. ‘Papà!’ Bella shouted, before running off in the direction of the kitchen in search of Matteo.

  ‘She’s the only person I know who’s got as much energy as you,’ Anna said to her sister. ‘Thanks for taking her out this morning.’

  ‘No worries.’ Imogen took a seat at the counter. ‘Mum’s going to pop by in a minute to take over. Mine’s a waffle, with plenty of whipped cream, by the way.’ There was a glint
in her eye. ‘Good childcare doesn’t come cheap, you know, Anna.’

  ‘I guess you have earned it.’

  Anna went through to the kitchen, where Matteo was holding Bella up in the air, blowing a raspberry on her tummy. ‘Could you manage a waffle with cream for Imogen?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said, putting his daughter down.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Hey,’ he said, as she turned to leave. He pulled her in towards him gently, and kissed her. She took in the sweet cinnamon smell of him, and the freshly cooked crêpes, the two aromas merging.

  ‘We should do this more often,’ she said softly. She pulled away reluctantly.

  ‘We should,’ Matteo said. ‘I miss it. If it wasn’t for the customers—’

  ‘Mamma!’ Bella tugged at her legs.

  ‘Bella . . .’ Anna said, scooping her daughter up into her arms.

  ‘Anna!’ Imogen’s voice carried through from the café. ‘Hurry up, I’m starving out here.’

  ‘And a few other things,’ Matteo said, laughing.

  ‘We’ll make time soon,’ Anna said, touching Matteo’s face affectionately.

  When Anna came back over to where her sister was sitting, she saw that their mum, Jan, had joined them.

  ‘Hi, Mum,’ Anna said, giving her a hug. Jan kissed Bella and brought her up onto her hip.

  ‘How’s my favourite grandchild?’ Jan asked.

  ‘Good,’ Anna said. ‘She’s had a great morning out with Imogen by the beach. Plenty of fresh air.’

  Bella gurgled contentedly.

  ‘I’ll take her over to the guesthouse this afternoon,’ Jan said. ‘Your dad’s up there in the garden at the moment and I know he’s longing to see her.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum,’ Anna said. ‘How’s everything going over there?’

  ‘Good, I think,’ Jan said. ‘A little slow, for my liking, but your uncle Martin has done so well with converting the bedrooms.’

  In recent months, the whole family had had another project to focus on – Anna and Imogen’s uncle Martin was busy converting Vivien’s Victorian home into a seaside guesthouse, due to open in the early spring. Their dad and mum were helping out, although their dad still seemed a little hesitant about it all. While he’d been a tearaway in his youth, motorcycling through Asia and embarking on artistic projects, as he’d got older, and with the death of his parents, change had become more difficult for him.

  ‘Has Dad been very involved?’ Imogen asked.

  ‘Not really,’ Jan said. ‘But you know how it is. He’ll get there.’

  When Vivien died, they’d all been deeply affected. Tom had always been close to his mother, seeing her regularly, and talking to her whenever he could – and it was he who felt her sudden loss most keenly. He’d needed the space to mourn her in peace, but, instead, he was being pressured to make difficult decisions about her estate. Martin’s ex-wife Françoise, a headstrong woman with little time for the inconvenience of emotions, had put them all through additional stress that summer. She’d insisted that Martin sell the family home in Elderberry Avenue in Hove swiftly, driving a wedge between Martin and Tom – and then she’d done everything in her power to undermine Anna and Imogen’s takeover of the ice cream shop. She had had her own designs on Vivien’s legacy, and her attempts to grasp more of the inheritance for her and Martin had caused Tom to internalise his grief.

  Increasingly estranged from his brother, and being forced into making decisions he disagreed with, Imogen and Anna’s father had sunk into depression. Jan, accustomed to his being her rock, struggled to adjust to the new situation, and felt unable to support him. Imogen had discovered him at his lowest ebb, locked in his garden studio, having broken some of his treasured sculptures in a moment of deeply felt frustration and grief. She’d spoken to him through the locked door, and in time, they saw the glimmers of a fragile recovery.

  Small things had helped – they’d scattered Vivien’s ashes in the sea, so they all had a place to think of her now. Each of them found time to spend a moment alone in quiet contemplation by the stretch of sea that Vivien had chosen as her final resting place. By the end of the summer, as Finn and Imogen had left for Thailand, Tom and Jan had found their way back together, with a different balance to their relationship. With her daughters’ guidance, Jan had started to understand that she was capable of being there for her husband, and she’d been instrumental in getting Tom onto the right treatment. When Martin realised the full extent of his wife’s destructive behaviour, he took the decision to break up with her, get divorced and come home to England. He had wanted to live in Elderberry Avenue, but not alone; the idea for the guesthouse then came about.

  Now, with Tom stronger in himself, the family’s hope was that the ice cream shop and the guesthouse would provide a lasting legacy that he could look to whenever he missed his mother. Already, Tom and Martin had regained the friendship as brothers that they’d once had, before things went wrong.

  Matteo brought Imogen over her waffle, and kissed Jan hello. ‘Tea?’ he asked her.

