Ella's Ice Cream Summer Read online

  ‘Are these for Mum?’ I asked hopefully, as I admired the enormous bouquet stuffed with huge headed hydrangeas and white roses.

  ‘No they’re for you,’ she said, looking slightly affronted.

  ‘They’re beautiful, thank you,’ I said, no one had ever bought me flowers.

  ‘Oh it’s good to see the old place,’ she smiled, wandering through to the kitchen without going into the living room to say hello first. This simple action/oversight on Gina’s part would give Mum yet another reason to hate her. But Gina wouldn’t understand, she lived on a different planet from my mother where you did what you wanted to do – not what everyone else expected.

  ‘Mum’s through here,’ I said brightly, grabbing a bottle of wine from the fridge and guiding Gina through. But when we walked in, the room was empty – no mother. I had a feeling she’d do this.

  ‘Mum’s tired, she’s probably gone to bed…’ I started, assuming she was hiding upstairs. I have to say this was a slight relief – though I wanted to spend time with both of them it wouldn’t be ideal at this juncture. I hoped one day I could bring them together, but it was evidently still raw, and tonight would have been less about mediating and more refereeing.

  ‘Good, it’s just you and me,’ Gina said, squeezing my arm not the least bit upset by Mum’s absence in fact seemingly glad of it. ‘I bought this, I’m going to do your hair,’ she was holding a pack of blonde hair colour and, before I could say anything, we were both distracted by a creak on the stairs.

  It seemed Mother had made a reappearance, standing there like bloody Bette Davis in full make-up and my earrings.

  I looked from one to the other, my mouth probably open, unable to say anything, unsure what would happen next. The two women eyed each other wordlessly, no smile or glimmer of recognition while Mum stood on the top stair like the queen of everything.

  After what seemed like hours of icy silence, I was about to cut in when mother spoke.

  ‘So, Gina – you’re back.’

  Mum steadily began walking down the stairs, while I held my breath, you could hear a pin drop but Gina didn’t flinch. I half expected Mum to stop mid-flight and instruct us to fasten our seat belts and was relieved when she arrived at the foot of the stairs and swept over to Gina with a perfunctory peck in the air. Gina returned the air kiss façade and they wordlessly sat down on chairs opposite each other, both cautious, like the other might attack at any time. What the hell was going on here? I’d hoped Sophia’s death had brought an end to this nonsense, but it looked like Gina was carrying it on in her name.

  I plonked myself down and we all sat there in a triangle of deafening silence, as I waited for a volcanic eruption of Italian tempers.

  Eventually Gina started talking – and I so wished she hadn’t. ‘So Ella, I bought supper, and some bleach for your hair,’ she said, picking up the bloody packet again – she might as well have stuck two fingers up in Mum’s face.

  Mum twitched and I honestly thought for a moment she was going to just take a run at Gina, but she remained seated and restrained herself, though her scarlet face told another story.

  Oh God, I didn’t want Mum to think I’d been planning this with Gina. I felt like I was walking a tightrope: I wanted to be Gina’s friend, but I felt Mum didn’t approve. Why did the two of them together make me feel like this? I was back on that beach in 1984, shivering and covered in a towel while Mum and Gina had their stand-off. I was stuck between these two women once more; it was uncomfortable, embarrassing and bloody stressful, I felt like I was treading on eggshells.

  ‘My hair?’ I said, surprised for Mum’s benefit. Yes I know I was forty-four and should have been able to dye my hair or not as I chose, but this was about control, and both of them wanted it. ‘Oh thanks Gina, that’s kind of you, but… I don’t know about…’

  ‘Oh Ella, we talked about it yesterday,’ Gina said, the lower lip dropping in potential sulk. ‘You said you’d always wanted to be blonde like me.’

  Damn she made it sound like something we’d cooked up in Mum’s absence, which just wasn’t true. I didn’t even want my hair dyed, and I’d said as much, Gina obviously hadn’t got the message. I was aware Mum was watching us like a game of bloody tennis. I felt so awkward because I didn’t want to hurt anyone – especially my mum.

