A Match Made in Devon

by Cathy Bramley

  I looked over Catherine’s shoulder at the screen. It was a fantastic picture. All eleven mermaids stood in a row on the sand, one arm in the air and the other around their neighbour’s waist. Behind them was the lifeboat house and to the right was the edge of the cliffs. The photographer had timed the shot perfectly to capture a wave crashing against the rocks and a huge arc of white spray like confetti framed the edge of the picture.

  I felt a wave of unease. I really didn’t want it to be true. Eliza, Theo and Molly had all counted on this booking to go well for their fledgling businesses.

  ‘Did Danny even have his own camera?’ I said suddenly. ‘Didn’t he just borrow one of yours?’

  ‘Let me think.’ Catherine gazed up at the ceiling, eyes blinking. ‘All the photos he took were on mine or Ruby’s phones. He was only wearing a wetsuit. There was absolutely nowhere to hide in that outfit, I’d have spotted any equipment. The only lumps and bumps were …’ She turned pink and coughed. ‘No. Definitely no camera.’

  Ruby snorted. ‘You so checked out his equipment, sister.’

  Catherine leapt to her feet and jabbed Ruby with a finger. ‘Don’t you “sister” me. It’s obvious where the leak has come from.’

  ‘Ruby?’ The colour drained from Sapphire’s face. ‘Is it true?’

  Ruby snapped the music off and the cousins stopped waggling their bottoms, shuffled back to their seat in the corner and helped themselves to scones.

  ‘Yes,’ she snapped, folding her arms and squaring up to Catherine. ‘It was me. And I blabbed the address of the Scottish hotel to the press too.’

  I sighed with relief; Danny was in the clear. Thank goodness for that. But poor Sapphire – betrayed by her sister …

  ‘Poor lovely Poppy missed out on this weekend because I doubted her,’ Sapphire said, horrified.

  ‘I should go,’ I said, turning towards the door. ‘Let me know if I can do anything to help.’

  ‘I know you’re judging me,’ said Ruby, blocking my way. ‘But you don’t know how hard it is to get noticed when you’re a nobody.’

  ‘I’m still a nobody,’ I retorted crossly. ‘Most people don’t recognize me, even after being in Victory Road.’

  ‘But they know you for leaking the plot of the show and dumping ice on Cecily. I’d kill for that sort of publicity.’

  I gaped at her. There were no words to deal with that sort of mentality, even if she was right.

  ‘Ruby!’ exclaimed Sapphire. ‘You’re not nobody to me!’

  ‘I’m nobody because of you,’ Ruby spluttered indignantly. ‘I auditioned for Maidens of Mayfair first. I should have been star of the show. I’d have been the famous sister.’ She looked at me. ‘They sent two researchers round to check out my house, to make sure it was suitable for filming, and there was Sapphire in the kitchen flipping pancakes. They were supposed to come and look at my big bedroom with its own dressing room and Juliet balcony and my vinyl collection of Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals. They never even left the kitchen. Two hours later my dreams had gone up in smoke; they dropped me for her.’

  ‘I felt awful about it,’ said Sapphire quietly.

  ‘So you always say. But it doesn’t change anything.’ Ruby’s eyes filled with tears.

  ‘I did fight for Ruby to be in the show,’ Sapphire explained. ‘The producers said that she would get a cameo role as long as I agreed to take part.’

  ‘But I felt like a dog being thrown a bone.’ Ruby pouted and I experienced a wave of sympathy for her. I knew only too well what it felt like to be passed over for a job you’d been promised. The Cecily Carmichael incident still had the capacity to make me go hot and cold every time I thought of it.

  ‘I had to take the opportunity to try to raise more awareness of my research project into cleptobiosis in ants,’ explained Sapphire, ‘but so far I haven’t been able to shoehorn it into conversation in the show. So frustrating.’

  ‘Clepto what?’ I exclaimed.

  Sapphire laughed. ‘You know, when members of one species steal food from another. Ants are devils for it.’

  Catherine and I exchanged looks and I hid a smile. Maidens of Mayfair concerned itself mostly with shopping, eating and partying. I could see her problem.

  ‘Whereas I need the exposure on TV. I need to get noticed for me,’ Ruby put in.

