‘Only you can answer that one,’ I said. ‘All I’ll say is: always be you. Be true to yourself. Listen to what your heart tells you and you won’t go wrong.’
‘Wow, is that actually your advice or did you get it from a script?’
‘Busted.’ I grinned. ‘The matron at Victory Road had said something along those lines to a hospital porter who’d been thinking of becoming a priest. I thought it was quite apt.’
I gave her a hug and listened as she told me about the price of a vodka and Coke in London. I loved giving advice; it was so much easier to solve other people’s problems than my own.
Eliza sent me home soon after that and I found Theo in the garage, sorting the contents into various indistinguishable piles.
‘Chuck, sell, keep,’ he said, pointing to the piles in turn. ‘I’m having a clear-out.’
I had a sudden flashback to when Mum had her first stroke. It had only been a mild one, but she’d seen it as a sign to start packing up her things, that her days for this world were numbered. By the time Archie and I had had the chance to visit her, she’d been through the house like a dose of salts. The few remnants of our childhood had stood waiting for us in cardboard boxes, the attic was empty and she’d sent most of her own things to the charity shop. I’d been heartbroken at the time; I’d always thought that one day I’d have the chance to search the whole house for photographs of my dad, but it seemed I’d left it too late.
‘Don’t be too ruthless,’ I said with a shiver, ‘don’t get rid of anything you might regret.’
‘That’s true.’ Theo paled. ‘Some of this is Kate’s. I’ve only just escaped one divorce threat; I don’t want to face another.’
He rummaged through the ‘chuck’ pile and drew out a glittery disco ball and a small denim jacket, setting them on top of the ‘keep’ pile.
‘Wise move. What’s the plan, anyway?’
‘I reckon I can divide this space into two, put in mezzanine floors and create two studio apartments,’ said Theo, polishing a brass door knocker in the shape of a fox’s head on his T-shirt. He set it carefully back in its box and on top of the pile for selling. ‘What do you think?’
A glow of pride spread through me.
‘I think you’re on fire, that’s what I think. You’re really throwing yourself into this holiday venture, aren’t you?’ I said, smiling at his bashful expression.
‘I want to build a business that’s big enough to support a family,’ he said gruffly. ‘Given time.’
‘Kate will love that.’
We grinned at each other for a moment, swallowing our respective lumps.
They’d agreed to speak to each other nightly now and Theo was walking round in a permanent state of bliss, a dreamy faraway look on his face. It warmed my heart to see it, even if it was difficult to get him to concentrate on anything for more than five minutes. When I’d left for the shop this morning, he’d covered the living room with dustsheets, saying that he was going to try sweeping the chimney and when I’d come back for lunch he’d abandoned that job and he was up a ladder, checking that the thatched roof hadn’t been damaged by the wind. But on the basis that we’d all thought only a week ago that he was suicidal, I wasn’t complaining. This new energetic Theo was a big improvement on the wet lettuce I’d found when I first arrived.
He gave himself a shake and started throwing old paint-brushes into a black bin bag.
‘Oh, talking of families, Archie called. He wanted to know whether we had a spare cottage. I said Kittiwake’s Cabin was empty so he’s arriving tonight for a few days.’
I stared at him. ‘For a holiday?’
Theo shrugged. ‘Didn’t ask. I explained that you were in the spare room, and that the living room was out of action waiting for a proper chimney sweep, otherwise he could have stayed in the house, but he said he preferred having his own space.’
I was amazed. Archie rarely took a day off at the weekend, let alone during the week. Perhaps Molly had got in touch. For him to pay more than a fleeting visit to Brightside Cove he must be even keener on her than I thought. Love certainly was in the air today; maybe a second match made in Devon could be on the cards?
‘Have you seen or heard anything from our guests?’ I asked.
‘The guy asked about the art scene.’
My senses switched to high alert. ‘And what did you say?’