  ‘Yes perhaps when I was younger I might have enjoyed being blonde,’ I said, not meeting my mother’s eyes, ‘but as I said, it’s a bit late now…’

  ‘Nonsense. I’ve bought everything and we’re going to have a lovely girlie evening doing your hair – I bought nail varnish too. I noticed yours were a bit chipped. I’m going to give you a fabulous makeover, don’t you just LOVE a makeover?’

  Nail varnish? Yes, my nails were chipped because I was so bloody busy working I hadn’t had chance to think about them.

  ‘Gorgeous colours I’ve got,’ she was saying, holding up a couple of Chanel varnishes in the latest shades.

  I nodded uncertainly and my mother began making weird snorting noises like a geyser about to blow. I didn’t know which way to turn. But Gina was still going.

  ‘You’ll be gorgeous and blonde and…’

  ‘She’s already gorgeous. You heard the lady,’ my mother started, puffing out her chest and making like an Italian matriarch. I knew I should never have bought her that box set of Mob Wives. ‘She does not want to be blonde.’

  ‘I think she’s old enough to make her own mind up, don’t you, Roberta?’ Gina said, with a sickly-sweet smile.

  ‘Exactly, she’s old enough to know that it’s too late to suddenly go blonde.’ Oh God, this was getting out of hand. Who would have thought a packet of bloody L’Oréal could have caused such a diplomatic incident but I didn’t have time to get a word in as the crisis escalated.

  ‘It’s never too late, Roberta,’ Gina said, and I got the feeling we weren’t talking about hair dye any more. They were staring at each other with such hatred I couldn’t bear it, and I finally said what I thought, at the risk of causing even more anger.

  ‘What is it? Why does everyone seem to have fallen out in this family?’ I asked. ‘It’s like a scene from The Godfather in here tonight. I thought the two of you would be okay, I know Mum had a misunderstanding with your mother (that was putting it lightly), but why are you angry, Gina?’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ Gina said.

  So I poured a very large glass of wine and drank it, while Mum went back to Lord Sugar and Gina sulked as silence descended.

  After a while I opened up the food she’d brought, but when I looked inside, I knew I couldn’t take it into the living room and present it to my mother under the title ‘snack’. This was so much more than a snack, and God knows where she’d found platters of sushi in a sleepy Devon village on a Wednesday night. There were all kinds of delicate flowers of raw fish with salty scarlet centres, oblong pale pink morsels of salmon, deeper pink tuna wrapped around seaweed and pinwheels of rice sitting in liquorice black nori. Mum would hate it, on every level, and as lovely as it looked I really didn’t have room after the pasta.

  ‘Open the champagne honey,’ Gina said, as she came into the kitchen and grabbed a large platter of raw fish, taking it through to the living room before I could stop her. I wanted to cover my face, Mother was still embroiled in a boardroom bloodbath and one false move from Gina and her wasabi pickle and we were likely to have our very own bloodbath in the living room.

  Mum looked up from the TV begrudgingly, determined not to like whatever Gina was offering. ‘We’ve already eaten,’ she said.

  ‘Mum, Gina kindly brought this for our supper,’ I said, mock politely.

  ‘I eat this all the time when I’m in Malibu,’ Gina was saying over her shoulder to me. ‘We get it from Nobu… it’s the best Japanese restaurant in the world.’

  Mum glanced at the sushi with a curled lip like it was a bushtucker trial and Gina was brandishing a plate of kangaroo testicles under her nose, before turning back to the TV.


  Gina winked at me and sat back down, nibbling on raw salmon while finishing off her glass of wine.

  The next twenty minutes was spent on raw fish and superficial conversation, between Gina and I, which was punctuated by Mum’s complaints that she couldn’t hear the TV over ‘the chatter’.

  Two hours later, at the end of an incredibly tense evening, Mum decided to go to bed. I thought she might be thawing when she offered to call a taxi for Gina, but realised this was just a ruse to get her away from me before she could dye my hair blonde and turn me into a lady of the night. I was surprised and slightly angry with Mum, I’d pointed out a million times that I was my own woman and that she had nothing to fear from Gina influencing me.

  So I was actually glad when Gina told Mum she wasn’t leaving yet and I could enjoy a quiet evening with my cousin without my mum watching on as if I couldn’t take care of myself.

