Ice Dreams

by Grace Wells

  ‘We only need ten things,’ Mama smiled. ‘It might just work.’

  Beside her Alex thought about the things on Mama’s list. Eggs and cream and flavouring would be easy enough, but Papa was right, they didn’t have sugar. Nor did they have quite the right machines yet. There certainly had no way to transport frozen ice cream even if they had any packaging to put it in. At the moment all the ice-workers were still in bed; it might take more than goodwill to get them up again. Alex hung his legs over the edge of the dock and swung them thoughtfully. He decided they were going to need an awfully large amount of luck.

  For a while nobody said anything as they each thought about how difficult it might actually be to make an ice-cream factory. Perhaps Papa was right; perhaps it was impossible.

  ‘It’s very quiet without the fish-boat,’ Alex said at last. ‘This time of day used to be a circus.’

  It was true. The afternoon seemed very silent, the harbour empty except for a black cat that came and rubbed its face against Nina’s legs.

  ‘No fish today, Puss,’ Nina said, and the cat yowled hungrily.

  ‘Poor cat,’ Mama said.

  ‘The cat will be fine,’ Alex said. ‘Someone will feed him. It’s the seagulls I’m worried about. They used to come here every day and the men threw scraps from the fish-boat. I haven’t seen a seagull for days.’

  At once Mama and Nina scanned the harbour. They looked up into the wide blue sky and out over the silver sea. Alex was right; there wasn’t a bird to be seen.

  ‘Where have they all gone, Mama?’ Nina asked sadly.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Mama said, trying to sound more cheerful than she felt. ‘They’re seagulls; they hunt for their own food.’

  ‘But what if they had nests somewhere with babies in them? Maybe they depended on the ice-boat just like us?’ Nina questioned worriedly.

  Mama tried to soothe her, ‘It’s not the right season for baby birds. I’m sure the seagulls will be safe. They’ve probably flown off to some other port full of boats and nets and fish-heads being thrown overboard.’

  ‘But Grandfather says progress got rid of all the little fishing-boats. What if there aren’t any ports anymore, what then?’ Nina pleaded, staring out to sea, imagining the poor seagulls flying on and on without finding food or shelter.

  ‘Well,’ Alex said matter-of-factly, ‘they’ll have to do what everyone else in the islands has to do. They’ll have to move to Athens.’

  ‘But what if they don’t want to go? What if they liked Moutsouna?’ Nina said with a deep sigh. The black cat at her feet looked up and gave a long, mournful wail.

  14

  Mama Holds a Meeting

  Mama invited the whole village. The children came, wide-eyed and excited, already fired up with rumours they had heard about an ice-cream factory. The women of the village came, wide-eyed and nervous, their hearts already full of a week’s worry. The grandparents and the old men and women of the village came, wide-eyed and enthusiastic, determined to help Mama Papadopolos with her plan. Filipos the bus driver came and stood at the back of the porch smiling at everyone. Only the men stayed away, the ice-workers, without whom the whole plan would not be possible. They stayed in their beds, even Papa Papadopolos would not attend.

  Bravely, Mama explained the plan. She said she needed help. She said, with a bit of luck and everybody’s goodwill, they had a chance of success. The people were not sure what to think, but Mama told them they didn’t have to be sure just yet. All they had to do was start saving an egg a day, and from Monday onwards, they would need to save their cream. Mama Papadopolos begged them not to use their sugar.

  She told the women to come with their saved eggs and their saved cream and their saved sugar to the factory next Thursday morning. It had to be next Thursday she explained, so that they could sell the ice cream in the market on Friday morning in Naxos Town.

  She asked the grandparents and the old uncles and aunts if they could help by looking after the children and she asked the children if they could help by collecting up every old yoghurt pot and plastic container they could find. She said they’d also need to gather clean twigs for spoons and ice-lolly sticks.

