by Sue Watson
‘So don’t give up now, Ella, you’ve got all these ideas and plans, don’t just walk away. Stop longing for what you can’t have, and make the most of what you do have…’
He hugged me and I could see that in the great scheme of things I was bloody lucky. I had two lovely kids, my mum was there for me in her own way, I had Gina (though the jury was currently out on that one) and I had Ben (though I still wasn’t quite sure how to categorise him). I also had the van, and perhaps I should try to see the van as an entity on its own and not part of something else?
‘I have to think of a million ways with ice cream now, I can make a living from the van,’ I said, rallying, inspired by Ben’s enthusiasm and faith.
‘Yes of course you can,’ he smiled.
‘Thanks Ben,’ I said, ‘you’re a good friend.’ I quickly glanced at his face, wondering if he might react to this ‘friendship’ comment. Would he contradict my remark and say he was more? Might he confess he had feelings for me as I did for him? But after a few seconds I let it go, perhaps me and Ben were just friends after all? And perhaps that was okay?
21
A Tsunami of Happiness and Trouble over Teabags
I saw Gina the next morning, she’d obviously returned from Westward Ho!, but hadn’t thought to let me know. She was sitting overlooking the sea smoking a cigarette. It was early and unusual for her to have risen before ten so I parked up on the beach, locked the van and took the opportunity to go and talk to her. If I could broach the subject of the café, I hoped I might be able to convince her not to sign it away. I headed up the beach, waiting for her to wave, but she was looking far out beyond me, and seemed surprised when I joined her on the bench.
‘You’re up early,’ I said.
‘Yes I couldn’t sleep.’ She looked a little tired around the eyes, but it was hard to tell because as always she was in full make-up.
‘You were miles away,’ I said, sitting down next to her.
‘Dreaming, just dreaming,’ she smiled and, taking my hand, continued to look out at the ocean.
‘It seems so bleak on a grey day when the tide’s out,’ I said.
‘Mmm the sea goes so far. I used to know the rhythm of the tides, when the sea would be here and when we’d have this endless emptiness,’ she said, without taking her eyes off the horizon.
I wasn’t sure how to broach the sale of the café – obviously Ben shouldn’t have told me and I didn’t want to cause problems for him, but I needed to find out. I’d lay awake the night before thinking it through and going from hope to despair; perhaps the café had been bought by someone who wanted to keep it as a café? Perhaps they’d be interested in a business partner who would, in the summer, take the café ‘on the road’ in the van while they worked the cafe? Or perhaps it had been bought by a conglomerate who wanted to tear it down and build holiday flats? I tried not to think about that possibility.
‘We’re having a great summer – with the van,’ I said. I turned on my phone and showed her photos of the van, the different ice creams, Delilah and Mum in their matching pink dresses, hoping it might inspire her to rethink the sale.
She scrolled through; Delilah’s extensive wardrobe made her smile. ‘She’s such a cutie,’ she said, ‘and I don’t mean Roberta,’ she rolled her eyes and she took a long drag. I’d hoped the time apart might have cooled tensions but it seemed the feelings were as strong as ever, it was down to me to try to smooth things over.
‘Mum’s okay you know, I think she just feels a bit left out, you and I get on so well and…’
‘We do, don’t we?’ she said, flicking her ash and looking at me. ‘I value our relationship, Ella…’
‘Me too,’ I said. And we both stared ahead, me thinking about the café and Gina probably thinking about the filming she’d abandoned to come here. ‘Are you missing LA?’ I asked. ‘It must be a different world here.’
‘Yes, I miss my friends, and the sunshine… it isn’t the same since Whitney passed.’
‘Whitney Houston?’
‘Yes.’
‘You knew her?’
‘Sort of… we were at some of the same parties.’
She seemed almost reluctant to talk about her LA life. She’d offer a tantalising glimpse then immediately take it away before I had a chance to ask any more. I’d expected the old Gina to be gossiping constantly about everyone she’d met or worked with, but more often than not I’d have to tease it out.
