The Heavenly Italian Ice Cream Shop (18 page)

‘Almost. But no one could be quite as proud as that,’ Anna laughed.

‘What’s his surname?’ Imogen asked. Her heart raced at the prospect that she might be getting closer to unravelling the mystery.

‘I don’t know, actually,’ Anna said. ‘I haven’t had reason to ask.’

Imogen felt disappointed, but tried not to let it show. Anna switched the subject back to their parents.

‘Are they all right, Mum and Dad, with what we’re doing? I feel awful taking Bella so far away from them.’

‘They’re fine,’ Imogen said. ‘Obviously they miss her, they miss all of you – but they know that you’ve made the decision that’s right for you as a family. And also that it’s something special, what Bella has here – the chance to experience two different cultures.’

‘Not boring old English, through and through, like us?’ Anna said. ‘No wonder you’re always seeking adventure somewhere or other, like Dad was in the old days.’

Imogen fell silent for a moment. ‘Sometimes I think it would be easier, if I could just accept things as they are. If I was more like Mum, happy with her lot, only really caring about her family, keeping her home nice, the occasional bit of decent gossip to share with the neighbours . . .’

‘You don’t really mean that, though, do you?’ Anna asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘Not completely,’ Imogen said. ‘But maybe just a little bit. Because this restlessness, it doesn’t make commitment easy. How do you love someone, say that you’ll be there for them always, when a part of you is always wanting to get away?’

Imogen looked for the answer in her sister’s eyes, but all she saw was concern. Was this how Vivien had felt too, all those years ago?

Chapter 25

The following morning, Imogen was sitting out on the balcony of Anna and Matteo’s apartment, sipping coffee as the square slowly woke up around her, people opening their shutters, strolling towards the bakery. Anna would be taking the afternoon off so that she and Imogen could take Bella out – but she had the morning to herself. Normally, she’d want to take her camera out and get some photos of the place, but that morning something else was on her mind. She held up one of the photos of her grandmother in Italy, matching it to the view in front of her – the same buildings, church and fountain. This was it – here in the square. Vivien had been here, decades before, and now her granddaughters were treading in her footsteps. But what exactly had happened here?

She took out the map and looked at the places Vivien had marked. They seemed like the typical tourist stops – nothing unusual there. What had seemed like a catalogue of clues back home now seemed so little to go on, and with Luigi still out of town, she wouldn’t be able to follow up that lead either.

That afternoon, Imogen, Anna and Bella took a trip to a café down by the sea. Bella played with some of the local children, and the sisters had time to themselves to talk.

‘You know how Granny V used to talk about this place?’ Imogen said.

Her sister nodded. ‘It must have been such a special holiday for her, coming out here with Evie. Her first real holiday abroad.’

‘Yes,’ Imogen said, quietly. ‘Although sometimes I wonder . . .’ She let the sentence tail off.

‘What was that?’ Anna asked. She had half an eye on her daughter, who was toddling after a red ball, trying to keep up with the older children.

‘I’m not sure yet. I just have this feeling that something else happened in Granny’s life, something that none of us knew about – not even Dad or Martin. Do you think that’s possible?’

‘Really? I never thought of her as one for secrets,’ Anna said. ‘She and Grandpa would tell each other everything. Dad always said that.’

‘Who’s to say Dad knew the real story, though? Perhaps there was a side to her that none of us knew.’

Bella fell, knocking her head, and let out a wail of pain. The other children ran after the ball, leaving her.

Anna got to her feet and went over to her daughter, sweeping her up into her arms and giving her a cuddle.

‘Is she OK?’ Imogen asked.

Anna nodded. ‘It was just a bump.’

Imogen kissed her niece’s head.

It was a good thing that she’d stopped before she said too much. She didn’t know the facts yet. Tomorrow she would find out more, and only then would she talk to Anna about it.

That evening, while Anna and Matteo bathed Bella and settled her in bed, Imogen called Finn. She was anxious to hear his voice. She hoped that by talking to him about normal things – what she had been doing, how things were going with his building project – they might be able to return to the good way things had once been. That calm and happy couple they’d been, who laughed together and told each other everything. She didn’t know exactly when that had stopped happening, only that it had.

But she got voicemail. She listened to the outgoing message, taking some comfort in hearing his voice. She left him a voicemail saying that she was fine, and that she was thinking of him. When she hung up, she didn’t know quite what to do with herself.

