The Secrets of Ice Cream Success

by AD Hartley

  ‘Boys are so stupid!’ Abi said, standing up and dragging Carlo out of his chair. ‘Listen… Vicky fancies you and you fancy her… No, don’t deny it.’ she added as Carlo made to protest. ‘Now go out there,’ she continued, pushing him into the hall, ‘and call her again. And if it goes to answerphone say hello, say you’re sorry you missed her call and that you’ll speak to her later… and try not to make it sound like you’re a stalker this time.

  ‘She won’t want to speak to him at the party at this rate.’ Abi said to the others, falling back into her chair as Carlo left the room.

  ‘Oh, you don’t seriously think his invite still stands after this?’ Newton said with a smile.

  ‘We better go.’ Norton said glumly as the others laughed. ‘My Mam’ll be back soon.’

  ‘Yeah, OK.’ Newton said picking up his bag. ‘Did she know we were coming round?’

  ‘Nah?’

  Without needing to ask why Norton was anxious about leaving, the group having emptied the recently re-stocked fridge, the gang stood and made their way to the front door as Carlo finished on the phone and joined them, looking rather ashen.

  ‘What?’ Abi asked, ‘Did you speak to her?’ Carlo shook his head. ‘Well? Did you leave a message?’

  ‘I got confused.’ Carlo said miserably. ‘I don’t know why I said it. It just sort of said itself.’

  ‘What did? What did you say?’ Norton asked excitedly.

  ‘I think I may have just asked Vicky Dearlove out on a date.’

  A Good Reason to Cancel Social Engagements?

  Carlo and Norton were sat in stunned silence. The man on the other side of the desk was taller than anyone they had ever met, had three teeth missing from his smile and seemed to whistle every time he spoke. Norton’s mouth had dropped open as he stared quite openly, leaving Randy to hurry the interview to a close in order to limit any possible offence.

  ‘I think that’s it, unless either of you have any questions for Mr Lumsden?’ Randy asked, turning to the two boys.

  ‘Yeah… just how tall are you?’ Norton blurted out in a manner that suggested he had been waiting to ask the question since Mr Lumsden entered the office, a feat of patience not normally associated with Norton.

  ‘Richard!’ Randy scolded, ‘A work related question, please.’

  ‘It’sssss OK, Mr Fox. I am ssssix feet and ten inchesss.’ Mr Lumsden answered, whistling tunefully as he pronounced every “ess”.

  ‘Whoah.’ Norton volunteered as a reply.

  ‘I think we can assume there are no more questions.’ Randy added, giving the boys a meaningful glance. ‘Thank you so much for coming in and we’ll be in touch shortly.’

  ‘Sssssuper.’ Mr Lumsden said, shaking hands with all three before leaving the office in a crouch to fit through the door.

  ‘Ssssssssssuper!’ Norton mimicked with a shrill whistle.

  ‘Richard, I’m going to ask you not to attend the final interview.’ Randy said sounding annoyed.

  ‘I’m only messing. Anyway, did you see him?’

  ‘Yes, I saw him and I also read his CV. He is highly qualified and I think will fit in well here.’

  ‘You said that about the last one!’ Norton pointed out.

  ‘He’s got a point, Uncle Randy.’ Carlo added. ‘She barely said two words and when you asked if she had any questions she squeaked and looked like she was about to leg it!’

  ‘Don’t be dramatic, Carlo…’

  ‘And the one before that…’ Norton continued, ‘took three attempts to leave the office.’

  ‘And the one before that had an eye patch.’ Carlo offered.

  ‘And a false leg. I think he actually was a pirate. Exactly which recruitment agency did you use?’ Norton asked.

  ‘Look, lads. We need to open the factory ASAP and don’t have many options. These people are ready and willing to work and are perfectly fine. Once they are trained up you’ll wonder what all the fuss was about.’

  ‘So you’re going to hire all of them?’ Carlo asked with barely disguised indignation.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Even the first one?’

  ‘Yes, even the first one.’

  ‘He couldn’t speak English!’ Norton pointed out, not for the first time.

