A Match Made in Devon

by Cathy Bramley

  ‘How’s your luxury mattress?’ I called softly to Theo.

  He didn’t reply. I rolled off my airbed and tiptoed towards his room, worried in case he was feeling low again. There were no internal doors up here and so it was easy to spy on him. To my relief, he was fast asleep, his breathing slow, his black curls glinting in the pale moonlight, dark lashes brushing his cheeks and the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. In his hands, relaxed in sleep, was his wedding photograph, and on top of that, a picture of Ivy from his wallet.

  I crept away and back to my own bed, a steely core of determination strengthening my resolve to do my best for him and Kate. I’d almost ruined their wedding five years ago and now fate had presented me with the chance to redeem myself. I might have cocked up my own life, but I was determined to try to salvage theirs.

  Chapter 8

  On Monday morning I was up with the larks, or should I say seagulls. They’d woken me up with their squawking and I’d unearthed some buckets and spades and a tatty-looking bodyboard from a shed for the two oldest Bird children and watched as they’d run off to persuade their parents to take them surfing.

  As soon as they’d gone, I snuck into the house and made myself some toast, took another quick shower and just made it out in time before Mary came back with a wet and howling baby after an incident involving a bucket of cold sea water and a very repentant big sister.

  Theo still hadn’t surfaced so I hunted down the code to the WiFi and decided to finally make contact with the outside world. Luckily the internet signal reached across to the cottages from the main house so I took a coffee up to my bedroom and logged on. I ignored all the notifications from Facebook and Twitter, cast only a cursory eye over the new emails including one from Sebastian and another from that dreadful gossip-mongering journalist Ross Whittaker requesting a follow-up chat, and began a WhatsApp message to Trudy instead.

  Have found the perfect place to lie low for a while: indoor camping, all meals al fresco, and salt scrub facials for free! Xx

  She replied in a nano-second:

  WHERE are you??? My Harrods customers would go WILD for this. Also, get you! There’s a video of you tipping ice on Cecily on YouTube and it’s had over 20,000 hits already. You’re famous! Xoxo

  My pulse raced and I almost went online to see what she was talking about. But I resisted. Being able to step away from my real life for a while was one of the most precious things about being in Brightside Cove; the longer I could stay off social media, the better. Instead, I replied that I couldn’t say quite yet where I was, but promised that she’d be the first to know when I could. Trudy’s wealthy clientele could be very useful to Theo and Kate when they were properly ready to start taking bookings.

  Next I began browsing interior design websites for ideas, and a couple of hours later I’d drawn up a simple scheme for furniture and soft furnishings which would work in all three of the cottages and I couldn’t wait to see what Theo thought of it. Someone had already bought paint; there were tins of it stacked up next door – a soft chalky white, which was exactly the same colour as the crest of a wave. Penguin’s Pad had been mostly decorated but the other two cottages hadn’t been touched. And as painting was something even I felt qualified to tackle, I planned to spend all afternoon sloshing emulsion about in Kittiwake’s Cabin.

  At noon I heard movements coming from Theo’s room so I nipped downstairs to make some fresh coffee.

  ‘Fine,’ said Theo, a bit bleary-eyed, when I’d run through my ideas and showed him one or two online retailers who fitted into the category of cheap but gorgeous. ‘Whatever you think’s best.’

  ‘Haven’t you got anything to add?’ I said, slightly disappointed by his lack of interest in my endeavours.

  He passed me his credit card. ‘Nope. Just go ahead. See if they can deliver asap.’

  ‘What about the lighting, Theo? I read that lighting can make all the difference to a design.’ I eyed him steadily. ‘Or is that wrong?’

  He looked at me for a long moment, and I could see his brain clicking into life. I’d guessed he wouldn’t be able to let that comment slide. Eventually he conceded defeat and smiled.

  ‘A good lighting scheme can do many things, from highlighting key features to giving the illusion of more space – or less – and can be used to alter the mood of a room too.’

  ‘I don’t want a good lighting scheme; I want a brilliant one.’ I handed him a notepad and pencil. ‘And more to the point, so would Kate.’

