Vivien's Heavenly Ice Cream Shop

by Abby Clements

  Anna took the album numbly, then felt a surge of panic rising in her. Judging from the expression in Imogen’s eyes, she wasn’t the only one.

  After the meeting, they went back to Vivien’s house and settled in her front room. Anna looked around at the grandfather clock, the Persian rug, the black-and-white framed photos – it was the same place she’d been with her grandmother a week and a half ago, but this time Vivien was only a whispered presence.

  Jan dutifully poured out tea from Vivien’s treasured buttercup teapot, and Anna passed around the steaming cups, one of her home-made stem-ginger cookies balanced on each saucer.

  ‘That was a bit of a surprise,’ Tom said, sitting back in his mother’s dark-green armchair next to the fireplace.

  ‘It is not going to be easy, girls,’ Françoise said, looking over at her nieces. She was standing by the bay window, holding her teacup and saucer aloft, her mouth tightly pursed. ‘You’d be better off selling the place, really.’

  Uncle Martin tilted his head, then enquired kindly, ‘Unless you’d be keen to run it yourselves, of course. Imogen?’

  ‘Don’t look at me,’ Imogen said, through a mouthful of biscuit, shaking her head with conviction. ‘In ten days’ time I’m going to be back on the beach.’

  ‘What about you, Anna?’ Martin asked. ‘I suppose one thing to consider is the flat you’ve just bought. Right now you have a regular income, but if you were to take on the shop, it wouldn’t be the same.’

  Anna stirred a spoonful of sugar into her tea and nodded politely. Newly promoted to Marketing Director at Brighton Pavilion events, she finally had a decent, stable salary. She was well aware that with the arts sector feeling the pinch, she was one of very few lucky ones.

  And yet, after seven years in events and with an increasing amount of her time spent in meetings and answering emails … perhaps it was time for a change. She hardly dared think it, but hadn’t it always been her dream to work with food, something she’d been passionate about since she was a little girl?

  ‘Martin’s right, of course,’ Jan said, looking over at Anna and bringing her back to the moment. ‘I mean there’s not much security in it, is there, darling? Running a shop. Especially not at the moment.’ Tom was sitting by her side, drinking his tea slowly and silently. ‘And I think we all know it’s been a long time since your grandma did anything more than break even on that place.’

  Anna remembered the last time she’d visited Sunset 99s – her mum was right. It wasn’t the adorable cake shop she’d often dreamed of running … it was shabby and run-down, not to mention critically short on customers. Without a day’s experience, it would be too much for her to take on alone.

  ‘Just going to get a glass of water,’ Anna said, getting up and slipping out to the kitchen. Imogen followed her into the room and caught her sister by the elbow.

  ‘Hey,’ Imogen said. ‘Not surprised you wanted to escape. Don’t let them boss you around, sis. What do you think about all this, really?’

  ‘I don’t know, to be honest,’ Anna said, leaning up against the kitchen counter.

  ‘Well, I, for one, need a proper drink right now,’ Imogen said, rifling through their grandmother’s drinks cabinet. ‘You were saying?’

  ‘I need some space to think. I mean I’m touched, of course, that Granny V would do this. But the responsibility … what do either of us know about running a shop, Imo?’

  ‘Absolutely zero,’ Imogen said, locating an old bottle of cherry brandy and pouring herself a glass. She raised a questioning eyebrow at her sister, but Anna shook her head. ‘No thanks, that doesn’t look like it’s been opened for a decade.’

  Imogen took a glug and made a face that confirmed her sister’s suspicions. ‘Which is why I’m saying now, from the start, that this is not for me. And you shouldn’t feel pressured either: just because she left Sunset 99s to us doesn’t mean we have to take it. You’ve got your swanky new job to think about.’

  Anna gave Imogen a playful jab in the ribs. ‘It’s not swanky,’ she said. ‘I still have to make my own tea, you know.’

  ‘You know I’m just jealous,’ Imogen said. ‘That, the flat. You’ve hit the big time, sis. And you don’t want to throw all that away.’

  Here, in Vivien’s house, with her favourite recipes still up on the fridge and her trinkets lined up on the windowsill, it was difficult for Anna to overcome the feeling that Vivien could still, somehow, hear what they were saying.

  ‘She’s getting worse, isn’t she?’ Imogen said, with a nod towards the living room.

