Mrs Whippy Read Free Page B

holidays. He was dressed in a white T-shirt with a white apron. He had a little white hat on. I could see wisps of black and grey hair sneaking out from under it.
    I checked his hands to see whether there was a wedding band on his finger. But he was wearing whitesurgical-looking gloves. There were no bumps beneath the gloves. Then again, Charlie had never worn a wedding band. So that didn’t tell me much. I looked around to see if anyone was watching. I tried to tug my wedding ring off my finger. It wouldn’t move. It had been on my finger for so many years it was like a part of me. The fat on my fingers was gathering around the ring, almost cutting off my circulation. I would have to hide my hand from Mr Whippy.
    â€œHello there,” Mr Whippy said to the little girl at the head of the queue.
    â€œHello.” She smiled at him shyly.
    â€œWhat’s your name?” He smiled back.
    â€œAmanda,” she said quietly and sweetly.
    â€œOh, Amanda, that’s a lovely name. What ice-cream would you like?”
    â€œA 99 please.”
    â€œMay I say that’s an excellent choice, Amanda?”
    Amanda giggled shyly and skipped away happily with her cone.
    â€œHello, David. Good to see you again,” Mr Whippy said to the next young boy. “Where’s Matthew today?”
    He remembered all their names. I was very impressed. I watched him work his magic with all the children while their parents watched on happily. To the children he was like some kind of god. He was the great big man that owned the ice-cream van that they had to look up at. It was like he was on stage. He was a performer, an entertainer for the parents and children.
    Finally, when all the children had received their treats, they went home. Their parents returned to their houses with less money in their pockets. Then it was my turn. I stepped toward MrWhippy feeling like little Amanda. Shy and giggly.
    â€œWell, hello.” He grinned.
    â€œHello.” I smiled back, noticing my voice was once again child-like.
    â€œI don’t believe we’ve met before.” He slid off his glove and thrust his hand out of the window toward me.
    He wasn’t wearing a ring. I felt like doing a dance.
    â€œHi, I’m Emelda,” I said, taking his hand and shaking it. His hands were smooth and so soft.
    â€œEmelda,” he said gently. “Now that’s the nicest name I’ve heard all day.”
    I laughed. “Charmer.”
    â€œIndeed.” He smiled.
    â€œAnd what’s your name?” I asked as he put his glove back on.
    He raised his eyebrows and held his hands out to indicate his surroundings. “Mr Whippy, of course!”
    â€œOf course.” I laughed.
    â€œWhat can I get you, Emelda?”
    He had a lovely way of saying my name. It flowed from his tongue like hot fudge slipping down cold ice-cream. It sounded soft and velvety.
    â€œI’ll have the best ice-cream there is,” I said, peering over his shoulder into the van.
    â€œOh. An ice-cream expert, are you?”
    I looked down at myself and back to him. “You could put it that way, yes.”
    He laughed. “That’s what I like to see, someone who appreciates my art. Well, let’s move away from all this, shall we?” He stepped away from the ice-creams the children had been interested in. “I have some very special ice-cream over here for
true
ice-cream lovers. Can I suggest this freshly made six-layer frozen sweetie pie? Onlymade yesterday by yours truly. It’s bursting with citrus fruity flavours designed to tickle your tongue and prickle your palate.”
    My jaw dropped. “Yes,” I breathed.
    â€œExcellent choice, Emelda.”
    I handed over my money but he withdrew his hands. “This one is on the house.”
    â€œOh, I couldn’t possibly,” I began to say, but he cut me off.
    â€œNext time,” he said and smiled. “I’ll allow you to get the next