The First Guests Page 11

  ‘That’s one word for it,’ said Nigel faintly.

  I turned to find that he was no longer behind me but leaning on the bedroom window sill.

  ‘I’ve never seen anything like that,’ he said in a choked voice.

  I joined him at the window. ‘Oh heavens!’

  Our two guests were butt naked and bent over a row of paint pots. A large canvas was spread out on the lawn and pinned down with a rock at each corner. I looked at Nigel, weighing up whether to shield his eyes, yell at the artists to put some clothes on or brazen it out.

  ‘Shall we go next door and photograph Kittiwake’s Cabin?’ I said, tapping Nigel’s arm gently. ‘You must need to get back?’

  Nigel for once was lost for words and simply shook his head, rooted to the spot. Side by side we watched as Brucey-darling and Pen-Pen daubed each other with green and blue paint and then both dived head first, body-surfing across the canvas, finishing by jerking their arms starfish-style. Then Bruce pulled Penelope on top of him and began kissing her, much to her audible delight. At which point I dragged Nigel from the window.

  ‘That,’ he stuttered, visibly shaken, ‘is an image I’m unlikely to forget.’

  ‘No,’ I agreed, dabbing a line of perspiration from my forehead, ‘me neither, let’s move on. Did Theo tell you about our rainwater-harvesting?’

  Nigel let out a sigh of relief. ‘No, tell me about that. Please.’

  After our tour of the properties, I left Nigel taking photos of little details, like the cottage signs, and a couple of eggs I’d pointed out to him under the hedge which Theo must have missed and the new plants in their pots, while I went to find Theo, who was refreshing the hens’ water trough.

  ‘He’s slightly traumatized.’ I explained how Bruce and Penelope had achieved the impossible and shut Nigel up. ‘But I think he likes it. He says Brightside Holidays definitely has a place on the Coastal Cottages website.’

  ‘Really?’ Theo’s face lit up.

  ‘Yes.’ I beamed. ‘You are officially in business.’

  ‘Thank you; you made this possible,’ he said, his eyes sparkling.

  ‘Look at you,’ I said, patting his cheek affectionately. ‘I feel like we’ve got the old Theo back.’

  ‘I know, I know. If only I’d been more like this before, Kate might never have left.’ He sighed. ‘She hoped leaving me would shock me into action and it did.’

  ‘Don’t beat yourself up,’ I said, conscious of the thud of his heart through the fabric of my T-shirt. ‘You were bereaved and overwhelmed with the thought of starting afresh.’

  ‘So was she. But she managed to keep going.’

  ‘You got there in the end,’ I said with a grin. ‘And I’m so pleased for you.’

  I hugged him, pressing my cheek against his. Reminding myself as I did so that Theo was someone else’s husband and I was only supposed to be acting the part.

  ‘Lovely!’ The shutter clicked on Nigel’s camera and he stuck his thumb up. Neither of us had heard him approach. ‘That’s me done. Thanks, both of you. I’ll be in touch with contracts, etc., in the next few days.’

  He walked back to his car, stowed his camera in the boot and climbed in.

  I waved politely but Theo frowned.

  ‘He just took a picture of us.’

  ‘Don’t worry, you look fine,’ I said with a laugh as we waved Nigel off. ‘You’ve brushed your hair and everything today. Oh look, someone’s coming!’

  ‘Not another visitor,’ Theo said as we squinted through the midday sun to see who was walking towards us, waving madly.

  ‘It’s Eliza from the Mermaid Gift and Gallery,’ I said, recognizing the pink hair as she got closer. ‘Perhaps her brother wants a date with me after all.’

  Theo’s mouth opened and closed in astonishment.

  ‘And look happy,’ I added, ‘she seems to think you’re very miserable.’

  ‘What?’ He looked horrified.

  ‘Hey there!’ Eliza looked from Theo to me slyly. ‘Am I interrupting something?’

  ‘No!’ I said hastily. Although we were standing very close. I took a step back. ‘Theo, you know Eliza?’

  She beamed at us both and shifted a wicker basket from one arm to the other.

  ‘Sort of. Hi.’ He pulled his lips back in the scariest smile I’d ever witnessed.

  There was a hoot of laughter from where Penelope and Bruce were creating their Crescendo of Passion followed by a squeal and the crash of paint pots.