  At school Mama said the same thing to the children of Apiranthos. Very soon a mountain of containers began to grow. At the end of school on Monday and on Wednesday, Filipos helped Mama and the twins load them into the bus. He drove the bus all the way back down the hairpin-bend road to Mama’s front door where he helped unload carton after carton and pot after pot. Then the village women gathered to wash the containers and talk about how the plan was coming along. Once they had the plastic pots clean and dry, Mama stored them in the bedroom. She lined them up against the walls in stacks, moving them closer and closer to where Papa lay in bed. Mama ignored Papa’s cross remarks. She was too angry with him to answer back. Besides, as the days passed, she was growing more and more nervous. The people of Moutsouna and even the people of Apiranthos, who had heard everything from their children, were becoming more and more excited. Everyone wanted to know if the plan could possibly work and Mama felt responsible. What on earth would happen if it failed?

  15

  The Most Stubborn Goat in the Whole Country

  ‘Alex, we’re running out of time. Could you invent a way to get Papa out of bed?’ Mama asked on Tuesday afternoon.

  ‘I could try,’ Alex shrugged. ‘I don’t know how though.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ Mama said. ‘I’ve already tried everything I can think of. It’s the same stubbornness in every house. The men think our plan will never work. They’d rather we handed them tickets to Athens. The only person who’ll help is Filipos. He’s happy to carry the ice cream on the bus, if we can work out how to keep it cool.’

  ‘But Mama, it’s two hours to Naxos Town. Ice cream won’t stand a chance! Even if you drove at night, it would be soup before you reached Apiranthos.’

  ‘We’ll think of something. Transport is the least of our worries. If we don’t have ice, we won’t have ice cream. We need Papa up and out of bed today. Invent something, please,’ Mama said desperately. She gave Alex a big hug and then went outside to feed the chickens.

  Alex thought for a while. He knew if he had enough time and enough tools, he could invent a machine that would be strong enough to pull Papa Papadopolos out of bed. But no machine could make him do things once he was upright. If he worked at it, Alex might be able to invent a reason to get Papa out of bed, but what better reason was there than the threat of moving to Athens? Feeling lost and defeated, Alex followed his mother out of the house. The sea glistened invitingly. Alex thought how good it would be to go swimming in the cool, clear water. But he had inventing to do: how to get Papa out of bed?

  Suddenly, there was an outburst of shouting from the scrubby field behind Ios’ house next door. Ios was trying to milk Kalimara. Alex watched the bushes thrashing about as Ios hastily pursued Kalimara.

  ‘Come back here!’ Ios shouted, but as usual it did no good.

  Alex laughed to himself as he watched their performance. The bushes waved wildly until at last, Alex heard the crash of a metal milk bucket land on dry earth.

  ‘Milk yourself, you stubborn donkey!’ Ios yelled, not caring who heard him, as he stomped back towards the house.

  A minute later Kalimara had picked the bucket up in her mouth and was trotting after Ios. It was in that moment that Alex had his invention.

  16

  The Most Stubborn Donkey in the Whole World

  The twins and their grandfather listened at the door when Mama went in to Papa’s room a short time later. They did not dare to look at each other in case they got the giggles. And besides it wasn’t really funny. Nina and Alex and their grandfather all knew how serious things had become. If Mama failed to get Papa out of bed, the ice-cream factory was going to be a dream that they remembered as they sat beneath the Nefos in Athens.

  ‘You’re right, Papa,’ Mama said as she swept into the room and aimed straigh
t for the chest of drawers where Papa kept his clothes. She opened a drawer and began taking out all Papa’s underpants.

  ‘It never would have worked,’ she exclaimed, throwing them onto the bed where they landed across Papa’s legs. She loaded her arms with socks and turned to toss them on the bed. Then Mama crossed the room towards the cupboard, throwing a last pair of socks over her shoulder. They hit Papa on the nose and then bounced to the floor, knocking over a stack of plastic cartons.

  ‘Much better not to try,’ Mama said, opening the cupboard and knocking over another two piles. She began taking out Papa’s trousers. She folded them neatly in half.

  ‘What?’ Papa asked. ‘What am I right about?’

  ‘This whole ice-cream idea!’ Mama answered, spilling a basket of her underwear onto Papa’s covers.

