A Match Made in Devon

by Cathy Bramley

  Jude’s house was a surprise. I’d envisaged him living somewhere quirky like a little studio with views of the sea. But this was a modest 1950s semi in a quiet avenue. Edging the lawn was a narrow border of lavender and pots of purple pansies lined the steps leading to the front door. There were net curtains at every window and a vase of yellow silk flowers adorned the window sill in the wide bay window to the right of the door. The place was neat and homely and reminded me that I still didn’t have a clue who Angie was. And that perhaps before I resumed my demonstration of the perfect screen kiss, I ought to find out.

  True to his word, Jude reappeared a few minutes later. Mabel bounded out ahead of him and I opened the van to let her in.

  She yelped with delight, pinned me to my seat and tried to lick my face.

  ‘Thanks for the wash, Mabel,’ I said, trying to escape her hot tongue, ‘but I’m all good.’

  ‘She celebrates my homecoming like that every time.’ Jude started the engine and snapped on his seat belt. ‘Whether I’ve been gone two minutes or two hours. Daft dog.’

  ‘Don’t listen, Mabel.’ I pressed my hands over her floppy ears. ‘You’re not daft; I think you’re very clever.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

  His hair, still damp from the shower, was all glossy and he smelled lovely and his eyes lit up when he smiled.

  You should, I thought.

  The drive to the beach at Brightside Cove only took ten minutes and as soon as Mabel caught a glimpse of the sea on the horizon she turned to rubber and started to bounce off every surface. Jude pulled up behind the lifeboat house next to another car, opened his door and Mabel flew down the slipway and down on to the sand barking with glee.

  ‘There’s someone in there,’ said Jude as we walked past the other car, a battered VW Polo.

  The driver’s seat was fully reclined and a young man was fast asleep with a newspaper on his lap. Empty burger cartons and takeaway coffee cups littered the passenger seat.

  ‘A surfer, probably,’ I said. The tide was coming in but the beach was still wide and golden. There was a light breeze and the fresh smell of the sea filled me with joy. ‘He might have driven up last night ready for a Sunday spent riding the waves.’

  ‘I hope not, for his sake,’ he said, shielding his eyes with his hand and scanning the beach.

  ‘Oh?’ Not that I was an expert, but the sea looked perfectly surf-able to me. ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘He’s forgotten his surfboard.’

  I glanced back at the car: no roof rack. ‘Ah.’

  Jude rubbed his chin as if trying to conceal a smile.

  It was still early and apart from a runner at the far end of the cove, we had the beach to ourselves. We walked down the slipway and on to the sand, following Mabel’s paw prints to the edge of the shore. Jude pulled a tennis ball out of his pocket and threw it into the sea for her. She leapt into the waves and came back with it seconds later with a big doggy smile. She dropped it at my feet and when I went to pick it up she shook herself.

  ‘Oh, right in my eyes!’ I yelped, as the salt water stung my eyes.

  ‘Mabel!’ Jude chided, quickly throwing the ball back into the sea. Mabel chased after it. ‘No manners, that dog.’

  He offered me a tissue and I wiped my face.

  ‘Your eyes.’ He tipped my chin up and stepped closer. ‘They’re what? Grey, no, blue, or maybe green … they’re constantly changing, like the colour of the sea. Like magic.’

  The magic of the sea.

  My head spun. That was the memory that I hadn’t quite been able to catch hold of when I was talking to Big Dave the other day. The beach, the warm safe hand over mine, skimming stones, and laughing, always laughing … I remembered it all so clearly now.

  ‘What have I said?’ Jude’s smile faltered.

  I shook my head, lost in the memory.

  A piece of sea glass sparkling in the sunlight caught my eye and I bent to pick it up. It was triangular with a notch at the top, a rough heart-shape. I turned it over in my hands, recalling the man who had once owned the whole of my heart. And then broke it.

  ‘It’s nothing. It’s … You’re the second person to say that to me, that’s all.’

  ‘And the first?’ he asked softly.

  I took a deep breath and held the piece of sea glass out to Jude.

  ‘My dad,’ I said finally.