‘And your husband? Chad? Are you missing him?’ She hadn’t talked about her husband much since she arrived.
‘Chad? Oh yes… of course.’
And she closed the door again, making it difficult for me to take the conversation any further. I left it a few minutes watching the beach slowly come to life and eventually I said, ‘What are your plans, Gina?’
‘Plans?’
‘Yes, are you staying here a while – or leaving for LA soon? You’ve been here a while, what about the filming? Is Leonardo okay with you being here – and the director too? I don’t want you to lose the role…’
‘No… I won’t.’ She was silent, I could see it must have hurt to leave the filming, it could be her big break, she still had time to be the next Helen Mirren. She obviously didn’t want to talk about this which I understood, so I changed the subject, staying on her possible departure, but shifting slightly.
‘Mum seems to think you’ll just take off one day and I won’t know you’ve gone.’
‘Your mother…’ she looked at me awkwardly, like she was about to say something meaningful, and finally reveal herself, but then she looked away and I knew the moment had passed and what she was about to say was not what she’d wanted to. ‘Your mother doesn’t like me very much, she has this… opinion of me and I don’t know if that will ever change.’
‘Mum can be judgemental… give her time and I’m sure she’ll realise how lovely you are and how kind and that you wouldn’t just leave without letting me know. You wouldn’t, would you?’
She seemed uncertain. ‘I will try not to, Ella. Look I have to go… I have an appointment.’
I suddenly realised this was my chance to try to find out about the café.
‘Is it with Mr Shaw? Is it about the café? I hope you’re not selling, Gina – I know it might make financial sense – but it would mean so much to me…’ I said, my words rolling after each other in my anticipation to find out.
‘I’m sorry, Ella, I really am running late. Perhaps we could get together this evening?’
Before I could say anything else she was already off down the road. But what could I do? The café wasn’t mine and never would be, and if Gina wanted to sell I just had to hope the buyers wanted it to stay as a café and might be persuaded to let me help restore it to its former ice cream glory – but somehow I doubted it. I was beginning to realise that miracles didn’t happen in my life.
And I didn’t see Gina that night as she’d suggested, she never called and when I texted she didn’t respond. She seemed to have gone off the radar as Mum had said she would.
‘I hope you understand now why I’ve kept her at arm’s length and advised you to do the same,’ Mum said. ‘Gina always comes first and she doesn’t care who she hurts along the way.’
She was probably right, though I found it hard to give up on my cousin, she’d brought a little bit of sparkle into my life – always had. I wanted to believe in her, but I hadn’t been able to get in contact with her and when I’d been to the hotel where she was staying they said she’d checked out. My worst fear was that she’d sold the café and felt she couldn’t tell me so had gone back to LA without saying goodbye. As much as the café meant to me, losing Gina like that after all these years would hurt terribly. I called her agent to see if she knew where she was but there was no answer – and despite leaving several messages, she never got back to me. Ben was equally flummoxed and when he asked his father he said he had no idea where she was, he was her solicitor not her keeper.
There w
as nothing I could do, so I took Ben’s advice, to let the water take my weight and try to let go. It was tough, but as the busy bright days segued into soft amber evenings I began to feel a kind of acceptance. I wasn’t sure if it was the beach, Ben or something in the ice cream, but my heart felt lighter and my mind was free. There was nothing I could do about Gina and the café, so I just had to concentrate on the van and let the universe decide.
Ben would come over to the van during the day and tease Mum, telling her Simon Cowell was looking for her, and she’d whack him over the head playfully (which he said actually hurt). We were so busy some days I could barely speak, and mother seemed to spend most of the time with Delilah entertaining the queue. Meanwhile, Ben had been helping a lot, lifting boxes, moving fridges, and as grateful as I was, I hoped this wasn’t taking him away from work at his father’s firm.
‘Does your dad expect you to be in the office?’ I asked one evening when he’d been around most of the day.
‘Dad knows what I’m like, he doesn’t approve, but he’s given up trying to turn me into his mini-me. I want to wear flip-flops and be here… on the beach… with you.’
