The Sunday Delivery Service, page 16
‘Of . . . of course it is,’ stuttered Antonella, trying to feign ignorance. ‘I have no idea who this girl is or what she’s talking about.’ She turned to Mayor Rasmussen and batted her eyelashes. ‘Now, my son and I have a flight back home to Italy in a few hours, so can we please get on with the ceremony, hmm? Where’s my cash prize?’
‘No!’ Orinthia shouted, baring her teeth. ‘You’re a criminal and we can prove it!’
She waved to the doorway, and within a moment Herr Larsen came bounding forth with Fosse and Falaise.
‘We brought these cows all the way from England,’ said Dotty, joining Orinthia on stage. ‘They were going to be part of our presentation today. We’d trained them to present our ice cream cones to Perdita Pamplemousse.’
‘W-w-what?’ gasped Antonella. ‘I’ve never seen these animals in my life!’
‘It’s OK,’ the mayor reassured, patting the Italian woman’s arm. ‘These girls are obviously just mistaken—’
But just then a man in the audience stood up. ‘Hang on a minute, I knew I recognized you from somewhere!’ He edged towards the stage and jabbed an accusing finger at Antonella. ‘You were trying to sell me those cows at the cattle auction yesterday – said they were good for the slaughter. I knew straight away that you were lying, of course. These are obviously dairy cows, not beef cows.’
Orinthia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘So not only did you steal Fosse and Falaise, but you were trying to destroy the evidence by getting them turned into fillet steak?’ she shrieked.
‘Nonsense!’ said Antonella, making a last-ditch attempt to save her skin. ‘These girls are obviously just jealous because I won the award.’
Orinthia felt her blood boiling. ‘Jealous? We’re not the ones who resorted to threats, to theft, to kidnap! You knew your own ice cream wasn’t good enough to win the competition so all you could do was cheat!’ She lunged towards the Italian woman, knocking the trophy from her grasp. ‘You don’t deserve that!’
‘Security! Security!’ said the mayor, looking around desperately for backup. ‘Someone needs to escort these children and their livestock from the building immediately!’ He clicked his fingers and two burly men dashed to his rescue. All Dotty and Orinthia could do was watch as they came lolloping towards them, clicking their knuckles.
‘No! Wait, Mayor Rasmussen!’ shouted Chief Pedersen, before throwing himself in front of the security guards. ‘The girls are not lying. I found them at the bottom of the mountain just fifteen minutes ago. They’d rescued the cows from the funicular!’ He wheeled round to face Antonella, his lips curling. ‘This woman had locked them in one of the carriages and they’d been stuck at the top of the mountain all day!’
There was a loud gasp of incredulity from the audience.
‘Cows in a funicular?’ laughed Antonella nervously. ‘Whatever are these crazy people going to accuse me of next? And besides, the funicular was closed for maintenance today. How could I possibly have had access to the carriages?’
‘Because you got into the engine house and tampered with the controls!’ Dotty shrieked. She pulled up her sleeve to reveal her bloodied, bandaged arm. ‘Look – I cut myself on the window she smashed when she broke in!’
There was a crash as someone in the audience fainted, and Antonella looked to the floor sheepishly. Every person in every seat had their eyes set firmly on her, and the Italian woman obviously knew that the game was up. ‘Well, I think it’s time for us to be going,’ she said, shuffling backwards towards the wings with Bruno in tow. The poor boy looked terrified. ‘Like I said, we have a flight to catch—’
‘Oh, I don’t think so!’ came a sudden shout from the back of the auditorium. ‘Non vai da nessuna parte!’ Shielding her eyes from the spotlight, Orinthia looked up over the audience. A bowler-hatted man dressed in a suit was standing up in the back row, brandishing a walking cane.
Orinthia gasped as she realized who it was. ‘Monsieur Dubois?’
‘No, bambina, not Monsieur Dubois.’
The man shuffled into the gangway and slowly made his way towards the stage. Dropping his cane, he looked up at Orinthia. Then with a deep breath he took off his hat, which, much to everyone’s surprise, had a wig attached to it. He removed his glasses next, before starting to peel away his facial hair. Beneath the disguise was the face of an old woman.
A loud gasp rang around the auditorium like a fork striking a glass, and Orinthia dropped to her knees.