He scratched his head. ‘Told him about the annual art festival in Shapford, the one Pen-Pen and Brucey-darling went to.’ We shared a smile at the memory of our naked artists. ‘I should have given him all that claptrap about the light down here being unique, but I didn’t think about it until afterwards.’
‘Good, and if he asks again, don’t mention it,’ I said. ‘In fact, tell him art isn’t popular in these parts.’
He looked at me like I’d gone mad. ‘Okay, whatever you say. Flowers must be popular, though; you’ve had some delivered today.’
I sprinted off to investigate.
Theo had left the bouquet propped up in the sink in water. They were exquisite: a hand-tied bunch of pale-pink roses, pink-tipped lilies and fuchsia gerberas, tied with curls of white ribbon. My pulse was racing as I ripped the little envelope away from the cellophane and I tried to make myself calm down. They were probably just from Sapphire to say thank you for her hen party. My eyes skipped over the words, not believing what I was seeing.
No. This couldn’t be real.
I released the card from my fingers, flinging it as if it had stung me. I gasped for air, my heart hammering in disbelief. After a few seconds I picked it up again with shaking hands and tried to focus on the typed words.
Congratulations on that amazing cliffhanger episode of Victory Road. Your dad would be so proud. T x
Who was T? Was this the same person who’d been sending me flowers anonymously back in London? And how did he or she know my dad?
Chapter 29
Later that evening, Archie was waving his mobile phone fruitlessly in wide arcs around the kitchen in Kittiwake’s Cabin. ‘I’d forgotten just how back of beyond this place is.’
‘You’ll get used to it. Now, sit and eat it all,’ I ordered, setting a big fry-up on the table. ‘And this.’ I placed a plate of bread and butter at his elbow.
He grinned. ‘I don’t know why you’re treating me like an invalid, but I’m not complaining.’
‘I’m doing it because you look like death warmed up, you’re too thin and you’re willingly taking a holiday, i.e. you’re not your normal self.’
‘Gee thanks.’ He squeezed ketchup on to the plate with a loud splat.
‘Also, you’re all the family I’ve got. If you snuff it, who’s going to worry about me?’ I poured us both a glass of water and smiled sweetly at him.
‘Jude?’ He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Molly told me you two were canoodling down in the cove.’
‘Is nothing sacred?’ I flushed. ‘We’re just pals, he even said so himself. But while we’re on the subject of Molly, is she why you’re here?’
‘Um. Not really.’ He stabbed both eggs with his fork and stared as the yellow yolk mixed with the ketchup. A cold panic gripped me suddenly. He must be ill. The doctor had warned him only a month ago to ease up a bit. And there was I making jokes about snuffing it.
I sat down in the chair opposite and rested my hand on his arm.
‘If something’s wrong, you would tell me, wouldn’t you?’
He set his knife and fork down and sighed. ‘Do you remember my first big break outside of the uni business?’
I nodded. ‘The big hotel on the front? How could I forget our celebratory Japanese dinner?’
We shared a smile; while he’d still been at uni he’d won a contract that had taken his small laundry venture to the next level, doubling his turnover. He’d advertised for new staff, looked for bigger premises and never looked back. He’d been so proud that he’d invited Mum and me out for dinner. Mum didn’t come – she said it was sinful to be self-congratulator
y. And besides she didn’t like the seaside. A small piece of me never forgave her for that.
‘Over ten years I’ve been doing business with them, giving them a top-class service too. Last week they asked to renegotiate our terms, because someone else has offered them lower prices. This week three more of my biggest customers have done the same.’
‘Do you know who this other firm is?’
He smiled wanly. ‘Yes, and I can’t compete. They’re national; they can afford to undercut me long enough for me to go bust.’
‘Where’s the loyalty from your customers?’ I said, outraged on his behalf. ‘Surely they’ll stick by you in return for the service you’ve given them over the years.’
‘Money is too tight for niceties these days.’
‘So what can you do?’
‘Make a plan of attack.’ He heaved another sigh. ‘That’s why I’m here; I thought a few days away from the office looking at the lovely views of Brightside Cove would help clear my head.’
