A Match Made in Devon

by Cathy Bramley

  Archie whistled. ‘If that was Theo, he and I need to have words about dangerous driving.’

  He opened his window and adjusted the wing mirror.

  ‘And I need to have words with you!’ I pressed my hands to my hot face. ‘I haven’t seen Theo since his … the … you know, wedding. I can’t see him now. And what about Kate?’

  My mouth had gone dry; I couldn’t even swallow.

  ‘Calm down. Kate won’t be there.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Panic rose in my chest like a tidal wave. ‘What if she comes back while we’re here?’

  ‘She won’t,’ he said in a tone that put paid to further questioning. He put the car into gear and pulled off the grass verge. ‘Come on, let’s find out what’s going on.’

  OhmyGod ohmyGod ohmyGod. Just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse.

  I gripped the door handle, noting the words Driftwood Lodge carved into the piece of wood dangling from the gate as we glided past. Archie steered the car along the unmade road, avoiding the worst of the potholes, unlike the lorry, which was crashing up and down like some sort of comedy get-away vehicle.

  Seconds later we came into a courtyard in front of a gorgeous house, a little tired at the edges perhaps, but the overall feel was quintessentially English-cottage perfection. It was long and low, painted the colour of clotted cream, and topped with a thick thatched roof. The windows were glazed with tiny leaded-glass panes and the deep window sills on the ground floor had pretty wooden window boxes on them (actually, most of the plants had died, but there was still a hint of colour from the pansies). At right angles to it was a row of cottages that looked like someone had started to paint and abandoned the task halfway through. And over the gate between the buildings I could see sheds, garages and acres of green.

  A skinny man in a suit jumped out of the passenger side of the lorry clutching a clipboard and began hammering on the wooden front door. The driver reversed as close to the door as he could and then sprang out and opened the doors at the back of the lorry. This man was enormous, with Popeye-sized biceps, a gleaming bald head and a barrel for a belly. His jogging bottoms hung so low that even from twenty metres away I could see the writing on his underpants … Correction: not his pants, he had ‘Mam and Dad’ tattooed just above his bum. Nice.

  ‘What the hell?’ muttered Archie, slowing down.

  ‘Delivery drivers,’ I said, dragging my eyes away from the man’s inked behind. ‘All the same.’

  Although my nerves were jangling at the prospect of seeing Theo again, I couldn’t help being curious. There was an air of decay and neglect here that was at odds with the image I had of Theo and his new wife Kate at their wedding five years ago, so loved-up and gorgeous that the aura of happiness surrounding them had almost been tangible. If a collection of singing woodland animals had formed a procession behind them as they kissed everyone goodbye and left for their honeymoon, no one would have batted an eyelid.

  How did Archie know that Kate wouldn’t be home? I thought, shaking the picture of Theo and Kate from my head. Plus, I could have sworn Kate and Theo lived near her parents in Birmingham.

  Archie parked the car next a rusty white van and I examined the large gravelled courtyard. It had probably been quite beautiful at one time. Now it was scruffy: broken plant pots lay on their sides, weeds had sprung up, broken pallets had been piled up bonfire-style in one corner, there were abandoned tyres, bits of farm machinery, and at the far side a huge pothole had filled with water and a clutch of hens and two ducks were scratching around it.

  The front door remained resolutely closed but Suit Man wasn’t giving up easily and continued to thump on it. ‘Mr Fletcher, open up!’

  ‘He should be in.’ Archie looked puzzled as he released his seatbelt. ‘He’s expecting me.’

  Suddenly the front door opened and almost as quickly began to close again. But not quickly enough. Suit Man forced his foot through the gap and Baggy Trousers came to assist.

  ‘I don’t think they are delivery drivers, you know,’ I said as both men pushed their way into the house.

  Archie swore softly under his breath, opened the car door and climbed out. ‘I don’t like the look of this. Stay in the car, Nina, this could get nasty,’ he said before slamming the door.

  Yeah, right.

  I opened the door but before I’d even got out the men reappeared. Baggy Trousers was carrying a television set under one arm and a DVD player under the other, the cables trailing on the ground. Suit Man was scribbling on his clipboard closely followed by a third man who had to be … Theo?

