The Frenemies

by Cathy Bramley

  ‘Theo, we need to talk.’

  He set the wheelbarrow down and raked a hand through his curls. ‘Can I have coffee first?’

  ‘Sure.’

  I gestured towards the kitchen and passed him his mug. ‘Lukewarm now, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Not at all!’ He gulped it down as he followed me outside to the washing line. ‘It’s great. You make great coffee. It’s one of the things I like about you.’

  I silenced him with a stern look and picked up a wet towel. ‘When Archie and I arrived here to look at that sports car, you said Kate had given you an ultimatum to get your act together. What you wanted was to win her back. That’s why I’m here, aren’t I?’

  He passed me two pegs. ‘Correct.’

  ‘So what was all that about last night and this morning? Why are you giving up on her and not fighting her demands for a divorce?’

  ‘I’m no good on my own.’ He sighed. ‘I like having you here, and when Kate stopped replying to my emails, I lost hope.’

  ‘But did she stop replying?’ I countered. ‘Or did she simply not receive them?’

  Theo ran a finger round the neck of his T-shirt. ‘I wasn’t to know she was on a yoga retreat in the rainforest.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake!’

  We fell silent for a moment and I moved down the line, steadily pegging up the towels with his help. I reached back down to the laundry basket and he placed his hand on mine.

  ‘I miss Kate,’ he said softly. ‘I don’t want to get a divorce.’

  I breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Tell me about her; tell me what you miss.’

  He smiled wistfully. ‘I miss her warm skin next to mine when I wake up. Kate is always warm. I miss her smell. She smells of flowers and shampoo and sunshine. I love—’ He started to laugh. ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this but I love the way she carries her wet teabag on a spoon to the bin and leaves a trail of drips every single time. And I love her little night-time routine. She gets into bed, checks her alarm, rubs oil into her cuticles and then, before turning out the light, she …’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘She kisses Ivy’s picture and says, “Sweet dreams, angel.” I do that now.’

  ‘Oh Theo.’ I sniffed, pulling a tissue from my pocket. ‘That’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever heard.’

  He picked up the empty laundry basket from the grass.

  ‘I don’t want to lose her. I want to say all the things I should have said when Ivy died. I never stopped loving her, Nina. I just couldn’t find the words to tell her.’

  I nodded. It was all I could do right now; the lump in my throat made speaking impossible. There was a special love story here and I was determined to make sure it had its own perfect happy ending.

  Chapter 24

  By lunchtime the following day we were almost ready. I put the final pillowcase on the double bed in Kittiwake’s Cabin and smoothed the duvet before leaving the room. The plan was to put our male guest in here. Maxine would go next door in Beaver’s Barn. Theo had been rather distracted when the man had phoned to make the booking, but as far as we knew he was Carl Michael from London and he was travelling alone.

  I went into Beaver’s Barn next, remembering the last time we’d had two single bookings at Brightside Holidays: Bruce and Penelope, who’d arrived in separate cars and yet gone home as a couple. A match made in Devon, Theo had called it. Who knew – perhaps Cupid would strike again. Maxine had never mentioned a significant other; in fact, other than the fact that she’d had a disapproving mother like mine, I realized I didn’t know much about her personal life at all.

  Everywhere looked immaculate again; it was as if the Maidens of Mayfair had never been. Only Penguin’s Pad on the end was unmade for now, which was fine because it would remain empty unless we had another surprise booking.

  Mr Michael’s travel arrangements had been vague but Maxine would be here at lunchtime. I was looking forward to seeing her and showing her round Brightside Cove. It was odd that she’d changed her booking; her time was always so pressured, the filming schedule for Victory Road so regimented that having a week off unexpectedly was unheard of. But perhaps the lure of a mobile-phone-signal-free zone coupled with her teetering reading pile was too strong to resist.

  I’d just got time to nip down to the Mermaid Gift and Gallery for some more of Eliza’s lovely soaps; Maxine would appreciate that.

  When I pushed open the door of Eliza’s shop she was behind the counter talking to someone on the phone.

  ‘And how will you get me on and off the sofa in the mermaid tail,’ she said, ‘because if I have to hop, it ruins the magic?’