  Chapter 22

  ‘My dad once said that my eyes held the magic of the sea.’ I glanced up at Jude.

  He took the sea glass from me and studied it before slipping it in his pocket.

  ‘And I thought I was being original.’

  I smiled as Jude threw the ball again for Mabel and I altered my gaze to look at the waves, rolling in, one on top of another, and I was transported back to another time, and to a place I’d almost forgotten …

  We’d been on a beach, just me, Dad and Archie. It must have been shortly before he disappeared from our lives for ever. When I’d asked what Dad meant by the magic of the sea, he’d pointed to all the different colours in the water: the pale green of the shallows at our feet, then out to where the waves swirled grey against the rocks and then again far, far out on the horizon where an indigo sea merged into a turquoise sky. I’d felt so special, my small hand wrapped in his. I, Nina Penhaligon, had the magic of the sea in her eyes, and because Daddy loved the sea, he must love me very much too.

  ‘You’re close to your father?’ Jude asked after a while.

  ‘I was once, but he’s forgotten all about us, probably wouldn’t even remember the colour of my eyes now. He left us when I was small. I’m over it now.’ I flapped a hand, dismissing the absolute heartbreak of my childhood with a casual flick of my wrist; I didn’t want to spoil our walk with talk of my past. ‘So tell me about you, your family. You aren’t from here originally, Danny said, but your accent is local.’

  He frowned slightly as if unconvinced by my flippant reference to my father.

  ‘Come on,’ I said, ‘let’s walk and you can talk.’

  He took my hand and tucked it through his arm and while Mabel leapt and danced around us we set off again towards the harbour, weaving as we walked to keep our feet out of the surf.

  ‘Okay, but you’ve been warned; it’s not a happy tale. My dad didn’t leave me. But I spent every waking hour wishing he would. He was violent and erratic and earned a living selling drugs, although we never seemed to have much money. We lived on an estate so rough that the postman refused to deliver to us.’

  ‘That’s awful. Why didn’t your parents move?’

  ‘My parents,’ he said drily, ‘were part of the problem. There were people on the estate who petitioned to get our sort evicted. We had messages posted through our door all the time. Not by the postman, obviously.’

  ‘What sort of messages?’

  ‘Well.’ He took a sharp breath. ‘On my ninth birthday, I heard the letter box clatter and ran downstairs amazed that someone had remembered me. Only to find that someone had shovelled dog mess through the flap and a note that read, “Scum out.” I knew it was aimed at my dad, but all the same, I was devastated.’

  The thought of a nine-year-old boy daring to hope that he might have a birthday present only to have those hopes so brutally dashed made my heart ache for him.

  ‘Oh Jude, and on your birthday. My mum might have been a cold fish towards my brother Archie and me, but we always got presents. No parties because she didn’t like letting strangers in to the house, but even so, compared to your upbringing, mine was idyllic. What did your mum think about it?’

  ‘Huh. She idolized my old man, wouldn’t hear a word against him.’

  Unlike my mum, who wouldn’t even mention my father’s name. The word Dad was strictly taboo after he left. Most confusing for Archie and me when we were little. I was still confused now.

  ‘Other people’s relationships are a mystery to me,’ I said, frowning. ‘You never really know what goes on between two peop
le behind closed doors: what makes it work; what causes it to break.’

  The hairs on my spine stood up as I thought about Mum and Dad, who couldn’t have been suited for them to fall out so catastrophically, and then Theo and Kate, who I still believed did have a chance.

  I’d have to be getting back to Driftwood Lodge soon; I couldn’t leave things as they were, I needed to do something to salvage the situation between them before anyone did anything silly. But not yet, not while Jude was sharing such an intimate part of himself. I pressed closer to him as we ambled along, a subtle sign that I understood and cared.

  ‘Mum chose Dad over me every time. Whenever he beat me, she’d say I had it coming.’ He shook his head sadly.

  ‘Did your dad do that?’ I flicked my eyes to the silvery scar above his ear.

  ‘Yeah. I was showing Mum a painting I’d done at school. Dad said I was no Van Gogh but maybe cutting my ear off would help. He grabbed the tip of my ear and pretended to slice it with his knife. I fought him off and the knife slipped and cut me. It poured with blood. They laughed about it for the rest of the night.’