I melted, and rested my head against his warm T-shirt smelling of salt, fresh air and strawberry ice cream. I was lost in his smell, breathing him in deeply, and yes, I’ll admit I may have lingered a little too long against his chest. But I was at work, and as the boss I wasn’t going to put up with unfitting behaviour from anyone, including myself.
‘You okay?’ he murmured into my hair as I reluctantly pulled away.
‘Yes, I didn’t want to be inappropriate around the sorbets – I may have to terminate my own employment,’ I smiled.
‘I on the other hand don’t work for you, so I could be inappropriate, without contravening any sorbet rules,’ he sighed, snaking his arm discreetly round my waist and under my T-shirt. Just the feel of his warm hand on my bare flesh made me go weak at the knees, and I wanted so much to give in to my feelings. However, being arrested for outraging public decency wasn’t going to help my business, so I pulled myself together.
Later that day we dropped Mum back at the house and Ben and I drove up around the coast road, alone at last. The sun was setting as I drove along, his hand on my knee, my heart racing. We hadn’t been able to spend as much time together and glancing over at his dark eyelashes, his strong, wiry arms I realised how much I’d missed him, and by the look on his face, I guessed he felt the same.
‘Keep going, then turn right,’ he said, directing me to the mouth of the Taw-Torridge estuary, a grassy coastal plain fronted by salt marsh and sand dunes. I pulled up and we climbed out of the car and began walking towards the dunes.
‘I read another letter last night,’ I said, looking out to the sea. ‘It was returned unopened from LA, I shouldn’t have read it – but I feel like there are secrets I should know.’
‘And what did you find out?’ he asked.
‘Nothing really – it was from Sophia to Gina telling her about her father, that he loved her and forgave her at the end, before he died. I’ve been thinking about it – I wonder what he had to forgive her for?’
‘Probably her leaving?’
‘I don’t know, but much of the correspondence seems to refer obliquely to one “event”, something that happened years ago, before I was born. But no one ever talks about it, or explains what caused this terrible rift – and don’t tell me it’s all about a teabag feud.’
‘Who knows?’ he sighed. ‘Tea can be such a catalyst – many families have perished from a disagreement over teabags.’
We both smiled at each other and I linked arms with him, two people standing in a vast expanse of sand dunes. Our lives were so big to us, yet here they were as insignificant as those teabags, and I finally felt myself letting go, allowing the troubles of my family to fade as I took in the here and now. Ben’s hand gently caught mine and I looked up at him; we didn’t need words.
We were completely alone in this golden paradise of silence, sand and setting sun and I felt the echo of the past impacting on the present in this small place, holding so many secrets.
Ben put both arms round my waist, leaning down to kiss me softly on the lips, causing time to stand still. He tasted delicious, his tongue moving gently into my mouth, a prelude of what was to come as we both melted into each other, slowly lying down on the bottle-top and cigarette-butt remains of the warm day. I lay back as his hands explored under my T-shirt, gently pulling down his jeans and then mine, our hips now together, undulating. I cried out as he entered me, his lips on my breasts, my hands on his warm back reaching down to his buttocks. We were outside, I could feel the fresh evening air on my face and thighs, I felt exposed and excited, this was wild and wicked and I’d never done anything like it before. And I experienced such intense pleasure as he gasped and we came together, breathing hard, molten in the sunset.
I lay in the warm sand, my arm across Ben as the night came in, bringing with it a million scattered stars. We didn’t speak, we didn’t need to, there was so much world to contemplate as the evening breeze ruffled the sea and danced across us. I couldn’t have been happier and I pressed my face into Ben’s neck, savouring him, the moment and the deep, deep peace I felt inside.
‘You were right about not taking on the future – there’s nothing we can do is there?’ I said, thinking about the café. ‘I’ve never been able to let go before, thank you for making me realise that I can.’
He kissed the top of my head and I knew whatever happened with us I would always be grateful to him. He would always have a special place in my heart.
