‘Don’t worry, I totally understand,’ Anna said. ‘And to be honest we’ll probably be rushed off our feet.’ She turned to Alfie. ‘You’re going to the safari park tomorrow with Grandma and Grandpa, aren’t you?’
He stood up to his full height and roared. ‘Liyons,’ he said triumphantly.
‘Sounds like we’ve all got an exciting weekend ahead,’ Imogen said, moving on to a new letter. ‘I can’t wait to see everyone’s faces when they see the shop.’
‘We’re really doing it, aren’t we?’ Anna smiled at her sister.
‘Oh yes,’ Imogen said, laughing. ‘Nothing’s going to stop us now.’
The first weekend in May had come at last, and everything was set for the launch. Everything, that is, Imogen thought to herself, as she stared through her sister’s rain-lashed window, loud thunderclaps ringing out in the sky overhead – except the weather.
‘Oh God, Anna,’ Imogen said, nose almost pressed to the glass. ‘How are we meant to sell ice creams in this?’
She checked the Met Office website on her phone. They were predicting some of the most powerful thunderstorms ever to hit the south coast, and from the look of things the storms had already arrived.
Imogen had heard the rain during the night, and it had got steadily heavier through the early hours. Unable to sleep, she’d tossed and turned, praying that their launch day wouldn’t turn into a washout.
‘Get your boots on, Imogen,’ Anna said, ‘because there’s no way we’re backing out now. We’ve publicised the launch everywhere and we can’t change our minds just because of a bit of rain out there.’
‘A bit of rain?’ Imogen countered. ‘It’s hardly that, sis. It looks like a typhoon. Noah’s probably herding the animals on as we speak.’
‘You’ve been out of Britain far too long, Imogen,’ Anna said. ‘What you need is a good dose of Blitz spirit. It’ll all be over in an hour or so. Grab some of my wellies from the hall cupboard and let’s get going.’
They made their way down to the seafront, dressed in bright yellow macs, trying desperately to keep hold of their umbrellas. They hurriedly hung the handmade banner up, knowing that it would be a soggy mess in minutes. Windblown wet flyers were stuck to the ground. Once inside the shop, they put the shop lights on, turned up the radiators, and walked back to the shop’s glass front to look out.
‘Are you sure this rain is going to stop?’ Imogen said mournfully. The sheets of rain were almost horizontal, deterring all but the hardiest stroller from the beach and seafront.
The phone rang and they both jumped in surprise. ‘I’ll get it,’ Anna said.
‘Oh, OK, Mum. See you in half an hour.’ She put the phone back in the cradle. ‘Mum’s on her way. Dad’s not feeling up to the trip.’
Imogen felt a stab of disappointment. But, she thought, maybe it was better that their dad didn’t see the place empty like this. It was increasingly apparent that the only people who had ventured down to the seashore – in waterproof trousers and anoraks, dutifully taking their dogs for walks – weren’t in the market for Fab ice lollies.
‘Do you think we should just close up?’ Imogen said, glancing at the stacks of Calippos in their freezers.
‘Of course not,’ Anna said. ‘It’s early still, and I’m sure I saw a patch of blue sky out there. You’d be surprised how quickly the weather can turn around on a day like this.’
‘You promise?’ Imogen said, squinting into the distance, and trying to fight her doubts. The clouds were heavy and grey, and a bolt of lightning briefly lit up the sky.
‘Oh, girls,’ Jan said, coming through the door to the café and turning to shake off her sodden umbrella outside, before she put it down. ‘Awful luck you’ve had with the weather.’
Imogen looked at her sister. ‘Really?’ she whispered sarcastically. ‘We’d hardly noticed.’
Anna hastily mouthed a warning: ‘Be nice.’
‘Thanks for coming down, Mum,’ Anna said, walking over and taking Jan’s wet coat from her. ‘I’ll hang this on the radiator. Imogen, can you put the kettle on?’
‘Hi, Mum,’ Imogen said dutifully, getting some mugs out. ‘So what do you think?’ she said, putting her arms out to show off the new shop décor.
‘Very nice,’ Jan said, giving her daughter a hug. ‘You’ve done a lovely little job. Given the time and money you had, I mean.’
Anna reappeared. ‘Let’s sit down,’ she said. ‘It’s not like we’re exactly overwhelmed with customers, as you can see.’