  I selected some handmade sea kelp soap and some matching shower crème and took them to the till.

  ‘Got you.’ She nodded. ‘And I can bring my tropical tail if Holly Willoughby fancies trying … No? Okay, fair enough.

  ‘See you in two days, then,’ she said down the line. ‘At the studios.’

  She put down the phone, ran round to my side of the counter and squealed with excitement.

  ‘I can’t believe it! I’m going to be a mermaid on This Morning! On the sofa with those two famous presenters. Well, not sofa exactly,’ she corrected herself, twirling a lock of pink hair around a plump finger. ‘They’re going to recline me on some fake rocks.’

  ‘I’m thrilled for you,’ I said, hugging her. ‘Sapphire and her friends loved their mermaid photo shoot and I’m sure I’d have appreciated mine if I hadn’t been dropped headfirst in the sea and given Jude a flash of my boobs.’

  ‘Never mind, beauty,’ she winked, ‘Jude appreciated it. Didn’t I see you on the beach with him yesterday morning?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I replied innocently. ‘Did you?’

  My heart pinged at the mention of his name. His story had really touched me and as for him describing my eyes as the colour of the sea, that had brought back long-forgotten happy memories too. I wished I had more memories of my dad to draw on. I had a sudden urge to call up Archie and quiz him on everything he could remember about him; there was bound to be something he could tell me that I didn’t already know. Getting him to open up about it was another matter; even mentioning Dad’s name was usually enough to make Archie’s hackles rise and he always changed the subject.

  I snapped back into the moment to realize that Eliza was watching me.

  ‘You have got it bad,’ Eliza laughed, clicking her fingers in front of my face to wake me up. ‘You didn’t hear a word I said.’

  ‘Sorry, miles away,’ I said, not wanting to explain.

  ‘I was saying that since that photo of your hen party girls in their mermaid tails was in the press yesterday, the phone hasn’t stopped ringing. I’ve taken new bookings for the mermaid school, done an interview on the radio and now this – national TV in two days’ time! I’m going to go up tomorrow to do a bit of sightseeing.’

  She popped my purchases in a bag while I counted out the right money. ‘I’ll be more famous than you before long.’

  ‘You’re welcome to my share of fame,’ I said, remembering the lesson I learned from Big Dave about staying true to your passion. ‘From now on, I’ll be focusing on my acting.’

  Victory Road was on TV tonight and it was the episode with the bomb explosion where I end up in a coma. The episode with the worst kept secret in the history of cliffhanger endings. From tomorrow my life in Victory Road was literally hanging in the balance. After tonight Nurse Elsie probably wouldn’t speak again. I just hoped this wasn’t a metaphor for my acting career …

  ‘Who is going to look after the shop while you’re away?’

  She pulled a face. ‘I forgot about that in all the excitement.’

  ‘I can do it.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, looking worried. ‘It can get very hectic in here.’

  I bit back a chuckle; I think I’d only ever seen one person in here ever. In fact, it had crossed my mind that she must barely scrape a living. That would change, of course, now that the world ha
d seemingly gone mermaid-mad.

  ‘You’d be doing me a favour, really,’ I assured her. ‘I’ll have nothing to do.’

  Once the guests had arrived later and we’d handed them their keys, the rest of the week yawned emptily ahead. A holiday cottage business was mostly about laundry and making beds, and I needed more than that. Acting might not be rocket science but the filming schedules were gruelling; learning my lines was challenging; even the daily commute to the studios was tiring. Here, I fell out of bed and I was immediately at work. A few hours at the Mermaid Gift and Gallery would do me just fine.

  ‘Then I accept,’ she beamed and added a couple of scented candles to the bag. ‘Have this on the house. I can’t thank you enough, you know. Everyone in Brightside Cove laughed at my mermaid school until you came along and gave me a boost. Well, everyone except my mum, and mums are bound to be on your side, aren’t they?’

  ‘Hmm.’ Mine hadn’t always been.

  ‘And Danny’s had a stroke of luck too because of you,’ she continued. ‘A media company in Plymouth found out that he took the Mermaids of Mayfair picture that’s been in all the papers and they offered him a job.’

