Ella's Ice Cream Summer Read online

  ‘Ella, I’m missing her so much already… will you post all her pictures on Instagram so I can see my baby every day?’ she’d asked. I understood, I was missing my babies too. But photos, every day? Really? I could only hope Aarya would become so involved in her work in Nepal that I may be able to have the odd day off from doggie selfies.

  Mum was now standing on the step one leg in the hallway ready to sprint back in as soon as I’d gone; she’d downloaded The Real Housewives of Cheshire and was keen to ‘get stuck in’.

  ‘While you’re away I’ll show buyers round the house and tell them we’ve got rats and damp,’ she laughed. I knew she was still unhappy about me going, but realising I wasn’t going to change my mind she was putting a brave face on things. ‘No, I know, I’ll say there was a murder here and it’s haunted,’ she continued. ‘No one will want to buy this house, I’ll make sure of it – and then we can stay here and Dick can sing for his money!’

  But when it came to me actually leaving she became tearful, and for a moment I almost caved in, until I remembered that though this was an adventure – I also had no choice. I’d had no luck so far in terms of getting a job and this was the only option right now to make some money.

  ‘Call me any time,’ I said, refusing to feel guilty as she stood on the step clutching her hankie.

  ‘Now all the bills are direct debited, Mum, so there shouldn’t be any problems,’ I said, hugging her. ‘And I’ve arranged an online shop to arrive each week, so no worries there.’

  ‘I might never see you again… I might die before you realise you did the wrong thing going there.’

  I ignored this, reminding her that she could change her mind any time and come with me if she wanted to.

  She pursed her lips. ‘Not while there’s snow on the Himalayas.’

  ‘Well, I’d love it if you did come and stay at some point,’ I said. If she wasn’t going to discuss this with me properly I had no choice, I had made the decision and I was going.

  ‘Go on, you go and enjoy yourself… you’ll soon find out what you’re missing,’ she shooed me away as I climbed into the car, but gestured for me to wind the window down for her parting shot.

  I braced myself.

  ‘Don’t get too involved with people down there…’ she said, her face was close to mine and she had that concerned look again.

  ‘What people?’

  ‘They talk… there’s lots of talk, small town… don’t believe anyone’s lies.’

  This bothered me slightly but I wouldn’t let Mum see me weaken, this was my time, my adventure and I wasn’t going to be put off. ‘I don’t understand… I want to make friends, I think it’ll be good for me. You’re always telling me to get out more, meet new people.’

  ‘You can do that here.’

  I couldn’t hang around any longer listening to Mum trying to put me off. I waved and pulled away, wondering once more what she’d got against Appledore, its people and her sister. Perhaps my journey back there would reveal what had happened once and for all?

  It was a long journey down the M5 and Delilah and I needed a couple of toilet breaks. I’d brought her travel bag with us which contained everything a doggie on the go might need, from a toothbrush to perfume (Jean Paw Gaultier and DCanineY of course), to spare pyjamas and the all-important diamanté-encrusted water bowl. I bought us both a bottle of water and poured hers into her bowl, much to the delight of a young family in the next car whose kids asked if they could take her picture. I took one too, she looked rather cute in her pink party dress, though later I was admonished by Aarya when she saw the picture on Instagram. ‘Ella, she shouldn’t wear her designer stuff for travel,’ she messaged me.

  I apologised and explained I’d never dressed a dog before, this was the first time – it looked like this was going to be a summer of firsts.

  On arrival in Appledore I parked up and walked along the beach to Ben Shaw’s offices to collect the van and apartment keys. This was the first time I’d been to the offices, and from the outside they looked like a typical, mundane solicitor’s, grey windows, dark paintwork. I couldn’t imagine Ben working here and tried to reconcile this place with the man I’d met on my last visit here. Having slipped Delilah into something stylish but casual after our long journey, I tied her up outside with her bowl of water and walked inside where Ben was sitting at his desk. He had both feet up, flip-flops on, reading a book and eating an ice cream cone, oblivious to anything around him. I stood for a few seconds wondering how to get his attention, and coughed slightly which did the trick. As soon as he saw me he leapt up.