Unsettled, she got up and went on to the balcony and looked out at the sea beyond the houses. Out towards Capri, where she’d go at the end of the week; a place she’d often longed to see. She had a feeling she would find what she was missing there. Inspiration, perhaps. That had to be what it was.

The silence out on the balcony left too much space for unsettling thoughts to circle in her mind. She picked up the phone again, and called her mum and dad’s landline. Jan picked up.

‘Hi, Mum, it’s me,’ Imogen said.

‘Hello, Imogen!’ Jan replied excitedly. ‘Or should I say
Ciao!
How are you?’

‘Really good, thanks. Anna and I have been having a great time. The shop’s a gem, and she and Matteo have done wonderful things with it. It’s a sweet little square here, where they live. I think you’d like it.’

‘Sounds very special,’ Jan said. ‘I’m so glad you got there OK, and everything’s going well. How’s Bella?’

‘Cute as ever. She’s even picked up a few Italian words.’

‘Ah, how sweet. I do miss her terribly. But I’m happy that it’s working out for them, of course.’

‘How’s everything with you? Dad?’

‘Oh, your father’s fine. He’s had a couple of new commissions, actually, for a man who lives locally. Quite rich, I think. He has that look of ageing rock star about him.’

Imogen smiled. Jan’s gossiping was reassuringly familiar – she’d always made a habit of keeping tabs on new arrivals in the town.

‘And Martin?’

‘He’s fine. I went to the guesthouse yesterday. Actually I’m glad you called, Imogen, because there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. I spoke to her – Clarissa.’

‘You did?’ Imogen said, Clarissa’s face flashing back into her mind for a second. ‘How was she?’

‘Like you described. Distant, a bit sad. Martin said he found her in the living room the other night, at midnight, so I thought I should say something.’

‘You were subtle, right, Mum?’

‘Of course I was, Imogen. I asked her about Vivien, the connection. She said her mother had known Vivien, back when she was a teenager. That she’d gone into the shop then, from time to time. That Vivien had been kind to her, when she’d needed it most. And that her mother had been to the house before. That the place meant something to her.’

‘Really? She didn’t mention that before. Did she say anything else?’

‘No, that was it, really. Just that. Then she seemed to shut down.’

‘Right. And she seemed OK, in herself?’

‘Yes. Just as you’d expect, after what happened with losing her stepfather. She and Martin seemed to be getting on well, and she’s been taking Hepburn out for walks. I think that’s something she enjoys.’

Imogen smiled as she thought. Hepburn did seem to have an innate capacity to cheer people up.

‘Well, thanks for checking in,’ Imogen said. ‘Is Dad around? Can I say hello?’

‘I’ll just get him.’

Imogen talked to her dad for a while, filling him in on the trip, and then ended the call to go inside and help Anna get dinner ready. It sounded as if Bella was probably asleep by now.

As she put her phone on the side, she saw a new Facebook notification. She clicked on it, instinctively, to see a new message in her inbox. A face she remembered that conjured up memories of a different time: ‘Imogen, I’ve just seen you’re in Sorrento. That’s crazy. Come and see me. I’m in Capri.’

Blood rushed to her cheeks. It was from Luca.

Chapter 26

Anna was down in the ice cream shop as soon as the sun was up, her apron on, making fresh batches of lemon sorbet and truffle ice cream for the day. With the shop still in its infancy, she and Matteo needed to do everything they could to get it off to the best start, even if that meant missing out on a morning with Imogen. Thankfully, her sister had seemed happy enough at the prospect of doing some more exploring on her own.

Matteo came in to join her, with Bella in his arms. ‘Morning,’ he said. They kissed.

‘Ah, you’re still making the sorbet that way?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ Anna replied. ‘That’s how I’ve always made it.’

‘Oh.’

‘Oh?’ Anna said, bristling a little. ‘Is it a problem?’

‘It’s just . . . Don’t worry about it.’

‘We said we’d introduce some of your family recipes,’ Anna said. ‘I’m fine with that. But I never said we’d phase the other things out.’

‘Sure. Yes, you’re right. But the lemon – it’s something that matters a lot to Mamma, that we try that one the Italian way.’

‘You want me to start again?’ Anna asked, wide-eyed.

‘No, sorry, it’s fine.’

‘OK,’ Anna said, relieved.

