The Heavenly Italian Ice Cream Shop

by Abby Clements

  ‘Imo,’ Anna said, sounding a little wary. ‘Are you sure?

  ‘It clearly mattered to Granny.’

  ‘I’m not sure we should interfere. And anyway, don’t you think you should focus on your own life for a while?’

  ‘No,’ Imogen said. ‘I’m quite happy for that to stay out of focus right now, thanks. If Granny V thought this guy was right for Evie, then perhaps she was right.’

  ‘You’re not going to let this one go, are you?’

  ‘Damn right I’m not.’

  Chapter 31

  On the flight back to England, Imogen felt dazed. When she got to the baggage hall, she texted Finn to let him know she was almost home. He replied excitedly, with a kiss. The small ‘x’, so easily given, brought a fresh wave of guilt.

  She caught the train to Brighton, and watched through the window as green fields gave way to the pastel-coloured Georgian houses that signalled home. She’d tell Finn that evening, she decided. She’d get straight to the point and explain what had happened with Luca out in Capri.

  When she walked into their house in Brighton, the room was rich with the aromas of cooking, Finn singing along to something on 6 Music as he chopped vegetables. ‘Hey!’ he called out, coming over to her, his eyes bright. She kissed him and held him close.

  ‘Hi, Finn,’ she said. In his arms everything felt good again.

  ‘I’ve really missed you,’ he said.

  ‘Me too,’ she said. A stab of guilt hit her between the ribs, but she forced herself to blank the feeling out.

  They sat down over dinner and Imogen told Finn about Anna’s new life and the ice cream shop. As she cleared the plates, he touched her shoulder.

  ‘Leave that for now. I’ve got a surprise for you,’ he said.

  ‘A surprise?’ she said.

  ‘Yes. Come outside with me.’

  Finn led Imogen around the side of the building and out into the garden.

  ‘Close your eyes.’ He stood behind Imogen, putting one hand around in front of her face so that she couldn’t see.

  ‘Hey!’ she said, laughing. With Finn’s strong arms around her, she felt safe, secure, even though one of her senses had been temporarily taken away from her. She felt both a thrill and relief at the temporary loss of control. Walking with him, seeing nothing but darkness and the subtle glow as the sun filtered through the gaps between his fingers, it was as if the time in Capri had never happened. As if there was nothing to think about but the two of them.

  ‘I hope this is a good surprise,’ she said. She was walking on the paving stones now; she remembered laying them the previous summer, when everything was still new. When she’d first realised that she didn’t have to keep searching for herself, her centre – that it wasn’t in the depths of a distant ocean, that she felt most at ease when she was in Finn’s arms.

  ‘It’s a good surprise, yes. I promise.’ He kissed her gently on the delicate skin of her shoulder.

  Imogen carried on walking, recognising the scents of the garden that she and Finn had planted together – the fragrant lavender bushes that teemed with bees in the summer, the small herb garden, with mint and thyme, and the rose bushes near to the shed. She could smell them now – a gift from her parents when she’d moved in with Finn. Her dad had come over to plant them. All the things around her, the pieces of her and Finn’s life – it all seemed more precious now. She had almost thrown it all away.

  The clunk of metal and the jangle of keys. ‘Hang on,’ she protested. ‘Are you putting me in the shed?’ The wooden structure could barely be called that – it was little more than a run-down shelter that housed their rake and outside broom, a few garden tools.

  ‘Just be patient,’ Finn said. She felt the atmosphere change as she stepped forward. She could tell she was inside somewhere, but it certainly didn’t feel like the dank, spider-infested shed she was used to.

  ‘Now, take a look.’ He took his hands away.

  Imogen opened her eyes to take in the scene, but she couldn’t see anything. It was pitch-black in there. She raised a hand up towards her face and could barely make out her fingers. ‘I feel like I’ve gone blind,’ she said.

  She heard a switch click and the room was cast in a low red light. It was then that she could see where she was – trays laid out in front of her, vats of chemicals, lines with tiny pegs on them.

  ‘Finn,’ she said, as she took in her surroundings. ‘A darkroom. My own darkroom.’

