When I Fall In Love

Mission accomplished, his eyes twinkled as he pretended to be surprised. ‘Really? In that case, how can I refuse?’

As he walked away happy, Cher twirled her ice cream scoop like a Wild West sharpshooter. ‘See? Do I know men or what?’

Elsie grinned and picked up a menu covered in vivid pink Post-it notes. ‘No doubting that fact. You thinking of redesigning the menus again?’

Cher handed Elsie a cup of tea. ‘Not the menus. The menu.’

‘Sorry?’

‘I’ve been thinking about being a bit more adventurous with what Sundae & Cher offers. Try to extend our reach a bit. Now we’re heading towards Easter I thought it was as good a time as any to have a bit of a spring clean.’

Elsie looked at the written suggestions on the menu stickies. ‘I like the idea of porridge and pancakes for the Breakfast list. After all, not everyone can face ice cream first thing in the morning like Dennis.’

‘I’ve asked our friends at Cupcake Genie to do us some seasonal specials, too, and I can tie in the ice cream flavours with some of their ideas,’ Cher continued, her eyes ablaze with inspiration. ‘And there’s more …’ She hurried into the kitchen behind the counter and returned a few moments later with a frosted Tupperware box. She cracked open the lid and scooped a spoonful of palest lilac-coloured gelato from inside, handing it to Elsie. ‘Try that.’

The taste was unbelievable – like crushed Parma Violets and rose petals. ‘Wow, that’s amazing.’

‘It’s organic and dairy-free,’ Cher beamed. ‘I made it using almond milk. It works with any of our flavours and it’s something we can offer that nobody else in Brighton does. Then I’ve ordered a crêpe hotplate, so we can offer handmade crêpes on site with scoops of ice cream, fresh fruit and pretty much any of our toppings. It’ll look fantastic and the smell of freshly cooked crêpes will fill the place! If that works, who knows? Waffles made in-house, takeaway ice cream, more of your awesome cookies … anything’s possible.’

‘Sounds like you’ve thought of everything. So when are all these menu changes taking place?’ Elsie asked.

‘Not for a while. I’m still working on bringing everything together. I want your ideas, too. This needs to be a joint effort, OK?’ She looked over to the corner of the café where Dennis was blissfully engrossed in his guilt-free breakfast. ‘If only all our customers were as easy to please as Dennis, eh?’

Elsie grinned. ‘Maybe we should appoint him Chief Menu Consultant.’

‘You’re kidding, aren’t you? He’d never leave!’

‘Fair point.’ Elsie placed the menu on the counter. ‘So, being more adventurous it is then.’

The wink Cher blessed Elsie with was pure filth. ‘In as many ways as we can, girl.’

On Saturday morning, Elsie met Daisy for breakfast in the Driftwood Café on the beach near the Palace Pier. As usual, Daisy looked as if she had been expertly dressed and prepared by a team of beauticians and fashion stylists: her simple white shirt was completely crease-free and elegantly teamed with dark, slim-fitting jeans and brogues, with a large silk pashmina scarf completing her outfit. Elsie had always been in awe of her eldest sister and had spent much of her early teens trying to emulate Daisy’s style, until she reached the age of sixteen and discovered the kooky fashion boutiques in North Laine, which helped her to develop her own style. Today she was wearing a sweet, cherry-print dress over loose-fitting jeans, her beloved red Converse trainers and a bright green cardigan to fend off the cool sea breeze, her hair tied into a ponytail with a length of scarlet ribbon. A good four inches shorter than her sister, Elsie nevertheless bore a striking resemblance to her, both of them taking after their absent mother with their high cheekbones and large, denim-blue eyes, while their sibling Guin was the spit of Jim – tall and athletically built with a mass of thick, wavy blonde hair, the envy of her sisters whose tresses wouldn’t know a curl if they saw one.

The late morning sun was warming the deck of the café as Daisy poured tea from a quirky spotted teapot into two oversized cups.

‘I hope you realise this is the first Saturday I’ve taken off in five months,’ Daisy said, sliding a cup across the mosaic table-top towards her sister. ‘You should feel highly honoured.’

‘I do.’

‘Good.’ Daisy stirred her tea, observing Elsie carefully. ‘So, how are you with everything? And I mean really, Els, not the Wonderwoman impression you put on for Dad and Guin.’

