About the Book

Escape to the seaside with Part Four of a brand-new four-part serial set on the Devon coast, from bestselling author Cathy Bramley.

The sun is beginning to set on Nina’s wonderful time in Brightside Cove. Indeed, things seem to be wrapping up; Theo is looking much more cheery and Brightside holidays is set to be a massive success. Suddenly, it feels like there’s slightly less space for Nina in this sunny corner of Devon. But there’s still lots to do before she leaves, and an old face is still around to stir up trouble for the locals. The real question is whether she can squeeze in some more time with hunky Jude.

Ever resourceful, Nina has never met a problem she can’t tackle. But Brightside Cove’s beautiful, historic lifeboat house is set to be sold to the highest bidder. And her fledgling romance is soon to be strangled by her new starring role, set in the highlands of Scotland. Meanwhile, family secrets have started to bubble, ready to come to a boil…

With all this and time soon to run out, has Nina finally met her match?

About the Author

Cathy Bramley is the Sunday Times bestselling author of the romantic comedies Ivy Lane, Appleby Farm, Wickham Hall, Conditional Love, The Plumberry School of Comfort Food, White Lies and Wishes, The Lemon Tree Café and Hetty’s Farmhouse Bakery. She lives in a Nottinghamshire village with her family.

Her recent career as a full-time writer of light-hearted, romantic fiction has come as somewhat of a lovely surprise after spending eighteen years running her own marketing agency. However, she has been always an avid reader, never without a book on the go and now thinks she may have found her dream job!

Cathy loves to hear from her readers. You get in touch via her website or on social media.

  Facebook.com/CathyBramleyAuthor

  @CathyBramley

  www.CathyBramley.co.uk

TRANSWORLD PUBLISHERS

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Transworld is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com

First published in Great Britain as four separate ebooks in 2018 by Transworld Digital

an imprint of Transworld Publishers

First published as one edition in 2018 by Corgi Books

an imprint of Transworld Publishers

Copyright © Cathy Bramley 2018
Cover illustration by Sarah Tanat-Jones

Cathy Bramley has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Every effort has been made to obtain the necessary permissions with reference to copyright material, both illustrative and quoted. We apologize for any omissions in this respect and will be pleased to make the appropriate acknowledgements in any future edition.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Version 1.0 Epub ISBN 9781473542761

ISBN 9780552173933

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

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Contents

Chapter 31

It was Saturday, the morning after our public meeting on the beach, and Driftwood Lodge had taken on that by now familiar chaotic atmosphere that was changeover day.

Campion Carmichael’s taxi had been booked to take him to the train station. He’d been in the house a few minutes ago to use the landline, yelling down the phone to some poor individual about something being ridiculous and appalling and he’d better see some action or else. Good riddance, I thought, leaning on the old stone wall and letting the steam from my tea warm my face.

I still hadn’t got to the bottom of why he wanted our lifeboat house. The lifeboat house, I reminded myself. Not mine. I’d be leaving Brightside Cove soon …

Anyway, back to the job in hand. A party of seven would-be mermaids, courtesy of Eliza’s new booming business, was arriving just after lunch; they would be staying in Penguin’s Pad and Kittiwake’s Cabin. It was only for a night, but the beds would all need changing and the cottages cleaning and I was here on my own at the moment.

Theo and Kate had disappeared at dawn to visit her parents in Birmingham to impart the good news that Team Fletcher was very much game-on and to show them the plans that Theo had drawn up to convert the garages into two studios. Meanwhile, a chimneysweep was blasting approximately one hundred years’ worth of soot out of Driftwood Lodge’s chimneys after Theo had admitted defeat and abandoned the job. Archie had gone to fetch Molly, who was on laundry duty for today’s changeovers, and I was attempting to tidy up.

The place was a mess and so was I, although most of my mess was internal and revolved around my career, my love life (ha), the new clues I’d picked up about the possible whereabouts of my father, and what to do about my promise to help Jude save the lifeboat house. Other than that my life was totally simple, not a care in the world …

The phone in the hall rang, breaking into my thoughts.