  ‘Thanks, but no. I won’t stay long,’ Jan said.

  ‘Great, I’ve been dreaming about one of these,’ Imogen said, taking a forkful of the dessert.

  ‘Really?’ Anna said. ‘You were out in Zanzibar and you were thinking about waffles?’

  ‘OK, not the whole time.’ Her sister laughed. She’d got back from the work trip two days earlier, and her mind was still partly there, in the heat and vivid colour. ‘God, it was beautiful out there. The plants, the animals . . . Incredible. I was up at dawn getting as many shots as I could.’

  ‘Up at dawn? You?’ Jan said, incredulous.

  ‘Yes, I was, Mum – actually.’ Imogen rolled her eyes good-naturedly. Her mother still had the power to wind her up like no one else around, but in general things between them had eased a lot since Imogen settled back in Brighton. But even with Tom’s backing of his younger daughter’s career, Jan had her reservations about it.

  Imogen went on. ‘I got most of the shots the travel company wanted in the first couple of days, so I was able to use the rest of the time to build up my portfolio.’

  ‘What’s next, then?’ Jan asked.

  ‘Do you remember I mentioned the Brazilian project, the woman who spent years studying a colony of pink dolphins and is now publishing a book about it?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Anna said. ‘That sounded wonderful.’

  ‘Well, of course it does. Who doesn’t like an exotic holiday?’ Jan said. ‘But really—’

  ‘Come on, Mum.’ Anna nudged her.

  Imogen studiously ignored her mother’s comment. ‘Well, I spoke with Sally, the author, and she seems to think it’s almost certain that I’ll get to go on the final research trip with her – we’re just waiting on the final details,’ Imogen said. ‘I’m going to swing by Lauren’s studio now and develop some of the Zanzibar photos in her darkroom. I’m meeting with Sally again in a couple of weeks and I want to be able to show her some prints.’

  ‘The way things are going you’ll need your own darkroom soon,’ Anna said.

  ‘Hopefully. Money’s still a bit erratic for that.’

  ‘Well, if you would listen—’ Jan started.

  ‘Mum, didn’t you say you needed to be getting back to the guesthouse?’ Imogen said.

  ‘Grandpa!’ Bella called out gleefully.

  ‘Oh, right, yes,’ Jan said, checking the time. ‘I did tell Tom I wouldn’t be long. I’ll see you ladies later.’ She kissed them both goodbye. ‘I’ll drop her back at six,’ she told Anna.

  When Jan and Bella had left the café, Imogen resumed her story.

  ‘God, she’s never going to believe I’ve got a proper job, is she?’ she said to Anna, laughing. ‘Anyway, as I was saying . . . Lauren’s been great about letting me use the stuff at her studio.’

  ‘Listen, before you disappear off again, to Lauren’s, or wherever else is next on your agenda, how do you and Finn fancy coming around for dinner on Sunda
y night?’ Anna asked.

  ‘So we can whisper over glasses of wine in your front room, trying not to wake Bella up?’ Imogen said, raising an eyebrow. ‘On Valentine’s Day?’

  Anna bit her lip. ‘Ha! Oops! I completely forgot . . . Well, I totally understand if you two have something more romantic to do.’

  ‘Of course we don’t,’ Imogen said. ‘It’d be fun to hang out with you. Seven thirty?’

  ‘Perfect. It’s a date,’ Anna said.

  Matteo passed Anna, carrying a plate, smiling hello to Imogen and pointing out of the window at a crowd of tourists approaching the shop. ‘It looks like it’s about to get busy,’ he said.

  ‘He’s right,’ she said to her sister. ‘I’d better get back to work.’

  ‘And there you were, worrying about a quiet winter season.’

  ‘I know. It’s been the opposite, thankfully,’ Anna said. ‘Our only issue is keeping up.’ Anna took a second to retie her chestnut hair in a ponytail. ‘Does that look OK?’

  Imogen smiled. ‘Yes. Just one thing.’ She reached up and wiped a finger by Anna’s mouth. ‘Chocolate sauce.’

  ‘Ha! Thanks. No idea how long I had that there.’ Anna laughed. ‘New recipe. I was quality-control testing with Matteo this morning.’

  ‘At times like this, I almost miss working here,’ Imogen said.

  Chapter 2

  In the dim red light of Lauren’s darkroom, Imogen stood back to look at her freshly developed photos from Zanzibar. For now, she had to imagine the colours – she could still recall the lushest greens and brightest citrus tones – but, from what she could see, they had turned out really well.

  Getting away had re-energised her, as it always did, bringing inspiration and igniting her adventurous spirit. And now, back in England, the flowers and animals she’d seen were coming to life again.

  She rarely missed Finn when she went away, or when she did it was only fleetingly – her trips were so short, and she kept herself so busy that she barely had time to. But, when she’d come back to find him waiting for her in the arrivals hall at Gatwick, her heart had lifted. Kissing him, chatting on the way home in the car, and catching up on what they had both been up to, she’d felt a piece of her slip back into place. Her phone buzzed with a new message.