‘Well, we’ll be off then. But we thought it was best to check and let you know.’
‘Thank you,’ Imogen said. ‘Thank you so much. And I hope you feel much better soon.’
The couple left the shop, and walked out into the sullen grey morning, weary shadows, but still joking gently with one another.
Imogen slowly let out the breath she’d been holding. Some people had so much kindness in them, she thought, with intense gratitude and relief. She longed for Anna to come home and restore some order. How had she ever thought she’d be able to run the shop on her own? A week was a very long time, it turned out, when things weren’t going well.
The following morning, Imogen forced herself to get up and dress, and poured coffee into a thermos flask for her walk down to the shop. If she wasn’t about to get sued, then it was back to business as usual. Albeit with no more home-made ice cream.
‘You’re not a quitter,’ she told herself, as she strode along the seafront towards Vivien’s. ‘Today is a whole new day.’ By the time she arrived at the door of the shop, she was feeling ready to open up. Today could be the day that things got better.
There was a pile of post on the doormat, and she bent down to pick it up, putting the bundle of leaflets and a local paper on the counter. She turned on the stereo and propped the front door open to make the place look more inviting.
She sorted through the letters, filing an electricity bill and throwing away a couple of takeaway leaflets. With no customers in sight, she opened the local newspaper and looked at the headlines – pictures of homes damaged by the recent floodwaters, with mournful-looking residents outside. They’d been lucky that Vivien’s hadn’t been affected, Imogen thought.
She flicked to page three, and almost missed it at first. But then her eyes came to rest on the story:
SEAFRONT BUSINESS POISONS A DOZEN BRIGHTON RESIDENTS
Imogen gasped as she read over the feature – Vivien’s was named, and the story of Sunday’s food-poisoning incident was there in black and white.
Oh God, Imogen thought, forcing herself to close the newspaper. What were they supposed to do now?
Then, slowly, as she sat down on a stool, her panic turned to confusion. The story itself was quite vague, and the people involved hadn’t been named, but there were details about the shop history and their lease that were oddly specific. Things only another person who worked in the Arches could know. Someone had set out to try and ruin their business, and it seemed likely they were right on Vivien’s doorstep.
Acting on a hunch, she walked into Finn’s surf school, with the newspaper in her hand.
‘Finn. Do you know anything about this?’ she asked him, showing him the article.
Finn looked at her blankly, then took the newspaper from her. He glanced over it. ‘Oh dear, this isn’t good, is it?’ he said.
‘I know the incident the other day shouldn’t have happened, but did you really have to talk to the local press?’
‘It’s nothing to do with me.’
‘Really?’ Imogen said, disbelieving. ‘It’s just it seems strange that you’re the one person who I know has been really annoyed about it. And perhaps you stand to gain something from seeing us go down?’
‘I don’t know anything about it,’ Finn said with a shrug, ‘and I don’t know why you think I’d benefit from seeing Vivien’s suffer. We rely on each other down here, and support each other’s businesses. It’s always been the way. It’s the very reason I felt let down the other day.’
‘But there were things in the article that only one of us business owners could know.’
‘You’re not going to let this go, are you? OK then, Imogen. Find the evidence, and I’ll happily hear you out.’
‘I will,’ Imogen said. ‘Because it’s not fair to do this to us.’
Chapter Fourteen
‘So you add in fifty grams of cream now,’ Bianca told Anna, leaning over her workspace and pointing to the large silver mixing bowl.
Anna listened carefully to the Italian instructor, and tried to steady her trembling hand. Here she was, a complete novice, in the presence of Bianca Romeo, a culinary legend. She didn’t want to mess this up. Bianca nodded her approval, and moved on to the next table.
Bianca was an elegant, charismatic woman in her mid-thirties, whose passion for food was evident in every word she said. Paying attention to the quantities, Anna mixed the ingredients together carefully, making sure she followed the recipe exactly.
Over coffee in the reception area that morning, Anna had met her four classmates, an international group – Georgios, a rotund middle-aged Greek; Sian, a friendly art-school graduate from Ireland; and Ria and Hiro, honeymooners from Japan.