  ‘Who, Mum?’

  Imogen laughed. ‘No, not Mum,’ she said. ‘I’m pretty used to her getting at me by now. No, I was talking about Madame out there –’ she lowered her voice to a stage whisper, which, in effect, wasn’t a lowering at all – ‘Françoise.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Anna said. ‘Yes, I can see what you mean. She really wanted the shop, didn’t she?’

  ‘She’s made that pretty clear,’ Imogen said, taking a sip of her cherry brandy. ‘And her eyes lit up when she was talking about her French restaurant idea. She was talking as if it were already hers.’

  ‘I suppose,’ Anna whispered back. ‘But you know as well as I do how Granny V would feel about that – definitely not her cup of tea. Anyway, you’d think that what with the villa in the Dordogne and the flat in Paris Françoise and Martin must be pretty settled in France.’

  ‘Maybe she’s got itchy feet,’ Imogen said. ‘But anyway, why don’t we go down and have a look at the shop together? That’s if you don’t mind me crashing at yours for a couple of nights while we work out our next move. I’m curious to see the place again, have a fresh look at the gem Granny V’s left us.’

  ‘Of course, come and stay, you can see the flat, see Jon again and meet Alfie properly. But if you’re expecting the shop to be a gem … Well, let’s just say that it’s one that needs a whole lot of polishing.’

  Chapter Three

  Imogen fiddled with the car radio and eventually found a station she was happy with, then turned the volume to maximum. Bob Marley’s ‘Stir it Up’ blasted out of the car’s speakers on the crisp Saturday afternoon, as the sisters headed down the A-Road back to Brighton.

  Anna gripped the steering wheel tighter. ‘Do we need to have it on that loud, Imo? It’s a bit hard to concentrate. And I’m not sure Hepburn likes it either.’

  ‘Little darllllllllllling,’ Imogen sang, pressing the button to open the car window and giving the dog a rough stroke. For a moment, with the wind catching her hair, she was on the island again – the reggae track taking her back to her last night with Luca. Less than a week ago, and yet already it felt like forever. She couldn’t wait to get back online and talk to him.

  She glanced behind her and saw a red sports car nearing them, with a horsebox close behind it. ‘Anna, speed up a bit. There are a couple of horses back there that want to overtake.’

  Anna reluctantly pressed her foot on the accelerator so that the speedometer crept up beyond sixty.

  ‘At last,’ Imogen said. ‘And a bit more – would be good to get to Brighton some time before supper.’

  Imogen stood awkwardly on the landing outside Anna’s flat, still wearing her rucksack and holding Hepburn’s lead. With her prompting, they’d made it to Brighton in a record thirty-five minutes.

  ‘I missed you,’ Jon said, bringing Anna into his arms in a warm hug, his eyes closed.

  Imogen kept quiet, not wanting to interrupt the emotional homecoming, but the silence was shattered by a piercing bark from Hepburn.

  Jon pulled back, catching sight of Imogen and the dog. ‘Imogen,’ he said, stepping away from his girlfriend. ‘I didn’t see you there. Hi.’ He came forward to give her a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Hi, Jon,’ Imogen said with a smile. ‘It’s been a while.’

  ‘Imogen’s coming to stay for a few days,’ Anna explained. ‘Hope that’s OK. And as for the dog, well, there are a few things I’m going to need to exp
lain.’

  ‘Right … ’ Jon said, his brow furrowing a little as he looked back at Hepburn, who was now circling Imogen’s legs, his lead getting tangled between them.

  Jon’s brown hair was cut shorter than before, Imogen noticed, with sideburns blending into light stubble. He looked more relaxed, but then that wasn’t exactly surprising – when she’d last seen him, just before she left for Asia, she knew from Anna that the final stages of his divorce had been going through.

  ‘Alfie and I are making pizza,’ he said, motioning for them to come through into the kitchen. ‘We’ve got plenty of dough left. We’ll whip you up another one.’

  ‘That sounds perfect,’ Anna said, stepping into the hallway and dumping her bags. Alfie dashed towards her and she swept him up into a hug. ‘Hello, sweetie. It’s good to see you.’

  ‘Pizza!’ Alfie said excitedly. ‘Me and daddy, making pizza.’

  ‘That’s great, darling,’ Anna said, taking his hand and walking through to the kitchen.

