Vivien's Heavenly Ice Cream Shop

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Vivien's Heavenly Ice Cream Shop Page 1

by Abby Clements




  Cover Page

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Vivien

  Imogen

  Anna

  PART ONE

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  PART TWO

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  PART THREE

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Epilogue

  First published in Great Britain in 2013 by

  Quercus Editions Ltd

  55 Baker Street

  7th Floor, South Block

  London W1U 8EW

  Copyright © 2013 Abby Clements

  Shadows Into Light and La Belle Aurore fonts copyright © 2010 Kimberly Geswein

  Kaushan Script copyright © 2011 Pablo Impallari and Igino Marini.

  The moral right of Abby Clements to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  PB ISBN 978 1 78206 428 2

  EBOOK ISBN 978 1 78206 429 9

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  You can find this and many other great books at:

  www.quercusbooks.co.uk

  Abby Clements worked in book publishing before she started writing. She lives in north London with her fiancé, and loves lazy Sundays, eighties films and sausage dogs.

  Also by Abby Clements

  For James

  Vívíen

  35 Elderberry Avenue, Hove, East Sussex

  ‘What’s this one, Anna?’ Vivien McAvoy asked, sitting forward in her velvet armchair and looking at the cake in front of her.

  ‘Cherry and almond. Bit of an experiment, but I thought you might like it.’

  Anna cut a slice of the home-made cake for her grandmother. She’d spent all morning baking but knew it would be worth it when she saw the look on Vivien’s face.

  Vivien accepted the plate gratefully and took a bite. ‘My, oh my, Anna,’ she smiled. ‘You’ve excelled yourself this time.’

  ‘Phew,’ Anna said. ‘I’m glad. It’s a new recipe, as I say, so you’re my guinea pig.’

  ‘Always an honour,’ Vivien said, taking another forkful. Her silver-grey hair was loosely pinned back and she was wearing a smart burgundy dress with a diamond print on it and a cream cardigan. Sunlight filtered in through the ground-floor bay windows of her house and cast a warm glow over the room.

  Anna took a slice of cake for herself and a few crumbs scattered onto the floor. Her grandmother’s dachshund, Hepburn, scurried over to the Persian rug.

  ‘Cheapest kind of Hoover, he is,’ Vivien laughed. The black-and-tan sausage dog had been a steady fixture by her grandmother’s side for over eight years. Vivien had named him after her favourite film star, refusing to be swayed by a little detail like gender.

  ‘You should hire him out,’ Anna said.

  Movement in Vivien’s front garden caught Anna’s eye and she turned round to see a large man standing by the hedge, surrounded by daffodils.

  ‘Who’s that in your garden?’ Anna asked, peering forward to get a better look through the window.

  ‘Oh, that’s Tomasz,’ Vivien said, barely looking up from her cake.

  ‘Tomasz?’

  ‘He’s a friend. He and his wife Rebecca are staying here for a while.’

  ‘You don’t stop, do you?’ Anna said, shaking her head with a smile.

  ‘What?’ Vivien said, looking up, her blue eyes shining. ‘Being human?’

  Anna laughed. ‘Now, don’t tell me, they came into the ice cream shop and …’

  ‘Lovely couple – never had more than a few coppers they’d collected for tea, but always polite and kind.’

  The story was a familiar one to Anna and her family. Vivien was known for collecting waifs and strays, helping local people out, and supporting the community. As if he could hear them through the glass, Tomasz turned and gave Vivien a wave and a smile, which she returned cheerfully. ‘A really genuine chap, he is,’ she said. ‘Anyway, where was I?’ she continued. ‘One day I was closing up and I saw Tomasz and his wife walking into one of the disused arches further down towards Hove. I asked him about it the next day, and he told me they were sleeping there.’

  ‘That’s awful,’ Anna said. ‘It must be so damp, and those places aren’t secure at all.’

  ‘I know. They didn’t even have a proper sleeping bag between them. Came to this country ready to work, looking for a better life, and instead … well. Anyway, they’re staying upstairs and earn their keep better than any paying lodger could.’

  ‘It looks like it,’ Anna said, watching Tomasz sawing down a heavy overhanging branch that Vivien had been concerned about for months.

  ‘Rebecca has been helping me with some of the filing upstairs, too. I’ll be sorry to see them go. There’s too much space here for just me, and you know I’m happier when there are other people around.’

  ‘When are they leaving?’

  ‘Next week. A room’s come up with a friend of theirs, and Tomasz has had a lead for a construction job.’

  ‘The revolving doors of Elderberry Avenue,’ Anna said. ‘I wonder who’ll be next.’

  ‘If life’s taught me anything,’ Vivien laughed, ‘it’s that you can never guess that. The ice cream shop has always brought me new friends, and surprises.’

  ‘How’s it been lately,’ Anna asked, ‘at the shop?’

  ‘Oh, ticking along. Like always,’ Vivien said with a smile.