  ‘What?’ Papa asked again as Mama dived down under the bed and began throwing pairs of shoes out from underneath.

  ‘I mean,’ she said, emerging red-faced, ‘how could it work? We’ve no sugar, we’ve no cold transport. Besides, who on earth would want to eat home-made, handmade ice-cream? Ridiculous idea altogether.’ She disappeared back into the cupboard and brought out her shirts and skirts. Papa watched her, confused and uncertain.

  ‘You’re packing,’ he said.

  ‘Indeed I am. And I’m sorry to have wasted so much time on this silly pipe-dream. The sooner we’re packed the better,’ Mama exclaimed.

  ‘But …’ Papa said incredulous. ‘But …’ He frowned.

  ‘You were right all along. I should have listened. I’m sorry I was so stubborn. I’m the most stubborn goat in the whole country,’ Mama said, going back to the cupboard and pulling out her special red dress. For a moment she looked at it. It was her best dress, the one she always wore on birthdays and to weddings, the one she wore on the rare occasions she and Papa went to the small cinema in Apiranthos. Yes, she thought sadly, it was Papa’s favourite dress too. And it was the red dress hanging from her arm like a bull fighter’s cloak which finally awoke Papa.

  ‘Stop, stop!’ he cried, leaping up out of bed, knocking a stack of plastic pots flying as he raced across the room to Mama. Suddenly he didn’t know what to say. ‘Not the red dress,’ he said foolishly.

  Mama looked at the dress in her hands. She began to fold it up as if she were packing it in a suitcase.

  ‘Only a silly idea from the start,’ Mama said, ‘just a dream.’

  ‘No,’ Papa said, taking the dress from her. And suddenly, feeling it in his hands, he knew it meant everything that was good and right about their lives. ‘What about the children? We can’t disappoint them. We can’t just give up now. No, Eleni, no, it’s a wonderful idea. What’s a little sugar or transport? We’ve got ice, tonnes of ice and we’ll buy sugar,’ Papa said, pushing Mama’s red dress back into the cupboard.

  ‘But the machines aren’t ready. They need welding. It won’t work,’ Mama said, taking the dress out again.

  ‘I’ll fix the machines. Of course, it’ll work,’ Papa answered, taking the dress back.

  ‘It’s not that simple,’ Mama said, tugging the red dress away from him and knocking over another pile of pots.

  ‘Oh yes, it is that simple, Papa said, raising his voice just a little, and in one quick movement he put his arms around Mama and the favourite dress.

  ‘I’m sorry Eleni,’ he whispered. ‘I’ve been very foolish. I’ve been the most stubborn donkey in the whole world. I’ve wasted a lot of time. But it’s not too late, is it?’ he asked.

  Mama looked at Papa’s wild, unshaven face, his unbrushed hair and his fiery passionate eyes.

  ‘No,’ she said softly, ‘it’s not too late.’

  17

  Moutsouna Wakes Up

  After that it was as if everyone woke up from a long sleep. The village became a hive of activity with people buzzing from one place to another. As soon as the men heard that Papa Papadopolos was down at the ice-factory fixing up the ice-crushers, they all got out of their beds as if they had never even been in them. Papa and Alex, together with the help of Ios and his father, Pedros, made alterations to the ice-crushers. They cut and welded, and cut and welded metal right through the siesta in their hurry to get the job finished. The other men turned to the ice-machines with a new zeal, and as the freezers began to hum and throb once more, a special song of hope rang through the village.

  Everyone began working together. The children hunted through the olive groves, gathering short thin twigs for ice lollies and long, flat sticks for spoons. The grandmothers whittled the bark from them and washed them and the grandfathers sat about carving little spoons with pocket-knives that had not been used for many years. Uncles who had not fished for years went out in small boats to bring home food. Fathers who had only previously made ice were now busy at the command of Filipos constructing boxes and frames to strap onto the bus so the ice cream could travel to Naxos Town in safety. There was a flurry and a purpose about the whole village. On a bench in the harbour, Nina sat with the grandfather, telling him everything that she could see going on. As she watched the people of Moutsouna hurry about their business, a small tiny thought fluttered in her like a secret: maybe this, all this, was what she was supposed to be writing about in her book. But when? There was so much going on, and so much to do, and never any time for writing.