Standing before them was Mrs Gastaldini.
Mrs Gastaldini, what . . . what’s going on?’ stuttered Orinthia, her mouth dry. ‘Is this some kind of joke? Why were you dressed up as Monsieur Dubois?’
Mrs Gastaldini edged closer to the stage, loosening her shirt and tie as she tried to catch her breath. ‘I’m so sorry, bambini,’ she wheezed. ‘I know this must have come as quite a shock but I can explain. I-I—’
‘Serafina, be quiet!’ Antonella hissed, appearing from the wings and running to the front of the stage. Her nostrils were flaring, her eyes fixed on Mrs Gastaldini. ‘Stai zitta! ’
Orinthia balked. Had she heard correctly? Had Antonella just called Mrs Gastaldini by her first name? Did they . . . know each other? ‘Have you two met before?’ she asked Mrs Gastaldini, already fearing the answer.
The old woman ran a hand through her hair, sighing heavily. It was as if she had the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders. ‘It pains me to say it, Orinthia, and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but Antonella is . . . my niece.’
Orinthia’s mouth slackened and she spluttered. Not only did Mrs Gastaldini know this criminal, but they were family? Surely it couldn’t be true?
‘I don’t believe this!’ shouted Dotty. ‘You were part of this all along? You wanted us to lose today too?’
‘No!’ protested Mrs Gastaldini, turning her gaze to Orinthia. ‘It’s not like that! Please, bambina, let me explain!’
Orinthia nodded, not knowing what else to say or do. ‘Go on.’
Mrs Gastaldini continued. ‘We’ve always been close and Antonella always loved hearing about my life in Little Penhallow. England is very different to Italia after all.
‘But when I told her about Dotty and her mums’ plans to enter the Golden Udder Awards, she started asking a lot of questions. Of course, I was delighted at first. I even thought that she and Bruno could come and visit the Penny Lick. I’d done nothing but praise Dotty and her mums’ gelato.
‘But then Antonella decided that she wanted to enter the competition too. It turns out that the family ice cream business hasn’t been doing as well as I thought, and she said that the prize money would help her fix things.’ She took a deep breath. ‘That’s when she started threatening me. She said that I needed to stop the Ambroses from entering to help her win. She said that my loyalties should be with her own flesh and blood.’
Up on stage, Antonella lunged forwards. ‘Serafina, zietta, you don’t have to do this!’ she hissed. ‘I’m not going to be the only one in trouble if you keep on talking, capito?’
Mrs Gastaldini turned to the stage. ‘I’m willing to face the consequences. This has gone on long enough and these poor girls have been through too much already.’
For a while, Orinthia stood deep in thought. Suddenly everything that had gone on over the past few weeks started slotting together in her mind like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. ‘So it was you who left that threatening note in the ballot box?’ she asked Mrs Gastaldini. ‘You fed the ice cream to Fosse and Falaise to make them sick? You took the batteries out of Grandy Brock’s alarm clock the morning we were due to leave for London?’
‘I’m so sorry,’ sniffled Mrs Gastaldini. ‘I didn’t want to, you have to believe me. But . . . but I felt torn. Two Scoops Creamery is already such a huge success, and I convinced myself that maybe Antonella needed the prize money more. I tried to talk to her, but she said that our family back in Italy would never forgive me if I didn’t do as she said.’
There was silence for a moment, every audience member on every chair trying to process the words that had just been spoken.
‘So the day that Zuni got into the creamery,’ Dotty jumped in. ‘You were there too, weren’t you?’
Mrs Gastaldini nodded forlornly. ‘I followed you there and she flew inside. What an old fool I am. I couldn’t even spy on you without causing a huge scene.’
Orinthia swallowed, trying to take everything in. ‘And your brother, is he actually ill?’
‘That was just part of the act too,’ said Mrs Gastaldini, hanging her head in shame. ‘After everything I’d done, I needed an excuse to go back to Napoli. I couldn’t bear the thought of staying in Little Penhallow, living with all that guilt. I didn’t want to lie any more.’
‘So you weren’t ever going to come back to Tupenny Mill? You just left without telling anyone?’ Orinthia felt a bolt of fury. ‘What about Grandy Brock?’
