The Heavenly Italian Ice Cream Shop

by Abby Clements

  ‘You did?’ Imogen said, Clarissa’s face flashing back into her mind for a second. ‘How was she?’

  ‘Like you described. Distant, a bit sad. Martin said he found her in the living room the other night, at midnight, so I thought I should say something.’

  ‘You were subtle, right, Mum?’

  ‘Of course I was, Imogen. I asked her about Vivien, the connection. She said her mother had known Vivien, back when she was a teenager. That she’d gone into the shop then, from time to time. That Vivien had been kind to her, when she’d needed it most. And that her mother had been to the house before. That the place meant something to her.’

  ‘Really? She didn’t mention that before. Did she say anything else?’

  ‘No, that was it, really. Just that. Then she seemed to shut down.’

  ‘Right. And she seemed OK, in herself?’

  ‘Yes. Just as you’d expect, after what happened with losing her stepfather. She and Martin seemed to be getting on well, and she’s been taking Hepburn out for walks. I think that’s something she enjoys.’

  Imogen smiled as she thought. Hepburn did seem to have an innate capacity to cheer people up.

  ‘Well, thanks for checking in,’ Imogen said. ‘Is Dad around? Can I say hello?’

  ‘I’ll just get him.’

  Imogen talked to her dad for a while, filling him in on the trip, and then ended the call to go inside and help Anna get dinner ready. It sounded as if Bella was probably asleep by now.

  As she put her phone on the side, she saw a new Facebook notification. She clicked on it, instinctively, to see a new message in her inbox. A face she remembered that conjured up memories of a different time: ‘Imogen, I’ve just seen you’re in Sorrento. That’s crazy. Come and see me. I’m in Capri.’

  Blood rushed to her cheeks. It was from Luca.

  Chapter 26

  Anna was down in the ice cream shop as soon as the sun was up, her apron on, making fresh batches of lemon sorbet and truffle ice cream for the day. With the shop still in its infancy, she and Matteo needed to do everything they could to get it off to the best start, even if that meant missing out on a morning with Imogen. Thankfully, her sister had seemed happy enough at the prospect of doing some more exploring on her own.

  Matteo came in to join her, with Bella in his arms. ‘Morning,’ he said. They kissed.

  ‘Ah, you’re still making the sorbet that way?’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ Anna replied. ‘That’s how I’ve always made it.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Oh?’ Anna said, bristling a little. ‘Is it a problem?’

  ‘It’s just . . . Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘We said we’d introduce some of your family recipes,’ Anna said. ‘I’m fine with that. But I never said we’d phase the other things out.’

  ‘Sure. Yes, you’re right. But the lemon – it’s something that matters a lot to Mamma, that we try that one the Italian way.’

  ‘You want me to start again?’ Anna asked, wide-eyed.

  ‘No, sorry, it’s fine.’

  ‘OK,’ Anna said, relieved.

  Bella dipped a finger into a small pot of the truffle, and licked it, giggling happily.

  ‘But perhaps next time?’ Matteo said. ‘Could we try it my parents’ way next time?’

  It was sorbet, Anna told herself. That was all. It really wasn’t worth falling out over. And yet, every time she gave in to the demands coming from Matteo’s side of the family, she felt as if she were growing smaller. She wondered if, like a tiny Alice in Wonderland, she’d keep taking in those family recipes until they found her, just a tiny figure, flailing in a vat of Elisa’s famous granita.

  It was a welcome relief when, later that afternoon, Imogen returned to the shop.

  ‘Good day?’ Anna asked.

  ‘Yes, great, thanks.’ Anna noted how distracted her sister seemed, though, as if part of her were somewhere else. She’d been like that ever since she’d arrived.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ Imogen said. ‘You want to smooth things over with Elisa, right? And I’m only here for a short while too. Why don’t we have a cocktail night here at the shop? Just a few friends.’

  ‘A party?’ Anna said, lighting up at the idea.