  ‘You’re right,’ he said with a lopsided grin. ‘She would.’

  Five minutes later I found him sketching in the pad, it looked like a series of tiny spotlights hidden along the beams that ran the length of the downstairs in Penguin’s Pad.

  I pressed a kiss to his cheek.

  ‘What was that for?’ he said, alarmed.

  ‘This time yesterday you’d given up hope, now look at you.’

  He didn’t reply but as I walked away he was humming cheerily to himself. Busy hands and a happy heart, that was what my old woodwork teacher used to say. Theo might not have a happy heart yet, but we were working on it and mine was beginning to sing a happier tune too. Being banished from London had turned out to be much less arduous than I’d thought.

  ‘Ketchup with that?’ I said, the following morning, holding the bottle over Vic’s bacon roll.

  ‘Please.’ He beamed as he added an extra sugar to his tea and slurped at it. ‘This is more like it.’

  True to their word, the builders, Vic and his apprentice, Hayden, and Geoff the plumber had turned up bright and early to work on the cottages. I was still in my pyjamas and dressing gown, braving the chilly morning sun with a strong coffee and Theo was laying more bacon neatly in lines on the barbecue.

  After a hearty breakfast and mugs of strong tea, the men walked around the project making a list of the most pressing jobs and were soon unloading generators, tools and materials from their vans while I stacked dirty crockery, trying to pluck up the courage for a cold-water wash in the outside facilities.

  ‘Is that your cooker?’ said a small voice.

  I looked around to see little Darcy peering at me over the wall that divided the back of the cottages from the rest of the garden. She pointed to the barbecue.

  ‘It is.’ I smiled. ‘Cooking outside is a lot more fun than in a kitchen.’

  She was dressed like me in pyjamas and there were creases in her left cheek from sleep. She eyed up the last piece of bacon on the griddle. ‘You’re lucky. We’ve only got Shredded Wheat for our breakfast.’

  ‘Hello,’ said Theo gruffly, appearing from inside Kittiwake’s Cabin. ‘What’s that about lucky?’

  ‘Darcy’s envious of our cooking arrangements,’ I said lightly, hoping his less than welcoming frown didn’t reduce her to tears. ‘And our bacon.’

  ‘Is she?’ he said, raising an amused eyebrow. ‘Let’s see what we can do about that.’

  Theo added yet more rashers to the barbecue and I left them chatting about the things she’d found in the rock pools yesterday and went to get dressed. He’d be fine, I thought fondly, listening to him chuckle as Darcy explained the difference between a girl crab and a boy crab. He just needed to come out of his shell …

  I threw on my jeans and a soft linen shirt and padded back downstairs. The noise from the workmen had well and truly broken the peace and Theo and Darcy were having to shout to each other over the racket coming from Beaver’s Barn.

  ‘We’re going to an island today,’ Darcy announced solemnly. ‘Iceberg Island. Except Thomas can’t swim. And Daddy says sometimes you have to swim across if the sea is too deep.’

  ‘Burgh Island, darling,’ said a voice with a laugh. ‘And no one will have to swim, I promise.’

  I turned to see Mary hovering at the gate. She was still in her dressing gown, her fair hair piled up haphazardly.

  ‘Mummy, look!’ Darcy held up her bacon roll gleefully.

  Mary came through the gate into the cot
tage garden and kissed her daughter. ‘There you are! Your cereal is going soggy.’

  ‘Tea?’ I said, holding up a clean mug. ‘We’re breakfasting outside today as it’s sunny.’

  ‘No, no—’ Mary tried to protest but then gave in with a sigh. ‘Actually, yes please, I haven’t had one yet and we’ve been up with Thomas for hours.’

  ‘Teething?’ Theo busied himself scraping incinerated bacon off the barbecue and studiously avoided her eye.

  ‘Yep,’ said Mary, taking a mug from me gratefully.

  ‘Poor thing.’ I dropped into the camping chair beside her. ‘Can you do anything for him?’

