Free Vivien's Heavenly Ice Cream Shop by Abby Clements

Stanley had his arm around her, his hair brown rather than the grey that Imogen remembered, and he had on dark-framed glasses. Stanley’s other arm was draped affectionately around his youngest son Martin’s shoulders, as Vivien’s was around Tom’s. The two young boys, in shorts and smart shoes, looked excited and eager.
    Dad already risks losing one childhood home
, Imogen thought to herself.
Could they really take Sunset 99s from him too?
    She continued to look through the history of her grandmother’s shop. At the back of the album was a much newer photo, printed out in colour and almost filling the page. Vivien was at the centre of it, smiling, her hair pinned up, wearing a navy dress with cream detailing. Surrounding her were her family: her two sons, Jan, and Imogen and Anna. It was before Martin met Françoise, and back when they’d all thought of him as the eternal bachelor. Imogen peered at the image more closely judging by her heavy eye make-up and faded band T-shirt, she must have been about sixteen when it was taken.
    Her dad looked so different in the photo, heading up his family – the strongest of all of them. Imogen was pretty sure that was the summer that her English teacher, Miss Carter, had finally diagnosed her dyslexia, after Imogen unexpectedly came bottom of the class in her mocks. Years of difficulty keeping up in English and writing essays started to make sense to Imogen and her family at last. But her dad had been there all along – each time she’d come home in tears afterbeing made to feel stupid, or lazy, by her teachers. He knew, like her, that it would take more than a diagnosis to undo all of that damage. Tom had gone straight into school, thanked Miss Carter personally, and then demanded to see the headmaster to find out what had gone wrong, and to demand better special-needs provision in the future. Imogen had been outwardly embarrassed, but was secretly proud that her dad would do that for her.
    Imogen thought back to the broken sculptures she’d seen in her father’s studio that afternoon. It was hard to connect the father who’d hidden, holding back from talking to her, with the open, dignified man she was looking at now. When she flew back to Thailand tomorrow, what would be the next thing she’d hear? Maybe her dad would be back to his usual self in a couple of days, but what if … ? She couldn’t bear the idea of hearing he had got worse when she was so far away.
    Her mind had been fixed on the island – on the sun, yes, and Luca – but above all, on getting back to the photography project she was putting together. She wanted it to be good, she wanted to exhibit it, and the one person, above everyone else, who she wanted to see it, was her dad. He’d nurtured her ambition from the start, bought her her first camera, helped her set up a darkroom. She wanted him to see that his efforts hadn’t gone to waste, for him to be proud of her.
    But being on the other side of the world wasn’t going to help him now, she realised, with a stab of guilt. What heneeded was support from those who loved him in order to get better. To see that his family were there for him and that they’d all work together to keep Vivien’s memory alive.
    Imogen thought of the promises she’d made to Luca. Everything was set for her to leave England the next day, if she wanted.
    But her dad had put her and Anna first since the day they were born. How could she leave now, when he needed her?
    The doorbell rang, breaking into her thoughts. She saw Anna’s tall frame through the stained-glass window and opened the door. ‘Come in,’ she said, leading her into the living room.
    ‘What’s with all the urgency?’ Anna asked, settling into the armchair.
    ‘I can’t do it,’ Imogen announced.
    ‘Do what?’ Anna said, putting her bag down on the floor and rubbing her temples. ‘Today’s been a nightmare at work, Imo. I can’t process riddles.’
    ‘I can’t go back to Thailand right