‘Brightside Holidays, Nina speaking.’

‘Hi, this is Sebastian.’

It was so unexpected that for a moment I was speechless.

‘Sebastian Nichols, the agent?’

‘Hello.’ I collected myself rapidly. ‘I hadn’t forgotten.’

I also hadn’t forgotten our last conversation. The one where I’d slammed the phone down shortly after informing him that he’d be the last person I’d turn to if I needed advice or something along those lines, which was kind of a shame, because I could really do with picking his brains now.

‘Sooo,’ he said. ‘I thought it was time for a catch-up.’

He started blabbing on about what an incredible coincidence it was that Maxine and Campion were staying at Driftwood Lodge and how he’d like to be a fly on the wall, quizzing me as to how that had transpired. He obviously had no idea about their fling years ago and I began to wonder where this was leading. At that moment, the chimneysweep’s assistant opened the living-room door and a cyclone of soot swirled out into the hall.

‘Sorry, Miss,’ he yelped, slamming it again.

‘So you’re well?’ Sebastian asked.

‘I’m knee deep in soot, actually,’ I replied, looking at the floor miserably.

Damn. The hall had been one of the only remaining clear areas. The kitchen was heaped with washing-up which I’d promised to do last night so that Kate and Theo could have an early night. As it turned out I’d stayed up late in Archie’s cottage listening to how brave Ellis had been when he’d had three stitches to mend his cut foot and what an amazing woman Molly was and how Archie was only now beginning to realize how much he’d missed out on due to being such a workaholic.

‘Soot? Is that a euphemism?’ Sebastian asked hesitantly.

‘If only. What can I do for you?’

‘I owe you an apology. Several, actually.’

‘I’m listening.’ I tucked the phone under my chin and picked my way across the layer of soot to the kitchen.

‘I watched the last few episodes of Victory Road, the ones where the storyline about you and the policeman were being developed. You created magic in those scenes, Nina. True magic. You shone. I made a big mistake not fighting for you to keep the part in Mary Queen of Scots. So I apologize for that and I apologize for begging the casting director to squeeze Cecily Carmichael into the casting session at the last minute. The thing is, I was dazzled, caught in her spotlight, and I made a severe error of judgement.’

Magic. He said I created magic.

I tackled the debris on the kitchen table while he waffled on about how he’d been desperate to secure Cecily on his books and she’d been desperate to appear in a period drama so he’d hooked her up with the casting director, Oscar, on the premise that she’d join Sebastian Nichols Talent if she was successful. It turned out Oscar owed her father a favour, so that was how she got the job.

So Cecily didn’t have star quality after all, she simply had an influential father. Lucky her. On balance I think I’d rather not have a father than one like Campion. Not that I was bothered any more. The whole Mary Queen of Scots thing was water under the bridge now. I was glad I hadn’t got the part, I thought, looking out to see two ducks splashing in a corner of the courtyard happily. I’d have missed all this. I’d never have come here, helped Theo get back together with Kate, set the holiday cottage business up, met Eliza, Molly or … Jude. I jolted myself out of my reverie, catching the tail end of Sebastian’s monologue.

‘… my inferiority complex, I suppose,’ he concluded miserably.

‘Your what?’ I spluttered, just about managing not to laugh. Sebastian had to be one of the most self-assured men I’d ever met.

There was an awkward silence down the line.

‘I created a persona for myself when I came to London. I come from Blackpool. My mum and dad run a newsagent’s shop. The only press contacts they have is the man who drops the newspapers off at six a.m. I’ve had to fight every step of the way to get where I have in the entertainment industry. When Cecily entered my orbit, I saw it as a way of climbing up another rung on the ladder of who-knows-who.’

‘But I’m sure you said … I thought …?’

‘You thought I was a posh boy with a public-school background?’ He sighed heavily. ‘It’s an illusion. It’s probably my own insecurities but I was convinced that no one would want an agent who’d spent their Saturdays delivering newspapers instead of competing in some sort of posh sports event at public school. So I pretended. It’s all rather tiring after a while. Sometimes all I want to do is escape back up north and have fish and chips on the pier and a pint of bitter at the Pump and Truncheon with my dad. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. The entertainment industry thrives under a thick veneer of glamour; I’ve completely blown mine now.’