  ‘That’s great,’ I said with a grin, ‘perhaps he’ll take me out for dinner and offer to pick up the whole bill, what do you reckon?’

  But she was miles away.

  ‘This is really happening.’ Her round cheeks flushed. ‘Eliza Tyler, professional mermaid on TV! I’ll be a bag of nerves.’

  ‘You’ll be great; just be yourself,’ I said, hugging her goodbye. ‘Unless you can be a mermaid.’

  ‘Then always be a mermaid,’ we said in unison, laughing.

  The Brightside Cove Mermaid School off to London: the capital wouldn’t know what had hit it …

  Five minutes later, I was marching back to Driftwood Lodge lost in my thoughts. I paused, leaning on the wall at the top of the beach steps. The sound of the waves, the faint tinkling of masts in the harbour, the cawing of birds circling overhead … I breathed deeply and absorbed the moment.

  The sound of footsteps interrupted me and I turned to see Jude approaching. He was more smartly dressed than usual and had a laptop bag slung over his shoulder.

  ‘Hey.’ I smiled as he joined me.

  ‘I haven’t stopped thinking about yesterday,’ said Jude, looking ahead.

  My heart tingled. Me too: our kiss in his van, the walk on the beach … ‘It was a very pleasant morning.’

  ‘I reckon with your help I can get the council to listen to my proposal to keep the lifeboat house in local hands.’

  ‘Right,’ I said, disappointed that it didn’t look as if he was interested in more kissing. ‘Tell me more.’

  ‘My problem is,’ he shuffled his feet, ‘that when I believe in something, I get frustrated when people don’t see things my way.’

  ‘It’s passion,’ I said with a smile. ‘Danny said you aren’t happy unless you’re fighting some cause or other.’

  ‘He remembers me when I first arrived here as a mixed-up teenager at war with the world. I was jealous of him. He was the smooth-talking charmer who always knew what to say to everyone: teachers, girls … especially girls.’ He grinned. ‘I guess neither of us has changed.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I countered, remembering his comment about my eyes yesterday. ‘You charmed me.’

  He laughed softly. ‘Good, because I’m hoping you’ll agree to be the face of the “Save the Lifeboat House” campaign. What with you being an actress.’

  I was flattered but unconvinced. ‘I’m only famous for my mistakes. I doubt I’d lend any weight to your campaign.’

  ‘I don’t need your fame. I need you to act like you care, even if deep down you’re not bothered who buys the boat house. And you’ll be a better public speaker than me.’

  His hazel eyes searched mine hopefully.

  ‘I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere,’ I said, raising an eyebrow, ‘just give me a minute to find it.’

  ‘Sorry. I’m not saying you don’t care,’ he said hastily. ‘But probably not much. You’re not a local, you’re just passing through.’

  ‘Still looking for the compliment.’

  ‘You see my problem?’ he groaned. ‘My mouth gets me into trouble all the time.’

  I looked at his mouth. He had very kissable lips. They could probably get me into trouble too, given half a chance.

  I glanced at my watch. ‘We’re expecting guests, so I need to get back, but walk with me and tell me your thoughts.’

  We set off together, shoulder to shoulder on the narrow coastal path.

  ‘See that row of cottages?’ Jude pointed past the harbour to the row of pastel-coloured cottages.

  ‘I can see them from my bedroom window at Driftwood Lodge,’ I said. ‘It’s my favourite view in the whole village.’

  ‘I had a view of your bedroom window on Sunday morning.’ He glanced sideways at me. ‘That wasn’t bad either.’

  ‘You were saying, about the cottages?’ I asked primly, marching ahead.

  And as we walked, his laptop bag occasionally bumping against my hip, he told me how the last cottage that came up for sale was snapped up by an American couple who had paid over the odds for it and had only visited twice. The same for the rest of the cottages: all second homes. The only one lived in as a permanent home these days was the yellow one, from where he’d just come. It was inhabited by an elderly couple, his clients, Nora and Ned, who were valiantly hanging on to their independence but having to accept a bit of council help now and again.