‘You know the saying “the journey of a thousand miles starts with one step”?’ I said, lifting my head so I could see his eyes. He seemed miles away, and I was again reminded that this wasn’t a man who stayed, he was probably thinking of other seas, other lives, other journeys yet to take. I knew this, it came with the package, and I’d accepted it – but still it made me uneasy.
‘Yeah… I know the saying,’ he answered eventually.
‘Well you were that first step for me… I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t casually suggested I start working with the van,’ I said, pushing thoughts of him ever leaving out of my head. ‘I’d have put the van in storage – a little flake of hope locked away…’
He smiled, turning to me with a kiss. And we made love again on the sand and I’m sure the stars exploded above us as huge waves broke, crashing onto the beach below.
Yes, I was intoxicated, a tsunami of happiness and relief, and a little bit… just a little bit, in love, with Ben, and with Appledore. Little did I know this was a moment I had to truly cherish, because what came later was to test everything, especially me.
22
Fresh Raspberry Purée and Dick’s Pics on Facebook
The following morning, I set off for the beach down the little streets through Appledore. Ben had left at dawn so Mum wouldn’t be aware of what was going on. I wasn’t ready to share my relationship with Mum, it was a corner of my life I was keeping just for me, and besides, I worried if she knew she might be tempted to appear in my bedroom and serenade us from the bottom of my bed.
I was happy. I’d become so much stronger and more in control of my life, I could even look at ‘The Dick pics’ of my ex on Facebook without snarling. I now laughed at his red face and ridiculous shorts as he sat by a large swimming pool – I wasn’t eaten away with envy and hate. I hadn’t been left behind; I now had a brand new life, a burgeoning business and spent my days on a beach looking out to sea. I missed my kids, but they Skyped and tweeted and thanks to Instagram I saw Josh in the Himalayas and Lucie in Thailand. Life was good.
And yet… I was trying to fathom out what to do next. I didn’t want to just sit on the minor success of my burgeoning ice cream van business which could mean lots of money over the summer, but would dribble to nothing by October. As I poured fresh raspberry purée on velvety vanilla and handed out bountiful cones of pure fruity and creamy pleasure,
I knew I wanted more.
If I’d learned nothing else that summer I now knew I didn’t have to ‘accept’ anything – even my own life. I had a choice, opportunities, and sometimes they didn’t present themselves with a label on and it was easy to miss them. But they were there. The van that had disappointed me at first had turned out to be a great opportunity and I marvelled daily at the way it had changed my life. It was a rusty old vehicle with unusable equipment and dodgy brakes and on the surface it offered me nothing, but it was taking me to places I’d only ever dreamed of. It had given me my own business, a new and exciting (and scary) future. The van had literally been my ride away from a life that didn’t fit me any more. Whether I liked it or not, the future of the ice cream café and my future in Appledore were linked and however hard I tried to be laid-back about it I needed to give it one last go with Gina and try to change her mind about selling the café.
It was about seven that evening and Ben was waiting for me to finish up on the van, so we could eat together before I started making more ice cream for the following day. It had been busy and fun and I’d decided to share my plan with Ben.
‘I’m going to talk to Gina, confront her about the café and see if there’s any way I can change her mind,’ I said.
He just looked at me.
‘What? She doesn’t have to sell it, she can let me run it for a while and when I get some money together I’ll buy it off her. It’s not like she’s desperate for the cash, she’s loaded, well her husband is – she married a really rich guy… she’s…’
‘No, she divorced… didn’t you know?’
‘No, she never said.’ I was shocked.
‘My dad mentioned it earlier. I don’t know any details but it seems she’s single.’
I was upset she hadn’t told me this, especially as she knew I was divorced – we could surely have bonded over this. Gina had probably always been this way, secretive, hard to pin down, but now I felt like I was constantly being surprised by her. Despite the declarations of love, the animated flurry of hugs and kisses, I was beginning to see that she never really gave anything of herself. I was sad for her and wondered what had happened for her marriage to end. I hoped it had just fizzled out and there wasn’t some horrible betrayal, but that’s the only reason I could think of as to why she hadn’t mentioned it.