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 about 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:
Ivy, you were in our lives for such a little while but you’ll be in our hearts for ever. Love always, Mummy and Daddy xxxx
And then they were in each other’s arms, crying for their daughter and for each other. For the love they had lost and the even greater love that entwined their hearts like fronds of ivy that would forever bind them together.
I tiptoed away, crying happy tears that two lovely people had finally found their way back home. To each other.
Chapter 30
By a quarter to noon, the area of beach around the lifeboat house was heaving with people. Jude and I had decided to address the crowd from directly outside the double doors so that if anyone took pictures they would have the lifeboat house in it behind us. At this rate the people down at the bottom would have their feet in the sea, the slipway was packed!
‘I had no idea we’d get such a response,’ I marvelled, raising a hand to wave to Raquel from the pub.
‘Oh ye of little faith,’ Jude replied with a wink.
We grinned at each other. He might seem outwardly cocky today but it wasn’t me who’d been on the phone at five this morning, panicking that no one would come and the only audience would be the ever loyal Mabel, who right now was fast asleep in his van with the window open. I hadn’t minded; nothing wrong with showing a bit of vulnerability now and again. In fact, I thought more of him because of it. Although quite how much more I could think of him, I wasn’t sure. He was so lovely. And kind. Look at him now, shaking hands with that old lady, I thought with a girlie sigh.
‘Hello, glad you could come,’ he said to the old dear, who was wearing a mac, wellingtons and plastic rain hood.
‘Wouldn’t have missed it for all the tea in China,’ she said staunchly. ‘My dad was on the lifeboats. I spent hours on this beach as a girl waiting for him to come back safe.’
Jude and I exchanged a look. She was exactly the reason we were doing this. Then she reached for my hand, her skin papery and dry.
‘Don’t marry him,’ she leaned in and whispered loudly to me. Her breath smelt of peppermint. ‘He’s not good enough for you. I can tell by his eyes: too narrow.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ I said, hiding my giggle as I patted her hand. ‘Thanks for the advice.’
‘If you survive the bombing that is.’ She winked conspiratorially. ‘Or was that story-leak a decoy?’
The penny dropped: she was talking about my love interest in Victory Road, not Jude.
‘You mean Nurse Elsie and Constable Hardy! You’ll have to stay tuned to find out,’ I said, ridiculously pleased a) to be recognized and b) that she hadn’t meant I shouldn’t marry Jude.
‘Oh, I will,’ she promised and then leaned even closer and cocked her head towards Jude. ‘Mind you, this one’s quite a catch if the acting job falls through.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind too.’ I shot Jude a look and was tickled to see that he was blushing a bit.
And therein lies the rub, I thought sadly. It was an either-or situation: either Jude and Brightside Cove or acting and London.
‘Recruiting you was a smart mov
e on my part,’ he murmured close to my ear. ‘She was quite star-struck.’
‘All of this was a smart move on your part.’ I turned to face him. ‘Whatever happens, you should be proud of what you’ve started.’
We grinned at each other for a second – a mutual appreciation society – until a car horn distracted us. A camper van had just pulled up and disgorged a group of scruffy-haired surfers in board shorts and hoodies.
‘I didn’t even know there were this many people in Brightside Cove,’ I said, watching the crowd spill on to the sand and some set up camp on the rocks to the left of us.
‘There aren’t,’ Jude replied with a chuckle. ‘That lot wearing walking boots are the local history society. The women on the rocks with the notepads and wine are over from Brixham on a writing retreat. There’s the University of the Third Age brigade, the WI, the drama club from Thymeford, some of my colleagues from social services. Plus, I’ve seen fishermen, ex-coastguards, those surfers as well as all the village residents.’
Theo and Kate weren’t coming. They’d apologized for not supporting us but understandably said that they had so much to catch up on that they were going to take advantage of the house being empty for a couple of hours. There’d been some squeals from the bathroom when I’d left. Say no more.