  All of a sudden my heart was in my mouth. I rubbed my eyes, doubting what I was seeing … He looked bloody awful. What a transformation!

  Last time I’d seen him he’d been broad and muscular, his wedding suit straining at the shoulders. His raven-black curls had been shiny and glossy, his jaw square and strong and his chest proudly puffed out. Now he looked stooped and thin, his jeans hung off him, he had a straggly beard threaded with grey and his hair looked lank and greasy under an unflattering blue cap.

  ‘Theo?’ Archie ran over to him. ‘Mate? What’s going on?’

  I got out of the car quietly and tiptoed softly across the gravel so as not to draw attention to myself. I needn’t have worried; Theo didn’t even look up. He sank down on to the low step outside his front door and dropped his face into his hands. He might even have been crying. Archie squatted beside him and reached out awkwardly to give him a manly pat.

  Meanwhile, Suit and Baggy were loading a second television, a laptop, two telephones and a coffee machine into the lorry. I crept up behind them and tapped the one in the suit on the arm. Close up he smelled of mothballs and mildew. He had wispy hair and deep-set wrinkles in his forehead, reminding me of the dogs who have all those folds of skin.

  ‘Excuse me?’ I said.

  ‘Hold on.’ He scribbled something on his clipboard.

  ‘You’ve spelt Nespresso wrong,’ I pointed out.

  ‘Makes no difference where this lot’s going,’ he said with a harsh laugh.

  ‘And where is it going?’ I asked.

  He peered at me and then checked his clipboard again. ‘Do you live here?’

  ‘No but—’

  ‘None of your business then, is it?’ He wiped his nose on the back of his hand and went back inside the house.

  Baggy Trousers met my eye. ‘Sorry about him, he’s having a bad day. We always hope someone’s going to pay up; so far today, all we’ve done is repossess.’

  ‘So Mr Fletcher owes you money?’ I resisted the temptation to hike his trousers up to a less offensive level. He had huge sweat patches under his arms and the smell was even worse than his colleague’s suit. Goodness knows what it must have been like in the cab of the lorry with the pair of them.

  He gave a wary look. ‘Don’t give me any aggro please, miss. Look at this.’ He pointed to the side of his head where a lump glowed vivid red.

  ‘That does look sore.’

  ‘Clobbered with a mobile phone in Brixham,’ he said, prodding the lump gingerly with a meaty finger. ‘I was only doing my job.’

  ‘Look, I’m sure there’s been some sort of misunderstanding. Theo – Mr Fletcher – is a businessman.’ As I recalled, he’d studied engineering at uni and had gone on to set up his own consultancy.

  Archie caught my eye as he handed Theo a handkerchief and made a slicing gesture in front of his neck.

  ‘I think,’ I added faintly.

  ‘Everyone is given a chance to pay; this is a last resort.’ Baggy Trousers nodded towards the mass of loot in the back of the lorry. They must have been to half the homes in South Devon this morning. ‘Our clients would much rather have the cash.’

  Archie always carried a lot of cash. I wondered if now would be a good time to mention it.

  ‘Of course they would,’ I said. ‘And if you don’t mind me saying, you look like you need a coffee, especially after that bump to the head.’ I gave him
my Nurse Elsie caring frown. ‘Why don’t I make us all a drink and between us we can try and sort something out?’

  Baggy Trousers sighed with longing. ‘Would you really? I could murder a brew.’ He nodded towards the coffee machine on a teetering pile of used household gadgets. ‘Better make it tea.’

  Five minutes later, Norman and Warren, the bailiffs, were slurping mugs of tea in the cab of their lorry and Theo, Archie and I were sitting at the scrubbed-pine kitchen table. I use the term ‘scrubbed’ loosely. What the kitchen needed, like everywhere else I’d seen so far, was a thorough clean and someone to care for it. But through the muddle and mess the potential was there to be a warm and comforting hub of the cottage. I dragged my eyes away from the lovely blue and white Dutch tiles around the cream Aga and tipped a packet of biscuits I’d found on to a plate.

  Nothing had been said yet about my behaviour at Theo’s wedding. Possibly because Theo was too embarrassed about his tears to even think about the past. When I’d said hello, he’d just mumbled that it was nice to see me and that was that. Thank heavens.