  ‘Ooh, sounds like you two are not the only ones having fun.’ She giggled, wagging a finger at us.

  Theo turned pink. ‘Please excuse me, I’m going to go and email my wife. Who’s in South America.’

  ‘Ah, poor thing,’ she said in a stage whisper as Theo strode away. ‘Anyway, ta dah!’

  Her eyes twinkled and she reached a plump hand under the wicker flap of her basket. ‘I think this was the one you wanted.’

  She brought out the kitten I’d fallen in love with last weekend and handed it to me. It was still tiny and fluffy and adorable.

  ‘Oh hello,’ I cooed, kissing its head.

  ‘It’s a boy,’ she said confidently. ‘I think. What are you going to call him?’

  ‘Gosh, Eliza, it’s very good of you, but I haven’t confirmed it with Theo and I’m not allowed to have animals in my flat in London—’

  ‘I insist,’ she said, adding shiftily, ‘it’s the least I can do.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked cautiously.

  ‘I’d better get back to the shop.’ She bent over the kitten and tickled his head. ‘Bye-bye, little one.’

  ‘Stop right there, Eliza,’ I said sternly. ‘Out with it. What have you done?’

  ‘I’m really, really sorry.’ She stared down at her canvas pumps, which looked like she’d hand embellished them with bits of shell. ‘I couldn’t help it; last night I told my brother, Danny, who you are. I’ve done well, really; I’ve lasted almost a week without letting on to anyone that you came into my shop.’

  My heart began to thump and I stroked the kitten for comfort. ‘And? Has he kept it a secret?’

  Of course he hadn’t. Stupid question. The cat was quite literally out of the bag.

  She fiddled with the strap of her dungarees. ‘He couldn’t help it. Neither of us has met a proper celebrity before, unless you count Big Dave. Well, we wouldn’t, would we, living down here?’

  ‘So who has Danny told?’ I asked. Perhaps he’d just mentioned it to the lads at the pub. Perhaps I was worrying about nothing. And wasn’t Big Dave the name of the local lobster man?

  ‘Just Facebook.’ Two pink spots appeared on her cheeks. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger nervously.

  ‘Just?’ I spluttered. I made that about 1.8 billion people.

  ‘His timeline went bonkers. He’s had five hundred friend requests overnight. He can’t keep up with the comments.’

  ‘Oh God! Eliza! This is crazy.’

  I stared at her numbly. Okay, so I’d mistakenly blabbed the Victory Road storyline and tipped ice on Cecily Carmichael’s head before disappearing. Get over it, people; move on.

  She bit her lip. ‘But then the press got in touch and asked where you were.’

  ‘Did he tell them?’ I demanded. ‘Do they know I’m staying here, with Theo?’

  Eliza squirmed. ‘I think so. In fact, yes. Theo was tagged by someone. Sorry. Has anyone called you yet?’

  I shook my head. To be honest, I’d hardly looked at my phone for ages. There was no signal here and even when I went out I rarely took it with me.

  ‘Well, that’s that,’ I said resignedly. ‘My period of lying low is well and truly over.’

  At least that was the decision made for me. No more prevaricating. I had no choice now but to go back to London and face the music … Oh hell.

  ‘I need to leave Brightside Cove. Immediately.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Eliza pouted. ‘I wanted you to help me with my mermaid school. Now
you’re no longer incognito.’

  Just then Theo appeared from inside. ‘There’s a call for you on the landline, Nina … Oh,’ he groaned. ‘Now who’s this? It’s like Piccadilly Circus today.’

  A car was trundling up the drive towards us. A camera lens was poking out of the passenger window and I could hear the shutter whirring. My stomach began to churn.

  ‘Nina Penhaligon?’ the driver shouted. ‘South Devon Echo. Are we the first?’

  ‘First what?’ muttered Theo, folding his arms.

  ‘Journalists,’ I said, swallowing hard. ‘I hope Bruce and Penelope have put their clothes back on. Who did you say was on the phone?’

  ‘A lady called Maxine Pearce and she sounded quite agitated.’

  Maxine. Oh God. My legs turned to mush.

  ‘I’d better take it.’ I handed the kitten to Theo. ‘Wish me luck.’

