A Match Made in Devon

by Cathy Bramley

  I pulled a face. ‘We can’t have that.’

  He looked over his shoulder to check we were alone. ‘She is very demanding,’ he admitted with a wry smile.

  I grabbed my jacket and insisted on going with him. I was getting a stiff neck from reading for so long and I figured getting to know my new producer would be time well spent.

  ‘Not a bad day at the office,’ said Richard, exhaling appreciatively as we reached the top of the beach steps. ‘I’ve never been to Devon before, I had no idea it had beaches and coves like this.’

  ‘Glorious, isn’t it?’ I agreed proudly.

  ‘Heavenly. And I’m sure it’s a few degrees warmer here than Scotland, where I was last week.’

  We paused for a moment and I pointed out the landmarks on view while he took out his phone to take pictures to send his wife. The tide was in so there was no point trying to reach Jethro’s shop via the beach so we carried on along the clifftop path towards the village and I questioned him about his career.

  ‘Probably way before your time,’ he said, sauntering along in no particular hurry. ‘But I started out as a junior writer on Ballykissangel. Remember that show?’

  ‘Yes.’ I smiled, my eyes lighting up. ‘My mum loved it. Right up until the episode when the nice priest kissed that barmaid. Then it was banned from our house. Filth, she called it.’

  Richard roared with laughter. ‘I’d left the show by then, tell your mother it wasn’t my fault.’

  ‘Actually, my mum died.’

  ‘Oh. Sorry.’

  There was a dip in the conversation and I could have kicked myself for making him feel awkward.

  ‘Anyway, it was a great programme,’ I said smoothly. ‘I used to watch it in my pyjamas before going to bed on a Sunday night.’

  ‘Now I feel really old.’ He grinned. ‘So are you ready to blaze a trail as our female vicar?’

  ‘Absolutely, unless …’ I grinned back at him. ‘Will I have to kiss any barmaids?’

  ‘Not as far as I know.’ Richard laughed again. ‘But I’ve only read up until the end of series one, so anything could happen.’

  ‘Did you visit the location while you were up in Scotland?’

  He wrinkled his brow. ‘Spot of contention there. Not a word, mind you.’

  ‘My lips are sealed,’ I promised.

  ‘We’d been hoping to use a part of the Scottish coast where our locations manager had found a small hamlet with just a few cottages and a deserted chapel but we’ve had a problem getting the right permits. We’ve got a large stone barn lined up for all the interior shots, but it’s the outdoors stuff that’s causing us nightmares. That’s where I was last week. So at the moment the exact location is undetermined.’ He shrugged and smiled. ‘Nothing new there, we’ve got until September to finalize the details so it’ll be grand.’

  ‘So does that mean Friday’s meeting in Scotland is being postponed?’ I said, trying not to sound too hopeful.

  ‘As the main members of the cast and crew had the date in their diaries, it’s still going ahead on Friday but it will be in London instead – that’ll be easier for you, won’t it?’

  I swallowed. Friday was the day of our meeting with the council. Now what was I going to do?

  ‘Yes,’ I said weakly. ‘Much easier.’ Help …

  The bell dinged flatly as usual over the door at Jethro’s but the man himself leapt out of his deckchair with extraordinary vigour and only a slight limp to indicate the previously pulled muscles.

  ‘Nina!’ He rubbed his hands together and scurried round the counter. ‘Did you hear? I’m going travelling. Don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. I went and had a word with my old dad, told him what I was thinking, and you were right, he said it was time I did summat for meself.’

  ‘But your dad is … dead, I thought?’ I said tentatively.

  ‘Well, yes, obviously.’ He rolled his eyes at Richard as if I was the village idiot. ‘But it’s all up here, isn’t it?’ He tapped the side of his head.

  Richard smirked to himself, while adding pasta, bacon and cream, some coffee and wine to his basket.

  ‘Who’s this, then?’ Jethro looked down his nose at the newcomer. ‘Another tourist?’

  ‘Now, now.’ I tutted. ‘I thought you were a reformed character as far as tourists go. And no, Richard is the executive producer in the new programme I’m going to be in. We were just discussing locations.’

  ‘And saying what a lovely part of the world Brightside Cove is,’ Richard added.