  ‘There are some bananas in the fruit bowl,’ Theo said gruffly, ‘freeze one, it’ll soothe his gums.’

  ‘Good idea, thank you,’ said Mary.

  I shot Theo a look of admiration. He was full of surprises; I bet he’d been a brilliant dad. I felt a pang of sadness well up. Poor Theo. Poor Kate.

  ‘Bye,’ shouted Darcy, handing her mother the last tiny piece of her breakfast. ‘I’m going to find the ducks.’

  ‘They’re hiding this morning,’ said Theo. ‘I don’t think you’ll find them.’

  Her face fell momentarily, but he held his hand out to her. ‘But you’re in luck, because I know all their secret places.’

  Mary and I exchanged warm smiles at the sight of them disappearing off together on their quest.

  ‘Your husband is a darling,’ said Mary, through the steam rising from her mug. ‘So good with the children.’

  All at once I knew where this was going. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. Sure enough, Mary turned to me.

  ‘Are you two planning a family?’ She paled instantly at the look of horror on my face. ‘Oh gosh, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said anything. I never learn. Please ignore me.’

  ‘No, it’s fine,’ I said, arranging my features in a wistful gaze. ‘It just hasn’t happened yet for us.’

  Vic popped his head out of Beaver’s Barn with two empty mugs. Never had I been so glad of an interruption. ‘Any chance of a top-up, Nina?’

  ‘Of course!’ I sprang to my feet and picked up the teapot to see if there was enough in it.

  Vic leaned on the doorframe and nodded a greeting at Mary.

  ‘Theo’s like a different man since you arrived. You’ve cheered him up no end,’ he said to me, folding his arms. ‘I don’t think he got out of bed at all for the first week after his wife left him.’

  Bugger. I felt my mouth dry up.

  Mary frowned ‘His wife?’

  ‘Kate.’ Vic nodded. ‘Lovely girl.’

  ‘I’m so confused.’ Mary gave a gentle laugh but she was staring at me questioningly. For the longest second I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. My hands shook as I handed Vic two full mugs of hot tea and he disappeared back inside, oblivious to the hot water he’d just landed me in.

  I licked my lips. ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘Oh, of course.’ She got to her feet and set her empty mug down on the table. ‘None of my business.’

  I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment on her face. She thought badly of me and I felt awful. Theo and I were just trying to make the best of a bad situation; I couldn’t afford to have a setback now.

  ‘Mary, I’m sorry we misled you.’ I grabbed her arm. ‘Come and have a look inside Penguin’s Pad and I’ll explain everything. Please. Besides, I’d like your opinion on kitting it out, from a guest’s perspective.’

  Mary bit the inside of her cheek and considered for a moment. Her face broke into a tiny smile. ‘All right then. And I don’t suppose you’ve got any more bacon?’

  ‘We have,’ I said with a sigh of relief. ‘In fact, we’ve got enough for everyone.’

  ‘I’ll go and give Joe a shout.’ Mary’s lips twitched. ‘Don’t tell Darcy but we both detest Shredded Wheat.’

  And just like that, my role as Theo’s wife ended. So that was the third acting job I’d lost in less than seventy-two hours. Perhaps someone was trying to tell me something?

  By Friday the littlest of the three cottages, Kittiwake’s Cabin, had hot water and an almost finished bathroom. All the kitchen appliances for the three properties had arrived the previous day on one big lorry, which had sent the hens into a flap as it attempted a three-point turn in the courtyard. And now all three of the cottages had fridges, cookers and dishwashers.

  I’d never classed myself as much of a cook, but I christened the new oven in Penguin’s Pad by making a batch of brownies, which we shared with our guests and the man who came to collect Theo’s classic car for Archie. Mary had asked for the recipe and suggested that I make cakes every week for our guests. Then she’d remembered I was only Theo’s temporary wife and wouldn’t be here to bake every week and we’d had a good laugh about it.

  She and Joe had been brilliant about our unusual circumstances in the end and had invited us over for dinner on Wednesday night and insisted that we come and go as we pleased to use the proper shower in the house.