  ‘I’ll go and talk to the press!’ Eliza offered.

  ‘Okay,’ I agreed, against my better judgement, ‘but just say “no comment” or something, just … just keep it simple.’

  ‘I’m on it,’ Eliza shouted and scampered up to the car.

  My pulse was racing as I stumbled inside and I genuinely thought I might be sick. ‘Nina Penhaligon speaking.’

  ‘For pity’s sake, Nina! What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’

  ‘Hi Maxine,’ I stammered, ‘I’m lying low. Sebastian told me to.’

  ‘He what? The bloody idiot. He said he didn’t know where you were.’

  ‘He doesn’t. Didn’t. He banished me from London.’

  ‘Arrgghh! Unbelievable. You do realize what a completely bloody trail of disaster you left behind you?’

  ‘I’m beginning to.’ I cringed.

  ‘If you’d stuck around, given a statement and come to see me, all of this could have been sorted out within twenty-four hours, but disappearing made it worse, apparently Cecily Carmichael is baying for your blood, the Victory Road PR team is chomping at the bit to put this story to bed and the producers are foaming at the mouth like rabid dogs.’

  That was ironic because right now mine was as dry as a bone.

  ‘So,’ I said tremulously, ‘what shall I do?’

  ‘Get back to London! We need you on set.’

  ‘But … Nurse Elsie is dead.’

  ‘Not any more, she’s not.’

  I screwed up my forehead in confusion. ‘How can that be?’

  ‘See you tomorrow. Noon sharp for a press briefing. We film on Monday.’

  I stared at the receiver. She’d gone.

  I slumped against the wall and looked up to see Theo standing under the porch stroking the kitten. Judging by the serene look on his face, he hadn’t heard a word of that exchange.

  ‘Eliza was very forceful with the press,’ he chuckled. ‘Told them you’d gone to fetch your gun. They left pretty smartish.’

  Great, so now I’d be able to add crazed markswoman to my list of crimes.

  ‘I’m keeping the kitten,’ he said brightly. ‘I think it will show Kate that I’m ready to love again … Nina, what on earth’s the matter, you look like you’ve seen a ghost?’

  ‘Almost; it appears Nurse Elsie has come back from the dead.’

  He looked bemused. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It means I can’t stay and help you, after all; I’ve got to go back to London. Today.’

  ‘I see.’ His shoulders slumped and the look of disappointment etched into his face broke my heart.

  ‘Theo, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, finally meeting my eye. ‘It’s selfish of me to keep you here any longer; I’m sure you want to get back to London.’

  ‘I do,’ I said. ‘I really do.’

  And if that wasn’t worthy of a BAFTA, nothing was.

  I couldn’t think of anything else to add, so I ran upstairs to pack. Now the decision had been made, I wanted to leave as soon as possible.

  My brain was skittering all over the place as I stuffed my things into my case. What sort of reception would I get in London? How on earth were they going to bring Nurse Elsie back to life? Would there be a wedding in Victory Road after all?

  Of course I had to go back, I told myself, resolutely not looking out of the window at the shimmering sea. I was an actress; London was my home. So why was I already counting the days until I could come back to Brightside Cove …?

  The Thank Yous

  Thank you to Francesca Best, Hannah Bright, Julia Teece, Candy Ikwuwunna, Janine Giovanni and all the wonderful team at Transworld who add the sparkle and magic to make my books the very best they can be. Thank you to Hannah Ferguson, Joanna Swainson and Thérèse Coen at Hardman Swainson for waving the Team Bramley flag here and around the world.

  Thank you to my wonderful writer chums who are always there with a word of encouragement and their cheerleading pompoms: Miranda Dickinson, Rachael Lucas, Jo Eustace, Lisa Dickenson, Alex Brown, Lizzie Lamb, June Kearns and Milly Johnson.

  Thank you to the fabulous women I’ve met through my writing; they always make me feel a million dollars: Jane Streeter, Kim Nash, Harriet Bourton, Sharon Moore, Tracey Tyrell and Jackie Buxton.