  ‘’Bout time we got a look-in,’ said Jethro, totting up Richard’s bill with a stub of pencil and a scrap of paper. ‘Pig sick I was when those Doc Martin people chose Cornwall over Devon. Still love that show, mind.’

  Richard and I grinned at each other. Jethro obviously thought we were filming The Holy Coast here.

  And then my stomach flipped. Why didn’t we? Oh, good Lord! The answer to our prayers. I looked up at the skies and smiled. This could be the miracle Jude was hoping for …

  Chapter 37

  Richard was happy to stroll back to Driftwood Lodge on his own, so I called in to see Eliza. My idea was still only partly formed, and if anyone was going to be non-judgemental about what was potentially a mad-cap scheme, it would be the woman whose CV listed her profession as mermaid. Danny was there too, his camera hanging around his neck. The back of the shop was clear now and a large sheet of white paper had been erected, which draped on the floor creating a backdrop with a series of white boxes of varying sizes sitting on top of it. He noticed me before Eliza did and opened his arms wide, cocking his head to one side.

  ‘I knew it. You find me irresistible. Okay, I surrender, I will take you out for a drink.’

  I shook my head and grinned. ‘You’re irrepressible, Danny. Big difference.’

  ‘Hey, beauty!’ Eliza’s head popped up from behind the counter. There was a cobweb in her hair and dust smudges on her chin. ‘Ignore him. Seen this?’

  She tapped a glass frame behind her with a photograph of her and the This Morning crew from last week in it. She was in her mermaid outfit perched on a rock in the centre looking like a princess with the others around her.

  ‘No regrets, then?’ I said, remembering how torn she’d been at the weekend trying to decide whether to expand her business or stick with what she knew and loved.

  ‘None whatsoever.’ She held both palms up. ‘I turned all the offers down. Well, apart from agreeing that a company in Norfolk could use my logo for a fee. Which I’m using to buy three mermen’s tails and six children’s outfits. But apart from that, no.’

  ‘I have regrets,’ Danny said with a cheeky wink, ‘I told her to get that blonde weathergirl’s number and she forgot.’

  ‘Totally slipped my mind.’ Eliza widened her eyes innocently. ‘Anyway, I owe you one for that idea of writing down what I really want out of life. I’m happy now, really happy. Brightside Cove is where I want to be. I can be myself here.’ She pulled a face. ‘Probably sounds really boring to you.’

  ‘Not at all.’ I hesitated. I wanted to talk to her about my idea, but ideally not in front of Danny. ‘Have you got a minute?’

  ‘Right, Eliza, what’s next?’ Danny tapped the toe of his trainer impatiently on the floor.

  ‘Give me two ticks,’ she said to me and then pushed a large cardboard box to Danny’s makeshift photo booth, giving him instructions on how she wanted him to photograph the contents.

  ‘We’re putting all the old stock on eBay in job lots,’ Eliza explained a couple of minutes later as we headed out into the fresh air. ‘It might not sell in Brightside Cove but someone will buy my pottery paperweights etched with fish.’

  ‘Of course they will. There’s a lid for every pot,’ I said. I frowned: who’d said that? It must have been someone deep in my past; I hadn’t heard that expression for years.

  ‘So what’s new with you?’

  I looped my arm through hers and we ambled towards the quayside to s
it on the bench overlooking the boats while I told her what was on my mind. She listened intently, not interrupting once when I told her a bit about The Holy Coast and the problems they were having with the location and the major flaw we’d hit in the plans to lease the boat house from the council.

  ‘Gosh, you have got a lot to think about,’ she said sympathetically.

  We sat down side by side and she took two chocolates out of her pocket and handed me one.

  Mine was in a tiny paper case, had fluted sides and was embossed with fine gold lettering that I couldn’t quite read.

  ‘This looks too good to eat, where did you get it?’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘Not Jethro’s, I’m guessing.’

  She laughed and shook her head.

  ‘There were four of them originally. They’re from that fabulous hotel I stayed in in London, the one with the mood lighting? I thought I couldn’t love the place any more than I did, but when I came back from dinner I found these on my pillow, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. It was a real wrench to drag myself away the next morning.’

  I bit into the chocolate, enjoying the sensation of the truffle centre melting on my tongue, while formulating my thoughts.