On hearing his name, Mrs Gastaldini blushed. ‘He’s why I’m here now. I’d packed my bags to go to Italy and was on my way to the train station when I had a change of heart. I knew that running away wasn’t the right thing to do. And that’s why I followed you to the port and got on board the Mollusca. I knew I needed to keep an eye on you and Dotty in Norway, to make sure that Antonella didn’t do anything to harm you. So I disguised myself as Monsieur Dubois.’
The magnitude of the revelation shook Orinthia to the core and she stumbled backwards, unable to speak.
Mrs Gastaldini shook her head gravely. ‘I’m so sorry. I just hope that one day you, Dotty and Pem can forgive me . . .’
With nothing more to say, the old woman took a seat in the empty chair at the end of the front row, and let her face fall into her hands.
Orinthia didn’t know what to think. Her head was swirling with anger and disappointment and confusion. What Mrs Gastaldini had done was terrible, really terrible, but her niece had put her in an impossible situation – family loyalty was a powerful thing, after all. But then again, what about Mrs Gastaldini’s loyalty to Grandy Brock and his children? They had welcomed her into their lives, their home, with open arms. She’d practically been living with them at Tupenny Mill.
Mrs Gastaldini looked up, her eyes red. ‘Orinthia, please say something. I’ll understand if you never want to see me again, but just speak to me.’
‘It’s OK, Rinthi,’ said Pem softly, looking up to Orinthia with trembling hands. ‘You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.’
Orinthia sighed, letting her thoughts stew. She felt so betrayed, so hurt, but she knew that everyone made mistakes – she’d made plenty herself in the past year, after all. Under the unflinching gaze of the hushed audience she got down from the stage and knelt down by Mrs Gastaldini. ‘It’s OK,’ she whispered, her hand hovering over her shoulder as if to comfort her. ‘You did what you thought you had to and—’
‘Rinthi, are you mad? What are you doing?’ shouted Dotty suddenly from up on stage. ‘We don’t even know if she’s telling the truth. This is probably just some elaborate story to save her own skin. She just wants Antonella to take all of the blame for what’s gone on!’
‘No, don’t say that!’ protested Mrs Gastaldini. ‘Non sto mentendo! I’m not lying!’ She looked up to her niece and held out her hands in plea. ‘Antonella, admit to what you’ve done,’ she begged. ‘These children have to know the truth.’
For a moment there was silence, and Orinthia prayed that Antonella was going to come clean.
But she was on the move in a flash.
Grabbing Bruno’s wrist with one hand, she swept up the trophy with the other, jumped from the stage, and pelted up the aisle in the direction of the exits. She was going to get away!
But Fosse and Falaise had other plans.
The two cows had begun to paw angrily in the gangway, their nostrils flared and their tails raised in alarm. Their heads shook violently, and Orinthia knew exactly what they were planning – they were about to charge!
In an instant they too were pelting towards the exits, and as their horns made contact with Antonella’s bottom, she was thrown up into the air.
‘Mama miaaaaa! Che vacca cattiva! ’ she yelped, landing back on the ground with a heavy thump. She rolled around, doubled up in pain, pleading to the cows for mercy. ‘Please, please don’t hurt me, vacca!’ she yelped. ‘I’ll never eat steak again, I promise!’
Orinthia strode forward, standing over the sorry-looking woman with venom and pain and hurt in her eyes. ‘Admit to what you’ve done or I’ll order the cows to strike again,’ she ordered, crossing her arms.
‘OK, OK, I admit it,’ whimpered Antonella, looking rightly petrified. ‘I threatened my aunt then stole your ice cream and your cows. I’m sorry. But please let me go, I’ll never enter the Golden Udder Awards ever again.’
‘Too right you won’t!’ bellowed Perdita Pamplemousse, hobbling down from the stage. ‘You awful, awful cheat! And to think that I gave you such a high score!’
Orinthia hadn’t thought that the judge’s face could get any grumpier-looking than it already had, but she was wrong. With nostrils flaring and teeth bared, the tiny woman came storming up the gangway and snatched the trophy from Antonella’s grasp. ‘I’ll be taking that, thank you very much!’
There was the sound of jangling metal as Chief Pedersen stepped forward holding a pair of handcuffs. He shook them defiantly in Antonella’s face, causing her to snarl with rage. ‘Antonella Dolce, I’m arresting you on suspicion of theft, kidnap, fraud . . . and no doubt lots of other awful things too. I shall be taking you into custody immediately.’