  Thank you to Lucy Salmon, whose cat, Mittens the kitten in the book is named after and thanks to the Lucas family whose dog Mabel is Jude’s much loved Springer Spaniel. Thanks to Ken and Mandy Buxton whose South American adventure inspired Kate’s trip. Thanks to Christie Barlow for her help in finding out from Emmerdale how top-secret storylines are handled by the cast and crew – all inaccuracies are mine! Thank you to Cath Cresswell whose love of a rock-solid itinerary inspired Catherine, the chief bridesmaid.

  Thank you, and much love to my family: Tony, Phoebe, Isabel, Mum, Roger and Mary Monica for all the love, help and support you give me each and every day; I couldn’t do this without you.

  Nurse Elsie may have come back from the dead but can Nina bear to return to her life in London? And how will she deal with the mess she left behind when she does?

  Continue the story in Part Two of A Match Made in Devon: The Hen Party

  Just a few weeks in Brightside Cove and Nina has already started to forget the life she’s left behind. But London is calling – lots has happened in Nina’s absence and her exit has left the world of drama completely abuzz. Despite what she thought, it isn’t yet curtains for her character on Victory Road.

  But things are far from settled at Brightside Cove. Theo has been acting strangely and even Mittens, the tiny kitten, hasn’t cheered him up as he desperately struggles to deal with the terrible events of the past. With everything that’s happening, can Nina spare the time to save her friend and his business?

  She hasn’t got long to consider, her two worlds are about to collide. The serenity and beauty of Brightside cove is about to be shattered by a chattering of hens.

  You can find out what happens next in the second part of A Match Made in Devon – a wonderfully warm and funny novel told in four parts, following the adventures of Nina Penhaligan as she builds herself a new life.

  Don’t miss Cathy Bramley’s wonderful new novel…

  Hetty’s Farmhouse Bakery

  Thirty-two-year-old Hetty Greengrass is the star around which the rest of her family orbits. Marriage, motherhood and helping Dan run Sunnybank Farm have certainly kept her hands full for the last twelve years. But when her daughter Poppy has to choose her inspiration for a school project and picks her aunt, not her mum, Hetty is left full of self-doubt.

  Hetty’s always been generous with her time and until now, her biggest talent – baking deliciously moreish shortcrust pastry pies – has been limited to charity work and the village fete. But taking part in a competition run by Cumbria’s Finest to find the very best produce from the region might be just the thing to make her daughter proud … and reclaim something for herself.

  Except that life isn’t as simple as producing the perfect pie. Changing the status quo isn’t easy – and with cracks appearing in her marriage an
d shocking secrets coming to light, Hetty must decide where her priorities really lie …

  Out now!

  About the Author

  Cathy Bramley is the Sunday Times bestselling author of the romantic comedies Ivy Lane, Appleby Farm, Wickham Hall, Conditional Love, The Plumberry School of Comfort Food, White Lies and Wishes and The Lemon Tree Café. She lives in a Nottinghamshire village with her family.

  Her recent career as a full-time writer of light-hearted, romantic fiction has come as somewhat of a lovely surprise after spending eighteen years running her own marketing agency. However, she has been always an avid reader, never without a book on the go and now thinks she may have found her dream job!

  Cathy loves to hear from her readers. You get in touch via her website or on social media.

  Facebook.com/CathyBramleyAuthor

  @CathyBramley

  www.CathyBramley.co.uk

  Have you read the other funny, feel-good novels by Cathy Bramley?

  Settle down with one now – they are sure to put a smile on your face …

  Ivy Lane

  Tilly Parker needs a fresh start, fresh air and a fresh attitude if she is ever to leave the past behind and move on with her life. As she seeks out peace and quiet in a new town, taking on a plot at Ivy Lane allotments seems like the perfect solution. But the friendly Ivy Lane community has other ideas and gradually draw Tilly in to their cosy, comforting world of planting seedlings, organizing bake sales and planning seasonal parties. As the seasons pass, will Tilly learn to stop hiding amongst the sweetpeas and let people back into her life – and her heart?

  Appleby Farm

  Freya Moorcroft has been happy working at the café round the corner from Ivy Lane allotments, but a part of her still misses the beautiful rolling hills of her Cumbrian childhood home: Appleby Farm. Then a phone call out of the blue and a desperate plea for help change everything, and Freya heads home to lend a hand. As Freya summons up all her creativity and determination to turn things at the farm around, Freya is surprised as her own dreams for the future begin to take shape …