A Match Made in Devon

by Cathy Bramley

  About the Book

  Sometimes you have to play a part to realize who you really are …

  Nina has always dreamed of being a star. Unfortunately her agent thinks she’s more girl-next-door than leading lady and her acting career isn’t going quite as planned. Then, after a series of very public blunders and to escape a gathering storm of paparazzi, Nina is forced to flee the city, leaving nothing but an empty bottle of hair dye and a tiny bedroom behind.

  Her plan is to lay low with a friend in Devon, in beautiful Brightside Cove. But soon Nina learns that more drama can be found in a small village than on a hectic television set.

  And when a gorgeous man (and his adorable dog) catches her eye, it’s not long before London and showbiz start to lose their appeal.

  Will Nina choose to return to the bright lights or has she met her match in Brightside Cove?

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Part One: The First Guests

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Part Two: The Hen Party

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Part Three: The Frenemies

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Part Four: The Leading Lady

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  The Thank Yous

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Acclaim for Cathy Bramley:

  ‘It’s impossible not to fall in love with Cathy Bramley’s feel-good stories’

  Sunday Express

  ‘Heartwarming and positive … will leave you with a lovely cosy glow’

  My Weekly

  ‘Books by Cathy Bramley are brilliantly life affirming’

  Good Housekeeping

  ‘This is delightful!’

  Katie Fforde

  ‘As comforting as hot tea and toast made on the Aga!’

  Veronica Henry

  ‘Thoroughly enjoyable’

  U Magazine

  ‘This book ticks all the boxes’

  Heat

  ‘Reading a Cathy Bramley book for me is like coming home from a day out, closing the curtains, putting on your PJs and settling down with a huge sigh of relief! Her books are full of warmth, love and compassion and they are completely adorable’

  Kim the Bookworm

  ‘Full of joy and fun’

  Milly Johnson

  ‘Perfect feel-good loveliness’

  Miranda Dickinson

  ‘I love Cathy’s writing and her characters – her books are delicious’

  Rachael Lucas

  ‘The perfect tale to warm your heart and make you smile’

  Ali McNamara

  ‘Between the irresistible characters and the desirable setting, Wickham Hall is impossible to resist’

  Daily Express

  ‘Delightfully warm’

  Trisha Ashley

  ‘A fabulously heart-warming and fun read that will make you just want to snuggle up on the sofa and turn off from the outside world’

  By the Letter

  ‘Another absolute corker from Cathy Bramley. She just gets better and better – creating beautiful locations, gripping and lovely storylines and fantastic characters that stick with you a long time after reading’

  Little Northern Soul

  ‘A delightful cast of characters in a setting where I felt right at home instantly’

  Rachel’s Random Reads

  ‘Truly delectable’

  Sparkly Word

  ‘Warm, funny and believable … grab a copy of the book and a mug of tea then curl up on the sofa and enjoy!’

  Eliza J. Scott

  Cathy would love to hear from you! Find her on:

  Facebook.com/CathyBramleyAuthor

  @CathyBramley

  www.CathyBramley.co.uk

  For Gregory Carven, Hans van Eenennaam and John Dulos. We owe you everything.

  PART ONE

  The First Guests

  Chapter 1

  Maxine Pearce, the director, shoved her glasses to the top of her long charcoal-grey curls and clapped. ‘Okay, folks, quiet please.’

  In Victory Road Studio Two, on the outskirts of east London, everyone fell silent.

  We were about to shoot my final ever scene in the show. This bit was so absolutely top secret that Maxine had insisted on the minimum number of crew on set. No one else knew what we were doing. It was all very exciting.

  And I was part of it. The thought sent a rush of adrenalin swooping through me. Acting was my life. My dream. There was a sort of magic that happened to me when I took on a role. I ceased to be forgettable, plain old Nina Penhaligon with hamster cheeks, freckles and impossible-to-style hair, who on a good day would be classed as curvy, and on a bad day really needed to lay off the peanut-butter Oreos, and I became … anyone, anyone I wanted to be. And I loved every second of it.

  Not much magic required today, however, because my character, Nurse Elsie Turner, was lying dead under a collapsed beam.

  It would be heart-breaking for fans of the show; the first death of a character.

  ‘Okay, Nina?’ Maxine asked before giving final instructions to Mike behind the camera.

  ‘Yep.’ I tried to keep the tremor from my voice; never mind the viewers, my heart was breaking too. I was going to miss this lot.

  Victory Road was a weekly drama set in the east end of London during the Blitz. Think EastEnders with gas masks and victory roll hair-dos. It had been my best part to date by far. I’d earned proper money and hadn’t had to work for the temping agency for months. I detested office work, but needs must when you’re a jobbing actress.

  But after today it would be over; I squeezed back the tears, mindful of my make-up.

  This morning we’d shot the cliffhanger ending to an episode in which I, Nurse Elsie, had been hurrying to take cover during an air raid when I’d heard a cry for help coming from a nearby house. I’d gone in to rescue the old lady who lived there just as a bomb exploded and the house collapsed around me. As the credits roll, the audience would be left on the edge of their seats. Will Elsie survive? Will she still be able to meet her boyfriend, Constable Ron Hardy, in the square where he’s waiting with an engagement ring in his pocket? Will they be the first couple on the show to marry?

