guess that when Sue started helping out she must have stepped away from the day-to-day running of things. Maybe she was starting to feel unwell even then.’
‘Didn’t she talk about it – how the shop was doing?’ Imogen asked, flicking through an accounts book that was lying out by the till.
‘Not much, she always preferred to hear about how we were getting on. She did mention the other shop-owners – Evie, and a younger guy, Finn, who used to pop in and check up on her sometimes. But the business side of it – not much. Left to her, it would never be in this state, though. You know how houseproud she was. Shop-proud.’ Anna forced a smile.
‘Shop-proud,’ Imogen said quietly, running a finger overthe filthy countertop. It came away black. ‘Poor Granny V. It’s not quite how I remember it from the old days.’
‘I agree it needs work,’ Anna said, her expression relaxed, but a shade of worry in her eyes. ‘Although all the original fifties features are still here.’ She pointed at the wall lamps and the stools lined up at the counter. ‘We could spruce it up, couldn’t we? Keep the retro style, but give it a modern twist?’
Anna went behind the counter. ‘I’m sure there are loads of interesting nick-nacks hidden away too … ’ She ducked down to open one of the cupboards. Imogen could hear plates clattering out onto the floor.
‘ … It would entail a bit of vision, of course.’ Anna’s muffled voice came from below as she tidied the crockery back into the cupboard. She got to her feet. Above her, there was a heavy chalkboard hanging on the wall. Anna read the pastel-coloured writing out loud,
“Vivien’s Specials”
Pancakes and vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce
She paused. ‘Imagine it, Imo – we could make warm crépes with hazelnuts and chocolate ice cream, sundaes brimming over with freshly scooped sorbet and fruit sauces—’
‘That chalkboard looks like a hazard,’ Imogen interrupted.
‘Really?’ Anna held the edge, but the heavy board swung perilously on its hook now, threatening to fall. She steadied it and moved away. ‘Maybe you’re right.’
‘Look, sis. I like that you’re trying to put a positive spin on all this, but let’s be honest. This place is shabby, full of junk – and it hasn’t been profitable for goodness knows how long.’
‘I know,’ Anna said, feeling defeated. ‘But –’ she placed a steady hand on the counter where the two sisters had once sat as little girls – ‘I feel something, being here. Don’t you?’
‘I think you’re being sentimental,’ Imogen said. It had started to drizzle outside now, and some of the rain was drifting in through the open glass door. She got to her Converse-clad feet and went over to shut it tight. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Anna. I have happy memories here – and I know this place meant a lot to Granny, and still does to Dad. But some things are just better left in the past. I’ve got other plans right now. And with the best will in the world we’d need more than Mary Portas to turn this place around.’
Anna tucked her loose chestnut hair behind her ear, and started straightening some of the leaflets and scribbled orders into a neat pile. Silently, she ordered the stray pens and notebooks alongside them, perfectly in line with the edge of the counter.
‘Don’t go all OCD on me, Anna. I know it’s upsetting for you, but the simple truth is I don’t want to manage a rundown ice cream shop in drizzly Brighton. I mean, seriously,’ Imogen said, her voice softening a little. She cast her gaze down to the floor, and motioned to it, littered with empty Tangle-Twister wrappers.
‘Do you? Is this your big dream? Have you worked in marketing since uni to end up cleaning floors here?’
‘I guess not,’ Anna said, biting her lip. ‘And I certainly couldn’t do it on my own. But what are our options? Sell it to a complete stranger and ignore what Granny V really wanted?’
‘It
Learning to Kill: Stories