‘Such a shame,’ Jan said. ‘I mean, you should have let me know. We could have done something at the agency, put a
… what do you say –’ she glanced up and to the left, searching her mind for the words – ‘We could have put a shout out on Twitter for it,’ she said. ‘We’ve got an account now. “At” something, it’s called. That’s our handle. The work-experience girl set it up.’ Jan smiled proudly.
‘We did some publicity,’ Imogen said, thinking back to the hours she and Anna had spent both online and standing in the street chatting to shoppers and promoting the shop.
‘Well,’ Jan said, ‘that’s good. But there’s no harm in asking the professionals, that’s all I’m saying. Especially when they’re family – bargain rates!’ Imogen glared at her. ‘I’m not trying to take over, sweetheart. Just saying we could have got a few Lewes locals down here. Sad to see the place empty like this. Not everyone’s scared off by a bit of rain.’
‘Maybe next time,’ Anna said diplomatically. As the kettle clicked she jumped up at the excuse to escape.
‘So Dad couldn’t make it,’ Imogen said. ‘Probably for the best, though. All things considered.’
‘He wanted to come, sweetheart,’ Jan said. ‘He was talking about it just the other day. But then this morning … Well, never mind,’ Jan said, shaking her head. ‘Your mum’s here now – is that not worth something?’ She put on a smile, but her expression was strained and sad.
‘You don’t need to pretend, Mum. If something’s wrong, we all need to know about it,’ Imogen said. Anna returned to the table and put down the three mugs.
‘There’s no need to be dismal though, is there?’ Jan said.
‘No use both of us walking round with big black clouds over our heads.’
‘Is there anything we can do, Mum?’ Anna asked. ‘Maybe one of us could talk to him?’
‘You can try,’ Jan said with a shrug, her frustration starting to show. ‘But he’s … ’ Her words fell away.
‘Are you OK?’ Anna said, touching her mum’s arm.
‘No, Anna,’ Jan snapped. ‘No, actually, I’m not.’ Her eyes welled up with unshed tears. ‘It’s been bloody awful.’ The words burst out, as if she couldn’t hold them in any longer.
Anna and Imogen sat in stunned silence.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Now look what I’ve done. I don’t mean to take it out on you.’ Her tears started to fall. ‘But it’s horrible, seeing him like this. Wouldn’t even get out of bed today, and won’t say a word to me. One day I think he’s better and that we stand a chance of getting back to normal again, and then the next we’re back where we started. Our anniversary this week, that’s been and gone without a whisper, obviously. Not that either of us would have wanted to do anything.’
‘I’m sure with time … ’ Anna said. ‘It’s not been long.’
‘That might be so,’ Jan said. ‘But I guarantee you wouldn’t be saying that if you were living at the cottage, day in day out. I know it’s not his fault, I know that. And I want to support him. But I
can’t
. He’s the strong one – Tom’s my rock. Always has been. I don’t know how to be his.’
Jan stayed another hour, and then made an excuse to leave, her eyes still red with tears. Shortly afterwards, a man in
his late twenties, his dark-blond hair rain-drenched, put his head around the door of the shop.
‘Hi,’ he said, with a warm smile. ‘How are you doing?’
Imogen’s heart lifted. Could this be their very first customer?
‘I’m Finn,’ he said, stepping inside the shop. Raindrops hung from the end of his eyelashes and the tips of his hair, dripping onto his hooded sweatshirt. He was holding two cardboard cups. ‘I run the surf shop two arches down.’
‘Oh, hi,’ Anna said. ‘Our grandma mentioned you.’
‘I saw you were opening today. Worse luck with the weather, eh?’ he said sympathetically.
‘I know,’ Anna said, with a smile. ‘We haven’t exactly had a run on the ice creams yet.’
‘I thought maybe you could do with some hot chocolates. Me and Andy were just making some for our clients, seeing as we’ve had to cancel the classes today.’
He passed them a cardboard cup of steaming chocolate each.
‘Thank you,’ Imogen said, as she took a sip of the rich, creamy liquid. ‘It’s good,’ she said, wiping away a chocolate moustache that she realised had formed on her upper lip.
He glanced around the empty shop. ‘I’m sure you’ll be flooded with customers,’ he said, his eyes full of encouragement, ‘when people see that you’re open again.’
‘Thanks,’ Anna said earnestly. ‘We hope so. I mean our grandma ran this place for decades – we want to do just as
good a job, hopefully better. But I guess it takes time,’ she said, with a shrug.
‘That’s right,’ Finn said. ‘And a good dose of sunshine never hurts.’
Anna smiled. ‘Today’s been a bit of a disaster really,’ she said sheepishly.