And I never had one, I thought, scraping food into the bin and loading plates into the dishwasher.

‘You deserve an Oscar,’ I said. ‘I’d never have guessed. And I’m much more impressed by what you’ve achieved now I know the truth. I think a trip to your parents sounds wonderful and I bet they couldn’t be more proud of their son. And as for being a newspaper boy, I once read an article that said having a paper round as a child is one of the most valued jobs on anyone’s CV.’

‘Really?’ he said, sounding brighter.

‘Definitely. It takes discipline, dedication and commitment to do a crap job like that.’

‘Thanks for saying that.’ He paused. ‘Anyway, back to Cecily. She’s been dropped from Mary Queen of Scots. Officially they’ve written her out of it. But we all know the truth: she’s been axed. Too many mistakes, too many retakes, too many demands and – confidentially – too little talent.’

‘Oh poor thing,’ I said. Despite our history, I did feel for her; she must be gutted.

‘And her father has been on the phone this morning, demanding explanations, telling me to insist Cecily is put back in the show. Or else.’

That explained the conversation I’d overheard in the garden earlier. It must have been Sebastian on the other end of the line. I’d assumed Mr Carmichael was on the phone to the auctioneers complaining about the council’s decision to hear our proposal. But he wasn’t. Phew.

‘Oh that’s good!’ I exclaimed.

‘Hardly,’ Sebastian said, confused. ‘Of course, I’ll make the right noises, but I don’t hold out much hope. Cecily is more suited to reality TV than drama. I hate to ask, but if you get any chance to point this out to him, I’d be very grateful.’

I made a harrumphing sound. ‘I’m the last person he’d listen to.’

I briefly told him about the lifeboat house incident, which had ended with Campion being kicked in the privates by an old lady, laughed at by a mermaid and insulted by the world’s grumpiest shopkeeper.

‘No wonder he’s in such a foul mood,’ he said miserably. ‘Oh well, worth a try. Anyway, enough about my problems, as well as apologizing, I called to congratulate you. Is it true you’ve been offered a starring role in a new drama with Maxine Pearce?’

‘Gosh, word does travel fast. She only offered me the part yesterday.’

‘Congratulations. I heard the rumour this morning. You must be thrilled. I know actors who’d give a kidney to work with her. I don’t suppose—’ He cleared his throat shiftily. ‘Might she have a role for Cecily?’

‘No,’ I said firmly.

‘No, quite right.’ He sighed. ‘I’ll have to ease her into panto or something. But back to you: a vicar in the highlands, eh?’

I bit my lip. It was a fantastic opportunity. Everyone said so. Which was why I hadn’t dare voice my fears before now.

‘I know,’ I said quietly. ‘Twenty weeks of filming in Scotland. That’s a long time to be away from home.’

I was being ridiculous, I knew; I wasn’t even sure where home was. Trudy and I had had a long chat in bed last night via Facebook about my room in her flat. She’d fallen hotly in lust with Matt from Harrods’ carpet department and was already talking about moving him into my room and peeling off his underlay with her teeth.

‘So?’ He gave a dry laugh. ‘You don’t have a husband, or kids, or even a cat, unless I’ve missed something?’

He was right; I had nothing, no one, nowhere. I swallowed. ‘I’m being silly, it’s just a big step up from Nurse Elsie, that’s all.’

‘It’s called your big break,’ he said kindly. ‘Which you deserve. Maxine really wants you. Apparently she has even made script changes to accommodate you. It said on the SparkTV website she’s been working on revisions to the script while she’s been in Devon.’

This was news to me. ‘So it’s not all set in stone, then?’

‘I guess not. For example, your character, Charlie Mackenzie, was originally born and bred in Scotland. Maxine tweaked it to accommodate your English accent. So you’re of Scottish descent but brought up in England.’