  The whole row had been built for fishermen and their families. The families who had lived and worked here were the lifeblood of the community.

  ‘With the exception of Big Dave, fishing in Brightside Cove is just a hobby now. Such a shame,’ said Jude. ‘I want us to build businesses for ourselves, facilities for our young people, our families and the elderly. Services that benefit us, not tourists. Because otherwise in ten years’ time what will we be? Not a community, that’s for sure. The kids will cause trouble through boredom, just like I did, and then as soon as they’re old enough they’ll leave and never come back. I’ve got another client, Mrs Thompson, wondering what to do with her huge farm because her grown-up children can’t be tempted home.’

  His passion and enthusiasm was so heartfelt. How could the council refuse him? I was won over already.

  ‘And the lifeboat house? How do you think that will help?’

  His eyes glittered. ‘Brightside Cove doesn’t have a village hall any more since the chapel and its outbuildings were sold off by the church for residential development. We need a place for kids to hang out, somewhere for the elderly to have a hot lunch once a month, the mums and little ones from the council estate a few miles away to get together, have coffee, play on the sand. Zumba classes, drama club …’ He lifted his palms up to the sky. ‘The possibilities are endless.’

  ‘And expensive,’ I put in, ‘the building is very quirky and lovely but it will take money to make it fit for the sort of activities you’re talking about.’

  ‘It’s not that bad.’ Jude looked affronted. ‘It’s got running water. Well, one tap.’

  I looked at him, amused. ‘Whoop-e-do.’

  ‘Minor detail.’ He laughed. ‘The main thing is to not let it fall into the wrong hands. It belongs to Brightside Cove and I want it to stay that way. I need to get support. And quickly. It’s not long until the auction so I need to get in there quick and persuade the council to lease it to us cheaply before a load of cash-rich investors get wind of it.’

  ‘How are you planning on doing that?’

  A flicker of doubt appeared for a second before he grinned. ‘Still working on that. But I’ve told Nora and Ned and they’re right behind me. And now you. So that’s three supporters.’

  ‘Word of mouth is great,’ I agreed, ‘but we need to come up with a quicker way of spreading the message. I’ll give it some thought.’

  His smile lit
up his face and my insides tweaked with longing for a repeat performance of yesterday. I edged my feet closer so that we were almost touching.

  ‘So you’ll definitely help?’ he asked.

  I nodded, lifting my eyes to his.

  ‘And be the face of the campaign?’

  There was something so honest and true about Jude. And I liked the way he was taking action about this. How could I not want to help him? We’d reached the gate at the bottom of the drive leading to Driftwood Lodge.

  ‘Happily.’

  ‘Thank you. You’re a pal.’ Jude grabbed my face, kissed my cheek roughly and ran off down the road yelling something about petitions and posters.

  A pal, hey? I thought with a sigh. Well, it was a start.

  My thoughts were cut short by the slow approach of a car. It was a taxi. I stood to the side to let it pass, waving madly when I recognized Maxine’s profile through the tinted glass of the front passenger window. I ran to meet her as the car came to a halt in the courtyard.

  ‘Maxine!’ I yelled, opening her door. ‘Welcome!’

  She thrust a briefcase at me and scowled as she climbed out of the car.

  ‘You could have warned me,’ she hissed, pushing her long grey curls hair from her eyes.

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Him.’ She jerked her head to the other side of the car.

  A big jowly man in his sixties with a thatch of white hair under a trilby hat and a bristly moustache unfolded himself from the back seat and flicked his eyes over me from head to toe.

  ‘I’m Carmichael, Campion Carmichael,’ he said archly. ‘And you must be Miss Penhaligon?’

  My mouth went dry. What the hell was Cecily’s father doing in Brightside Cove?

  Chapter 25

  So much for Eliza taking Brightside Cove to London; it seemed London had come to Brightside Cove.

  ‘Mr Carmichael, this is a surprise.’ I scurried to his side of the car to try to shake his hand.

  ‘It shouldn’t be,’ he said sourly, ignoring my outstretched hand.

  ‘It bloody well was to me,’ Maxine said, unloading her luggage from the boot of the taxi. She gave me a look that implied I had some explaining to do.