  ‘Whoa you scared me; thank God you’re not a client.’

  ‘I think I might be classed as a client?’ I suggested.

  ‘Oh… yeah of course you are. At least you’re not my dad; I’m paranoid he’s going to walk in and find me eating ice cream with no socks on.’

  ‘There are worse things a man could do…’ I said, looking at his bare feet, imagining them pounding on sand into the foamy sea.

  ‘I suppose. God I hate this 9 to 5 crap, wish I was on a beach somewhere hot.’

  ‘Don’t we all?’ I sighed, glancing down at his flip-flops. ‘So ice cream and flip-flops are frowned upon here?’

  ‘Yes, in fact any avenue of pleasure is frowned upon if you’re my father – which I think we’ve established you’re not?’

  I laughed. ‘No, I can’t be, because I love ice cream and flip-flops and often stroll down avenues of pleasure,’ I said, wondering what the hell I was going on about.

  ‘You sound like my kinda girl,’ he laughed.

  I blushed and laughed along. Too much. In fact, my excessive laughter may have given him the impression I was slightly unhinged. It was weird, but I couldn’t stop – it’s just that no man had said anything remotely flirty to me for many years and it threw me slightly. Eventually I had to style it out into a cough and he brought me a glass of water.

  ‘Flip-flops and ice cream is an interesting choice for a solicitor at work… but hey it could catch on,’ I said, once I’d composed myself.

  ‘Yeah, that’s what I say, I told my dad we should have dress-down days and a slide in the office like they do at Google, but there are only two of us, and he hates helter-skelters.’

  ‘They aren’t for everyone,’ I smiled, realising that Ben was joking much of the time. In fact, he rarely took anything seriously, which was refreshing.

  ‘Do you get your sense of humour from your dad?’ I asked.

  ‘God no, he doesn’t laugh, but that’s because he’s been stuck in this office all his life, which is why I don’t want to be.’

  ‘I get that, I’m so looking forward to spending the summer outside. Which reminds me, I’ve come for the keys.’

  ‘Oh of course, hang on.’

  He was now shuffling around in drawers and his pockets, and after recovering several sets of keys and putting them back, he finally found the ones he was looking for. He handed me three sets: one for the van, one for the café kitchens and the other for the apartment I’d be staying in. Ben had contacted Gina and she’d agreed I could stay there rent free over the summer, which was wonderful. He also gave me some forms to fill in, which he’d organised regarding my trading on and around the beach.

  I thanked him for all his help and he pointed out it was his job.

  ‘In the meantime you just need to get set up and running as soon as possible,’ he said. ‘I’ll rush through these papers and chase the process through. Summer isn’t long, you have to make the most of it… that’s my motto anyway.’

  ‘Yeah and it’s true – so why are you stuck in here?’

  ‘My ticket to Hawaii won’t pay for itself unfortunately. I’m off at the end of August and won’t be back here until next year. And before you say anything, I know, I know, I’m thirty-nine, and I need to grow up. But there’s nothing quite like being in the ocean, surrounded by turquoise… nothing.’

  ‘Oh I understand totally. Look at me I’m fort
y-four and I’ve already done the growing-up thing and it got boring. Now I’m starting on my own adventure, thanks to you.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes, you were the one who said why not work in the van over the summer. I’d already lost my job, then my ex-husband decided to sell our home from under us, and I remembered something you said… about the universe providing the answer. For me that answer was in the shape of Reginaldo – so here I am.’

  ‘Hey nice to know someone actually listened to me for once,’ he smiled.

  ‘So while I’m dreaming of Devon, you’re dreaming of Hawaii,’ I said, suddenly wanting to know more about this man.

  ‘Yeah. I’ve dived pretty much everywhere, Australia, India, the Caribbean, but Hawaii, she’s my dream. It’s somewhere I’ve always wanted to go and it feels like my last chance, my final exam you know?’

  ‘Yes, I do. I’m not doing anything as amazing as scuba diving in Hawaii – but selling ice cream from a van on a Devon beach feels as exciting as that to me!’

