Ella's Ice Cream Summer

by Sue Watson

  ‘She doesn’t mean to hurt you, I’m sure, but if you’re bringing up a family, running a business and making brilliant ice cream, there’s nothing left for her to do.’

  I loved the way Ben could see through everything, and gave others the benefit of the doubt. He’d been so kind to Mum and even when I moaned about her he came up with a cause for what, at times, seemed like rather unreasonable behaviour. And he was right again, Mum was reacting to what was happening around her, and as me and the kids had all gone off in search of life, she just needed to know she was still important to us all. She’d always needed constant reassurance that she was a good mother, which I never really understood as a child.

  I recall telling her once that my friend Diane’s mum was ‘fun’, and she’d shifted uncomfortably in her chair. ‘Am I a fun mum too?’ she’d said – and though that would never be a description I’d apply to my fiery, bossy, uptight mother – the look on her face had made me want to cry.

  ‘Yes, you’re really fun, Mum,’ I’d said.

  ‘More than Diane’s mum?’

  ‘Yes,’ I’d said gently. Even as a young child I’d felt her desperate need to be loved and wanted by me, her daughter. I recognised this more when I had my own kids, and realised that your children’s love is like oxygen. But I didn’t feel the need to seek constant reassurance and comparisons with other mothers as my mum had done.

  ‘It might be the sea and the new job,’ Ben said, gazing out into the darkness, ‘but she’s come alive, I think she just loves being with you.’

  How like Ben to pick up on this. Having Mum around me was something I’d always taken for granted – at times resented even – but as someone who’d lost his mother he had tuned into this. We weren’t demonstrative, and we bickered, she nagged and I sulked then we’d change it around – but ultimately neither of us doubted the love between us.

  I just wished with this new freedom, she’d cast off past grudges and move on, but for some reason that didn’t seem possible for my mother. I wondered if there would ever be the family reunion I’d always dreamed of; perhaps things had gone too far for too long? But right now all I wanted to think about was being here with the man I loved… because who knew how long this would last?

  23

  Gina’s Film-Star Secrets

  ‘Gina – you lied to me, you told me you’d consider letting me work at the café, you said you wouldn’t sell without talking to me first. And you promised you wouldn’t just leave without any explanation.’

  Gina had turned up the day after her phone call as agreed. I was sitting on a bar stool, at the same pub we’d first met a few weeks earlier. Gina was doing her usual, drinking vodka and trying to flatter me by saying how lovely my hair was. This time I wasn’t falling for it, I didn’t want to be rude and was determined not to fall out, but I was going to confront her about the selfish way she’d acted.

  ‘I was so worried, Gina,’ I said, my eyes filling with tears. ‘At first I thought you’d gone back to LA, but someone said they’d seen you in Westward Ho!. I’d even begun to think you might have been murdered or kidnapped… and you never called or responded to my texts and messages.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Ella, I didn’t realise how much it would upset you. Darling, you have to understand, I’ve lived alone for a long time, only ever had to consider myself. I didn’t give anyone a second thought – I needed time to think so I just took off – like I always do.’

  ‘You must have known it would upset me… and while you were off “finding yourself” or whatever it was you were doing I discovered something else. You’re divorced… why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Oh I know and like I said, I’m sorry; I wanted to forget about my problems, the minute you say “I’m divorced” people want to know the ins and outs. We divorced years ago, I don’t talk about it.’

  ‘So I see. Look, I understand you don’t want to go over stuff like that – but it hurts that you didn’t even mention it.’

  She seemed upset, and that hadn’t been my intention. I’d assumed she’d fight back and we’d just move on, but what I’d said seemed to get to her.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry. I was just angry because you’d proved my mother right and I felt like a fool – I’m sorry you’re divorced, I hope it wasn’t horrible?’ I said, handing her a tissue, her eyes looked damp, I’d never seen Gina cry before.