  ‘Yes, cocktails, some canapés,’ said Imogen. ‘Maybe you could invite Luigi and a few of the locals?’ she added, as nonchalantly as she could. Anna had mentioned he was due back soon, and she wasn’t going to miss the chance to meet him. ‘A celebration. And – a sign to Elisa that you want to include her, even if you don’t want to agree to everything she wants you to do. Plus, to celebrate me, of course.’

  ‘Sounds good.’ Anna said.

  ‘I’m leaving at the weekend, which gives us precisely . . .’ – Imogen counted on her fingers – ‘three days to get ready – invites, recipes, ingredients. Easy.’

  ‘OK, I’ll talk to Matteo. But I’m sure he’ll say yes – he’s always loved a party. I think it’s a great idea.’

  Cocktail menu

  Sorrento nights – Italian brandy, cinnamon ice cream

  Amalfi sea breeze – Limoncello, Prosecco and lime sorbet

  The Capri – Grand Marnier liqueur, orange juice

  and chocolate orange ice cream

  That week, Anna and Imogen worked together to prepare for the party, and on Friday evening the ice cream shop was aglow with nightlights and coloured lanterns. Matteo and Anna were behind the counter making up cocktails and Imogen was ferrying drinks back and forth, chatting brightly in English and using the few Italian words that she knew liberally and loudly.

  Elisa had come with Carolina, the two of them smartly dressed and chatting easily to the other Italians. Carolina’s short hair was slicked back with a red flower pinned in it.

  ‘Thanks for suggesting this, Imogen,’ Anna said, putting her arm around her sister’s slim shoulders and bringing her close. ‘I guess baby steps is the best way of improving things with Matteo’s mum.’

  ‘Look at her: she’s having a great time,’ Imogen said, pointing to Elisa, who was deep in conversation with one of the locals.

  ‘Maybe you’re right,’ Anna said, her heart lifting. ‘Oh look,’ she said, excitedly. ‘There’s Luigi. Let me introduce you.’

  Imogen’s heart raced as she looked over to where Luigi was standing. He had his back to them, and was talking to a woman in her fifties.

  ‘Luigi!’ Anna called out.

  He turned, and Imogen’s breath caught. His eyes, hair – a little older, perhaps but he looked just like the man in the photo she’d seen with her grandmother’s things.

  Anna led her sister over to him. ‘Imogen, Luigi. Maria, Imogen,’ Anna said, hurriedly. ‘Not great at this being-a-hostess business,’ she added, with a laugh. Carolina caught her by the arm and led her away. ‘I’ll leave you to get to know each other,’ she said apologetically.

  ‘Imogen, hello!’ Luigi greeted her cheerily. ‘Anna has told me all about you.’

  ‘She has?’ Imogen said, feeling numb.

  ‘Good things, all good things.’

  ‘I know that both of you have made her feel very welcome,’ Imogen said.

  ‘Well, as we Espositos always say, you should treat every stranger as a potential friend.’

  ‘Sorry?’ Imogen said. The name Luigi had said, and its significance, struck her right in the chest – the only confirmation she needed. L. Esposito – the name on the map, and almost certainly the man who’d written to her grandmother. The man her grandmother had been trying to track down. The letter. It hit Imogen with a force that almost made her choke.

  ‘In my family, we always say . . .’ Luigi started again.

  This is him. Imogen made an excuse and left, running out of the shop, into the open air. She breathed in, filling her lungs, but the sensation of deep shock and disbelief stayed with her.

  At one in the morning, the party drew to a close and the guests emptied out into the square. Anna looked around for her sister
, but couldn’t see Imogen anywhere. She’d been so busy talking with the guests that she had left Imogen to find her own way mingling at the party, hadn’t thought to check up on her until now.

  ‘Have you seen Imogen?’ Anna asked Matteo, as he tidied behind the bar.

  ‘I think she might have gone upstairs,’ he said. ‘Although that was a little while ago.’

  Anna went upstairs. The buzz of the party was still with her – but it was mixed now with concern about her sister. She found Imogen upstairs in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the bath. She looked pale and shaken.

  ‘You OK, Imo? What happened?’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ she said.

  ‘It can’t be nothing,’ Anna perched beside her. ‘One minute you’re the life and soul of the party down there, the next you’ve disappeared. What happened?’

