The Heavenly Italian Ice Cream Shop (14 page)

‘It must be a lot to get used to.’

‘It is. And it’s not just losing him. The thing is, he told me a few things before he died. And I suppose they’re just starting to sink in.’

‘And being here helps?’

‘Yes. It does.’ Spots of pink came to Clarissa’s cheeks. ‘It’s calm here. And I suppose it feels a little like home.’

Imogen walked back down the guesthouse stairs, wondering how to explain the situation to Martin. He looked up at her eagerly from his spot behind the reception desk.

‘How did it go?’ he asked, getting to his feet.

‘OK, I think,’ Imogen said.

‘Should I do something, say something?’ Martin said, anxious.

‘Just keep doing what you’re doing,’ Imogen said. ‘She’s just lost her stepfather, and it sounds like she doesn’t have much in the way of family. I don’t really understand why, but she says just being here is helping her.’

‘Right,’ Martin said. ‘Well, I know what Mum would do if she were still alive.’

‘Let her stay, and bring her tea, until she’s strong again. That’s what she always did for people, isn’t it?’

At lunchtime, Imogen went out into the front garden of the guesthouse and called Finn. He picked up, banging and construction noises in the background.

‘Hey there,’ she said, sitting down on the wall, ready for chat.

‘Hi, Imo.’

‘How’s it going over there?’

‘What was that?’ Finn shouted back, over the noise.

‘I
said how’s it
. . .’ She glanced back through the window, where her uncle Martin was walking around the living room. ‘Don’t worry, it’s not important.’

‘I’m outside now, bit quieter,’ Finn said. ‘Everything OK at the guesthouse?’

‘Yes,’ she said. And it was true – everything was going smoothly. It was only her email inbox – stubbornly empty after the emails to photography contacts that she’d sent out – that was nagging at her. ‘You?’

‘Really well, thanks. As you can probably hear.’

‘Listen, I was thinking. Do you fancy going out for dinner tonight?’ Imogen said. ‘Try out that new dim sum place in town?’

‘Imo . . . I’d love to. But, if we’re going to stay on schedule, Andy and I really need to use every minute we have. We’re going to be working late tonight.’

‘OK, sure,’ Imogen said. ‘No worries. I’ve got plenty to be getting on with, anyway.’

‘Everything all right with you, though?’

‘Yes. Fine.’

She wished he’d say something. Ask her again. So that the white lie wouldn’t be left hanging between them like that.

In the end it was someone calling out to Finn from the building site that broke the silence.

‘I’d better go,’ he said.

‘Right – sure,’ Imogen said. ‘Well, I’ll see you at home, then.’

‘See you, then.’

She hung up, feeling empty – the opposite of how she usually felt after talking to Finn. Phone conversations, she thought to herself. They were never the best way to talk. She was much more of a face-to-face person. Next time she saw him it would be fine.

Imogen went back into the guesthouse. In the living room, Clarissa was sitting by the bay window in a patch of sunlight, looking through a book. She wore a thick cream cardigan over her top and jeans, and her legs were curled up under her.

‘What’s that you’re reading?’ Imogen asked, gently.

‘One from the shelf.
A Room with a View
. It’s good so far. Your grandmother had a lot of books.’

‘She did. Although, to be honest, she had a habit of starting them and then leaving them halfway, caught up in cooking, or chatting to a neighbour over the fence. She loved books and films, but real life was what really got her.’

Clarissa smiled, and, for the first time since she’d arrived, she looked almost relaxed.

‘She’d always give us ice creams for free,’ Clarissa said. ‘Me and Mum. Did she ever talk to you about my mum? Emma she was called. Wilkinson.’

Imogen thought back, but the name wasn’t familiar. ‘She might have mentioned something. My memory isn’t great.’

Her eyes grew more distant then.

‘I’ll leave you in peace,’ Imogen said.

Clarissa nodded. ‘See you later.’

Imogen headed back to the reception desk. She sorted through some of the junkshop frames she’d picked up for the guesthouse, and found one to fit the photo of Evie and Vivien. She put it up beside the large map.

She went back to the things she’d found in the old files, pulled out the smaller map and found a frame for that. As she turned it over to put it in, she noticed a name scribbled in pen on the back: ‘Sr L. Esposito – Piazza Tasso, 30.’