  ‘Everyone’s dreams are equally valid, Ella,’ he said, and he looked at me with those eyes, like he could see into my soul. He had this lovely way of making me feel comfortable, happy – and that word, ‘valid’, made me feel like I existed again. I was enjoying his company again, but suddenly remembered I’d left Delilah outside and could only imagine the drama that would ensue if anything happened to her so as much as I wanted to stay I decided to drag myself away.

  I thanked Ben and said goodbye, wondering if he had a girlfriend and hoping I might see him again.

  As he walked me to the door, he opened it and Delilah leapt up as soon as I emerged into the sunshine, and in her delight to see me was twirling like a spinning top.

  ‘Who’s this?’ Ben said, smiling and immediately bending down to stroke her. She licked his face and we both laughed at her rather overwhelming hello, and I couldn’t help but notice the way his long legs folded underneath him as he sat on his haunches.

  ‘This is Delilah,’ I said, ‘she’s an older lady and she may only have one eye but she knows how to bat her lashes.’

  ‘I reckon you’re going to love it here, Delilah,’ he smiled, ruffling her fur.

  ‘We’ve already walked along the beach – it was great, there was much excited barking and digging – and that was just me!’

  ‘Be careful, people round here are funny about barking women,’ he laughed, and I was warmed by this. Ben Shaw seemed to laugh a lot, reminding me of how little I’d laughed recently.

  I watched him playing with Delilah, the tall man and this tiny dog looked so funny, but he didn’t care. I wanted to be like him, free and happy, my life in a rucksack ready to go at any time. I’d always felt restless, like I was looking for something – a final piece of my jigsaw. Perhaps Appledore would bring me that feeling of freedom I craved?

  Eventually, I prised Delilah off Ben; for a moment I envied the way he was touching her nose with his and telling her how gorgeous she was. In that instant I’d have given anything to be a Pomeranian in a pink jumpsuit.

  With much tail-wagging and waving, we said goodbye and Delilah and I headed off for the car, both a little flat from leaving Ben behind.

  After driving round for quite some time and taking in a little more of the area than planned, we arrived at what was to be our summer home. It was a first-floor apartment, and when I opened that door the calmness hit me like a blowing sea breeze, filling my head with tranquillity. Sophia had bought this place a few years back, but I’d always stayed with her in her apartment over the café when I’d visited, so this was all new to me.

  As I took in my surroundings I noticed the walls were painted white, the floor was warm oak and the living room lined with bookshelves. Vintage Italian posters were dotted about the light and airy room with starfish and mermaid sculptures displayed on one of the shelves.

  The bedroom was a cool blue with a tiny window looking out onto the estuary, and the view was amazing, I could see what Sophia loved about this place. The beach was flat, squiggly lines, rivulets of water on sand, turning to glitter when caught by the sun.

  Delilah and I loped back downstairs to discover the tiny little galley kitchen stuffed with Mediterranean pottery and pasta pans hanging from the ceiling. How like Sophia to bring a little bit of Italy to this lovely apartment. I could almost smell the warm garlic, and taste the red wine, thinking of Sophia stirring her special pasta sauce on the hob.

  The walls were covered in familiar mosaic plates, the ones Sophia used to have on her kitchen walls in her place over the café. Sea blue and green ceramic jostled with jagged sunset oranges, the colours reminiscent of an Italian villa perched on the cliffs above Sorrento. For once I felt like I might just have made the right decision to spend the summer here in Little Italy, North Devon.

  I was so grateful to Gina for allowing me to stay here and wondered what she planned to do with the place. But most of all I wondered what she was going to do with the café; I had to make contact with her as soon as I was settled.

  It was late afternoon and the sun was still high in the sky when Delilah and I went into Appledore for supplies. A nostalgic tang of salt and sunshine hung in the air, holding the promise of a fresh new summer to come. We visited the lovely deli first, where we bought the ingredients for a light Italian-style supper. And with ice cream on my mind, I also bought eggs, cream and salted pistachios. I may have been in Devon, but if I was going to be staying in Sophia’s Italian villa by the sea I would embrace the dolce vita.