  In the red light he hugged her closer to him. ‘Did I do OK?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. She felt deeply moved, and horribly guilty, at once.

  ‘You’ll be able to work in your pyjamas. Or that lion onesie you’re so fond of. Whatever you want,’ he said, smiling.

  ‘I love it,’ she said.

  ‘I’m glad you like it. Lauren helped me order some things up, so you should have everything you need.’

  ‘But how did you manage all of this?’ Imogen asked.

  ‘I had a bit of help from your dad.’

  ‘But the surf school . . .’

  ‘I kind of got a taste for building work.’

  She turned to Finn, lifting a hand to touch the rough stubble on his jaw and drawing him closer to her. She kissed him, softly at first and then more deeply, taking in the salty, outdoorsy scent of him and the warmth of his skin. ‘Thank you.’

  This is what I have – and it’s good, Imogen thought. She wasn’t going to risk ruining all this. Some things were better left unsaid – and the time she’d spent with Luca on the island was one of them. She’d learned her lesson. That was what mattered.

  The next morning, Imogen was waiting for the kettle to boil. In front of her were two mugs, ready for tea, and two cinnamon bagels, freshly buttered. She was going to take Finn breakfast in bed that morning, part of a vow she’d made to herself that she’d make sure they spent more quality time together.

  She checked her phone as she stood at the counter. Her heart raced as she saw a new message in her inbox – from Luca: ‘You must be back home by now. Was it so easy for you to forget? It isn’t for me.’

  Panicking, she closed the message. She thought of Finn, still asleep in their bedroom, and felt acutely aware of what she hadn’t told him. She wanted to fix this. She needed to. But now – after she’d missed the opportunity to come clean – she wasn’t sure how to.

  Later that morning, Imogen was on her own in the house. Finn had been so delighted with the breakfast they’d shared, but it had made her feel even worse. He’d got ready for work, and kissed her, a sweet touch on her lips that still lingered with her. Then he’d left, and all she had was the nagging of her conscience.

  When Finn had left for work, Imogen had gone out to the new darkroom. She had worked slowly but determinedly, printing out the photos that she’d taken on the trip: images of gelato, trees and glistening water. She’d developed a picture of Luigi that she’d taken just before she left. When the time was right to say something to Evie, Imogen would have that to show her.

  When she had finished, she came back inside and checked her diary: tea with her mum in Kemp Town before lunch, then two photography sessions in the afternoon. Back to work. A dose of normality after the whirlwind of Italy. This was what she needed.

  She cycled into town and met her mother at her favourite teashop, a vintage hideaway in Kemp Town. They hugged hello, and the edge Imogen often felt around her mother wasn’t there. So much in her life seemed uncertain that the comfort of family was just what she needed.

  ‘Good to have you back, Imogen,’ Jan said. ‘So, tell me all about it.’

  Imogen told her about Sorrento, the people in the community, the situation with Anna and her in-laws. And about Luigi and Evie. She couldn’t resist telling that part.

  ‘Oh, how romantic,’ Jan said. ‘All these years, and he’s still thinking of her. You have to tell her.’

  ‘I will,’ Imogen said. ‘I just want to find the right time.’

  Jan’s eyes were b
right with the excitement of hearing about Luigi.

  ‘You won’t say anything, will you?’ Imogen said. ‘Please, Mum.’

  ‘No, I won’t. I promise,’ Jan said.

  ‘OK,’ Imogen said. She’d given only a carefully edited version of the story of her time in Italy, of course. There was no way she was mentioning a word about Luca. Before her mum could ask her any uncomfortable questions, she changed the subject.

  ‘Any news from the guesthouse?’

  ‘A group of Japanese tourists have almost filled it this week,’ Jan explained. ‘All except for Clarissa’s room, of course.’

  ‘So she’s still there?’