She turned the map back over, but there was no further note there, nothing apart from a cross that she could see the name linked to. She thought of the postcard Anna had sent her, with her new address. Searching across the street plan, she saw that the two addresses were only a few hundred yards from each other.

She put the frame away, folded the map back up and put it away in the bureau drawer. Her grandmother had always been open with them, but Imogen was starting to suspect that there were some things she had held back from saying. She had made her choices, though – and to pry, now, didn’t seem right.

Chapter 18

Matteo took over the running of the ice cream shop in the early afternoon, and Anna went over to Maria’s house across the square. She knocked on the door, with a slight feeling of trepidation. She’d warmed instantly to Maria when Luigi introduced them at the shop, but she felt nervous about speaking Italian – her understanding was quite good but the words she wanted to say so often escaped her. But she steeled herself – she knew that she needed to improve her language skills, and this seemed like a good opportunity.

‘Signora Anna,’ Maria said brightly, as she answered the door. ‘Come in.’

‘Thank you,’ Anna said awkwardly, in English.

‘
Italiano
,’ Maria said, firmly.

Anna felt suitably reprimanded. There wasn’t much point coming for an Italian lesson if you were going to talk in English, was there? And she needed to learn quickly.

Maria led her inside to the living room, asking simple questions and smiling in appreciation at Anna’s effort as she haltingly replied in Italian with the aid of her phrasebook.

‘My mother-in-law is coming tomorrow. She speaks good English, but I want to be able to talk to her in Italian.’

‘Good, well, I can help you with that.’

Anna put her phrasebook down on the coffee table between them.

‘You won’t need that,’ Maria said. ‘I’m going to teach you the Italian you’ll really need to know.’

They spent the hour going round the kitchen, Anna learning the names of fruits and vegetables, the equipment she used every day to make sorbet, the things in the fridge. It was vocabulary she heard Matteo use all the time, but his early attempts to teach Anna had fallen flat – she felt embarrassed in front of him, unable at this stage to master the pronunciation and aware that she sounded like a hapless tourist. With Maria it was different: she felt relaxed about making mistakes.

At the end of the class, they arranged to meet again. ‘I think you’re going to learn very quickly,’ Maria said, confidently.

‘I hope so,’ Anna said, the Italian phrase tripping off her tongue. With those words, she felt as if she had in her hands the seeds of a new life.

Anna had come back to the ice cream shop that afternoon full of confidence and enthusiasm, and had even practised some Italian with Matteo over dinner in their apartment. She felt ready to make a new start with Elisa, on a more equal footing, and, when her mother-in-law came into the ice cream shop the next day, she readied herself to use some of the new phrases she’d learned.

‘Bella, my love!’ Elisa was cradling her granddaughter in her arms and coming into the shop, her son by her side. ‘Welcome to Italy!’

She covered Bella’s chubby arms and legs with kisses as she walked. ‘Thank you for bringing this precious thing to Italy,’ she said to Matteo.

Anna smiled politely, and formed the sentence she wanted to say in Italian.

‘It’s good to see you, Elisa. Can I get you a coffee? You must be tired after the journey.’

‘Ah, she speaks Italian,’ Elisa said. ‘Or at least she’s trying,’ she said to Matteo. ‘Yes, a coffee, please,’ she said to Anna.

Anna got the stove-top coffee maker from the side.

‘A strong one,’ she added. ‘I want to hear everything, but of course we have plenty of time for that,’ Elisa said to her son.

‘Is it just the weekend you’re staying?’ Anna asked.

‘Just the weekend?’ Elisa said, laughing. ‘Of course not.’

Anna looked at Matteo for clarification.

‘Mamma, I haven’t told Anna yet . . .’ Matteo started. Anna just caught the meaning of the Italian.

‘That’s OK, then I can be the one to share the
marvellous
news!’ Elisa said, switching to English.

Anna felt increasingly uneasy.

‘Mamma will be staying with Carolina . . .’ Matteo said.

‘I’ll be here for the whole summer!’ Elisa exclaimed. ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’

Anna felt the breath go out of her.
What?
She glared at Matteo as discreetly as she could. He shrugged his shoulders and mouthed, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Matteo’s father is going to run the business on his own for a while. And Filippo’s been so generous, paying for the summer house, and even giving us some spending money. I really couldn’t be luckier with my son-in-law, could I, Matteo? He’d doing so well at the moment. Did Carolina tell you? One of the richest men in the region. We’re so proud of him.’