‘That’s a relief.’ I could just about keep up a Scottish accent for a sentence or two but I doubted I could manage an entire series. ‘What else do you know?’

‘Nothing. But I will say this: get the best deal possible for yourself. It has to be right for you. She has tailored this part for you. Take advantage of that before you sign on the dotted line, and if you want me to look over your contract, as a favour, for old times’ sake, I will. You’re going to be a star, Nina, and I’m very proud.’

I ended the call on a high after that, his words ringing in my ears. If I was going to be a star, perhaps ‘T’, the mystery flowers sender, would be in touch again soon?

By eleven o’clock, Campion Carmichael had gone. Nobody had been sad to see him go, although we’d all like to have heard more about his plans for the boat house. Maxine had tried to wheedle it out of him, breaking off from her work briefly to watch him leave. The two of them had formed a truce of sorts and although she said they’d never be more than nodding acquaintances, she admitted to feeling glad she’d been able to lay old ghosts to rest. She’d disappeared back inside then with a flap of her cardigan and a request not to be disturbed.

Molly and Archie had been and gone with the laundry. The cottages were sparkling again and ready for the guests who’d be here in an hour or so. Maxine had graciously moved from our largest cottage, Penguin’s Pad, to Beaver’s Barn to give them more room and Archie had put his things in the back of his car, secretly hoping to wangle a night at Molly’s.

‘No chance,’ Molly had murmured to me when she spotted his holdall tucked behind the driver’s seat of the Range Rover. ‘Ellis is at home tonight. Archie is my first dabble since Steve, I can do without an audience.’

‘I’ll make up the sofa for him,’ I’d whispered back, thrilled that Archie had got as far as being dubbed a dabble by the feisty Molly.

The chimneysweeps had done a sterling job of cleaning up their mess and Driftwood Lodge was peaceful and soot-free once again. I baked some scones for the guests’ afternoon tea and called at Maxine’s new home, Beaver’s Barn, to deliver some. She was on the phone doing some sort of complicated three-way conference call, which was a shame; I was at a loose end. I really wanted company and if I was being honest, the person whose company I really craved was Jude’s. Would it look really desperate if I hung around on the beach for a while in the hope of bumping into him? What the hell, I thought, I’m an actress, I could feign surprise if required.

I kept my fingers crossed as I headed down to the beach along the zigzag path that cut through the gorse and I was rewarded with the sight of Mabel cavorting in the waves. I skirted the rocks, looking for Jude, and headed to the water’s edge and within seconds Mabel had homed in on me as a potential playmate and dropped a plastic bottle at my feet.

I ruffled her ears before throwing the bottle into the air and laughed as her eager paws kicked up wet sand at me.

‘Nina!’

I felt my heart twang; jogging towards me was Jude.

‘Hey! This is a nice surprise,’ I said. See: fantastic actress.

‘Look what fell into my possession!’ He held up a large metal object and came to a panting halt in front of me, his eyes shining with mischief.

‘Ned gave you the key to the boat shed?’

‘Yep, shall we?’

We fell into step and headed across the sand. Ned had given Jude the key yesterday so he could take some photos of the interior to get some trade estimates on the cost of renovations.

‘On the strict understanding that I don’t do anything he wouldn’t do once those doors are shut,’ Jude waggled his eyebrows. ‘Which judging by the colour Nora’s cheeks turned, doesn’t rule much out.’

A tiny bolt of lust shot through me. ‘Naughty man,’ I murmured vaguely.

Mabel flew past us, showering us with salt water, and leapt into the sea to catch the bottle that one of a group of surfers had thrown for her.

‘She’s having a whale of a time,’ I laughed.

‘We’re lucky here,’ Jude said. ‘She can run free on this beach all year round; most of the others insist on dogs being on leads from May to September.’

‘I suppose if tourism expanded in Brightside Cove then that rule might come in here too?’

‘I guess. Shame, though.’ He paused and cast his eyes across the bay. ‘This beach is probably my favourite place in the world and it’s certainly Mabel’s.’

I grinned at him. ‘Mine too.’