  ‘Yes. She’s becoming part of the furniture now. She seems a little happier, I think. And your uncle says there haven’t been any problems with night wanderings lately.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘She just seems to want to be there. To understand something more about the place. I agree it’s odd. But, if your uncle doesn’t mind, I don’t see the harm.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You know, the funny thing is, when your father saw her, he did a double-take. Said he couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something about her he recognised. He thought perhaps her mother might have stayed there, at the guesthouse, when he and Martin were young. But then I asked him about it, and he . . . Well, you know how he gets. Suddenly vague about the whole thing.’

  When Imogen and her mother finished tea, she cycled over to Lauren’s studio, letting herself in with the spare key her friend had given her. Lauren had left notes about the sessions Imogen would be covering that afternoon – twin girls, and a dog, Trixie.

  By four o’clock, Imogen was starting to wonder if she was losing her touch. The morning session, with unsmiling six-year-old schoolgirls, had felt like an endurance test, as she tried to coax some joy out of them. And now she had Trixie, the world’s least cheerful canine.

  ‘Throw Trixie the ball now.’ Trixie, an Old English sheep-dog, beloved by her middle-aged owner Samuel, was sitting in the middle of the studio, calmly and quietly, tilting her head only slightly at each command.

  Samuel threw the ball and Trixie’s eyes moved a fraction, following it, but there was no other movement. She was a sweet-natured dog, but a nightmare in terms of the photography session. Imogen had anticipated an easy afternoon – but this was proving anything but.

  ‘She’s not normally like this,’ Samuel said, puzzled. ‘She’s a bouncy dog normally.’

  Imogen raised a squeaky toy over her head and squeezed it to get Trixie’s attention, but again she didn’t flinch.

  ‘Here, girl,’ she said, getting down on her knees and throwing some bone-shaped dog treats towards Trixie. She lolloped towards them slowly and without enthusiasm, but Imogen snapped a few shots.

  ‘Maybe I should bring her back another day,’ Samuel said.

  There was half an hour left. Not ideal, but long enough to get something usable, she hoped. ‘Let’s give it one more try,’ she said.

  But it hadn’t worked. Imogen brought the session to a close, concerned that there wouldn’t be more than a handful of usable photos there. Lauren was not going to be happy about it, but she’d done all that she could.

  Later that evening, back in the house, with Finn still out working, Imogen realised that things weren’t going to get any better – her mind wasn’t going to get clearer – unless she took some decisive action. Luca’s email had been on her mind all day, and just the presence of it in her inbox felt like evidence, her guilty conscience returning to it again and again. She had to draw a line under the whole thing. It was the only way to start moving forward.

  She took out her phone and replied to his message:

  Luca, nothing happened between us. And nothing is ever going to happen. I’m in love with my boyfriend and I want to be with him. I was stupid enough to forget that for a few days, that’s all. Please don’t contact me again.

  Imogen

  She sent it. Then she deleted his message, and her reply. It was done, and now it could be properly forgotten.

  Chapter 32

  ‘Imo!’ Bella said, running into the living room of Anna’s apartment. ‘Imo?’ Her dark hair was dishevelled from where she’d been sleeping on it but her eyes were bright.

  Anna took her daughter into her arms for a hug. ‘I’m sorry, sweetie. Imogen’s gone. Do you remember when we said goodbye?’

  ‘Bub-bye,’ Bella parroted, her face falling a little.

  ‘I guess you’re not the only one who’s sad that your sister’s left,’ Matteo said to Anna.

  ‘It was great to see her, wasn’t it?’ Anna said, smiling at the memory of her sister’s visit.

  ‘It was. It feels kind of quiet now, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It certainly does.’

  ‘So – I guess it’s back to normal for us now,’ Matteo said.

  ‘Yes. And I want to make things better, starting today. I’m going to meet your mother later.’

  At the cocktail party Anna had seen a glimmer of hope that she and Elisa could find a new balance. And, with what Carolina had told her, she felt she owed it to the family to try to make peace.

  ‘You are?’ Matteo said.

  ‘I suggested we have coffee, just the two of us. Talk.’

  Matteo said, cautiously. ‘I appreciate that. Thank you, Anna.’

  That afternoon, Anna walked through the square and down to the summer house, holding a cake that she’d picked up at the bakery.

  ‘Anna! Come in,’ Elisa said, when they met each other at the front door.