  My eyes pricked with tears. ‘How can someone be so unspeakably cruel to a child?’

  ‘It happens,’ he said dully. ‘I’m afraid to say I’ve seen all sorts of cases of neglect and abuse.’

  How brave he was to pursue a career in social work after the childhood he’d endured.

  ‘Did social services intervene?’

  ‘Not before I ran away when I was twelve. I thought the longer I stayed, the more likely it was that I’d end up like my father. I wanted to forget my dad, get all traces of him out of my system.’

  Whereas I’d spent my whole life wondering why my dad had forgotten me.

  I looked at him. The man who’d stepped in to help out at my dinner last night even though he clearly couldn’t cook, who’d stayed to clear up, who’d humoured the hen party girls, helped cook breakfast, not to mention kissed me so amazingly this morning … No, he’d never end up like his dad. Besides, Mabel loved him and dogs were very astute at picking out good humans.

  ‘I’m sure you were never in danger of ending up like him,’ I said fiercely.

  His face softened. ‘Thanks. Never saw them again. I later found out that they hadn’t even bothered reporting my absence. I escaped to Devon. I’d heard other kids at school talking about their holidays by the seaside and it always sounded so perfect: the buckets and spades, the paddling, fish-and-chip suppers and ice creams on the beach.’

  We stopped and Jude turned to face the sea. The tide was getting higher and the boats in the harbour were beginning to shift on the sand. Soon they would be afloat, ready for the sailors who appeared in the little harbour car park at the weekend, ready for the healing power of the salty air and the roll of the sea. In the distance, Big Dave was throwing lobster cages on to his boat and behind his shack I could just about make out Eliza washing the windows of the Mermaid Gift and Gallery.

  It was perfect.

  Jude had done the right thing, as had I, I thought, and Big Dave, and Theo and Kate: we’d all been on the run from something when we’d first arrived in Devon, all been drawn to the restorative powers of Brightside Cove.

  He turned to me and smiled and my heart melted. He’d endured so much and yet here he was to tell the tale – and still smiling.

  ‘You were just a child; how did you survive?’

  ‘A café owner in Exeter noticed me stealing food from his bins and sleeping rough and reported me to social services. And so began the next adventure.’ He shrugged as if it was nothing.

  ‘You must have been terrified,’ I said, my voice thick with emotion. And how unloved and alone too. For all Mum’s faults – and there were a few – at least Archie and I knew we were safe and would always have a roof over our heads.

  ‘When home is a scary place, you have a skewed sense of risk. The big wide world seemed a safer bet than home.’

  Jude blotted a tear from my face with his thumb which I hadn’t even realised I’d shed. It was all I could do not to throw my arms around him and weep for the lost little boy he had been.

  He whistled for the dog and when she came charging towards us, we both bent down to fuss her. I took Jude’s hand and squeezed it. ‘And what was the next adventure?’

  ‘Shall we head back and I’ll tell you the rest?’

  We turned back towards the van and I listened as he described how he’d been taken into care, put into a children’s home, which he’d hated so much that he kept trying to escape, terrified that he’d be sent back home. He’d fallen in with a gang, copied their dialect to fit in and started to go off the rails: getting involved with vandalism, dabbling in arson, the odd bit of shoplifting. Hating himself for becoming like his father, but not having the maturity to escape. And then, finally, when he was fifteen, his luck changed and he was introduced to Angie, a woman whose own children had already flown the nest.

  ‘Officially Angie was my foster mum.’ He grinned. ‘But she did more than mother me, she saved me, persuaded me to go back to school and study for a career. She’s still the most important woman in my life.’

  Mabel barked loudly and bounced up at Jude.

  ‘Yes, you’re important too,’ he said, ruffling the fur around her ears, and we both laughed.

  He gave me a boyish grin and my heart stalled; he was lovely and I wondered why there was no other important woman in his life.

  ‘You’re incredible,’ I said simply. ‘And your story is an inspiration.’