  ‘It’s probably totally unfeasible, but if Maxine and Richard could be persuaded to film here instead of Scotland,’ I said finally, ‘it would solve everyone’s problems. We’d all benefit: all the businesses, the holiday cottages, the council would earn money, tourism would increase and we’d be able to raise the money to keep the lifeboat house locally owned.’

  ‘I don’t know much about making television programmes,’ Eliza said, ‘but if the characters and the story stay the same and the location suits the tone of the show well enough, I can’t see why not. But doesn’t a vicar need a church?’

  I turned to her, my eyes shining. ‘Look at the lifeboat house. The shape of it, the pitch of the roof … Imagine if we replaced that little stone statue on the apex with a cross.’

  Eliza squinted across the bay into the distance and nodded. ‘Now you mention it, it does look like a little chapel. In that case, go for it.’

  She licked the last piece of chocolate off her fingers and scrunched up the gold wrapper.

  I sighed. ‘Am I being totally crazy, do you think?’

  ‘If Brightside Cove can have the UK’s first mermaid school, I don’t see why we can’t play host to a TV series too.’ She twirled a strand of pink hair around a pudgy finger. ‘It’s like you told me. Make a wish list of the things you most want to happen. Forget practical and sensible. Pour out your heart’s desires.’

  A million images flickered through my head: the sunrise over the headland, the gentle swell of the sea at high tide, running along the sand throwing sticks for Mabel with Jude, walking hand in hand with Jude, laughing with Jude …

  I gave myself a shake. If I was serious about this, my motivation had to come from a stronger place than simply the promise of a new relationship.

  ‘I want to help Jude save the lifeboat house from being turned into an art gallery. Especially after seeing all the support from local people.’

  ‘That is sweet of you,’ she said. She stretched her legs out in front of her and crossed her ankles. She was wearing flip-flops and each of her toenails was painted a different shade of blue or green. ‘I must admit, I’d never given the place much thought until Jude started banging on about it, but now I understand why he feels so strongly about it.’

  ‘Me too. Also I want … I’d like to make Brightside Cove my home.’

  ‘Yay!’ She threw her arms around me. ‘Siren Sisters rule. Because of Jude?’

  ‘No,’ I protested. ‘Not because of him. I love being by the sea. I’ve never felt as drawn to a place as I do here. It is probably totally impractical given my job, but …’ I shrugged helplessly.

  ‘Unless you get your wish,’ she reminded me. ‘But is Jude perhaps a tiny part of the reason you love it here?’

  I took a deep breath.

  ‘Jude is …’ I paused, trying to find the right words to describe how I felt about him. ‘He’s like the chocolate on your pillow. Just when I thought I couldn’t love a place more …’

  Eliza grinned at me. ‘Got you. Then to answer your question: no, what you’re proposing isn’t crazy. It’s compulsory.’

  ‘Thanks for the chat,’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘I’m all fired up about it now. I can’t wait to pitch my idea to Maxine and Richard. By the way, I thought Danny had a new job with that media company?’

  She rolled her eyes affectionately. ‘Got fired for chatting up the boss’s girlfriend.’

  I laughed. ‘He doesn’t change, does he?’

  ‘That’s what I said!’ she agreed. ‘He said he shouldn’t have to change for other people. He says he’s an optimist and he likes himself just as he is.’

  I gave Eliza a kiss and said goodbye. I quite admired Danny for his eternal hope. I might have to employ a similar tactic myself if I was to get what was on my own wish list.

  Right, first things first, I thought as I strode home. Actually, what was the first thing? By the time I got back to Driftwood Lodge I’d tied myself in knots deciding what to do next.

  Should I go straight over to Beaver’s Barn and blurt out my plans to Maxine and Richard? Or talk to Jude first? It was a tough one. If there was a flat no to my proposal from them, then there would be no need to get Jude’s hopes up, but if it was a yes, then I’d need his input from the start.

  I chewed my lip. Of course, there was also the real possibility that he’d be totally opposed to using the boat house for anything other than the good of the community.

  I plunged my energies into baking a sticky-toffee tray bake while I decided what to do. And when it emerged from the oven glossy and golden an hour later, I’d made up my mind. I dialled Jude’s number and held my breath.