  Wind on half an hour and I’m sitting on the sofa, drunk on champagne, wearing a headful of bright blue bleach. Even now I’m not sure how I came to give in to Gina’s insistence I go blonde. Perhaps it was too much champagne, or the fact that I have always been putty in Gina’s hands?

  18

  Limoncello, Sweet Sorrento and a Bag Full of Secrets

  The next morning I awoke to a lovely text from Ben asking if I was free later. I said yes, but explained that my life was turning into a 1970s sit com and I may have to spend the evening placating my mother after the Gina situation the previous evening, especially as she had yet to see my ‘Iced Nordic Blonde’ hair.

  I got out of bed and looked in the mirror – I was like a different person, my shoulder-length hair, always dark, unremarkable and recently sprinkled with grey, was a bright, bubbly blonde. I’d had a few drinks when I finally agreed to Gina bleaching it, but I liked the new me – maybe it wasn’t too late after all.

  I rummaged in my make-up bag and found an old red lipstick, like the kind Gina wore, and when I applied it I was transformed further. I posed a while in front of the mirror like Lucie always did when she was taking selfies and I laughed at how silly I’d become. A few weeks ago I wouldn’t have dreamed of dying my hair and posing in a mirror, I was too busy worrying about everyone else to have any fun, and it felt good. Then I remembered Mum, she’d probably hate it simply because Gina was involved, but as she wasn’t up yet, I did what any self-respecting, mature sophisticated forty-something would do and made a run for it. I’d leave before she had a chance to tell me how awful it looked – that way I could enjoy my hair for a little while at least.

  Later when Ben popped down to the beach in his lunch hour he seemed stunned at my transformation.

  ‘You look seriously hot,’ he whistled, making my face burn.

  He was standing outside the van, his arms on the counter and he reached for my hand as I stood in front of him. It felt good to be back with Ben, here was someone I could be myself with, and completely at ease rather than a referee treading on eggshells with Mum and Gina.

  ‘So, are you still not free tonight?’ he asked.

  I longed to spend time with him, I knew he’d be going away soon, so we were on borrowed time, but what could I do? I explained more fully about Mum and Gina and how Mum would now be expecting me to dine with her after the previous night’s debacle.

  ‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll catch up with some old mates, you should spend time with your mum, she came all this way to see you.’

  ‘Mmm all this way to keep an eye on me,’ I sighed, feeling thirteen again, and not in a good way. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad she’s here, because I worried about her alone in Manchester – but I just know she’s going to take over my life like she always has.’

  ‘Then give her something to do… you’ll be busy once the season starts and I bet you’ll be glad of some help on the van. And if that doesn’t work, what about Delilah? She needs walking – let the doggie take the strain,’ he laughed.

  I thought about it and it wasn’t such a bad idea; if Mum was doing the deli runs or taking Delilah down the beach, it meant she wouldn’t be harassing me.

  ‘There’s the small matter of Mum driving me bonkers all day, but I reckon Delilah would be able to handle her,’ I said. We both looked over at the cute, innocent little dog in polka dot sundress wagging her tail, unaware of the fate awaiting her as my mother’s chaperone.

  After a while he wandered back to work and I watched him leave, wishing I could be with him, but knowing it was more than my life’s worth. Mum hadn’t yet seen my hair and even if it did look fabulous and take ten years off me and make me ‘hot’ – she just wasn’t going to like it. Not one bit.

  ‘Oh my God what the hell have you done to your hair?’ was Mum’s opening gambit as I collected her outside her hotel after work. She’d packed and checked out and was now, officially, my ‘roommate’.

  ‘I’ve had so many compliments,’ I said, refusing to allow her to bring me down. I knew this wasn’t aimed at me; it was a direct hit at Gina.

  ‘It’s not you,’ she said sniffily.

  ‘I can assure you, Mum, it is,’ I smiled as we pulled away. ‘It’s all me, but a different me – and I like it.’

  She pursed her lips and raised her brows in a ‘do what you like’ face as she got out her phone and started bashing angrily at the keyboard.

