Miranda Dickinson - When I Fall In Love

Cher was obsessed with 1950s and 1960s fashion, proudly wearing vintage finds from the retro clothing boutiques that lined the streets of Brighton’s famous shopping district. Her home, too, was a shrine to retro kitsch, her love of which was evident wherever she was.

As such, she looked every inch the part behind the glass counter of Sundae & Cher – as did Elsie in her black short-sleeved blouse with white collar and cuffs, turquoise satin circle skirt and white frilled apron. It was fun to dress up for work and even though the days were long and busy, Elsie adored being part of Cher’s throwback business vision. It was as if Cher’s trademark dynamism was infused into the very fixtures and fittings of the ice cream café – a sense of optimism and fun pervaded everything, something which had proved precious to Elsie during the last eighteen months.

Today, as she scooped colourful balls of handmade ice cream into deep blue sundae glasses, Elsie felt more positive about her decision than ever.

‘So, want me to set you up?’ Cher asked, popping Belgian chocolate-filled wafer sticks into the top of the sundaes. ‘Because I’m sure I know some suitable gents. Not that I’m saying you won’t find anyone under your own steam, you know, but every little helps and that.’

The door opened and a middle-aged man bounded across the harlequin-tiled floor towards them. ‘Morning, lovely ladies!’

‘And here’s one of them now,’ Cher winked. ‘Dennis, my lovely. How’s our favourite morning customer?’

Dennis’ ample cheeks flushed. ‘Always the better for seeing you, m’dear.’

Cher feigned coyness and batted her false eyelashes at him. ‘Such a charmer! So what can I tempt you with today?’

His eyes made a greedy survey of the generous swirling mounds of rainbow-hued ice creams before him (and, arguably, a wider reconnoitre of Cher’s generous chest in the process). ‘Ah, decisions, decisions. I think I will have one of your excellent breakfast pastries, considering the early hour.’

‘Good choice. Anything with that, Dennis?’

Elsie knew the script of this conversation by heart. Every Monday and Thursday morning, at nine o’clock precisely, Dennis Keith would visit Sundae & Cher on his way to the small accountancy office where he worked. His ultimate goal was to have three scoops of ice cream with his breakfast pain au chocolat , but his sense of British propriety and conscience would never allow him to ask for this outright. Instead, a well-practised bartering ensued, after which he could rest easy that he was not being greedy but, in fact, merely accommodating Cher’s culinary suggestion. It wouldn’t do to hurt her feelings by refusing ice cream, would it?

‘I wonder if I might have a scoop of your excellent gelato with my breakfast?’

‘Of course, lovely. Which one would you like?’

Dennis made a grand show of indecision, hopping left to right as he surveyed the selection. ‘Vanilla – no, wait – Mango and Ginger Swirl looks most inviting … But then there’s Chocolate Space Dust … oh, it’s so hard to choose!’

Cher leaned over the counter just low enough to momentarily lure his eyes away from the ice cream. ‘Dennis, you know I’ll be offended if you don’t try all three …’

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.’