  He answered immediately. ‘Jude Trevone?’

  ‘I have three questions for you,’ I said without any preamble.

  ‘Okay,’ he chuckled.

  ‘Would you like the boat house to earn its keep right from day one?’

  ‘Of course.’

  I ploughed on. ‘Are you prepared to share it with people other than Brightside Covers?’

  ‘Not if it was with people like Campion Carmichael.’

  ‘It won’t be. I’ll take that as a yes. Thirdly, do you know anyone with a big empty barn we can borrow semi-permanently?’

  He answered without hesitation. ‘Yes. Mrs Thompson at Top Valley Farm – the lady farmer I told you about.’

  ‘Brilliant.’ I beamed down the phone. So far so good. ‘Finally, do you like sticky-toffee cake warm from the oven?’

  ‘That’s four questions.’

  ‘Yes or no, Trevone?’

  ‘Yes, you crazy woman, I love sticky-toffee cake.’

  ‘In that case, one more question,’ I grinned. ‘What time can I expect you?’

  There was a box of Christmas decorations on the kitchen table the next morning and everywhere smelled of cinnamon and vanilla.

  I rubbed my eyes, mystified, and staggered sleepily to the kettle; I knew I’d slept in later than planned, after a long night spent planning and plotting with Jude but even so …

  ‘Jingle bells, jingle bells,’ Kate sang merrily. She looked up from piping a white icing outline around a star-shaped biscuit. ‘Grab that reel of ribbon, you can start tying loops on the first batch of cookies.’

  ‘Talking of loops,’ I said with a yawn. ‘I’m feeling decidedly out of it. Why is it Christmas all of a sudden?’

  ‘Our Christmas advertising campaign starts today,’ she said. ‘Penguin’s Pad will be a winter wonderland by tonight, with any luck, ready for a photo shoot tomorrow. We’re offering a special Brightside Holidays Christmas package to include the tree fully decorated, a turkey and all the trimmings and a case of wine.’

  Theo walked past the window dragging an enormous fir tree and waved in at us.

  ‘Even he’s getting
into the Christmas spirit.’ She sighed contentedly. ‘The last two years have been awful but I’m determined to make this one special.’

  I swallowed a lump in my throat: Christmas in Brightside Cove. ‘That sounds perfect.’

  ‘Why don’t you join us this year, you and Archie?’ She wrapped an arm round my shoulders and pressed a rosy cheek to mine. ‘You have an open invitation, if your filming commitments allow, of course.’

  ‘Thank you, I’ll definitely bear that in mind.’ I smiled serenely.

  If my plan worked out as I hoped, my filming commitments wouldn’t interfere with Christmas at Brightside Cove one jot.

  ‘Oh, that reminds me,’ she said, wiping her hands on her apron and picking up the little notepad we normally kept by the phone. ‘Your brother called and left a message. He said he’ll be here at about eleven thirty. Something about an email from Tim. He’s arranged for you all to have a chat over Skype at lunchtime.’

  ‘Oh, thanks.’ My voice came out in a whisper and my heart leapt into overdrive. It was really happening. Today was the day we’d find out who Tim was and hopefully get to speak to Dad for the first time in nearly twenty-five years too. Unbelievable. I gulped at my coffee to moisten my dry mouth.

  I couldn’t wait to find out what secrets Mum and Dad had been keeping for all these years and why …

  Theo and Kate were in Penguin’s Pad decorating their Christmas tree when Archie arrived. He set his laptop up on the kitchen table while I raced up and down the stairs in a flap like a teenager getting ready for her first date: changing my outfit three times, doing my hair, putting make-up on and taking it off again in case I looked like I was trying too hard. But by noon we were ready for our Skype call with Tim Penhaligon. Whoever that was.

  Right on time, Archie’s laptop began to make a ringing sound and Penhaligon’s flashed up on the screen.

  Archie clicked to answer the call and a man with short blonde hair appeared onscreen. He had a deeply tanned face, sculpted eyebrows and wore a pink open-necked shirt. He had a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his head just behind a neat little quiff. He looked to be in his mid-sixties and clearly looked after his appearance. Behind him was a row of optics and above that a shelf of cocktail glasses.