Bubbling with nerves and enthusiasm, they’d then filed into the room, high-ceilinged and elegant with large, tall windows, faded frescoes on the walls and ornate decorations on the white ceiling. Bianca had welcomed them to the class, and then got straight to the point. ‘Unless you are ready to make the highest quality of ice cream, you won’t receive a certificate – and your course will have been a waste of your time and mine.’
She’d then divided the class up into pairs, and Georgios had made a beeline for Anna’s table.
‘You are good at this, eh?’ came Georgios’ booming voice from Anna’s side, accompanied by a nudge in the ribs. ‘I knew I picked a good partner. I can tell you are an expert cook,’ he laughed.
‘You can?’ Anna said, smiling in surprise. ‘I’ve certainly never made gelato. This is all new to me.’ She weighed out the sugar and tipped it into the bowl. ‘What about you, Georgios? Have you ever done this before?’
Anna glanced over at him – he was dressed awkwardly for the kitchen, apron over a formal dark suit and unbuttoned shirt, his tie done up loosely.
‘Never,’ he said. ‘But it is time to try something new,’ he added with a shrug. ‘In Athens … I’m sure you’ve heard. Things are not so good.’
Anna nodded: it had been hard to miss the updates on the news lately.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, with a grin. ‘Yes, there are problems with the economy – big problems. And my shoe shop – I used to sell high heels for ladies, beautiful shoes! You should have seen them, Anna.’ The volume of his voice rose with his excitement as he described them. ‘Silk – the finest materials … ’ As Giovanna threw him a stern look and he seemed to come back down to earth. ‘Anyway, this is just dreams now,’ he whispered to Anna. ‘We don’t have customers these days.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Anna said, thinking how heartbreaking it must be to close a shop you had invested so much in.
‘But with every crisis, a new opportunity,’ Georgios continued. ‘It’s not going to be easy, I know that. My wife, she always tells me I’m a disaster in the kitchen. But I have this,’ he said, pointing to his head. ‘A good mind, for the business. In a year – just you see, Anna, I will have a gelato empire going. I have made good money before, and I’ll do it again. It’s just hard work. We’ll go out with our children to the Greek islands, maybe Naxos, and set up a gelateria for the tourists,’ he said. ‘Fantastico!’
‘So, how are we doing here?’ Bianca appeared by their sides, and Anna jumped a little. ‘Anna, is Georgios distracting you from your practice?’
Anna shook her head no, not wanting to get Georgios into trouble.
‘I want to taste some delicious vanilla gelato here by the end of the day. And if you keep on chatting I don’t know how you’re going to have time to make it.’
The door to the class swung open, and Bianca and Anna turned to look. A young man of about thirty, in jeans and a checked shirt, walked into the room, as relaxed as if it were his own home. Anna’s breath caught as she got a better look at him, his warm brown eyes and dark hair. It was the same man – just with clothes on this time. She’d caught a glimpse of him through her half-open door at Giovanna’s that morning, making his way to the bathroom in a towel. He didn’t appear to have seen her wat
ching.
‘Signora Bianca,’ he said, greeting the instructor with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. He began to chat to her in lilting Italian, as if he already knew her.
‘Matteo,’ Bianca said, in a restrained, professional tone. ‘While we’re in the class, we’ll talk in English – it’s easier for everyone here. You can work with Sian, over there by the window.’
Matteo went over to join his new partner. Anna breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t acknowledge her and returned her gaze to the recipe. She stripped the seeds out of the vanilla pod she and Georgios had been given, then put them in the bin, adding the pod to the mixture.
‘Anna, I’m sorry, my dear,’ Georgios said, with kindness in his voice, ‘but I think we just did that part wrong.’ She looked at the precious vanilla seeds in the bin, when they should have been in the mixture. Darn it, she thought. What a fool. She’d thrown the best bit away.
‘I’ll ask her for another one,’ Anna said, going to the front of the class and apologising for her mistake. When she got back to the counter, Georgios had turned the ice cream maker on.
‘Did you heat it all up first?’ Anna said.