  ‘And I got the impression he thought he was here about a different job. He kept mentioning cabbages.’ Carlo added. ‘Or I think he did. Perhaps cabbage is ice cream in his language?’

  ‘Cabbage ice cream. Yuk! Even I wouldn’t eat that.’ Norton said standing up.

  ‘Bet he would.’ Carlo whispered to Randy as they too stood and left the office.

  ‘So that’s it. I’ll get the paperwork ready for the new staff and then we’re all set. If all goes to plan we can start manufacturing in two days and be ready to open and start selling by next week. You’ve done it, Carlo. You’ve re-opened Leodoni’s.’ Randy said, placing his hand on Carlo’s shoulder as they looked over the balcony at the factory floor below.

  ‘No; you did Uncle Randy. And I’ll do my best to learn from you and Lucy and maybe do just as well when I take over.’ Carlo turned and offered the older man a hug, feeling quite emotional.

  Norton started to make retching sounds behind them as he walked back towards the main doors. ‘Get a room!’ Carlo heard him mumble.

  Still feeling rather nostalgic after the talk with Randy, Carlo offered to lock up, but took a stroll around the factory floor beforehand, taking in the silent grandeur of the huge machines one last time before the factory re-opened and the almost constant clatter, whiz and buzz of a fully functioning Ice Cream Factory kicked into life.

  ‘You understand that when I say clean, I mean clean… really, really clean?’

  Carlo was standing next to the giant ice cream mixers, a larger, refrigerated version of the food mixer Randy had at home and the place the ingredients of Leodoni’s ice cream went to get to know each other.

  ‘No problem, Mr Leodoni.’ said Lumsden who was able to peer into the massive vat without help.

  ‘I want them disinfected to within an inch of their lives. No trace, no trace at all, is to be left of any of the previous stock or a particular part of its ingredients that may or mat not be left.’

  ‘SssssssCertainly, Mr Carlo, Ssssssir.’ Lumsden agreed.

  All the ingredients were purchased, packaging ready to be filled and staff raring to go despite the good-natured but generally disruptive assistance of the gang. But Carlo was still extremely nervous, not surprising given that he alone knew the special and highly illegal ingredient once used by his father in a number of Leodoni’s products. An ingredient that Carlo was at pains to make sure was completely absent from the factory. He had checked every inch of the huge building himself to make sure everywhere was clear before watching all the new ingredients being loaded into storage.

  So that was that… production would start that very day and Carlo knew he should be feeling excited.

  ‘It’s the party!’ Abi had suggested earlier on seeing his sullen face. ‘You’re just nervous because it’s your first date with Vicky.’

  ‘Carlo’s got a date!’ Norton had sung before a stare from Abi stopped him.

  Abi was probably right, the party had been weighing on his mind ever since his abortive conversation with Vicky on the phone. What should he wear? What should he say? Will Norton embarrass him? The questions seemed endless and there appeared to be no answers. Even Abi seemed to be running out of useful advice. ‘I hang around with you scruffy boys all the time! How should I know what you should wear!’ she finally answered as Carlo’s anxiety got the better of him.

  Carlo left Lumsden happily whistling as he cleaned the mixer and slowly walked towards the back of the factory, dragging his feet, his shoe laces trailing behind him, the very definition of “glum”. Up near the offices Carlo heard Lucy Lightfoot finally lose patience with Norton who had being throwing an unending stream of questions her way all morning, none regarding work, being more in the region of
her favourite thunderbot, favourite film and favourite ice cream flavour.

  ‘But that last question was about work!’ Norton protested as he was physically shooed from Lucy’s office.

  ‘No it wasn’t!’ Lucy shouted back, slamming her door behind her.

  Sensing that Norton was likely to come and find him to complain at length about this indignity, Carlo looked for the nearest exit and quickly dashed through the door and down the stairs leading to his Father’s old study. He skipped inside but left the door slightly ajar and listened for sounds of pursuit from above, but after a minute it became clear that he had made a clean getaway when he heard a blast of tinny music followed by an annoyed shout from Randy demanding Norton get away from the ice cream vans.