  ‘So there were a few surprises in Granny V’s will,’ Anna explained. ‘Not least Imogen and me getting Sunset 99s.’

  ‘So, let me get this straight,’ Jon said, cutting the freshly cooked pizza into equal pieces. ‘You’ve inherited an ice cream shop?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Anna said, sitting back in her chair. ‘And, yes, as you’ve seen – a dog.’

  ‘Heh-urn!’ Alfie said, sitting up straight in his high chair. ‘Doggy! Ice cream!’

  ‘Oh God, both the magic words at once,’ Jon said, smiling and feigning weariness. ‘Yes, we have a doggy now. But no ice cream, Alfie. Sorry. But there’s some delicious pizza for you to eat.’

  ‘Alfie likes pizza,’ he said, taking a bite of the slice Imogen was offering up to him, and seeming to forget about ice cream altogether.

  ‘Anyway, the shop, yes – she wanted Imogen and me to take it over. She and Grandpa Stanley started it up, and she wants to keep it in the family.’

  Jon listened patiently. ‘I’m still reeling from the dog part,’ he said. ‘But carry on.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Anna said quietly, when Alfie was distracted, ‘that we didn’t get to talk about Hepburn first. Granny V was just so keen that he stay in Brighton.’

  ‘And in terms of the shop, there’s nothing to worry about,’ Imogen said. ‘I’m going back to Thailand, and Anna’s going to stay at her job.’

  ‘That’s the long and the short of it.’ Anna said. ‘But we’re going to have a look at the shop tomorrow all the same – Imogen wants to see what kind of state it’s in.’

  ‘It was pretty run-down the last time we went,’ Jon said, tilting his head. ‘Could do with a bit of TLC before you sell it on. I’m assuming that’s what you’re planning to do?’

  ‘Yes,’ Imogen said, nodding.

  Anna hesitated. Should they really throw in the towel before they’d even thought the idea through properly? ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘we haven’t decided for sure what we’re doing yet.’

  Early the next morning, a Sunday, Imogen and Anna strolled down to the seafront. The sky was streaked with orange, and small sailing boats had been laid to rest in a row upside down on the pebbles. A humming and tinkling, like tiny bells, rang out as the rigging on the small vessels knocked against the masts. Further up the beach, a few men lined the shore, holding their fishing rods in peaceful companionship, looking out on the dawn waves. To their right, a weary landmark next to this stretch of the beach, were the blackened, burnt-out ruins of West Pier.

  Sunset 99s was located under the Granville Arches, just past a row of brightly coloured beach huts – a bold wooden sign in sunset colours and a picture of an ice cream hung above the graffitied metal shutter. The Granville Arches weren’t buzzing like the area closer to Brighton, Imogen noted. Here, there were none of the tourists who flocked to the Brighton Pier and the doughnut and fish-and-chip shops around it. Instead, there were a few local boys practising their skateboard tricks, wheels rattling against the flagstones, and a solitary dog-walker. Imogen cast a glance over the other businesses on the parade – a souvenir shop with some inflatables and postcards out the front, a newsagent, and a smaller doorway with surfboards propped up against the wall, with a yellow sign advertising surfing lessons.

  Anna turned the key in the padlock that bolted down the shutter on Vivien’s shop and then lifted it up slowly. Imogen bent down to help her.

  ‘God, this is heavy. How did Granny manage this on her own?’ Imogen said.

  ‘She wasn’t completely alone,’ Anna said. ‘She had that assistant, Sue, and I think her friend Evie would sometimes help out.’ Anna pointed over at the souvenir shop. ‘Do you remember Granny left Evie some of her jewellery, in the will, that ruby and gold locket she always wore? They were very close, those two.’

  Imogen peeked underneath the shutter and caught sight of the grubby black-and-white chequered floor, almost covered with dozens of unread letters, leaflets and lolly wrappers. ‘Yikes, it’s a right mess in here.’

  Anna bent down to look at what her sister had seen. ‘Oh dear,’ she said.

  The metal shutter rattled noisily as they wound it right up to the top. Anna opened the glass door with another key and they stepped tentatively inside.

  The marble counters were littered with menus and papers with orders on them – it looked as if a storm had blown through the old ice cream shop. The mirrors on the walls, which Imogen remembered being sparkling and bright – that had once reflected images of her and Anna as children, tucking into Coke floats – were now dark, tarnished and flecked with black.