  Vic and Hayden were making good headway with the joinery in Kittiwake’s Cabin too. The air outside the cottages was thick with sawdust, and the smell of freshly sawn wood mingled with the salty tang of the sea. My senses had been on full alert since arriving in Devon: the colours seemed brighter, everything smelled potent and full of life. And waking to the distant tinkling of the sailing boats, the call of the sea birds and the gentle roar of the waves made my heart sing every morning.

  Saturday soon came around and the Bird family reluctantly began gathering their belongings. By lunchtime they were nearly ready to leave. Theo and I went out to see them off. The sun hadn’t made an appearance yet today and the soft grey sky seemed to match the children’s moods as they dragged their bags despondently from the house to the car. Joe was alternately tapping his watch and checking the latest traffic news to plan their return route and Mary was dashing around, packing enough food and activities for the trip to prevent boredom. Theo offered to hold the baby while the other two children got themselves comfortable in the back and when he thought no one was looking he pressed his cheek to the top of Thomas’s downy head and murmured his goodbyes. I thought my heart might break.

  Finally, everything was in the car, including Thomas in his car seat and a bucket of Darcy and Leo’s seashore treasure, which had begun to pong and had been consigned to the boot.

  ‘Goodbye, Nina,’ said Mary, flicking a tear from her eye. ‘Thank you for such a lovely family holiday.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, giving her a hug while the men shook hands formally. ‘For not minding about the whole Nina/ Kate issue and for being such good sports about the cottage not being ready.’

  ‘And dear Theo,’ Mary said, taking hold of his hands.

  Theo let out a small breath and I could see how much he wanted to avoid an emotional conversation. I willed him not to bolt like he had at the mention of Ivy’s cot.

  But all she said was, ‘You have a lovely home at Brightside Cove; thank you so much for sharing it with us.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ said Theo graciously.

  And then Joe and Mary climbed in and Joe started the engine. As he turned the car round to face the driveway, Mary wound down her window and smiled. ‘And I’ll be sure to leave a glowing review so you get lots more bookings.’

  ‘Thank you!’ I called, pretending to wipe my brow. ‘But there won’t be any more bookings until the cottages are ready.’

  ‘Oh hell,’ muttered Theo through gritted teeth as the Birds disappeared down the lane.

  ‘You have checked that there are no other bookings, haven’t you?’ I said.

  I’d been so busy all week that I hadn’t even spared a thought to the possibility of more guests. What if the Birds were simply the first of many? What if today was changeover day and another family was right now heading our way? Or worse, three families – one for each of the cottages!

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Theo, scuffing his toe in the gravel.


  ‘Theo!’ I exclaimed.

  ‘As soon as I saw the Birds’ booking, I panicked and didn’t look at anything else on the calendar …’ His voice faded away sheepishly. ‘Sorry. Shall we go and check Kate’s emails?’

  I rolled my eyes at him. ‘No, I’m taking the rest of the day off. You can manage that job on your own.’

  I wished him luck, reminded him that the furniture delivery was due any minute, and I set off to visit the little gift shop I’d seen in the village by The Sea Urchin pub at the edge of the harbour. Other than a couple of early-morning walks along the beach and our two visits to the lobster-pot bench as I now referred to it, I’d barely strayed from Driftwood Lodge all week and now that the Bird family had gone and I had nothing pressing to attend to, I was looking forward to having a little explore.

  I took the long way across the beach and along the harbour. I walked as far as a little supermarket called Jethro’s General Store, stopped to read the menu outside The Sea Urchin and finally arrived at the Mermaid Gift and Gallery. The shop was set at the end of a row of whitewashed cottages right next to the pub. It had two large planters filled with frothy grasses flanking the doors. The door itself was painted a deep sea green and the wide shop window was brimming with the types of objects that I found impossible to resist.

  I pushed open the door and stepped inside. The interior didn’t disappoint; it was a real treasure trove. Pretty objects covered every surface including the ceiling: driftwood carvings, seascapes in every shade of blue and green, shell sculptures, pottery ships in bottles, pretty glass storm lanterns and candles in every shape, size and aroma.