  I felt my hackles rise. This trend of being famous for being famous really got my goat.

  ‘I’ve met plenty of reality TV stars over the years,’ I said steadily. ‘They come and go with each new show. But the ones who endure are the ones who have passion and drive and a star quality that attracts others to them. For fame to benefit you, you need to start with your passion. So. What is your passion?’

  ‘Singing.’ She stuck her chin up. ‘I want to be a singer.’

  ‘Oh.’ I hadn’t been expecting that. ‘That’s great.’

  ‘She is a very good singer,’ Sapphire agreed. ‘Dad’s got videos of her singing all the songs from The Lion King. Brings a tear to my eye every time. But—’

  Ruby rolled her eyes. ‘Here we go. But I’m not good enough to make it. Blah, blah, blah.’

  ‘No. You are.’ Sapphire’s hands balled into fists with frustration. ‘But you never turned up for your singing lessons, or practised for your exams.’

  ‘I don’t need to. Singing’s a gift.’

  ‘Your voice is a gift,’ I put in. ‘I don’t sing, but I do know that your voice is a muscle, the same as any other. And you need to put in the training to be the best.’

  Ruby frowned and picked at the skin around her thumbnail.

  ‘I just want a chance to shine. It’s not easy being in your shadow, you know,’ she told Sapphire. ‘You’ve always been the clever one, the good daughter. When I was little I copied you. Then when I got to fifteen I realized I’d never match up, so I stopped bothering.’

  ‘Sing at my wedding,’ Sapphire blurted out. ‘A solo. Something beautiful. There’ll be people in the audience who might be able to help you.’

  Ruby looked up, her eyes hopeful. ‘I thought you’d got a harpie?’

  ‘Harpist. I have. Catherine, when …?’

  ‘I’ll check the wedding itinerary.’ Catherine tapped on her phone. ‘Got it. Harpist to play Bach solo as played at Kate Middleton’s wedding while bride and groom sign the register.’

  ‘Amend it to read Ruby Spencer to sing … What do you want to sing?’

  Ruby chewed her lip while she pondered. ‘Oh I know! “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables” from Les Mis!’

  Catherine paled. ‘The one about death? And loneliness?’

  ‘We’ll work on the song choice together,’ said Sapphire swiftly. ‘And you have to practise. Every day for the next two weeks. Promise?’

  Ruby threw herself across the room and into her sister’s arms. ‘Thank you, Sapph. I won’t let you down. I’ll go to my room now, find the lyrics and start rehearsing. Girls, you can help,’ she said to her cousins who obediently got to their feet.

  She kissed Sapphire’s cheek and then said in a small voice, ‘I’m sorry for posting that picture of us. I should have thought about your magazine deal. You’ve been so good to me and I’ve completely cocked things up for you.’

  ‘Forget about it,’ said Sapphire kindly. ‘What are big sisters for?’

  ‘That is a bit of a bind, though,’ Catherine said once the three younger girls had gone upstairs. She squeezed Sapphire’s hand. ‘What are you going to do?’

  Sapphire frowned. ‘Nina, you’ve had run-ins with the press, what do you advise to get them back on board?’

  I perched on the edge of the sofa and thought about it. I thought about what Maxine Pearce would say. A month ago I’d probably have come up with a whole list of ideas to get Sapphire’s wedding on the front pages of the papers. But things had changed for me recently. I didn’t feel the need to grab every photo opportunity any more, and certainly not those that didn’t focus on what really mattered to me – my acting career. Right
now I was using my limited fame to benefit others and it felt really good. I wondered what was motivating Sapphire.

  ‘Do you really need them there?’ I asked.

  Sapphire shrugged. ‘Brad, my fiancé, is heading up a campaign to protect endangered Vancouver Island marmots. Our fee was heading straight to the charity. And the magazine promised to add a side column about it too.’

  Which, if my experience was anything to go by, would be a tiny afterthought and do absolutely nothing for Brad’s praiseworthy intentions.

  ‘Wouldn’t it be better to ask for donations instead of wedding gifts?’ I suggested. ‘And ask all the cast of Maidens of Mayfair to post a link to his campaign?’

  Sapphire blinked at me. ‘And have no press there at all?’

  ‘Maybe you could marry in private?’ said Catherine.