  ‘It wasn’t pleasant,’ she said, gently dabbing under her eye make-up. ‘Chad wasn’t a big Hollywood director, he was an insurance salesman, and not a very good one,’ she looked at me and gave a little laugh, her eyes brimming with tears. I was shocked at this, it had never occurred to me to question anything she’d told me, I’d assumed it was fact.

  ‘He was a nice guy until he drank too much and then he wasn’t a nice guy. I only stayed married to him because I believed in my vows. Being Catholic isn’t a choice,’ she sniffed and blew her nose.

  ‘Oh God, Gina, I really thought you were happily married. That’s so sad, that you stayed in a marriage because of some words you once spoke in front of a priest,’ I said, taking a sip of the vodka she’d automatically ordered for me. For once, I needed it.

  ‘Did you love him?’

  ‘No. I guess I was just scared and lonely… and sad.’

  ‘But I thought you were a big success in LA. We thought that you and Chad were the perfect Holywood couple – the director and the beautiful actress – Tim Burton and Helena Bonham-Carter, minus all the craziness of course. ’

  ‘God, no. I met Chad when I moved to LA, we lived in a disgusting one-roomed apartment and while he did nothing all day I walked the streets of Hollywood looking for work. Eventually, I was booked for a commercial. I was on TV lying on top of a giant chocolate fudge cake… mud wrestling for confectioners,’ she laughed.

  ‘That was good though, wasn’t it? TV work must have paid well.’

  ‘Not really, my agent fleeced me and I signed away most of the money, which was a pittance, I made the mistake of saying yes to everything and not looking at the small print. I was broke again six months later.’

  ‘That must have been tough. So what happened?’

  ‘I told myself it was my first step on the ladder to success but no one took me seriously after that. And as time went on I got the odd booking as a “soccer mom”, but then I became invisible, and it was too late. I was suddenly too old. I couldn’t make a dime, even had to borrow money from Mum to come back to Appledore most summers.’

  She took another sip of her vodka; I thought she might cry.

  ‘Mum’s death felt like a watershed. I guess being old makes you think more about the past, what you did, what you should have done, and I’m here to right some wrongs, Ella.’

  I continued to sit in silence, unsure of what to say, but aware she wanted to talk but was finding it hard.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Ella, I lied to you, everything’s been built on lies, but lying to you hurts me the most. I never starred in any films and I never lived in a mansion in Bel Air.’

  ‘But I saw you, in the photos… I found them in an old carrier bag. You’re sitting there like a film star on a sun lounger by your pool, oh and your beautiful bedrooms…’

  ‘I shouldn’t have sent those photos. They were as much for me as anyone else – I had too much pride to admit I was a failure. When I couldn’t get acting work I became a cleaner working for a company who cleaned all the big houses in Bel Air – I asked the other cleaners to take photos of me around the house. We all did it – but while they did it for fun, I’d send the photos to my parents and our family in Italy telling them I was doing great.’

  I didn’t want this to be true; ‘But the parties, they were real… you’ve told me about the parties… you met celebrities? I saw the photos.’

  ‘Yes, I was carrying the tray of drinks; I was a waitress, Ella. I’ve been at some of the biggest and best parties in Hollywood, had my photo taken like a mad fan girl… but I was never invited.’

  ‘So
all the stuff your agent said about Leonardo DiCaprio?’

  She was playing with her diamond rings, twiddling them around her fingers, shaking her head. ‘My agent you spoke to in LA? It was me… and these diamonds? They’re paste.’

  I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach and at first refused to believe what she was telling me. Everything I’d thought about Gina was a big, fat lie.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ella, I didn’t mean to deceive anyone, I just wanted you all to think I was okay, that I was doing well. But it was all lies.’

  I took a large gulp of vodka while trying to take all this in. Gina had always had a bigger impact on me than I’d realised. I’d modelled myself on this woman, even some of my mannerisms had been learned from her as a young girl. These were things people had remarked on all my life – the way I put my finger to my mouth when thinking, the way I walked with a slight swing, and the way I sometimes pursed my lips when I wasn’t happy. It was pure Gina. And it was all lies, the Gina I’d thought I wanted to be didn’t exist. Gina’s life was the ultimate Facebook lie that people like me believed, and judged our own small lives by, constantly telling ourselves we weren’t good enough. And a part of me could see why she’d lied to save face but whatever she’d done, she was still my cousin and I wasn’t going to give up on her.