  And only the people in this room knew the answers: no. I wasn’t even allowed to tell my best friend on the show, Becky Burton, who also played a nurse. I understood the need for discretion but I felt bad about leaving without saying anything.

  ‘And action,’ murmured Maxine.

  The atmosphere in the studio was crackling with tension. The ratings had dipped a bit recently and the management was hoping that a death would revive them. I was their sacrificial lamb. Apparently that was an honour because it meant my characte
r was popular.

  The sound effects began and we were transported to bomb-scarred London as the distant bells of fire engines and the wail of sirens filled the little studio.

  Lamplight illuminated the wreckage of 33 Victory Road and two air-raid wardens, Ray and Godfrey, picked their way over the rubble looking for casualties.

  ‘Over ’ere,’ shouted Ray.

  Ray, played by actor Lee Harwood, was the male lead. Drop-dead gorgeous. Shame I was playing a corpse and couldn’t gaze up adoringly at him.

  The beam of his lamp found my face. He dropped to his knees beside me and I managed not to blink under the glare. Godfrey leaned over us both as Ray checked for my pulse.

  ‘Cor blimey,’ Ray groaned, rocking back on his heels. ‘It’s Nurse Elsie. She’s dead.’

  Ninety minutes later it was all over. I’d packed up my bits and pieces and said farewell to the crew who’d filmed my last scene. Maxine, her stiletto heels tapping on the marble tiles, accompanied me through the revolving doors and out into the April sunshine. We squinted as our eyes adjusted to the brightness. It was the first of the month today; I wondered briefly whether the end of my contract had just been an April Fool.

  ‘What an exit!’ Maxine said as we stepped towards the bus stop.

  Not an April Fool, then.

  ‘So this is it,’ I said, fighting the urge to grab her hands, fall at her feet and beg her to let Nurse Elsie live.

  ‘You were marvellous today. Very professional.’ She gave me a brisk smile. ‘The reaction from the audience is going to be dynamite. It was a shame to kill you off but—’

  ‘Maxine!’ I warned as two teenage girls strutted towards us.

  ‘Oh gosh, yes.’ She tutted, folding her arms across her chest. ‘Here I am enforcing an embargo on the storyline and then five minutes later blabbing it.’

  ‘Ask her, ask her,’ hissed the shorter of the two girls, pushing her friend towards me.

  ‘Can we have your autograph?’ The tall one shoved a scrap of paper and a pen at me.

  ‘Of course,’ I said, surprised to be recognized in public. I signed the back of what appeared to be a note excusing her from PE.

  The two girls stared at the piece of paper.

  ‘Oh.’ The small one’s face dropped. ‘It’s not her.’

  ‘Told you.’ The big one elbowed her sharply.

  They screwed up my autograph, dropped it on the pavement and sashayed off.

  Maxine and I exchanged wry smiles.

  ‘At least they didn’t hear what you said,’ I said, scooping up the paper.

  ‘Thank heavens. More than my job’s worth if we had a story leak now.’

  ‘Ditto,’ I agreed. ‘Not that I’ve got a job any more.’

  Maxine smiled sympathetically. ‘Sorry. But it’s testament to your talent that you’ve lasted this long. The writers had originally only scripted you in for six episodes but you proved yourself worthy of more.’

  I nodded, not sure how to respond other than to do the begging thing.

  ‘When will you tell the rest of the cast that Nurse Elsie is … dead?’ I said, lowering my voice on the last word.

  ‘Not until the last possible moment. Can’t risk the press getting hold of it. We’ll let the rumour mill work its magic as long as we can: is she dead or alive? The love story between Elsie and Ron has captured the nation’s hearts; the bookies are already offering odds on a wedding. This could really put Victory Road on the map. And you, too, Nina.’

  ‘I hope so; it’s such a good show.’

  Maxine checked her watch. ‘I’d best press on. You’ll be at the party later?’

  Jessie May, who played the flirty pub landlady, was having a birthday party in Soho.

  ‘Of course,’ I replied.

  The press would be out in full force for this one; there was no way my agent Sebastian would let me pass up such an opportunity. He had recently told me that whilst I hadn’t got star quality, there were plenty of parts out there for Miss Average (he was nothing if not brutally to the point), but that I had to show my face at showbiz parties, on the basis that someone might remember me and cast me in something. So that’s what I did.

  ‘Good.’ She exhaled with relief. ‘I was worried you might not feel like partying now that we’ve killed you off.’

  ‘Actually, I …’ I bit my lip, wondering whether to confide in her even though it hadn’t been confirmed in writing yet.

  ‘Go on.’ She waited, one eyebrow cocked.

  I couldn’t resist; the opportunity to impress her was too great to miss.

  ‘Strictly off the record, I’ve got a part in the new BBC period drama: Mary Queen of Scots.’ I tried to look cool about it but my excitement was impossible to contain. ‘So I’ll be celebrating that.’