My heart dipped. ‘And I thought you’d come to spend time with Molly.’
‘I hope to do that too.’ He grinned. ‘She’s the lovely view. I fully intend to be her not-so-secret admirer, whether she likes it or not.’
‘Oh, that reminds me. I thought I’d got a secret admirer. But now I’m not so sure.’
I pulled the little florist’s card from my jeans pocket and I held it between my fingers, adrenalin whooshing through my veins. Normally I told Archie everything; we had no secrets from each other. But where Dad was concerned, Archie was a closed book. He must remember more about him than I did, but he never shared those memories with me.
‘I’ve been sent some flowers.’ I handed the card over and held my breath.
‘“Congratulations on that amazing cliffhanger episode” …’ Archie’s frown deepened as he got to the end of the message. He looked up at me. ‘“Your dad would be so proud”?’
‘How weird is that?’ I said with a catch in my throat. ‘Who do you think could have sent them?’
He shook his head. ‘Have you ever had anything like this before?’
‘I’ve been getting anonymous flowers for a while. Never a mention of Dad on them, though.’
‘Ignore it.’ He handed back the card. ‘Probably just a crank.’
I swallowed back my disappointment. ‘But what if it isn’t?’
He pursed his lips. ‘Still ignore it.’
‘I tell you what I think,’ I said, my stomach fizzing with hope. ‘I think Dad’s out there and I think someone wants me to come looking for him.’
‘Well,’ Archie pushed his chair back, ‘good luck with that.’
I stared at him. ‘Don’t you want to know where he is? Aren’t you at all curious?’
He ran a hand over his stubble. ‘He chose a different life, Nina. One that didn’t include us. Why should I care about someone who doesn’t care about me?’
‘How do you know that?’ I said, pouncing on him. ‘All sorts of things happen between couples when they split up. For all we know it was Mum’s fault. She moved us away from where he could find us.’
‘We only moved twenty miles,’ he said patiently. ‘We weren’t exactly impossible to track down.’
‘Maybe there was a reason for it. I’ll never forget a story in the newspapers when I was about fifteen about a singer being reunited with her father who had disappeared from her life when she was a baby. He saw her on the TV and contacted her.’
‘I hope she told him where to go?’
‘No, he became part of her life. I think that’s been in the back of my mind since I was little. I’ve always had this crazy idea that he’d spot my name one day and get in touch.’
‘Is that why you became an actress?’ His face softened and he reached for my hand. ‘That is so you.’
‘Yes. No. That’s over-simplifying it. I’d have become an actress anyway. But that story sowed the seed of an idea in my head and I’ve kept it alive ever since. And maybe it’s worked? Maybe whoever sent the flowers could be trying to put us back in touch with him?’
‘Not us,’ Archie said, raising his palms. ‘Some humans do bad things to each other every single day. And it’s natural to hold on to the belief that our own parents aren’t like that. But sometimes they are. Sometimes we’re better off without them. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve done okay without Dad’s help.’
I thought of Jude and how badly his parents had treated him. Archie was right; some children were better off without their parents. But our dad had shown us nothing but kindness right up until he left.
‘You and me against the world?’ he murmured, drawing me into a hug.
I nodded yes, but deep down I felt like I was on my own. My few precious memories of Dad were happy ones; I didn’t believe that my childhood had been better for not having him in it. These flowers had given me fresh hope. And I didn’t know how I was going to prove I was right, but I was going to give it a shot.
Archie and I didn’t see much of each other the next day. He did some work and then went out in the afternoon while I drummed up support for our public meeting. Even though we hadn’t had much time, Jude and I were hoping that we’d have a good turnout.
Then on Friday the day dawned crisp and clear and the sun sparkled on a flat turquoise sea. Perfect conditions to save our lifeboat house, I thought, after I’d flung back the bedroom curtains and plucked my dressing gown from the floor.
Our lifeboat house.