‘And the media is here.’ I pointed out the intern from Devon Sounds, a blonde-haired, generously built girl who was flitting excitedly from group to group recording soundbites to broadcast later on. She was wearing huge headphones and shoving a big furry outdoor microphone in people’s faces. There was a photographer from the newspaper too, taking down names and snapping away at groups of people.
‘We could actually do this, you know.’ He laughed, his eyes shining with determination. ‘When the council sees how much support we’ve got, how can they continue with the auction?’
‘Exactly, they’d be fools,’ I said with as much vigour as I could muster. As long as Campion Carmichael hadn’t got there first …
‘Oh, there’s my brother Archie!’ I waved to him. He waved back but he didn’t join us. He seemed to be looking out for someone.
Jude was called away to pose for selfies in the middle of an exuberant group of women who I could only imagine were the football mums. I stood alone, running over my speech in my head. Welcome … good cause … heart of the community … irreplaceable part of history. I muttered the words under my breath, conscious of the rise in my pulse rate at my impending moment in the spotlight. Between us we had managed to gather an audience and it was my job to get the message across. I wanted to do Jude proud.
An elderly couple, a man in a wheelchair with a lady pushing him, hesitated at the top of the slipway, clearly unsure as to how to get down. I held my breath for a second: the little old lady was only slight, one false move and the pair of them would end up in the sea. I started towards them just as Jude spotted them too and we ran up the slope together to help.
‘This is Nora and Ned,’ he said, introducing us as he came to a halt and applied Ned’s brakes.
‘From the pretty cottages!’ I said, shaking hands with them both. ‘My favourite view in Brightside Cove.’
‘View’s not bad from here, either, eh Jude, lad,’ Ned sparked, grinning up at me. He was tucked under a multi-coloured crocheted blanket and seemed to only have one leg.
Nora rolled her eyes. ‘Doesn’t get out much, you’ll be glad to hear.’
‘Haven’t been in there for years,’ said Ned, jerking his head towards the boat house. He had an unlit pipe poking out of his mouth, a weather-beaten face and a rascally grin. ‘Brings back memories, eh, Nor?’
Nora fiddled with a small St Christopher medallion around her neck. ‘Out in all weathers, he was. He might be a nuisance these days, but at least I know where he is.’
‘Ned is one of the only original fishermen left in the village,’ Jude explained.
‘Did you go out on the lifeboats too?’ I asked, fascinated.
‘Oh yes, we was all volunteers back in the day. Saw some terrible accidents in my time. Mind you, not as terrible as losing the boat house would be. And look.’ He delved under his blanket and brought out a large iron key. ‘I can let us in if it rains. That’s where me and Nora used to do our courting.’
He caught my eye and winked.
‘I thought I was a widow on more than one occasion,’ said Nora fondly, smoothing a wispy strand of white hair down on her husband’s head.
‘I’d have been in there like a shot.’
Jethro had joined us and snaked an arm round Nora’s waist.
‘Oi, get round the front where I can see your hands,’ Ned grunted.
The three old people erupted into laughter.
I was flabbergasted by this exchange. I’d never seen Jethro so cheerful; he was like a different person.
Jude crouched lower to speak to Ned. ‘Are you sure about saying a few words?’
‘Sure?’ Nora chuckled. ‘He’s been writing his speech for two days, you’d think he was accepting an Oscar.’
‘I’ll say a few if you like,’ Jethro said darkly. ‘Bugger off, tourists. There’s three.’
That was the Jethro we knew and loved.
‘Grumpy old sod,’ Ned chortled.
‘Don’t call us, Jethro,’ Jude grinned, ‘we’ll call you.’
I glanced up at the sky; rain seemed unlikely, thank goodness. There was a thin layer of cloud, but the sky was white rather than grey. The air was completely still and the sea was as flat as a mill pond.
Ned caught my eye. ‘Looks calm, don’t it? Don’t be fooled.’ He tapped his nose. ‘I can smell a storm brewing.’