  Carlo shut the door behind him and sloped off to the corner to sit behind his father’s desk. He still felt odd whenever he came into the room but had begun to feel that whatever had caused his illness after they first found the study was probably not an after effect of “ghostly doings” as Ben had taken to calling the incident.

  Happy to have a few minutes respite from the chaos above and his role as Junior Managing Director, which he now understood to be mainly preventing Norton and Ben causing too much disorder, Carlo absently opened his father’s diary which had remained on the desk un-read. Flicking through he found it was split into three distinct sections. The first few pages were filled with sketches and notes, the next section seemed to be a brief history of the company written by his father around the time he took over from Carlo’s Grandfather. Finally, fully half of the large notebook was made up of more normal dated entries, his father’s diary.

  Skimming through the first pages it became obvious that Grandfather Armando was indeed a bit of an inventor, as Newton had guessed, with all manner of ice cream related innovations sketched with diagrams for their construction. Each plan seemed to have been torn out of a previous notebook and glued in place into the diary where Armando’s tiny, neat and rather excitable notes regarding each contraption were latterly joined by the bolder hand of Luigi in bright red explaining succinctly why the schemes would not work, most times ending each summary with an exclamation along the lines of “…Madness! Utter Madness!” or “What was he thinking?!”

  Carlo smiled as he flicked through the pages, recognising his Father’s tone of voice in his written admonishments, wondering if he would ever have said so much to Grandfather Armando directly.

  Surprisingly the last sketched schematic changed the pattern with the planned device getting a seemingly positive reaction from Luigi. “It just might work!” he had written underneath the drawing of an item Carlo recognised. He glanced up from the table and looked at the chrome ice cream dispenser on the wall. He made a mental note not to tell the others that it actually did work and hurriedly turned the page. He felt he should probably read the written history of the company his father had taken the time to compose, especially as he was now the owner, but as he flicked through he felt compelled to move straight to the diary; his father’s diary.

  Obviously he knew diaries were private and there was a brief internal debate as he went to turn to the first page regarding the nature of privacy and the rights of the Dead to have it. Curiosity won the day and Carlo opened the first page, which abruptly caused the entire diary to slam shut!

  Carlo’s body tensed immediately, rigid through shock and fear, his right hand still hanging in the air with the corner of the page he had been turning still between his fingers having been ripped from the book.

  Without moving his body he swivelled his eyes to look around the room but could see nothing out of place. Remaining still he breathed out as hard as he could to check for condensation, but there was nothing to see. The hairs on his arm were not stood on end and he could feel that the temperature hadn’t dropped. His heart was still galloping around his chest from the shock so he tried to force himself to relax a little, lowering his arm, placing both hands gently on the table to either side of the book and taking a few deep breaths.

  From upstairs Carlo was surprised to hear the muffled sounds of the factory going through its final preparations for the grand re-opening, the mundane nature of the sounds helping to calm his nerves a little. ‘Bloody hell!’ he sighed to himself with a slight shake of his head. He chuckled and allowed himself an embarrassed smile, thankful that Norton wasn’t around to see his shock, but as he reached out again and touched the front cover of the book something caught his eye. With his hand still on the diary he slowly turned to look at the large clock on the far wall and much to his dismay saw all three hands wildly spinning backwards. He let out an audible gasp and watched with horror as the air he exhaled condensed as it left his mouth.

  The gang huddled around the table in Luigi’s study staring down at the book. They had been herded down to the study by Carlo once he had stopped running, having shot up the stairs and out of the factory “Faster than that time we smashed the window at the corner shop with your football and the manager chased us down the street!” according to Norton.

  As before the group found nothing out of the ordinary on their arrival in the study, so Carlo insisted they inspect the diary. He glanced over his shoulder at the clock behind him as the others gathered around the table and was annoyed to see that it was hanging there rather smugly showing the correct time and behaving in a very clock-like manner.

  ‘Look… are you suuuuuure?’ Norton asked, elongating the final word more than necessary to emphasise his doubt. ‘I mean, really sure?’