I was interrupted from my thoughts by the crunch of footsteps across the gravel. It was Maxine strutting towards Driftwood Lodge, head to toe in black as usual. With her frizz of dark grey hair, knee-high boots and long cardigan flapping behind her, she looked like a blackbird out to catch an early worm.
I knocked on the window and waved and then ran down to let her in, scooping up Mittens from the bottom of the stairs as I did so.
‘Who knew chickens made so much noise?’ she grumbled, following me into the kitchen.
I grinned. ‘I quite like waking up to the sound of them chatting and the waves in the background whispering on the shore.’
Mittens padded straight to his litter tray and began scratching round for a suitable spot.
‘You really have fitted into life here,’ Maxine marvelled, getting in my way as I attempted to slide the kettle to the hotplate. ‘Does that offer of a guided tour still stand? I’d like to get some fresh air today.’
I winced, feeling guilty. ‘No can do, I’m being the face of – don’t laugh – the Save the Brightside Cove Lifeboat House campaign.’ I handed her a leaflet from the pile on the kitchen table. ‘Petitions, protests, the lot. You’re welcome to join us if you like?’
‘So you’re happy to lead a protest, but you don’t think you have the star quality to be a leading lady.’ She tutted under her breath. ‘Madness.’
‘When you put it like that …’ I said, pulling a face. I crossed to the doorway and yelled up the stairs, ‘Theo, do you want tea?’
‘He can’t hear you,’ she said. ‘He’s at the bottom of the garden with a watering can.’
I chuckled to myself as I poured hot water into mugs; the man was a machine these days, always pottering about doing jobs.
‘We’ll do the tour another time,’ she said, heaping sugar into her mug. ‘I just fancied some company, that was all. But I won’t join you; I’ll ask that lobster man if he’ll take me out on his boat. It would be good research for that drama I was telling you about. In fact, about that—’
‘Ooh, if you wanted some company, could you do me a massive favour?’ I held out the biscuit barrel and hoped my hazelnut and cranberry granola bars might win her over.
‘Will I like doing it?’ She selected a big nutty one and snapped a piece off with her teeth.
‘No,’ I said honestly, ‘but please do it anyway.’
I explained that I needed her to keep Campion away for a while and she agreed, admitting that she hadn’t had the opportunity to grill him abo
ut his intentions with the boat house yet and this would give her the perfect opportunity. So while we finished our tea, I called Big Dave from the landline, to ask if he could accommodate Maxine plus a guest on his boat today. He was happy to oblige, even more so when he found out Maxine worked in TV. I had a feeling she’d have heard all about his fifteen minutes of fame by the time they were out of the harbour, even though he didn’t like to talk about it. A few minutes later she crossed back over the courtyard to issue a probably less than gracious invitation to Campion and I busied myself clearing up after Mittens and forking some kitten food into his bowl.
Today was going to be a good day, I thought, turning on the radio and busting a few moves to the latest Beyoncé single, a very good day indeed. So enthusiastic was my dancing that it took me a while to realize that I wasn’t alone.
‘Ahem. Hello.’
I whirled round to see a small tanned person hovering in the doorway, hand raised in a shy wave. Glossy hair screwed up in a bun, red lipstick, massive backpack …
‘Kate!’ I squealed.
I launched myself at her and wrapped her in a hug.
‘But how—’ I spluttered. ‘When did you … Why didn’t you say?’
Her eyes glittered with tears. ‘Suddenly I didn’t want to be three thousand miles away, trying to find myself. I wanted to be home, with Theo, where I belong. So here I am.’
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. I was so glad to see her. And I knew someone else would be too. I helped her off with the backpack and led her outside to the garden gate.
‘He’s at the bottom of the garden.’
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, her breath catching in her throat. And then she squeezed my hand and went through the gate to her husband.
As if sensing her presence, he looked up from the garden he’d been working on: Ivy’s remembrance garden, with the selection of plants to ensure flowers all year round, the three types of ivy that wove in and around every shrub, the tiny pond surrounded by little flower fairy statues. And the crowning glory – a wooden seat for two carved with the words:
The Frenemies Page 9