  The seafront ice cream shop, Sunset 99s, was a local landmark: it had been around since the mid-1950s, and Vivien herself was well known across Brighton. At times the shop had thrived, but Anna got the sense that lately business had started to slow, with people as likely to stop by for a chat as buy anything. With organic smoothie shops and upmarket cafés springing up all over town, Anna often thought it was something of a miracle that the shop was still going.

  ‘Actually I’m taking a breather at the moment,’ Vivien said. ‘A week, perhaps two. Sue, my new assistant, I’ve left her to keep an eye on the place. She’s not had the easiest of times lately, with her son Jamie going into prison, and then her losing her job at the Co-op – she’ll look
after the place well, I’m sure.’

  ‘Dad will be happy to hear that you’re taking a break,’ Anna said. ‘I suppose there’s still no chance of you deciding to retire?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Vivien said, shaking her head dismissively. ‘Retire and do what? That shop’s been my life for so long I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. I’ve got my friends down there, Evie next door, and that nice young man, Finn. A week or two to recharge my batteries, that’s all I need. Sue’ll keep things shipshape.’

  ‘OK, well, I hope you use the time to rest,’ Anna said. She resolved to pop by the shop and introduce herself to Sue as soon as things quietened down at work. It had been a while since she had last visited.

  ‘I will,’ Vivien said. ‘Although just you try and stop me coming to have a look at your new flat. When are you moving in?’

  Anna beamed at the thought. ‘I’m picking up the keys next Saturday.’

  ‘That’s wonderful. And will Jon be moving in the same day?’

  ‘Yes,’ Anna said, ‘he’ll be there.’

  ‘I look forward to seeing it,’ Vivien said, reaching down to stroke Hepburn, who was curled up on the rug by her feet. ‘We’re pleased that you’ll be moving a bit nearer, aren’t we, Hepburn?’ The dog rolled onto his back, exposing his bare belly and inviting her to tickle him.

  ‘You’ll like it. There’s a nice window seat,’ Anna said, recalling the view from her top-floor flat, taking in the horizon and the bright lights of Brighton Pier. The sound of the wind whistling against it made the flat feel even cosier, protected from the elements.

  ‘Sounds perfect,’ Vivien said. ‘I already like the place, because you’ll be just around the corner.’

  ‘I will. And of your two favourite granddaughters, you may have to make do with just me for a while. Doesn’t sound like Imogen’s coming home any time soon.’

  ‘She enjoys it, doesn’t she?’ Vivien said. ‘The travelling life. I got a nice postcard from her the other day, with a picture of a golden Buddha on it. Reminds me of your father. Always has. Free spirits, those two.’

  ‘It sounds like she’s having a ball, taking loads of photos – she had a hard time looking for a job here after uni, and I think it was what she needed.’

  ‘I do like it when she sends me her photos. I always loved hearing about your father’s adventures through India, Asia – it was quite a thing in those days. On that lumbering great motorbike of his,’ Vivien said with a smile. ‘And now we have Imogen’s updates to keep us entertained.’

  ‘How is Dad?’ Anna asked. She’d been so busy at her marketing job for Brighton Pavilion, and finalising the flat purchase, that she hadn’t called her parents for a couple of weeks.

  ‘Oh, he’s well. He rang this morning as a matter of fact. He’s finished work on one of his new sculptures – a heron, this one. It’s just gone in the kiln. I asked if he could make another one for my garden pond, so that’s next on his list.’

  ‘Good,’ Anna said. ‘That should keep him out of trouble.’ Her dad liked nothing better than working away in his garden studio, making clay sculptures of the birds and wildlife he was so fond of. ‘I should get going really,’ Anna added, checking the time on her phone. ‘I’ve got a lot of packing still to do for the move, and Jon’s coming around in an hour.’

  ‘So,’ Vivien asked, a mischievous smile on her face. ‘Permit your nosy grandma a question. Is he the one – Jon?’

  ‘I think so,’ Anna said, feeling suddenly shy. ‘It definitely feels like the right thing to be moving in together.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ Vivien said. ‘Because you deserve a good man. You’re a strong woman, always have been, and a talented one. You’ll remember that, won’t you?’

  ‘Don’t go getting soppy on me, Granny,’ Anna laughed. ‘I’m not going anywhere. I’m getting nearer, not further away.’

  ‘I know that, love,’ Vivien said, placing her hand tenderly on Anna’s denim-clad leg. ‘But there’s no harm in reminding you that you’re special, is there?’

  Imogen

  Imogen McAvoy leaned forward slightly in her crouched position to add the final touches to the tattoo. She dipped her fine paintbrush back into the pot of henna, squinted against the sun and outlined the last petal.

  ‘There you go,’ she said with satisfaction, sitting back so that her customer could see her handiwork.

  ‘I love it,’ the blonde British girl said, tilting her shoulder blade so that her boyfriend could admire it. ‘What do you reckon? Wish I could show it to Mum now, pretend it’s real – she’d go nuts.’ The teenage boy with her, bare-chested and wearing a pair of combat shorts, nodded his approval and took a swig from his bottle of Tiger beer.