‘I’m good. Don’t give me that look, I’m honestly fine with all of this.’

Daisy was far from pacified with this answer. ‘Then tell me – because I’m not sure I understand – what brought about your decision to date again?’

‘I’ve started to read the box messages.’

Daisy’s spoon dropped onto the saucer with a clank. ‘Oh. Wow.’

‘I know. And it feels good. The right time, you know? In fact, I read the second one this morning and it’s brilliant. Look …’ She took the folded paper from her purse and passed it across the table.

I love you because you’re fearless

and never afraid to start something new.

xx

For someone whose emotional control was legendary, Daisy looked dangerously close to tears. The paper shook gently in her fingers as she read the message and she was silent for some time. ‘What a beautiful thing to say …’

‘Not that we should be surprised.’

‘No, I suppose not.’ Daisy handed the paper back to Elsie. ‘I know this will sound strange, considering, but you really are incredibly lucky. André’s never said anything like that to me in all the time I’ve known him.’

‘Do you wish he would?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes I think it would be nice to hear how he feels about me, but other times I just think we’re one of those couples who don’t work that way. Not that it’s important, really.’ She flicked the topic away with a wave of her long fingers as if it were a troublesome fly. ‘So, what are you going to do with this message?’

‘I need to start something new.’

‘Like what?’

Elsie inhaled the salty air rising from the waves crashing on the pebble beach in the distance as a pair of squawking seagulls circled above. ‘I’ve no idea. But I think starting something new would help me to begin to think of myself as a person in my own right, you know?’

‘You are a person in your own right …’ Daisy began to protest.

‘No, I know that. But I have this whole unexpected life stretching out in front of me now and I should work out what to do with it. I just need to discover what happens next.’

Daisy shook her head. ‘You’re amazing. The way you’ve coped with all this … well, I think it’s wonderful.’ Embarrassed by her own emotion, she quickly moved on. ‘Have you thought about what you’d like to do?’

‘A little. The only thing I’ve come up with so far isn’t really a new thing, though.’

‘Tell me.’

Elsie felt a rush of excitement as she spoke. ‘OK, do you remember when we were growing up and we used to put on those dreadful musical shows for Dad?’

‘On Sunday afternoons! I’d forgotten those!’ Daisy clapped her hands and laughed so loudly that a passing waiter almost dropped his tray.

Around the time of Elsie’s eighth birthday, Sunday afternoons in the Maynard household became musical spectaculars. Daisy, then twelve, had just joined a kids’ drama club at the local Methodist church hall and was convinced she was destined for the bright lights of the West End. As with most things during their childhood, the Maynard sisters’ productions were instigated by Daisy, largely as a vehicle for showcasing her own performing skills, dragging middle sister Guin and little sister Elsie in as supporting cast. Not that either of them minded, as both were in constant awe of their confident, headstrong sibling. Each week, the Sunday Spectacular would become more enthusiastic and elaborate, with Elsie and Guin introducing costumes, wonky-eyed sock puppets and, eventually, music to the proceedings. By the time Elsie was twelve, she had attained the position of Musical Director, playing the family’s forever-out-of-tune piano in the dining room as her sisters danced and hammily acted their way through lengthy self-penned productions.

‘Poor Dad,’ Daisy laughed, ‘I can’t believe he actually sat through those week after week.’

‘He was a very good audience, though. Standing ovations every Sunday, remember?’ Elsie grinned.

‘How could I forget? You’re not thinking of resurrecting the Sunday Spectaculars, are you?’

‘Hmm, I’m not sure even Brighton is ready for that much theatrical experimentation. But I was thinking I might join a drama group or an operatic society. I’d quite like to do musicals – even though the old vocal cords haven’t had an outing for years. And it would be good to meet new people, get “out there” again. I need to start somewhere, and doing something I enjoy seems like a good enough place to start. Even if my voice isn’t up to scratch after all this time.’

Daisy stared at her sister as though she had just proclaimed the sea to be pink. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! Your voice is brilliant. Far better than anyone else in the family – including Uncle Frank, and he’s been making a living in local pubs for years trashing the Great American Songbook. I reckon you could sing anywhere and people would listen.’