  Imogen bit her lip to stop it trembling. ‘You know when you think you know someone, and then you find something out that makes you challenge all of that?’

  ‘Finn?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. Granny, actually.’

  Anna raised her eyebrows, surprised.

  Imogen told Anna about the letter she’d found, and how she’d tried to talk to Luigi earlier at the party.

  ‘But . . .’ Anna looked as puzzled as Imogen felt. ‘Luigi?’ She was piecing together the scraps of information, the things that Luigi had told her about his past in their chats together. It had never crossed her mind that he could have been involved with someone she knew – someone so close to her.

  ‘Yes. And the thing is, I don’t even know what happened. But from his letter . . . Well, I’ll show you.’ Imogen got the letter from her bag and brought it over to her sister.

  ‘Wow,’ Anna said softly.

  ‘You can tell that he cared about her, can’t you? There’s real passion there. And for her to get in touch with him again, well, that means something, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I can’t believe this,’ Anna said. ‘It’s crazy. But, at the same time, I guess it makes sense. There’s a reason Matteo and I came here, rather than anywhere else in Italy that we could have chosen to settle. And that’s because Granny always spoke about it. She must have had a connection with this place that was stronger than we imagined.’

  ‘I wish I hadn’t ever started looking into it,’ Imogen said, tears welling up in her eyes.

  ‘Too late for that,’ Anna said. ‘But we’re not having you leave with things like this. When you get back from Capri we’re going to go around to Luigi’s and find out what really happened.’

  Chapter 27

  Imogen boarded the boat to Capri in the early morning, the air crisp and fresh, before the heat of the day started to build. She didn’t know if she was doing the right thing. She was leaving Sorrento with things unfinished, and Luca’s message still fresh in her mind.

  But the island jewel that had been glinting at her since the moment she’d arrived had become irresistible. Capri was growing closer as the boat travelled through the water, the hill rising out of the water, bright with bougainvillea. One of the most beautiful places on earth – everyone wanted to visit Capri. She’d be mad to let the small fact of her ex-boyfriend being there put her off. Even Finn would understand that.

  When the boat docked, she made her way to her hotel. A short walk away, up a winding road, was a little white house with flowers round the door – her room was simple but just right for a night of peace. As she stepped out onto the roof terrace the place came alive – a stunning view out over the sea, and pot plants bright with pink blooms. Imogen sat for a moment, breathed the clean fresh air and felt grateful for the chance she had to see the beautiful place she was in now. After a rest, she freshened up, put on a white strappy dress and wound her hair into a loose plait, slipped into her flip-flops and went out to explore the island.

  Taking only her camera, she walked through the town, with its chic boutiques and upmarket restaurants, until she reached a quieter part of the island, with small houses. She kept walking, snapping photos as she went of the vivid pink flowers and the birds that had come to rest on the rocks and cliffs. Zooming in, she captured every colourful feather, the sparkling blue water of the sea behind. Away from the bustle of Sorrento, and the loose threads of her grandmother’s story, a clarity had come to her. As she photographed the things she loved most, the natural world that calmed her, she felt her spirit return.

  She turned a corner and reached a small fountain. She paused for a moment, sat down and looked back over the pictures she had taken. They may not be the pink dolphins of the Amazon, but there was something here, she thought.

  She felt a hand on her arm. Startled, she looked up, and into the eyes of a man she knew well, but hadn’t seen for years. His tanned skin was the same, those dark, piercing eyes.

  ‘Luca,’ she said, softly.

  ‘I had a feeling I might find you out here,’ he said, smiling.

  ‘Hi – I’m sorry, I got your message, I just . . .’ she started.

  ‘It’s cool. I understand.’

  ‘I wanted to take some photos first of all. It’s so beautiful here.’

  ‘Isn’t it? No filters necessary,’ he laughed.

  Imogen remembered the last night she’d spent with him – over four years ago. The two of them had gone night swimming together out in Koh Tao, feeling in that moment that the island was their own. She still had the shark’s-tooth necklace he’d given her. Even after the way things ended she hadn’t got rid of it. That time – for some reason she hadn’t wanted to let go of it altogether.