Anna struggled to take it all in. Why would Matteo have kept this from her?

‘I need to use the toilet,’ Elisa said. ‘Is it . . .?’

‘Just through there.’ Matteo pointed to the back of the shop.

‘It’s great to be here,’ Elisa said, clapping her hands together. ‘And I can see already, from the look of the shop, that you’re going to need my expert help around here.’

As Anna and Matteo set the table for their dinner that night, Anna was stonily quiet.

‘Come on, Anna, we have to talk about this,’ Matteo insisted.

‘I’m fine,’ Anna said, but inside she was seething.

‘Look, I’m sorry I didn’t explain earlier,’ he said. ‘But don’t you think it could be good? Mamma can help out with Bella, maybe help with some of the Italian queries when I’m not around.’

‘We don’t need help,’ Anna said, her resolve to keep her feelings to herself snapping. ‘And I’m learning Italian, so soon I won’t be completely useless.’

‘I didn’t mean that—’

‘Sorry,’ Anna said, trying to steady her emotions. ‘I didn’t mean to snap. But, Matteo, I thought we said we were doing this on our own. I thought that was the whole reason we decided to come here, to Sorrento.’

‘We still will be doing it alone,’ Matteo said. ‘OK, so Mamma might have the occasional bit of advice, but we don’t have to take it.’

‘Right,’ Anna said. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe she should just accept what was happening, learn to live with the new situation. Matteo was right, of course, that there were some benefits. ‘It’s different from what I was expecting, that’s all,’ Anna said. ‘I thought she’d be coming to visit rather than staying for weeks, probably months. Why didn’t you mention that her plans had changed?’

‘I don’t know,’ Matteo said. ‘I meant to. I was waiting for the right moment – and then, before I knew it, she was here.’

Anna looked at him sternly, but in a moment his soft brown eyes had made it almost impossible for her to continuing being annoyed with him.

‘I couldn’t say no. She just wants to spend time with Bella, and see what we’re doing with the shop, that’s all. She won’t get in the way.’

Anna took a deep breath. Perhaps that really would be the case. But, somehow, she couldn’t help but doubt it.

Chapter 19

At home, Imogen was sitting on the sofa in the living room with her laptop, typing notes into her online calendar.

The bookings for weddings, and baby portraits, were starting to build up in her work diary – Lauren had a surplus of projects, so had started passing Imogen the ones she couldn’t fit in. It was a good opportunity to broaden her experience, yet Imogen was still struggling to feel enthusiastic about it.

Esposito
. . . The name drifted back into her mind. Why had that name and address been written on the map? It was Vivien’s handwriting, that was certain. Had she visited someone out there, out in Sorrento, where Anna was right now?

A Facebook notification distracted her, and she clicked to open it. Luca. Now, there was someone she hadn’t thought about in a long while. Tanned, with dark hair – his Italian heritage coming through even though his accent was pure American west coast. She hovered over ‘Ignore’ – two and a half years had passed since she had been with Luca, an extended holiday romance before she met Finn. It hadn’t ended well – Imogen’s plans had changed after her grandmother’s death, and, while she understood Luca’s hurt, he’d chosen to act it out by getting together with a good friend of hers.

Something stopped her clearing the screen, though. Enough time had passed, hadn’t it? And she had enough friends on the site that she’d barely shared any real life experiences with – at least he had, for a while, been important to her, and they’d had a connection once. Ignoring him seemed petty. It wasn’t as if they’d be chatting away or anything. She clicked to accept.

Imogen took her bike and cycled down to the ice cream shop. She needed some fresh air and company. She wasn’t used to time spent on her own at home, and she wasn’t sure she really liked it. That morning, the café was heaving with customers. She looked on as Evie weaved expertly in and out of the tables, delivering orders with grace and ease.

‘Imogen, hi!’ Evie called out, waving over.

‘Hi,’ Imogen said. ‘I was just calling by to see how things were going. Have you been getting on OK?’

‘Yes, brilliantly,’ Evie said. ‘Run off my feet as you can see.’