  A few minutes later the two of them were sitting down at the kitchen table, coffee and cake between them.

  ‘I am glad you suggested meeting, Anna,’ Elisa said brightly.

  ‘I just thought – there’s been so much going on, we don’t often get the chance to talk properly, just the two of us. I want to change that.’

  ‘This is true.’

  ‘I know we’ve had some differences of opinion, about the shop, but hopefully you can see that we’ve taken on board some of the things you suggested.’

  ‘Yes – it will help you, I’m sure.’

  ‘I appreciate you trying to help.’

  ‘And I know there are some things you need to do yourself,’ Elisa said.

  Anna felt as if they were finally getting somewhere.

  ‘And, of course, you will have some big decisions to make soon,’ Elisa said. ‘I want to help you with those.’

  ‘Decisions?’ Anna said.

  Elisa pursed her lips, then continued. ‘We both want the best for Matteo, and for Bella, don’t we?’

  ‘Of course,’ Anna said.

  ‘And I think we can both see how happy they are here in Italy.’

  Anna shuffled in her seat. ‘Yes. Things seem to be working out.’

  ‘So you will want to start thinking about making the move permanent, won’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ Anna said. ‘It’s still so early, we need to see how the business goes . . .’

  ‘Follow my advice and you won’t have any problems there.’

  ‘And there’s my family to think about too, Elisa. I’m not sure I’m ready . . .’

  ‘But you don’t have a problem with keeping Matteo from his?’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Anna said, her voice forceful.

  Elisa brought her dark eyebrows together in a frown. ‘Well, that’s what it looks like.’

  ‘You have Carolina here—’

  ‘And look at her, Anna – she devotes herself completely to her husband. She is not afraid to make compromises for him, for the good of the family. For me it has always been the same. Why is it that you think so differently?’

  Anna thought of her conversation with Carolina, how little Elisa knew of what was happening to the family she professed to care about so much.

  ‘You’re not being fair,’ Anna said.

  ‘My son’s happiness matters to m
e,’ Elisa said. ‘It should matter to you, too.’

  That evening, Anna and Matteo were sitting on the balcony eating by candlelight. People dined and walked in the square below, a buzz of chatter rising up to them.

  ‘So, I went to see your mother today,’ Anna said, trying to steady her nerves.

  ‘How did it go?’ he said, tentatively.

  ‘Not as well as I’d hoped.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I thought at first we were getting somewhere – but then she started pushing. Trying to get me to commit to us living out here in the long term.’

  ‘Oh dear. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Have you spoken with her about that?’

  Matteo frowned. ‘I’ve told her I’m happy to be back. Beyond that, nothing.’

  ‘That was clearly enough for her to think I’m stopping you from living the way you want to.’

  ‘She thinks she’s helping,’ he said.

  ‘Well, she’s not – at all,’ Anna said firmly. ‘Where we live is a huge decision. It’s not down to her.’

  Matteo looked wounded. ‘And you think I don’t know that?’ he said. ‘I’m not a child, Anna.’

  ‘I feel like whenever she says something you just go along with her.’

  ‘I’m just trying to keep the peace. You make it sound so easy – that we should just do what we want. Well, it isn’t that straightforward. I can’t just ignore her wishes. She’s family.’

  ‘Aren’t we your family now? Me and Bella?’

  Matteo’s expression hardened. ‘You want me to turn my back on my mother, my parents?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Anna said, frustrated with the turn the conversation was taking. ‘That isn’t what I meant at all.’

  ‘I want you to be happy, Anna, I really do. But I’m stuck in the middle here.’

  ‘You don’t seem stuck in the middle to me at all,’ Anna said. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘I feel like you’re on her side,’ Anna said, her emotion spilling over into her voice.

  ‘There aren’t sides,’ Matteo said, shaking his head. ‘That’s not how it is at all.’

  That night in bed, Anna wanted to curl in closer to Matteo, to feel the safety of his warm body against hers. But, when she did, he barely responded. She felt she’d broken something in him, by forcing him to choose. And perhaps she’d broken something inside herself, too.