  ‘What brought you here?’ she asked.

  ‘Family,’ Luca said. ‘I’m staying with my aunt and uncle for the summer, working in a bar. You’re here with your sister, right? I saw the photo.’

  ‘Yes,’ Imogen said. ‘I mean . . . But she’s still in Sorrento.’ She pointed towards the town on the mainland. ‘I’m just here for the night.’

  ‘On your own?’ he asked. He glanced down at her hand, and Imogen was suddenly conscious of her bare ring finger.

  The question hung in the air for a moment. Luca didn’t have to know everything about her right away, she reasoned. She would tell him about Finn in her own time.

  ‘Looks like it, doesn’t it?’

  Imogen walked with Luca through the winding cobbled streets. She remembered the promise she’d made to Finn to call, and felt a pang of guilt. She’d ring him later.

  ‘I’m sorry, you know,’ Luca said. ‘About what happened.’

  Imogen remembered how it had stung. When she’d told Luca that she’d have to stay in England longer than planned, to help Anna start up the ice cream shop, he’d been understandably hurt. They’d made no firm decisions about their future together – at least that was what Imogen had thought, until she saw photos online of Luca with her best friend on the island, Santiana.

  ‘Santiana . . .’ he said, looking flustered. ‘It was a rebound thing. I felt like you’d made your decision to leave me, and I guess it was my way of saving face.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ Imogen said, reminded of how much time had passed, how different things were for them both now. ‘I know that I didn’t offer you much incentive to stay with me, not knowing when or where you might see me again. I mean, yes, I was furious at the time – I’m not going to lie. But I don’t see the point of overthinking it now.’

  ‘Good,’ he said, looking relieved. ‘It didn’t even last the summer, you know. I was looking for another you, and she was never going to be you.’

  Imogen felt her skin grow hot. This was definitely edging into not-OK territory. No, she was forced to acknowledge it: this had landed them right in the middle of not-OK territory. It was time to be honest.

  She opened her mouth to confess.

  ‘You don’t have to say anything,’ Luca said quietly, calmly. ‘I’m just telling you what I felt, because maybe I wasn’t open enough back then.’

  ‘You . . . Luca. Look . . .’ Imogen ran a hand through her hair
. ‘I should have said this earlier.’

  ‘You’re with someone,’ he said.

  She looked up at him, disconcerted. ‘You knew?’

  He shrugged. ‘Something about you is different.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I should’ve been honest.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry,’ he said. ‘You don’t owe me anything, Imogen. You didn’t then – and you don’t now.’

  She let his words sink in. ‘I suppose it’s best if I go,’ she said.

  But there was something keeping her there, drawing her towards Luca. A sense that here, in Capri, in his company, she could be that young, carefree woman she had been when she’d first met him.

  ‘It’s up to you,’ he said. ‘But, for what it’s worth, I’d like you to stay.’

  Everything about the scene was perfect: the clear blue water, glittering as the last glimmers of light hit it, the chilled Prosecco in long-stemmed glasses, the warmth of the evening, which meant Imogen could sit there on the elegant cliff-top terrace in just her light summer dress. Everything, that was, apart from her being there with the wrong man. Finn was back in Brighton, and here she was with her ex.

  ‘Do you think they bought it?’ Imogen said, as Luca hung up the phone.

  He shrugged. ‘I’ve never called in sick before, so I’m pretty sure they believed me. If I can’t have a night off every once in a while, when it’s as beautiful an evening as this – and I’ve just met someone I haven’t seen for years – then I may as well not be here.’

  Imogen had wrestled with the decision of whether to leave Luca and continue exploring the island on her own, but in the end she’d opted to stay with him. There was no reason not to see him, she thought. He was a friend, nothing more, and, now that he knew the truth about her and Finn, she didn’t have to feel she was hiding anything from him. He’d told her stories about Capri as they’d walked through the cobbled streets.

  ‘Do you think you’ll stay here?’ Imogen asked him.

  He shook his head. ‘Another month, maybe two, then I’m going back to San Francisco.’