  ‘Brilliant news!’ Her angular face softened into a smile. ‘Queen Mary?’

  I blinked at her. ‘The lead role? Gosh, no! My agent didn’t put me forward for that.’

  ‘He should have. Sebastian Nichols is your agent, isn’t he?’ Maxine furrowed her brow. ‘Prince Charming himself.’

  I nodded. Sebastian wasn’t all that charming to me; ruthlessly ambitious, he only turned it on when he needed to.

  ‘So who are you playing?’

  ‘Eve, lady’s maid to Queen Mary herself,’ I said. In the distance I spotted an approaching bus and felt in my bag for my Oyster card. ‘I’m just grateful to still be acting.’

  Maxine took her phone out as the driver pulled up to the stop.

  I jumped aboard and waved to her. ‘Thanks for everything. It’s been a joy working with you.’

  ‘Likewise. But, Nina, hold on; something’s niggling me.’

  She rested the tip of her shoe on to the platform of the bus, thus preventing the driver from pulling away. I shot him a nervous smile while Maxine tapped at her phone screen.

  ‘Ah. Thought so. Cecily Carmichael.’ She pulled a face. ‘Not a name I’d forget in a hurry, more’s the pity. I had a brief fling with her father – awful man.’

  It struck me that that was the first personal piece of information she’d ever revealed to me; Maxine was notoriously private.

  ‘Thought what?’ I said, conscious of a chorus of tutting passengers behind me. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Nina, dear heart,’ she held the phone out to me, ‘that part is already spoken for.’

  ‘What? Who?’ I took the phone from her and stared at it. Somebody’s Twitter profile filled the screen and it took me a second to take it in. ‘No way!’

  Maxine was right: another actress, Cecily Carmichael, had announced that she had got my part. The part I had set my heart on. The one that was going to keep me in acting and out of temping. Her Twitter feed was full of it. Disappointment trickled through me like iced water.

  Soooo thrilled to announce I’m to play Eve in new @BBC drama #QueenMary #excited #perioddrama MORE news at 6pm!!

  Cecily’s timeline was full of congratulations. Even Benedict Cucumberpatch had wished her well, as had … Sebastian – my Sebastian? – had sent her his love.

  ‘I don’t understand.’ I stared at Maxine in disbelief. ‘And she says she has more news to come? This can’t be right.’

  She pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘Darling, they must be barmy to pass you over for her. She auditioned for us once; she had about as much facial expression as Big Ben.’

  My heart was pounding so much I couldn’t even absorb the compliment. I needed this job; it was the only thing that had been keeping me going. It could be ages before something else came along.

  ‘Is she getting on or not?’ the bus driver grumbled.

  ‘Not,’ I replied. ‘Sorry.’

  Just then a young mum with a double buggy huffed up to the bus stop and Maxine and I helped her on to the bus.

  ‘You need to be aiming higher than Eve the lady’s maid,’ said Maxine. ‘And if your agent can’t see that, he’s a fool.’

  ‘But it was better than nothing and if I don’t act I’
ll never become famous and—’

  She held a hand up to stop me. ‘Fame is completely overrated and totally unnecessary for a serious actress. Which I know you are. I’ll see you at the party and don’t forget in the meantime … Nurse Elsie’s story.’ She mimed zipping her lips.

  ‘Absolutely. Bye for now,’ I called as the bus doors closed in my face.

  The bus joined the stream of traffic and I waved through the window and tried to make sense of my thoughts. I had every respect for Maxine, but she was wrong about the fame thing.

  My need to be famous wasn’t driven by vanity, it was fuelled by fear. A fear of being forgotten.

  Because when you’ve been forgotten by the one person you thought loved you most, the world became a much scarier place.

  Chapter 2

  There would be an explanation as to how another actress had stolen my part in Mary Queen of Scots from right under my nose; I was sure Sebastian would be in touch, I just needed to be patient. I plucked my book from my bag and tried to distract myself by reading as the bus trundled towards the city.

  But it was no use; my thoughts kept turning to Cecily.

  She was the daughter of Campion Carmichael, the famous landscape artist. I knew Sebastian had been trying to woo her from a rival agency for months: she’d bring such a wealth of contacts with her. Not, I’d noted at the time, because of her incredible acting talent. In fact, to my knowledge, she’d only appeared in a documentary and even that had been about her father.

  Two bus journeys later I was in Knightsbridge and striding towards Harrods to meet my flatmate Trudy. She worked behind one of the make-up counters and she’d offered to give me a makeover before tonight’s party.

  I checked my phone as I got to Harrods’ doors. Still no call from Sebastian. This was all very odd. At my audition, the casting director had said that I was perfect for the role of Eve: I was the right age, build, colouring, even my slight northern accent would give the role just the right twist. So why had blonde, twiggy, plummy Cecily-bloody-Carmichael been given the part instead?

  Somebody behind me huffed at me for blocking the doors. I murmured my apologies, stepped to the side and gazed at a window display of expensive handbags. A text flashed up on my screen from Trudy telling me to hurry up.