  ‘Yes, make it about you and Brad,’ I agreed. ‘Something just for you and your loved ones. Not the rest of the world. There’s something precious about that, I think.’

  ‘I could even ban the Maidens of Mayfair cameras,’ Sapphire said thoughtfully.

  ‘Think how lovely a day without press intrusion would be,’ I said.

  ‘Liberating.’ Sapphire sighed.

  ‘And you’d get to run the day your own way,’ I added.

  Sapphire grinned at her best friend. ‘Or in my case, how Catherine plans it.’

  Catherine went pink. ‘To hell with the clifftop walk, let’s skip straight to bottle of champagne number … Oh, who cares which number we’re on.’

  The rest of the hen party arrived just as Sapphire was easing the cork out of the bottle and I slipped away to get the table ready for dinner later. There was a whirring noise coming from the garden at the back of the house and I peered round the gate to see Theo in just a pair of shorts with the hedge trimmer. The sight of his bare chest reminded me: judging by the twinkle in her eye I was guessing Catherine’s special entertainment must have an element of male nudity involved. Might she have booked a stripper? Or a butler in the buff, maybe?

  I’d find out soon enough …

  Chapter 20

  ‘Please light!’ I hovered over the candle with a match, watching as the flame burned ever closer to my fingers while the wick resolutely refused to catch fire. The kitchen was beginning to smell of burned fingernail.

  This was the only room at Driftwood Lodge big enough to seat eleven people. As kitchens go it was comfy and cosy, but a bit plain for the elegant dinner party look I was going for. I was trying to make up for that by using candlelight to add some ambiance and simultaneously create a few dark corners to hide the worst of the mess. And I was using Jethro’s entire stock of emergency power cut candles to do it. The hens probably wouldn’t go in the living room, but I’d put some candles in there just in case and turned off all the lights in the hall to make it look less of a landing strip and more like a dimly lit restaurant.

  Theo had gone over to the cottages with some appetizers to keep the women going while I finished off and I’d instructed him to stay over there as long as he could to buy us some time.

  Finally, with a few burned fingers and at least one singed eyebrow, all the candles were lit.

  There. Done. I stood back to admire my handiwork. I’d raided Eliza’s shop earlier this afternoon for anything vaguely eastern to decorate the room with and now delicate paper lanterns in jewel colours of pink, blue and emerald hung from the ceiling, bowls of matching paper flowers adorned the table and candlesticks in the shape of fat little Buddhas sat at opposite ends of the table. Eliza had also lent me some pretty multi-coloured fairy lights and I’d hung them above the Aga. The effect, if not totally authentic Asian, lent a party atmosphere to the otherwise homely room.

  What next? I scanned my list. Put plates in to warm in the bottom oven. I opened the cupboard but it was empty. All the plates were still in the dishwasher from lunchtime. But thankfully clean. I dried them off quickly but in my haste, managed to flick the tea towel in my eye, causing my eyes to water and temporary blindness.

  Thank goodness I had opted for caterers, I thought, blotting my eye with a tissue, I couldn’t even be trusted with empty plates.

  When I straightened up from clattering crockery and slamming the oven door, still with one hand pressed to my eye, there was a strange man in the unlit hallway.

  ‘Oh, hello!’ I said, startled.

  He was wearing a trendy cap pulled low over his eyes, a bright white shirt and a black dinner suit with a satin stripe down the side of the trousers. A lovely smell wafted off him into the kitchen: warm and spicy and totally delicious.

  ‘I wasn’t sure where to go,’ he said. ‘I did knock.’

  ‘I had my head in the oven.’ I blinked at him, trying to clear my vision. ‘Not for suicidal purposes, you understand.’

  ‘I understand.’ His lips twitched. He had nice lips, smiley and full, and lovely white teeth. ‘Where shall I set up?’

  ‘Set up?’ I stared at him, shadowy and mysterious in the gloom, and it suddenly dawned on me who this was. ‘Oh, set up.’

  Catherine’s surprise: the male stripper.

  I bet the satin stripes on his trousers were to hide the Velcro; one tug and – whoosh – they’d be off. I wished Catherine had told me he was coming so early. Deliciously Devon would be here any second with the food. What was I supposed to do with him while they were eating?