  Jude shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t go quite that far, I’m no angel. But now I’m a social worker with a decent job, I like to think I can be a role model to some of the kids I come across in my work, not to mention do my bit to support people who can’t stand up for themselves.’

  Danny had said Jude was never happier than when he had a campaign to fight. That made sense now.

  ‘And Deliciously Devon is Angie’s business?’

  He nodded. ‘Mainly buffets for weddings and anniversaries, that sort of thing. Although at the moment, it’s on hold.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘Angie’s daughter Sophie has just had triplets and is suffering from post-natal depression. Angie is staying with her until she can cope by herself, so I’m answering enquiries and taking bookings for later in the summer.’

  Mabel, having run and swum continuously for the last twenty minutes, was now panting at Jude’s side, her pink tongue lolling. She stopped suddenly, ears pricked and gave a low warning woof.

  ‘She’s seen something,’ he said.

  Mabel broke into a run, flying across the sand towards the lifeboat house, barking loudly.

  ‘It’s that guy who was asleep in the car,’ I said, recognizing him.

  ‘Oh yeah, the surfer who forgot his board.’ Jude grinned.

  In the distance we could just make out that the man was standing on the slipway, alternately looking up at the building and then down at something in his hands.

  ‘He seems more interested in the lifeboat house than the sea,’ I pointed out.

  ‘You might be right.’ Jude swore under his breath and held a hand out to me. ‘Come on, I’ve got to say something.’

  We hurried over but Mabel had already stopped barking. Instead, she was rolling on her back and letting him tickle her tummy.

  ‘Look at that,’ he tutted. ‘Such a flirt. She’s supposed to be on my side.’

  ‘Which is what?’ I said breathlessly, tugging his arm to make him stop. ‘You never got the chance to tell me last night. Why are you against the lifeboat house being auctioned off?’

  He planted his feet in the sand and ran a hand through his hair angrily.

  ‘Although I wasn’t born here I feel like I belong. Brightside Cove is a special place and it’s our duty to keep it that way for future generations.’

  ‘I get that,’ I said. ‘But there’s a new lifeboat station around the other side of the headland. This one is derelict. Surely it’s best to let someone breathe new li
fe into it?’

  Theo had shown me the new lifeboat station on one of our walks. It was a state-of-the-art glass building with a visitors’ centre and a café. This pretty little lifeboat house at the edge of Brightside Cove was far more charming, but its days of being useful to the community were long gone.

  ‘Agreed,’ Jude said grimly. ‘It’s the someone I’ve got a problem with. And that’ll be whoever’s got the biggest wallet.’

  I looked back to where the young man was now throwing sticks for Mabel. His car was a beaten-up old VW with a dent in the door. He didn’t strike me as a man with a big wallet.

  ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ I said, still not really sure why he was getting so het up. ‘Anyone who wants to invest in Brightside Cove gets the thumbs-up from me.’

  His eyes shifted from me to the man. ‘But then we’ll get another boutique or bistro or beachside apartment block. I’ve been hoping the council would do something with this place for years, instead of letting it crumble away. But I wanted them to repair it, not get rid of it.’

  ‘So what’s your plan,’ I asked, ‘other than setting your dog on any prospective buyer?’

  His mouth attempted a smile. ‘Recently I offered to start a campaign to buy it from the council, so we can be the ones to renovate and restore it, keep it in the hands of the village. And I thought they were considering my proposal. But …’ He nodded towards the building. ‘It seems not.’

  ‘And auctioning it means that a buyer will be found quickly,’ I finished for him, finally understanding his disappointment. ‘I’m sorry.’

  He shrugged hopelessly. ‘It’s all about money. They’re only interested in budgets and cost-cutting exercises and releasing capital to fund new housing that most of us can’t afford. They want cash, and time isn’t on my side.’

  ‘But I’m on your side. If I can help, just shout.’

  ‘Really?’ His eyes lit up.

  I nodded. There was something compelling about Jude: his sincerity, his passion, his dogged determination to fight the system, not to mention the fact that he was devastatingly handsome.

  ‘Thanks. With a bit of money spent on it, it could be a great space for lots of different groups to use: youth clubs, dancing, sport, even …’