  ‘Yes! Alright? Yes! Look at it! Don’t just stand there, look at the book!’ Carlo moaned, gesticulating towards the diary.

  Ben slowly moved his arm towards the book and prodded it with his forefinger. Nothing happened. Carlo let out a strangled yell of frustration.

  ‘I’m not making this up! IT HAPPENED!’ he shouted, more to himself than the others.

  Abi gently started to open the book by its cover. ‘Carlo, I’m sure you think it happened, but look it’s just a…’

  The book slapped shut, lifting itself of the table with the force of the movement. Norton screamed and the four of them warily stepped away from the table.

  ‘Oh my!’ Newton politely exclaimed registering as much shock as any of the gang had ever heard from him, whilst Carlo jumped up and down waving a triumphant hand in the air!

  ‘Haha! See? See? I told you!’

  ‘What the hell just happened?’ Abi shouted edging closer to the door. ‘No, don’t touch it!’ she added as Ben moved towards the table.

  Ben had a big grin on his face. ‘This is a trick, right?’ he asked Carlo as he reached out and opened the book in the middle. Once again it slammed shut, nearly catching his finger. ‘Or maybe not…’ he answered his own question, taking two large steps back from the table. Carlo beamed in vindication.

  ‘So what now?’ Newton asked.

  Carlo’s smile slowly slipped from his face as the relief at being proven correct was replaced with the rather uneasy knowledge that he was the owner of a haunted notebook. ‘I don’t know. Is it the book? Or the room?’ He looked at his friends in turn seeing his own apprehension reflected in their faces. ‘Is it a ghost?’ he finished softly, as if not really wanting to know the answer.

  Newton’s rational mind, never likely to be waylaid by flights of fancy for long, began to assert itself once more as his fear was replaced by fascination. ‘Let’s look at this logically.’ he said, pulling his glasses off and wiping the lenses on his t-shirt. Ben groaned behind him, which Newt ignored. ‘What do you know about the book, Carlo?’ he continued.

  Carlo told them all he had read so far; the sketches and inventions (minus the small detail that one of them worked), the history of the company and the diary entries that he hadn’t yet read. ‘And that’s when it slammed shut.’ he finished.

  ‘So you haven’t read the entries yet?’ Newt asked, ‘Interesting.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Abi.

  ‘Well, we don’t know what sort of info
rmation is contained within. It might have something to do with what’s going on here.’ Newt answered.

  ‘What? You’re saying that the book has a mind of its own because Carlo’s Dad used to write things like “Tuesday 19th: Running low on Raspberry Ripple. Remember to pick up kids from school”.’ Norton asked.

  ‘I think it’s fair to say that Mr Leodoni used the diary as more than a “To-Do List”. It’s a rather large book after all. There could be years of his thoughts and recollections in there.’

  ‘Recka-what?’ Ben asked pulling a face.

  ‘Memories!’ What he saw and did. Look, when did the diary start, Carlo?’

  ‘Err, the 1970s sometime. I didn’t get a chance to see the exact date before it tried to bite me.’

  ‘So there could be over twenty years of information in there and some of it might explain what’s going on.’ Newt finished, feeling sure he had made his point.

  ‘Whoohoo! This is fun!’ Norton shouted, having grown bored with the conversation and started to continuously open the book up to watch it slap shut each time. ‘Oww!’ he screeched on the fifth occasion having decided to leave his fingers in the book to see how hard it closed.

  ‘Haha! Idiot!’ Ben laughed moving to help Norton pull his hand from the protesting pages. ‘Hey, this is fun.’ he continued, taking over from Norton in watching the book close itself every time it was opened.

  ‘Stop tormenting the poor thing!’ Abi said as the boys continued to play with the book.

  ‘What? Why? It’s not a kitten. It’s not alive!’ Norton answered.

  ‘How do you know? It might be.’

  ‘I think it’s likely that something is acting on the book, rather than the book acting of its own accord.’ Newton stepped in as the four of them gathered around the table.

  ‘There! See. Newt agrees with me!’ said Norton. ‘Wait… what?’ he added having not understood how.