  When the famous Thursday dawned to the familiar crows of faithful cockerels, the villagers were already awake and making their way to the ice-factory. Mama Papadopolos had allowed the children the day off from school and now she stood in the centre of the factory, telling everyone what to do. She had a team of workers making custard, another making ice, another cleaning the empty yoghurt pots for one final time and another team cooking food for the workers on a giant barbecue set up on the quay. Nina and Alex ran about from one team to another looking over the work, trying to put their fingers into the mixtures and begging for a taste. But Mama had made a list of rules: the children were not allowed to try anything; only Mama and her special testing spoon were allowed near the mixtures. Alex and Nina were sent out with the other children into the harbour to help set up tables and chairs for the evening meal.

  By the time evening fell every pot had been filled. There was vanilla ice cream and chocolate ice cream, there was melon sorbet and lemon sorbet, and there were ice lollies of assorted shapes and sizes, depending on the type of recycled pot that had been used as a mould.

  At sunset the whole village sat down to eat together. They were so hungry and tired that no one said anything until Alex heard a familiar squawking behind him. He turned around to see a family of seagulls circling on the evening air.

  ‘Look, Mama, look!’ he shouted and everyone craned their heads upwards. At once a great burst of laughter and chatter broke out amongst the villagers. Nina clapped her hands for joy. She hugged Mama and ran to sit on Papa’s knee. For the rest of the evening she stayed there, watching the talk and laughter, music and dancing, thinking to herself that tomorrow she would write all this down. Here, right under her nose, was the story she needed to put in her book!

  18

  The Ice-bus

  On Friday morning the children rode to school on a bus laden with ice. It looked like a double-decker bus now that it wore a roof rack and a special frame to hold the massive ice-blocks in place around its precious ice-cream cargo. But despite the fact Filipos was driving nobody chanted ‘Apiranthos, Apiranthos!’ as they rounded the fierce bends. There was a tense quiet, a hush, as if nobody dared breathe or make a sound in case it made the ice melt or fall from where it had been fixed in place. The village children rode all the way to school in Apiranthos in complete silence. They whispered goodbye and good luck to Papa Papadopolos, Pedros, Alex and Ios who had been chosen to sell the ice cream in the market. Nina gave a last sad wave as the bus swung out of the village square, wishing that she too could be on board. Understanding her feelings, Mama squeezed her hand and walked with her to school.

  Papa, Pedros, Ios an
d Alex sat right behind Filipos, anxiously watching the road ahead. At every bend they held their breath in case ice fell and every time the bus stopped for passengers they tapped their feet impatiently as if it might help the people climb aboard more quickly. At Filoti a crowd of people heading for Naxos market stepped in. They knew nothing about the closure of the ice-factory and the trouble in Moutsouna, nor about the ice-cream dream. But before long they knew all about it. Soon the people in Halki and the people in Galanado knew. As the bus descended onto the plains, it began to look like a moving car wash; drops of water ran down the windows and flew off the sides as it hurtled over the dusty road. So soon the people who lived on the plains knew too.

  Inside the bus was unusually cool, which the passengers liked, for by the time the bus came off the plains, it was full and overcrowded. Ios and Alex had to sit on their father’s laps, while people in the aisle stood and swayed between bags of melons and bags of lemons and baskets of chickens ready to be sold in the market. Everyone talked of nothing else but the wicked Blue Line Company and the ice dream and when at last the bus unloaded in crowded Naxos Town, there was a rush of bus passengers attempting to be first in the queue for Moutsouna Ice Cream.

  19

  Ingredients

  They sold every last drop. There wasn’t even any spare for Alex and Ios. They had to make do with the big crusty sandwiches their fathers had made that morning. Enviously, they watched the children of Naxos Town walk away with their lollies and their pots and their wooden spoons.