  ‘Glad you like it,’ Imogen said, taking the 200-baht note from her with a smile, and tucking it under the string of her turquoise bikini top, against her tanned, freckled skin. Retying her elephant-print sarong, she stood up. ‘Enjoy your time on Koh Tao.’

  As the couple walked away, Imogen counted through the notes she’d been given that day – enough for two nights’ rent at her beach hut, plus some Pad Thai noodles and a beer or two that evening. Not bad for a morning’s work. She checked the position of the sun in the sky – it must be about midday. She could probably still join Davy on his afternoon scuba-dive if she got down to the beach quickly. She jumped on her beach bike and pedalled towards the shore; the island was so compact that it only took her a few minutes to get there.

  ‘Space for one more?’ Imogen asked Davy as he loaded his boat with oxygen canisters, picking them up from a crate on the pristine white sand.

  ‘You’re in luck,’ he said, turning to face her. ‘I’ve had a guy cancel today, so you can come along with this group if you want.’

  ‘Cool,’ Imogen said, tying her wavy, sun-lightened brown hair back with a band, then sifting through the pile of wet-suits to find one in her size. ‘Is it a wreck dive you’re doing?’

  ‘That was the plan, but I’ve just heard there might be something more interesting out there today.’

  ‘Not a … Don’t tease me,’ Imogen said.

  ‘I can’t promise anything,’ he said with a shrug.

  She hurriedly pulled on one of the small wetsuits, still a little damp and with sea-salt crusting from its last outing. Lifting her small bag with her waterproof camera inside, she climbed into the boat. ‘Let’s get out there.’

  They’d been out on the sea for about fifteen minutes when Davy settled on a good dive spot. The water was aquamarine and clear, the sun reflecting off it in sparkles. It was an intense beauty that after six months Imogen had almost become immune to, but not quite. Together with the rest of the dive team, she turned her back on the ocean, strapped on her oxygen tank and helped her dive buddy with the regular safety checks.

  Taking a seat on the side of the boat, she readied herself, and then tipped backwards into the water with a splash.

  In an instant her world was transformed as she was surrounded by a cloud of brightly coloured clown fish, some darting away, others tentatively drawing closer to her, curious about the intrusion into their underwater territory. Imogen released some of the air in her lifejacket and slowly sank deeper, towards the vibrant pink and orange coral on the seabed below. From the corner of her eye she glimpsed Davy motioning to her, waving her over to join the group. And she would, she thought, spotting a tiny reef shark weaving in among the other fish. Just a few photos first. She took out her camera and snapped the wildlife around her, luminous against an even brighter coral backdrop.

  Then a dark shadow passed above her, casting the fish and coral in a darker hue. For a moment she was frozen. She looked up and there it was – right above her. The creature she’d been longing to see, from the day she set foot in Thailand – and during the dozens of dives she’d done since.

  She saw Davy’s group were getting agitated, some moving away and others heading towards the dark creature. Davy motioned to them to stop, to stay still and watch.
<
br />   The whale shark, languorously slow, glided through the water, as big as a van, yet barely making an impression on the watery environment around it. Pale dots were scattered over its skin and its large round head and barnacles clung to the underside of its body. The name ‘shark’ was so deceptive, Imogen thought. It was one of the calmest and most peaceful animals she had ever seen. A cluster of small fish hovered underneath its belly, moving in harmony with the gentle creature.

  Steadying her breath, Imogen rose up closer to it, brought her camera up towards her goggles and began to take photos.

  Back at the dive shop, Imogen handed back the equipment, thanked Davy and hopped on her beach bike, adrenalin coursing through her veins. The rest of the dive group were still chattering away excitedly behind her about what they had seen – a once-in-a-lifetime experience. She cycled down rutted, dusty roads towards the far coast, towards her beach hut – the horizon stretching out before her, uncluttered apart from the odd palm tree. The world above ground always looked different when you had just seen the wonders below.

  As she neared the row of simple wooden huts on Koh Tao’s most isolated beach and the dust road turned to sand she got off the bike and pulled up outside the place that for half a year she’d called home.

  Luca, the American guy she’d been seeing for the past two months, was resting in his striped hammock, a paperback in his hand.

  ‘Hey,’ she called out, making her way over, barefoot in the sand.

  ‘Hey, gorgeous,’ Luca called out sleepily. ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘Good,’ Imogen said. She hopped up onto the veranda and sat down in the hammock beside him. ‘Really good.’ He shuffled over to make room and kissed her hello gently. His deeply tanned skin and hands were warm, just as they had been last night, even after they’d gone skinny dipping at midnight.

  ‘Really good?’ he said, intrigued.

  ‘Fantastic dive this afternoon, got some beautiful photos. I think some might even be good enough to exhibit. We saw a whale shark … ’

  ‘Nice one,’ Luca said, with a mischievous smile.

  Imogen’s sentence tailed off as Luca put down his book, then slowly traced a line up her arm and lingered close to the edges of her bikini top.

 

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