‘A hiccup,’ Finn said, with a smile. ‘This place will be busy before you know it. Your Grandma Vivien always made it feel like home. She really was a wonderful woman. I was there at the funeral but I didn’t see you two – not that I’m surprised, the whole of Brighton was in there. We all miss her, Evie especially, of course. And our customers loved her – they’d often pop in for an ice cream when the surf was flat.’
‘Talking of ice cream,’ Anna said, ‘where are our manners? Can I tempt you to a Funny Feet?’ She took one of the giant pink foot-shaped ice creams out of the freezer and offered it to him.
‘I’m good for now,’ he said. ‘Just about managing to stay warm. But those are brilliant – haven’t seen once since I was a kid.
‘Well,’ he added, ‘I’m sure we’ll be seeing a fair bit of each other over the coming months. In the meantime, good luck.’
Later that evening, after they’d shut the shop, Imogen lugged her bags out of Jon’s car and in through the front door of her grandmother’s house.
She stepped into the hallway, which was cold and silent, and then went through to the living room. She, her dad and
Martin had boxed up some of her grandma’s valuables, but most of her furniture remained; the armchair, the sofa, the heavy gilt mirror over the mantelpiece. Imogen would have her own space for the first time in three weeks. She placed her camera and other equipment carefully on one of the living-room shelves.
She checked her phone again. Luca hadn’t replied to any of her text messages asking if they could talk. She should probably give up. But there was still a chance he might change his mind and agree to wait – she clung onto that hope.
Imogen walked up the stairs of Vivien’s spacious Victorian house. On the first floor were three bedrooms and a bathroom, with a wooden staircase leading up to a third floor where there were another two small rooms. For a moment the first floor was alive with laughter as she recalled how she and Anna used to play there – darting up and down the stairs, hiding in blanket cupboards and under beds. Used to the small proportions of their family’s cottage, this place had felt like a castle to them. Vivien had known they liked the two top rooms the best, with the small doorway linking them, so she would always make those up especially.
She went through into her grandmother’s bedroom. This room she, Tom and Martin had barely touched, so most of Vivien’s possessions were still just where she’d left them. On the mantelpiece was a wedding photo of her and Stanley, taken in the early 1950s. Vivien must have been around twenty, with Stanley a year or so older. Imogen picked it up, and looked at their smiling faces. It was strange to think that she was already
older than Vivien had been then, settling down with the man she’d spend most of her life with. It was romantic and lovely, but nothing Imogen would ever want for herself. Her own spirit was restless, perhaps it always would be. She missed Luca, sure, but the thought of staying in any one place – even on the island – with one person, leaving so much unexplored, made her feel claustrophobic.
She walked over to the dressing table. The costume brooches Vivien used to wear were still lying there, and brightly coloured strings of glass beads were draped over her mirror. Her hairbrush, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, looked as if it were waiting to be picked up.
Imogen gave another glance around the room, the biggest in the house. She couldn’t sleep in there, or even in either of the adjoining rooms – ones that had so often been filled with friends and visitors. She made her way up the second flight of stairs, to the attic rooms which she and Anna had thought of as their own. They looked just the same, and while Anna’s head would be touching the ceiling now, Imogen, who hadn’t inherited their mother’s height, fitted snugly. She sat down on the single bed and took off her shoes, tired after the long, disappointing day at the shop. This bedroom was where she’d sleep tonight.
‘Imogen didn’t need to move out, you know,’ Jon said, sorting through his DVD collection and putting aside some older ones for charity. He was in jeans and a grey T-shirt, freshly shaved.
‘Oh, it’s OK,’ Anna said, sitting down on the sofa. ‘She didn’t mind. It doesn’t make any sense Grandma’s house sitting empty. And now that we’re working together all day, it’s probably a good thing if we give each other a bit of space.’
Anna thought back over their first week of trading at the shop. She and Imogen had done their best to keep each other’s spirits up as the bad weather continued. Their most regular visitors were Evie, during her tea breaks, and an elderly couple who popped in to say hello to Hepburn. In a week, they’d had just three paying customers.
‘You know what you need?’ Jon said, coming over to the sofa where Anna was and sitting beside her, then gently stroking her hair.
‘No idea,’ she said, turning slightly to face him, with a
hopeful smile on her face. Maybe Jon would come up with an ingenious solution – a way to draw customers out of their warm, dry houses and down to the quiet end of the beach for ice cream. They might not be able to fix the weather, but perhaps there was a publicity trick they’d missed?