Bella dipped a finger into a small pot of the truffle, and licked it, giggling happily.

‘But perhaps next time?’ Matteo said. ‘Could we try it my parents’ way next time?’

It was sorbet, Anna told herself. That was all. It really wasn’t worth falling out over. And yet, every time she gave in to the demands coming from Matteo’s side of the family, she felt as if she were growing smaller. She wondered if, like a tiny Alice in Wonderland, she’d keep taking in those family recipes until they found her, just a tiny figure, flailing in a vat of Elisa’s famous granita.

It was a welcome relief when, later that afternoon, Imogen returned to the shop.

‘Good day?’ Anna asked.

‘Yes, great, thanks.’ Anna noted how distracted her sister seemed, though, as if part of her were somewhere else. She’d been like that ever since she’d arrived.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ Imogen said. ‘You want to smooth things over with Elisa, right? And I’m only here for a short while too. Why don’t we have a cocktail night here at the shop? Just a few friends.’

‘A party?’ Anna said, lighting up at the idea.

‘Yes, cocktails, some canapés,’ said Imogen. ‘Maybe you could invite Luigi and a few of the locals?’ she added, as nonchalantly as she could. Anna had mentioned he was due back soon, and she wasn’t going to miss the chance to meet him. ‘A celebration. And – a sign to Elisa that you want to include her, even if you don’t want to agree to everything she wants you to do. Plus, to celebrate
me
, of course.’

‘Sounds good.’ Anna said.

‘I’m leaving at the weekend, which gives us precisely . . .’ – Imogen counted on her fingers – ‘three days to get ready – invites, recipes, ingredients. Easy.’

‘OK, I’ll talk to Matteo. But I’m sure he’ll say yes – he’s always loved a party. I think it’s a great idea.’

Cocktail menu

Sorrento nights – Italian brandy, cinnamon ice cream

Amalfi sea breeze – Limoncello, Prosecco and lime sorbet

The Capri – Grand Marnier liqueur, orange juice

and chocolate orange ice cream

That week, Anna and Imogen worked together to prepare for the party, and on Friday evening the ice cream shop was aglow with nightlights and coloured lanterns. Matteo and Anna were behind the counter making up cocktails and Imogen was ferrying drinks back and forth, chatting brightly in English and using the few Italian words that she knew liberally and loudly.

Elisa had come with Carolina, the two of them smartly dressed and chatting easily to the other Italians. Carolina’s short hair was slicked back with a red flower pinned in it.

‘Thanks for suggesting this, Imogen,’ Anna said, putting her arm around her sister’s slim shoulders and bringing her close. ‘I guess baby steps is the best way of improving things with Matteo’s mum.’

‘Look at her: she’s having a great time,’ Imogen said, pointing to Elisa, who was deep in conversation with one of the locals.

‘Maybe you’re right,’ Anna said, her heart lifting. ‘Oh look,’ she said, excitedly. ‘There’s Luigi. Let me introduce you.’

Imogen’s heart raced as she looked over to where Luigi was standing. He had his back to them, and was talking to a woman in her fifties.

‘Luigi!’ Anna called out.

He turned, and Imogen’s breath caught. His eyes, hair – a little older, perhaps but he looked just like the man in the photo she’d seen with her grandmother’s things.

Anna led her sister over to him. ‘Imogen, Luigi. Maria, Imogen,’ Anna said, hurriedly. ‘Not great at this being-a-hostess business,’ she added, with a laugh. Carolina caught her by the arm and led her away. ‘I’ll leave you to get to know each other,’ she said apologetically.

‘Imogen, hello!’ Luigi greeted her cheerily. ‘Anna has told me all about you.’

‘She has?’ Imogen said, feeling numb.

‘Good things, all good things.’

‘I know that both of you have made her feel very welcome,’ Imogen said.

‘Well, as we Espositos always say, you should treat every stranger as a potential friend.’

‘Sorry?’ Imogen said. The name Luigi had said, and its significance, struck her right in the chest – the only confirmation she needed.
L. Esposito
– the name on the map, and almost certainly the man who’d written to her grandmother. The man her grandmother had been trying to track down. The letter. It hit Imogen with a force that almost made her choke.

‘In my family, we always say . . .’ Luigi started again.

This is
him
. Imogen made an excuse and left, running out of the shop, into the open air. She breathed in, filling her lungs, but the sensation of deep shock and disbelief stayed with her.