  ‘Didn’t you say that the shop was only closed for a fortnight?’ Imogen said, opening up one of the freezer cabinets to inspect it and then gripping her nose tightly at the thick smell of sour milk and damp. ‘Yuck,’ she exclaimed, taking a closer look. ‘That smells rank. There’s loads of mould at the bottom.’

  ‘Sue was looking after it on her own for a while before that so Granny could have a break. Looks like she wasn’t doing a great job,’ Anna said, with a stab of guilt. She should have realised that things had got so bad. Maybe there was something she could have done to help.

  Imogen spotted the Mr Whippy machine at the counter. ‘Remember this?’ she said. ‘Our treat in the summer holidays when we’d come down and visit.’

  Anna walked over to join her sister, running a hand affectionately over the sign on the machine. ‘Looks like it’s seen better days,’ she said. She tried the tap that used to release curls of soft-serve ice cream. A trickle of dirty water came out instead. The sisters looked at each other with the same mournful expression.

  ‘I haven’t been down here for a while,’ Anna said. ‘But Granny would never have let the place get like this. I guess that when Sue started helping out she must have stepped away from the day-to-day running of things. Maybe she was starting to feel unwell even then.’

  ‘Didn’t she talk about it – how the shop was doing?’ Imogen asked, flicking through an accounts book that was lying out by the till.

  ‘Not much, she always preferred to hear about how we were getting on. She did mention the other shop-owners – Evie, and a younger guy, Finn, who used to pop in and check up on her sometimes. But the business side of it – not much. Left to her, it would never be in this state, though. You know how houseproud she was. Shop-proud.’ Anna forced a smile.

  ‘Shop-proud,’ Imogen said quietly, running a finger over the filthy countertop. It came away black. ‘Poor Granny V. It’s not quite how I remember it from the old days.’

  ‘I agree it needs work,’ Anna said, her expression relaxed, but a shade of worry in her eyes. ‘Although all the original fifties features are still here.’ She pointed at the wall lamps and the stools lined up at the counter. ‘We could spruce it up, couldn’t we? Keep the retro style, but give it a modern twist?’

  Anna went behind the counter. ‘I’m sure there are loads of interesting nick-nacks hidden away too … ’ She ducked down to open one of the cup
boards. Imogen could hear plates clattering out onto the floor.

  ‘ … It would entail a bit of vision, of course.’ Anna’s muffled voice came from below as she tidied the crockery back into the cupboard. She got to her feet. Above her, there was a heavy chalkboard hanging on the wall. Anna read the pastel-coloured writing out loud,

  “Vivien’s Specials”

  Pancakes and vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce

  She paused. ‘Imagine it, Imo – we could make warm crépes with hazelnuts and chocolate ice cream, sundaes brimming over with freshly scooped sorbet and fruit sauces—’

  ‘That chalkboard looks like a hazard,’ Imogen interrupted.

  ‘Really?’ Anna held the edge, but the heavy board swung perilously on its hook now, threatening to fall. She steadied it and moved away. ‘Maybe you’re right.’

  ‘Look, sis. I like that you’re trying to put a positive spin on all this, but let’s be honest. This place is shabby, full of junk – and it hasn’t been profitable for goodness knows how long.’

  ‘I know,’ Anna said, feeling defeated. ‘But –’ she placed a steady hand on the counter where the two sisters had once sat as little girls – ‘I feel something, being here. Don’t you?’

  ‘I think you’re being sentimental,’ Imogen said. It had started to drizzle outside now, and some of the rain was drifting in through the open glass door. She got to her Converse-clad feet and went over to shut it tight. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Anna. I have happy memories here – and I know this place meant a lot to Granny, and still does to Dad. But some things are just better left in the past. I’ve got other plans right now. And with the best will in the world we’d need more than Mary Portas to turn this place around.’

  Anna tucked her loose chestnut hair behind her ear, and started straightening some of the leaflets and scribbled orders into a neat pile. Silently, she ordered the stray pens and notebooks alongside them, perfectly in line with the edge of the counter.

  ‘Don’t go all OCD on me, Anna. I know it’s upsetting for you, but the simple truth is I don’t want to manage a rundown ice cream shop in drizzly Brighton. I mean, seriously,’ Imogen said, her voice softening a little. She cast her gaze down to the floor, and motioned to it, littered with empty Tangle-Twister wrappers.