Up on stage, the mayor coughed. ‘Well, in light of recent events, I guess it is only just that the Golden Udder Award should be given to the competitor with the next highest score . . .’ He ran a finger down the sheet of paper on his clipboard. ‘And that means that the winner of this year’s trophy is Yoshimitsu Mori from Japan with his green-tea ice cream! Could Mr Mori and his team please make their way to the stage?’
There was a polite ripple of applause from the crowd, but it was obvious that most people in the audience were now past caring about the competition.
‘Hang on a minute!’ interrupted Perdita Pamplemousse. ‘What about the British competitors? Surely I should try their ice cream first? Especially now that they have their cows back.’
Mayor Rasmussen looked shocked at her sudden display of compassion. ‘Well, of course, Perdita. If you don’t mind sparing more of your precious time?’
‘To be honest, getting the chance to try the Ambroses’ ice cream was the only reason I agreed to be judge here today. I’ve heard so many good things about it.’
Orinthia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Did this grumpy old lady, the one that had been so negative about the day’s proceedings, really just say that she was eager to try their ice cream? It was such a shame that Helios hadn’t arrived in time.
‘As much as we appreciate your kind offer, Ms Pamplemousse, I’m afraid we’ll have to decline,’ she uttered. ‘After Antonella stole our ice cream we tried to get some more sent over from England, but unfortunately it didn’t arrive. We didn’t want to make anything else in a rush, as we felt it would be below standard.’
‘Well, that is a shame,’ Perdita Pamplemousse replied. ‘Although I appreciate your commitment to perfection. A girl after my own heart.’ Her trademark scowl returned once more as she looked out across the audience with accusing eyes. ‘Many of the competitors here should take note, in fact!’
Pem smiled bashfully. ‘We’ll be back next year with a vengeance though, mark my word—’
The door to the auditorium was flung open once more, and in dashed a man, red-cheeked and breathless. It was one of the ushers, and he was chasing a large-winged creature who was zooming down the aisle towards the stage. ‘Come back here!’ he shouted, swiping through the air with little success. ‘Come back here!’
Orinthia and Dotty stole a look upwards and gasped.
‘It’s Helios!’ shouted Orinthia, noticing the little cool bag hanging from the bird’s beak. ‘And he has our ice cream!’ She held out a hand, and the feathered creature came to rest on it, obviously exhausted after his journey. Opening up the cool bag, it wasn’t a surprise to find that the ice cream had almost melted, but Orinthia knew it would still taste good. ‘Ms Pamplemousse,’ she said, turning back towards the judge. ‘If the offer still stands, we would like you to sample our ice cream after all.’
‘It would be my pleasure,’ the Norwegian woman said with a smile. And with that, she took the silver sampling spoon from her bag and plunged it into the tub of melty pink cream that Orinthia had offered up. She slurped up a mouthful noisily, and sloshed it around her mouth.
‘Well?’ asked Mayor Rasmussen, his impatience mirroring that of Dotty, Orinthia and Pem.
Perdita Pamplemousse was licking her lips. ‘I’m getting raspberry . . . suet pudding . . . cream . . . and is that a hint of nutmeg I detect?’
‘Yes,’ Pem replied timidly, grasping Dotty’s hand. ‘Do you like it? Is it good?’
‘No, I don’t think it’s very good, actually . . .’ said the judge, causing Orinthia’s heart to temporarily sink. ‘I think it’s . . . absolutely fantastic! Obviously I cannot give it full marks, as its consistency is, well . . . a little soft. But on flavour alone, I would easily give it seven points!’
The mayor smiled. ‘In which case I think we have our winners. The recipients of this year’s trophy and prize money are . . . Two Scoops Creamery from Great Britain! Let’s give our new champions a huge round of applause.’
The crowd erupted, and Dotty, Orinthia and Pem threw their arms around each other with glee. They began to jump around in circles, whooping and wailing at the top of their lungs.
They’d done it! They were taking home the Golden Udder Award!
Come and try our new ice cream flavour!’ Dotty shouted from the serving hatch of the Penny Lick. ‘Jam roly-poly pudding! Get it while you can!’