  ‘So, when it didn’t work out, why didn’t you just come home, to Appledore?’

  ‘I wasn’t wanted here. I’d let everyone down.’

  ‘But it wasn’t your fault that you didn’t make it in Hollywood; bloody hell it’s the oldest story in the book! You’re not the first and you won’t be the last young woman to have her heart broken there. Gina, you didn’t let anyone down.’ I still felt stung by all the lies she’d told, but I kept in my mind those simple childhood summers in Appledore. They were real, and somewhere here among the fake Holywood tinsel and red lipstick the real Gina was a good person who was a victim of a society – and perhaps a family – who expected too much.

  This was my role model, the woman I’d aspired to, I felt I’d let her down by giving up on my dreams and getting married. But here she was, telling me she’d amounted to nothing, had lied about everything – and in a way she’d given up too.

  ‘So, Ella, I didn’t expect to have this conversation, and I haven’t said what I came to say,’ she said, shifting the conversation.

  I swallowed hard. Not more revelations.

  ‘Is it about Mum and Sophia…?’

  ‘No. I want to talk about the sale of the café.’

  For once, I wasn’t sure if I did. Having waited to have this conversation, I wasn’t sure I was ready while still reeling from her revelations. Could I take any more?

  ‘Gina, I have to tell you, you’ve broken my heart by selling it, I was hoping to make a life here. Of course the café is yours to do with what you want, but I just feel so let down that you couldn’t even talk to me… you promised you wouldn’t do anything until we’d talked. I may have been able to rent it, even pay a mortgage on it once my house is sold. What if the buyers are just using the land? The Ice Cream Café could be rubble by the morning… along with my dreams.’

  ‘Such a drama queen,’ she laughed. ‘I think you’re more drama queen than I am.’

  I didn’t laugh, I just continued; ‘But this means everything to me – it isn’t just a summer job, a stroll down memory lane, this is my future.’ I was having such a wonderful summer, feeling worthy, fulfilled, creative – I wanted to continue to spend my days mixing lavender with lemon, roses with elderflower and calling it Summer Garden. I had to develop the new cocktail ices, keep hosting the ever-growing slimming club ladies on a Monday evening. And who knew the things I was yet to do with Nutella and crushed Oreos? Then there was basil… sweet, pungent, aromatic basil blended with ice cream and strawberries… just thinking about all my plans and dreams, now dashed made me want to cry.

  ‘Ella, I never doubted your passion… but…’ she started, but I wasn’t letting her have her say. I’d sat by while she’d sold our past and my future and hadn’t even had the respect to let me know first.

  ‘I can’t believe you’d sell your childhood, mine too – our heritage, Gina. Our grandparents built their life, their business through sheer hard work, their sweat went into it and – forgive me for the drama – their dreams built that café.’

  ‘I know… you don’t need to tell me.’

  She didn’t seem moved by what I was saying, just vaguely irritated because I was talking so much, but I wasn’t stopping.

  ‘And quite frankly it makes me angry to think you can just flog it to the highest bidder… it’s selfish… and…’

  ‘Whoa, I’ll have you know this isn’t the highest bidder, I won’t be making a fast buck out of this deal.’

  That angered me even more – she was just taking the first bid, without even giving me the option to make an offer. ‘So that’s it? You’re just going to take what little money you can and run away again. Well I hope it brings you some happiness, Gina.’

  My pitch hadn’t worked, my dreams of expanding the business and reliving the glory days of Caprioni’s were now buried in the sand for good. It was all too late, I picked up my bag and my jacket and stood down from the bar stool to leave.

  ‘Ella, don’t go…’

  ‘It’s okay, it’s your café – your money, I understand…’ I snapped, pulling on my jacket.

  ‘No you don’t understand…’ she was standing up now too, and holding both my shoulders, her face in front of mine.