‘Was I supposed to?’ Georgios said, panicked.
‘Yes,’ Anna said. She quickly switched the machine off and tried to save the mixture, but what was left was a sad, gloopy mess. The only place for it was in the bin.
‘Now, everybody,’ Bianca said, calling the class to order. ‘Let’s look at your grand creations. And more importantly, let’s taste them!’
‘I’m sorry, Anna,’ Georgios said, clocking her disappointment, verging on despair. She wanted the ground to swallow her – and their ice cream disaster – up. Why was it so much harder here, when she had managed perfectly adequately with a simple recipe in her kitchen? They’d created a flat, flavourless mess of an ice cream that she was ashamed to show to anyone.
Bianca was at Sian and Matteo’s counter, and as she took a spoonful of ice cream from their maker, she squirmed in delight. ‘Now that really is delicious,’ she said. ‘Come on, everyone, try this one.’
Reluctantly, Anna made her way over, got a fresh spoon and tried the mixture. It was good. It was really, really, annoyingly good.
‘But you have an advantage –’ Bianca added, talking to Sian – ‘with this Italian on your team. And did he tell you he comes from one of Italy’s most famous ice cream-making families?’
Matteo dismissed the comment. ‘Ah, enough of that, Bi. You know they didn’t teach me a thing. So I’m starting from the beginning like all of you.’
He looked kindly around the class and caught Anna’s eye for a moment. If his family were so good at making ice cream, Anna wondered, then what was he doing here?
‘Not bad,’ Bianca said, tasting Ria and Hiro’s ice cream. ‘There’s real potential here – you just need to make it a little bit sweeter.’
Anna hoped for a moment that Bianca might decide to stop there, decide that she had tasted enough. But she turned next to Anna and Georgios’.
‘So, this – wow,’ she frowned, as if Anna and Georgios’ lack of expertise somehow offended the ice cream-making history of the region. ‘This is quite a mess, isn’t it?’
‘As appearances can sometimes be deceptive, I will, of course, try it,’ she said, but she winced as soon as she put the spoon into her mouth and tasted the concoction.
‘It is the first day,’ Bianca said, her voice softening a little. ‘And really this is what first days are for. So, all of you –’ she turned to the other members of the class – ‘make your most horrendous mistakes now – as Georgios and Anna have been so unafraid to do – and then, please, please, make sure that what you do for the rest of the week is much better.’
Anna shrank into her size six sandals, and wished she could disappear.
‘You’re staying at Giovanna’s too, aren’t you?’ Matteo asked, as the two of them left the class with the other students.
‘Yes, I am,’ she said, feeling a blush rising to her cheeks. So he had seen her that morning.
‘Well, why don’t we walk back together, in that case?’ he said warmly. His English was almost flawless, with a slight American accent, as if he’d honed his skills watching films rather than studying grammar in English classes.
‘Sure,’ Anna said. She could do with some company after today. The humiliation of her ice cream going so badly wrong still stung. Cooking was something she was supposed to be good at. Had she been wrong to think she could handle the course?
Matteo seemed to read her mind. ‘Don’t feel bad about it,’ he said. ‘That’s just what she’s like, Bianca. She pushes people really hard. That’s how she gets the results she does.’
His words soothed Anna. Perhaps he was right.
‘How do you know her?’
‘I grew up here. She’s my sister Carolina’s best friend: the two of them were always teasing me when I was little.’
Anna smiled. ‘And now? If you’re from here, how come you’re staying at the house?’
‘My family moved to Siena, so now it’s my turn to be a tourist,’ he laughed. ‘No better city in the world to do it in.’
‘I think I agree,’ Anna said. ‘Every corner I turn here there’s something else beautiful to look at.’
‘Or beautiful to eat,’ he said with a smile. ‘One thing I can tell you’re going to enjoy. Have you got ten minutes?’
Anna nodded. ‘For once, I’m not in a hurry for anything.’
‘Great, let’s get some food to take back for dinner out on the terrace. I told Giovanna I’d treat her.’