  ‘We moved down here, you know, after the …’ Theo paused to swallow and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. ‘Ivy.’

  The Ivy? My eyes slid to Archie’s questioningly; he looked away quickly and gave Theo an encouraging nod. I was confused and dying to ask about Kate but no one had mentioned her and I didn’t want to make matters worse, so I held my tongue.

  ‘Driftwood Lodge was meant to be a fresh start,’ he added two sugars to his tea and stirred distractedly. ‘Trouble was I couldn’t. Start, that is. I couldn’t seem to think, or do anything. Still can’t, truth be told. And then when Kate left, I—’

  ‘She’s left?’ I said with a gasp and then instantly blushed, hoping I didn’t sound pleased. Because I wasn’t. Truly. I’d moved on years ago. I covered my embarrassment by biting on a biscuit. It was soft and powdery and too stale to swallow. I discreetly spat it out and tucked the rest of the biscuit in the pocket of my hoody and when I looked up Theo was blinking at me.

  ‘Yes, she left me last month. Didn’t Archie say?’

  ‘No.’ I managed to squeak. ‘He did not. I’m so sorry.’

  I reached across the table and touched his arm. We continued to stare at each other, and I looked again at his haggard features, the unkempt curls escaping from underneath his cap, the dark shadows under his eyes … It was all starting to make sense. The poor lamb.

  Archie stood up abruptly and began rummaging in the cupboards. ‘Sorry, mate, must have slipped my mind. Got any crisps?’

  I glared at him. ‘I wonder you’ve got any friends left at all, you are useless when it comes to anything personal.’

  ‘Men aren’t good at talking.’ Theo heaved a sigh that seemed to come from his boots. ‘There’s no crisps. No food. Nothing edible, anyway. Even the tinned peaches have gone.’

  ‘Ah ha, bingo!’ Archie said, from the depths of a cupboard. He reappeared brandishing a packet of prawn-flavoured crisps, tore them open, stuffed a handful in his mouth and instantly spat them out again. ‘Eugh, how old are these? You weren’t even this bad when you were a student.’

  The men had met at university in Exeter. Archie had brought Theo home during that first long summer holiday. I must have been fifteen, full of hormones and desperate to fall in love. Theo was nineteen, tall, dark and nice to me. Predictably I’d formed a crush of colossal proportions on him, which, despite me having various boyfriends through the years, never quite went away. Archie had teased me mercilessly about it. Theo, of course, didn’t notice. It had been quite a shock for him to discover my feelings nine years later on his wedding day.

  ‘Sounds like Theo’s been having a tough time.’ I gave my brother a disappointed look. ‘Alone.’

  Archie cleared his throat. ‘I’m here now and the important thing is—’ His eyes widened suddenly. ‘Hey, Theo, they aren’t taking the Triumph, are they?’

  I glared at him.

  ‘Not that it matters,’ he added hurriedly, but relaxed when Theo confirmed that his classic car was hidden under canvas at the back of the house. ‘The important thing is getting you out of immediate trouble.’

  Theo stared wordlessly into his tea while Archie explained to me that Theo had confessed to using loan sharks to cover his maxed-out credit-card repayments, mortgage and utility bills. But the interest had spiralled and Theo now couldn’t repay the loans and after ignoring the demands had no choice other than to let in the bailiffs.

  ‘I’m the world’s biggest loser,’ he muttered.

  He looked so dejected that I almost pulled him into a tight hug before remembering that the last time I did that I almost stopped his wedding.

  ‘Don’t talk rot,’ said Archie, punching Theo’s arm. ‘You’ve just had, er, a run of bad luck.’

  I suppressed a smile; that was as close to a display of love as my brother got.

  ‘How much are you offering Theo for the car?’ I said, deciding to get the ball rolling. The bailiffs might have been happy to have a short tea break, but Warren (Baggy Trousers) had already told me they were due at a hat shop in Salcombe before long.

  Archie named a figure and Theo looked so grateful that my heart melted.

  ‘Add another five hundred quid and it’s a deal,’ I said briskly. ‘Now hand me your wallet.’

  Archie opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it and did as he was told.

  I took five hundred pounds out of it and went outside.