Let’s just hope the storm he was referring to would be in the sky and not with the council, I mused, glancing at my watch.
‘It’s nearly noon,’ said Jude. He glanced up to the road nervously. ‘And still no sign of the woman from the council.’
‘Don’t panic,’ I soothed, ‘the council will never miss a PR opportunity; they’ll be here.’
‘Hmm, I might just phone and check.’
He wandered off again just as Molly arrived with Ellis strapped into his child seat on the back of her bicycle. Archie gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and shook hands solemnly with Ellis. I waved and the three of them walked down to meet me, Ellis between them swinging a yellow bucket and spade.
‘This feels good.’ Archie tipped his head back and filled his lungs with fresh Devon air. ‘I already feel better. I love being on the beach.’
‘Ditto,’ I agreed, watching Ellis fling himself to the ground and begin to dig with a vengeance. ‘There’s something about being so close to the sea. I feel mellow and at home.’ Far more than I did in London, I realized.
‘Must be in your blood,’ said Molly, looking from Archie to me. ‘With a Cornish name like Penhaligon, you must have the sea in your veins?’
‘We don’t really know much about Dad’s side of the family,’ I said, shooting a sideways glance at Archie.
He scratched his nose. ‘Granny Bev lived in Cornwall. So Dad probably was Cornish.’
Bev. I’d even forgotten her name. My heart thudded. What else did he know about our family that he hadn’t told me?
‘Where exactly was that?’ I probed while he was in the rare mood for sharing.
He shrugged. ‘I can’t remember; I can’t have been more than six or seven the last time we went. The beach we used to visit was always crowded, busier than here.’
‘Not difficult,’ Molly put in.
I felt a tug of frustration; why had he never mentioned this before? But then I supposed he’d answered the other night; he didn’t want to remember Dad.
‘There was a steep walk down to the beach, as I recall,’ he said, frowning as he combed through his memories. ‘I think we went once before you were born and then again afterwards. You’d have been three or four.’
I swallowed. No wonder my memory of it was so patchy. Happy but vague. ‘I do remember something about it.
Dad was great fun, wasn’t he?’
‘Oh look.’ Archie dropped to the sand and picked up a small shell. He handed it to Ellis who looked less than impressed, understandably. I rolled my eyes at my brother’s pathetic attempt to change the subject.
Ellis dropped it into his bucket politely. ‘Thank you. Mummy,’ he said, tugging on her sleeve, ‘can I collect some shells?’
He looked adorable today in a Batman outfit: a grey and black jumpsuit with a gold printed belt and a big bat on his chest. A tiny cape fluttered behind him as he bounced on the spot excitedly. It had clearly been bought with growing room in mind; it had been folded several times at the ankle and cuff and the crotch hung down almost to his knees.
‘Yes I know,’ she said, catching my eye. ‘Not exactly the ideal outfit for the beach, but I couldn’t be bothered to argue. He starts school in September and will have to wear a uniform every day. He might as well enjoy his freedom while it lasts. Only thing is if he needs a wee – which he will – the whole lot will have to come off.’
She bent down and pulled the Velcro tightly across the front of his trainers. ‘And no getting wet,’ she shouted after him feebly as he headed straight for the shoreline. ‘Fat chance,’ she added softly.
‘I remember collecting shells on that holiday,’ I began again, challenging Archie with my stare, ‘and skimming stones. Do you?’
Archie stood, hands on hips, watching Ellis race straight into the sea and out again. He snorted softly. ‘You were rubbish. Dad spent ages trying to show you how to flick your wrist.’
He picked up a flat stone and tossed it in a skimming motion across the sand.
‘I can skim stones.’ Ellis was back panting and only a bit wet.
‘How many bounces can you do?’ Archie grinned at him. ‘Shall we see if you can beat me?’
‘YES,’ said Ellis with a roar of delight.
‘Is that okay with you, Mummy?’ Archie gave Molly his best winning smile.
A Match Made in Devon Page 31