Anna walked with Matteo along a cobbled street until they reached a bustling neighbourhood shop, with huge joints of ham and boar hung up outside.
‘Come in,’ Matteo said, sensing Anna’s hesitation. ‘And try some of this.’ He asked the rotund, bearded shop owner to slice off a segment of white cheese for Anna to try. ‘Buffalo mozzarella, fresh.’
Anna smiled with delight at the taste and the way it melted in her mouth. ‘Now, that’s good,’ she said, laughing.
‘And what do you think?’ he said. ‘Shall we take some of this meat too?’ He pointed to the bewildering array of cured and smoked meats in the glass cabinet.
‘They look delicious,’ Anna said. He nodded again and before she knew it Anna had a small plate of samples for them to try.
‘I’m not going to need to eat dinner at this rate,’ Anna said, laughing.
Anna came back into her hotel room, and closed the door behind her. She, Matteo and Giovanna had shared a delicious dinner up on the roof terrace, and she felt a warm glow from both the conversation and the red wine they’d drunk. With Matteo there to translate, she’d been able to talk much more freely with Giovanna, and to ask questions about her children and grandchildren, getting a picture of the life she’d had growing up in Florence.
Anna took her laptop out of her wooden chest of drawers, loaded up Skype and pressed to video-call Jon. She couldn’t wait to tell him about the trip so far.
‘Hi,’ Jon said, his picture coming into focus. ‘How are things going?’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Well, today was a bit of a disaster, but it’s all better now.’
‘A disaster?’
‘Not volcanic levels,’ she said, smiling now at what had seemed so awful earlier. ‘I just made some really rubbish ice cream.’
‘Is that all?’ Jon said.
‘Yes, silly now I say it. Anyway, how are things over there?’
‘All fine,’ Jon said. ‘Still raining. Oh, and Ed and Jess never made it on their honeymoon.’
‘Oh, no – that’s terrible. What happened?’
‘The travel company went bust. Ed’s back at his job and apparently Jess is sulking in the flat in her pyjamas watching reruns of Desperate Housewives.’
‘Poor thing,’ Anna said. ‘I can’t blame her. They were really looking forward to the time away. She must be fed up.’
‘She’s taking it out o
n Ed, apparently. He was supposed to be organising the insurance, I think. Anyway, not the rosiest start to married life by the sound of things.’
‘What bad luck. How’s everything else? How’s Alfie?’
‘Everything’s fine. Alfie’s good, he’s enjoying nursery and has a new best friend there called Poppy. Always a hit with the ladies.’
‘Sweet,’ Anna said, picturing Alfie’s smiling face. ‘Give him a hug from me, will you? And how’s work going?’
‘Busy,’ he said flatly. ‘I’ve been working late, thought I may as well do it while you’re away. And you? How’s Italy?’
Anna couldn’t find the right words to explain to Jon all of the new things she was seeing and doing.
‘It’s good,’ she said. ‘Listen, you look tired. You should probably take advantage of being at home and get an early night. I’ll need one too, if I’m going to be any better in class tomorrow.’
‘OK,’ Jon said. ‘Well, goodnight then.’
‘Love you.’
‘Me too.’
Anna reluctantly shut her laptop and put it on the chest of drawers. She looked out of her small room’s window. The piazza was alive with couples eating together by candlelight and drinking wine. If only Jon were here too, then he’d understand.
Chapter Fifteen
Today’s news is tomorrow’s fish-and-chip paper, Imogen told herself, praying that it would turn out to be true in their case. It was difficult to tell whether it was the dismal weather or the food-poisoning scandal that was keeping people away from Vivien’s.
It was mid-afternoon and the elderly man who rented out striped deckchairs on their strip was Imogen’s sole customer, sipping at a mug of hot tea and waiting for the worst of the storm to pass. Imogen was beginning to wonder if summer was ever going to take hold at all. It was June and they’d barely had a glimpse of sunshine so far. Were they destined to have more weeks of grey clouds and the pattering of raindrops on the windows?
‘Grim out there, isn’t it?’ the man said, voicing Imogen’s thoughts. She nodded and forced a smile.
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