  ‘Have you signed over the café?’

  ‘Yes… I have, but…’

  ‘Then there’s nothing else to say,’ I tried to walk on, but she pulled me back.

  ‘Ella, listen to me…’

  ‘I listened to you for years, and I believed everything you said, but you let me down. I offered to buy the café from you but no, you might have to wait a little while – and that wasn’t fast enough was it?’

  ‘Ella, stop! Look, I have a plan, and it doesn’t involve rubble, fast money, crushed dreams or any other goddamn purple prose you can come up with…’ She opened up her large handbag, took out a brown paper envelope and put it down on the bar, giving it an affectionate stroke with her long, red talons before looking at me. ‘Open it,’ she said, looking directly at me, a serious look on her face.

  I turned from her gaze to the envelope then picked it up, opened it and pulled out a sheaf of paper. It looked like legal documents and I couldn’t really make out what it was until I saw the words Caprioni’s Café and realised these were the documents of sale.

  ‘Why are you showing me this?’ I asked. ‘It really isn’t necessary.’

  ‘It is, because it seems you’ve come to your own conclusions about me and the café. But the truth is, I haven’t sold it to the highest bidder, I haven’t “flogged” it off and I’m not here to ruin anyone’s life. I didn’t expect Mum to die so suddenly, and I didn’t expect to inherit the café – I assumed it would be left to Roberta, or you. At first, I won’t deny I considered the “highest bidder” option, who wouldn’t? I’m alone, I don’t have any money, I have no assets and nothing to keep me in the US any more, so why not take the money and start a new life somewhere else? But then, for once in my life, I didn’t put myself first. I thought it was time to consider other people, so I didn’t run away, I stayed and decided to do the right thing.’

  ‘So what’s this?’ I said, lifting the sheets of paper.

  ‘It’s the café. I thought about what you asked for, and I’ve decided to take you up on your offer to buy it from me. I had Mr Shaw draw up the papers last week, but I wanted to make sure it was the right thing for you… and for me. It’s my dream too to resurrect the café, to relive those heady days of my youth when I’d strut along the prom like the Queen of Appledore, you at my side, the little Princess.’

  I was in shock, just clutching at random sheets of paper, unable to speak.

  ‘I can see you’re a little ove
rwhelmed by it all just now, but take a look at the documents and get back to me. My suggestion is that we share ownership, and I’ll be a sleeping partner – I need money to live off, I have no pension. Technically I’ll be retired and just sweep in every now and then wearing something fabulous and bringing a little glamour to the place. Meanwhile, you buy your half off me and do all the hard work.’

  I was still sitting down, dazed and thrilled all at once, but I didn’t want her to leave. ‘Gina, stay, let’s talk about this… I’m delighted, and it’s what I want. I really appreciate your offer – but I may not be able to afford it yet.’

  ‘Just do as I ask, take a look at the figures and get back to me.’

  I agreed, and put the envelope in my bag to study when I returned to the apartment, and then walked with her to her hotel. Along the way I was asking questions about how much and how long, but she just kept shaking her head and saying ‘read it and get back to me’. She was determined not to discuss it there and then, so we arranged to meet the following day.

  We said goodnight and I almost ran back to the apartment, still clutching the papers to my chest as I closed the front door and immediately searched through them for the magic figure that would either make or break my dream. It was all very well Gina agreeing to sell, but if she wanted a huge lump of money all at once, or was asking for high monthly payments then I couldn’t accept her offer. I landed on the sofa, frantically riffling through the sheets of paper, each one more confusing than the last, filled with instructions, legal jargon, things I just didn’t understand.

  Then I saw it. Like a little star glowing in a jargon sea of mesmerising text was the figure £5. It said, ‘Total payable – £5’. Had someone mistakenly left the noughts off, surely it was meant to be £5,000 or even £50,000?

  Mum must have heard me come in and appeared at the top of the stairs.

  ‘You okay, Mum?’ I asked, unable to take my eyes from the documents, still looking for the answer.