  The first thing I did once back in the kitchen was to make the ice cream for my Italian dessert. I whisked egg whites, mixed in the yolks, fresh cream and sugar, all the time trying to remember what Aunt Sophia had taught me. I could hear her now as I stirred the mixture, ‘brava ragazza,’ she used to say, which in Italian means ‘good girl’.

  I smiled to myself as I thought of her now, and before putting the plastic container into the freezing compartment of the fridge, I said, ‘here goes Sophia!’, and swirled in some pistachios. I wasn’t sure it would work, I knew Sophia always used unsalted, but I could only find salted – this could be my first mistake. But we learn by our mistakes and this was going to be a rocky road, especially as everything was quite new to me. I’d made ice cream many times with Sophia, but without her recipes and her hand to guide me, I knew this summer would be a big learning curve for me.

  Later that evening, I felt like Sophia Loren, sitting on my elegant balcony, eating succulent olives, creamy mozzarella and sweet cherry tomatoes. With Delilah at my feet, I sipped a crisp Italian white and took in the view, while letting my mind race across the beach and dive into the ocean.

  This kind of peace was something I’d never experienced before. It was precious and I truly felt like I might find me again in all this. I used to be young, with ambitions and dreams, but life had become a conveyor belt dealing with everyone’s needs. This was my time. And what a luxury it was just to sit there and allow myself time and space, uninterrupted by people or noise – just me, Delilah and the universe.

  As I watched the sun sink into the silvery sea, turning it to honey beneath a pink sky, I sampled the ice cream I had made earlier in an elegant glass dish. The rich, sweet creamy base was cold and perfect with the spike of salty pistachios – not a mistake, a resounding success to my taste buds, and I was reminded of Sophia’s conviction that everyone brought something new to a recipe, and I’d brought a little sass to this one. Perhaps I could fly without the safety net of Sophia’s recipes after all? I could take a few risks, add my own twists and come up with my own take on flavours. I was in heaven, even the glass dish was perfect; it was as if Sophia knew exactly what I would need in that little kitchen – Mediterranean and old-fashioned in an elegant, Italian way.

  As the sun set on my first day, it felt like a beginning of sorts. I had a place to stay, food to eat, Delilah was settled, and the sea was sparkling on the horizon. Eventually, when the stars came out to say hello and the air tur
ned a little cooler, I wandered inside, went to bed, and slept through the night without waking for the first time in years.

  10

  Hot Cappuccinos and New Beginnings

  Opening my eyes to a shaft of morning light beaming through the bedroom, I immediately wondered where I was. Then remembered with a flush of fear and pleasure that I was in my new life and I climbed out of bed to face the day and everything it held.

  I wandered over to the window and marvelled at the early morning view. The sun was already up, and the tide was out, leaving a swathe of smooth beach on the estuary dotted with people. From my vantage point on the patio, I could hear the seagulls, make out the dog walkers, runners, a mother and toddler and an old man carrying a newspaper. I thought how wonderful it must be to live in a place where you could walk along a beach to the shops – then I reminded myself, this summer, I did.

  I wrapped my dressing gown around me and contemplated calling Mum, then decided to have a cup of coffee first. It was a small thing, a cup of coffee and a moment for me before attending to everyone else – and the threat of a guilt cloud hung vaguely over me, but I didn’t let it rain down. I was finally putting me first – and as selfish and outrageous and terrible as that was, it also felt pretty damn good.

  Delilah and I sat on the balcony welcoming the same sky we’d parted with the evening before. Now it was bright and blue, never-ending and dotted with wisps of white cotton. I was enjoying this lovely calm when the doorbell rang.

  Answering it, I was surprised to see Ben standing in the doorway with a smile on his face and a thick wad of paper in his hands.

  ‘Good morning! I thought I’d hand-deliver your street trader’s licence along with other deeply boring documents that I can barely look at because I might have to kill myself – or at least fall asleep,’ he smiled.