  ‘Follow me,’ I said, squeezing past him into the hallway. I swept an arm towards the living room. ‘You can get undressed in there out of the way.’

  His hands flew to the lapels of his jacket. ‘You have got to be joking.’

  ‘Sorry, what did you expect – a dressing room with lightbulbs around the mirror? This is a Devon long house not the Folies Bergère.’

  ‘I’ll keep my clothes on, if it’s all the same to you. And I expected a table at the very least,’ he said crossly. ‘We’re talking some very hot stuff, and it could get messy.’

  I tried not to look shocked. Perhaps he was one of those strippers who uses fire-eating in their act, or snakes. Where on earth had Catherine found him? And more to the point, why? I couldn’t imagine Sapphire being up for anything like this, except maybe the snake part, she did seem to have a thing about animals.

  ‘No way,’ I said with a shudder. ‘I’ve heard of people who parade up and down tables waving their pants in the air. Well, not here you don’t. You’ll just have to keep your feet on the ground.’

  ‘Jeez.’ The man backed away towards the door. ‘I don’t know who your normal caterers are but I’ve already said, I am not taking my clothes off.’

  Caterers?

  ‘Oh my God. Are you from Deliciously Devon?’

  ‘Yes.’ He smirked. ‘Who were you expecting, Magic Mike?’

  I blinked my blurry eye and gradually the man’s features came into focus. A wave of horror crept up from my toes to my face as he took his hat off. A pair of hazel eyes stared back at me.

  ‘Jude? I’m so sorry. What are you doing here? I’m confused, I thought you were a social worker,’ I stammered.

  ‘I am. As well.’ He ruffled a hand through his dark hair: short at the sides and springy on top. He had a long thin scar just above his ear. His face spread into a smile. ‘And I thought you were a mermaid. I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on. And aren’t you the one I nearly drove into the back of, last Friday?’

  ‘Er …?’ Was that only last week? I was sure Devon must run on a different calendar system; I felt like I’d been here for ever. Also, I’d never seen Jude’s face properly close up. He was strikingly attractive. I pulled myself together. ‘For a caterer you seem over-dressed and under-catered. Where’s the food?’

  ‘Is the suit too much?’ Jude looked down at his suit and rubbed his chin and I regretted making him feel awkward. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘You look very smart.’ Gorgeous actually. The T-shirt and jeans I’d seen him in previously showed off his muscles, but in a suit … my insides were doing somersault
s.

  ‘I wasn’t sure what to wear,’ he continued. ‘With Angie being away and me just standing in.’

  Just standing in … the somersaults stopped instantly.

  ‘I might faint,’ I whispered. I could feel myself going hot and then cold. The pain in my eye paled into insignificance. ‘I can’t believe I’ve entrusted Sapphire’s dinner party to a bad-tempered social worker.’

  ‘Who says I’m bad-tempered?’ He looked affronted. ‘I’m very easy going. Well, unless someone annoys me and then I can’t help speaking my mind.’

  The inside of my mouth had gone so dry I could barely get my words out. I went back into the kitchen and started pacing back and forth.

  ‘At the risk of annoying you, you’re not a chef so who cooked dinner? It takes real skill to cook Asian food properly. I thought I was phoning professional caterers this morning to come to my rescue, but this … this is a disaster.’

  He leaned on the doorframe and folded his arms, casually. ‘I have come to your rescue. Although I’m not sure whether to be flattered or insulted that the first thing you did when I came through the door was to ask me to get naked.’

  ‘Sorry.’ I swallowed the lump in my throat. ‘I’m on edge. This is such a big booking for Brightside Holidays, I’m trying to help Theo put this place on the map and—’

  ‘I’ll stop you there, calm down,’ he said, striding across the kitchen. He placed his hands on my arms and breathed in through his nose and blew out through his mouth, nodding at me to do the same. ‘Deep breaths. That’s it. I am not a stripper, and you’re right, I’m not a chef. But—’

  I whimpered at that but he guided me gently towards the front door. A dark blue van with Deliciously Devon painted in silver in large letters down the side of it was parked in the courtyard.

  ‘When you rang this morning I did try to fob you off but you were getting upset and I felt duty bound to help.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said on an out-breath. ‘What a kind thing to do.’