  When we arrived back at the apartment I ordered a pizza – I was too tired to cook. Though the July days were sunny, the evenings could still be quite fresh so we stayed inside to eat. The crispy crust and melted cheese appeared to soothe my mother’s soul slightly and I asked her if at any time she’d ever consider going out for a meal with Gina.

  ‘I just think we should be together,’ I said. ‘We’re family and we’re all each other’s got now.’

  ‘I know, love, but I’d rather poke my own eyes out.’

  ‘Okay, thanks for being open to the idea…’

  ‘She just makes me so angry… she walked out years ago and she comes back with her champagne and her sushis talking about Mabu in Nolibu…’

  ‘Nobu… it’s a Japanese restaurant, Mum, in Malibu.’

  ‘I don’t care, she can stick her Nolibu and her sushis.’

  ‘Why don’t you give her a chance? She’s lovely.’

  ‘Oh to you she might be. She comes sweeping in turning your head and making you think she’s so special. Then before you know it she’ll be off again.’

  ‘But that’s okay, she’s got her own life, Mum.’

  My mum paused as she looked at me. ‘But every time she goes she takes something back with her. And I worry it might be you, Ella. I’m your mother, I’ve been here for you and yet you choose her over me, you let her dye your hair… you always choose her… ’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere with her. And last night you wanted to leave…’ I said, trying to sound reasonable. Mum seemed to have this all out of perspective and I didn’t want her running away with this and convincing herself she’d been thrown out of the apartment.

  ‘Mum, you chose to leave.’

  ‘And you chose to stay – with her.’

  ‘I just enjoy her company, she’s interesting and fun and…’

  ‘More fun than me?’

  ‘No one could be more fun than you, Mother,’ I said, rolling my eyes.

  She shot me a look; ‘Just don’t forget who loves you, I don’t want Gina giving you any ideas and then upsetting you when she disappears again.’

  ‘I’m not twelve, Mum.’

  ‘No, but you’d have thought so last night, she was all over you – and you just let her manipulate you.’

  ‘No I don’t.’

  ‘So when you said you didn’t want her to bleach your hair, what happened?’

  ‘Too much champagne?’ I smiled. ‘But you know what? I’m glad I let her do my hair, I love it and I don’t care what you say, so bugger off,’ I said this with affection and she knew I was teasing her, but she was like a dog with a bloody bone my mother.

  ‘This is
what happened when you were younger, you’d come home with a filthy mouth,’ she said, ‘just trashy, and it was all her doing…’

  ‘Mum, you say bugger – I got it off you,’ I teased.

  ‘… laying down her poison and buggering off.’

  ‘There, ha you said it – pure filth, Mother,’ I laughed. But she didn’t crack a smile.

  After we’d eaten I suggested we talk to the kids. It was something we could share – something Gina wasn’t part of. It would be late where they were but I had this need to speak with them, see that they were okay.

  ‘I saw Lucie on Instagram this morning,’ Mum said, apparently cheered up at the thought of calling the kids. ‘She’s still with Pang. He seems very nice, but I told you, he’s gay – on the other side of the ballroom. My gaydar is glowing,’ she added with a knowing nod.

  I had to smile, I wasn’t sure how Lucie would feel about her new friend causing Nan’s gaydar to glow.

  Within seconds, Lucie had been woken from her slumber and was on screen smiling sleepily. Despite it being the middle of the night where she was, my daughter seemed pleased to hear from us.

  ‘Hey Mum, cool hair… it really suits you,’ she said.

  I beamed while Mum growled quietly at the side of me.

  Lucie went on to tell us about the place she was staying, and sent us photos of a nearby temple she’d visited that day.

  ‘And how’s Pang?’ Mum asked, unable to resist doing a Miss Marple and investigating the poor lad.

  ‘He’s lovely – so cute!’ she said, and her little face lit up and my heart swelled.

  ‘Has he had a girlfriend before?’ Mum asked, and I just knew we were seconds away from Mum unfurling her theory on Pang’s sexuality across the miles. I doubted it was true, mother’s Gaydar wasn’t, in my view, to be trusted, it hadn’t even twitched throughout her online ‘lesbian period’.