  ‘Will this buy Mr Fletcher some more time?’ I said, shoving the notes through the window to Norman.

  Norman licked his fingers and counted the money. Some of the wrinkles in his forehead softened and he looked far less hound-like. ‘Better unload Mr Fletcher’s gear, Warren, and then we’ll be on our way.’

  In no time, everything was back inside and the lorry hurtled back out of the courtyard in a cloud of dust.

  Theo sagged against the doorframe and lowered his gaze to the ground. ‘Until next time, lads,’ he muttered.

  Archie jerked his head meaningfully at Theo.

  ‘Nina, why don’t you two catch up on the news,’ he said, rubbing his hands together briskly, ‘while I nip and have a look at the car.’

  Behind Theo’s back I was shaking my head frantically, but Archie strode away, jingling the coins in his pockets. I studied Theo for a few seconds. He was lost in his own thoughts and I wondered what could possibly have gone so wrong between him and Kate to have brought him so far down. It seemed I wasn’t the only one to have hit a low point.

  I took a deep breath and tucked my hand through his arm. ‘Archie’s right. We probably need to talk.’

  Chapter 5

  Back inside the kitchen, I filled the sink with hot soapy water.

  ‘If we’re going to clear the air, we might as well clear the dirty pots at the same time,’ I said, pulling on some rubber gloves.

  He took off his cap and rubbed a hand distractedly through his hair as he surveyed the mess. ‘What must you think of me?’

  I grinned. ‘That you’re a slob?’

  ‘The kitchen has got on top of me.’ He frowned, acknowledging the truth. ‘I suppose everything has got on top of me. Kate would be so disappointed … Oh hell.’

  The thought of his wife seemed to make his legs go weak and he reached for a chair to sit down again.

  ‘No you don’t.’ I pulled him back towards the sink. ‘I have had the most awful twenty-four hours during which I have let down the world and his wife. If I only achieve one thing today it will be to sort out your kitchen. Believe me, we’ll both feel better for it.’

  ‘Thanks, I miss someone bossing me about.’ Theo’s face brightened. ‘I suppose I still think of you as Archie’s kid sister. Well, I did right up until—’

  ‘I prefer to think of myself as determined rather than bossy,’ I jumped in quickly, not quite ready to address the elephant in the room. I handed him a tea towel and plunged my hands into the water.
‘Now, as you look like you need a good laugh, I’ll tell you what I’ve been up to since I last saw you.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ he said with a sigh, leaning against the draining board. ‘I’m completely sick of my own company.’

  ‘So,’ I began, ‘do you ever watch Victory Road?’

  While I brought him up to speed with my acting career over the last five years we dealt with about twenty mugs, most of which looked like abandoned chemistry experiments in how to grown penicillin, three frying pans of varying degrees of encrusted egg, numerous baked bean pans and countless plates and cutlery coated with old food that had dried to the consistency of concrete. I embellished all my showbiz anecdotes for maximum entertainment value and by the time I’d finished telling him how I’d single-handedly screwed up Victory Road’s big cliffhanger, potentially lost my agent his newest client and revealed myself to be a vicious diva to the UK’s media, even I was beginning to see the funny side. And Theo … well, I was delighted to say, he had almost begun to look like the Theo I’d fallen for all those years ago.

  Suddenly the sound of an engine revving reached us through the kitchen window.

  ‘Good grief!’ said Theo. ‘Archie’s managed to get the engine to turn over. It hasn’t run since we moved in.’

  We.

  ‘And when was that?’ I asked, seizing the opportunity to turn the spotlight from me to him.

  ‘Eighteen months ago,’ he said, instantly deflating again.

  ‘It’s a lovely place,’ I said encouragingly. ‘What’s the village called again?’

  ‘Brightside Cove. We even joked that looking on the bright side might be just what we needed. Therapeutic, Kate said.’ He glanced down at the floor. ‘That backfired.’

  ‘Well, we could all do with a bit of therapy now and again,’ I said with a laugh to lift the mood.

  ‘Tried that too.’

  The feeling I’d had at the table moments earlier came back to me: the urge to take him in my arms and hold him tight. I could sense a sadness deep within him which permeated everything, every word, every movement, every breath.