Summer Loves

With them both in town, it was going to be an interesting summer.

Chapter 4

The afternoon of the duck race was bright and sunny. Dora, used to the endless sunshine of California, rejoiced. Millie had explained she hoped for a good turnout, for Tessa and Ken’s sake. This new Arts Workshop was their latest venture and they were trying to raise money to renovate a venue in town. It seemed an excellent idea to Dora too. There had never been very much for kids to do in Berecombe. Boredom was one reason why Mike had got into trouble so much. Hopefully an arts centre would help other young people. She was all for it. And at least she didn’t have to dress up as a duck this time.

Checking out her reflection in her old bedroom at her parents’ house, she gave herself the once-over. Dora wasn’t a vain person, never had been, but years of living and working in the most image-conscious city on the west coast had made her able to view her looks objectively.

Still too thin, as her mother had pointed out this morning. Red hair, one of her distinguishing features as an actress, long and waving now it wasn’t being ruthlessly straightened by the studio’s hair department. Bluey-green eyes, which changed colour according to the light and pale, almost translucent, skin. The summer dress she’d chosen, patterned in greens and blues, suited her perfectly. It made her look tall and willowy, when in reality she was only average height. An expert at changing her appearance, today she was going for a demure vicar’s wife vibe. A wide-brimmed straw hat borrowed from her mother and her favourite sunglasses and she was ready.

She dropped her parents off in town and drove down Berecombe’s steep hill, turning off along the lane by the river to find somewhere to park. Concentrating, as she still wasn’t used to driving on the left, she squeezed the Mini into the only space available and followed the crowds to the start of the duck race.

There was a carnival atmosphere, families with small children clutching at balloons and ice creams ran along the riverbank, from where the ducks would be launched. It was fun, she decided. And very, very English. She manoeuvred her way through the crowd and found Millie and Tessa on the wide pebble beach on the bend of the river. A long meadow stretched down to the tree line of willows, which were shading the riverbank. It couldn’t have been more English.

‘Hi Dora, you’re just in time,’ Millie kissed her on the cheek. ‘Tessa’s so pleased you’ve agreed to start the race.’

‘All right, campers,’ Tessa yelled. ‘Last chance to buy a duck and then they’re off. Don’t forget the top prize is a voucher to spend at Millie Vanilla’s: Berecombe’s friendliest caff.’

‘What’s the second prize, Tessa,’ some wag called. ‘Two vouchers? Only joking!’

Dora looked around to see who the joker was – some middle-aged man – and caught sight of Mike standing high up on the meadow. He was with Phil and Kirstie and another man, tall and blonde. Before she could control it, her body reacted, as it always had, to Mike and she willed herself to turn back to Millie and Tessa. She could still feel Mike’s gaze burning into the back of her neck. ‘Insufferable man!’

‘Oh don’t worry your bones about him,’ Tessa said with a grin, misunderstanding her. ‘There’s always one and it’s usually him. I got him to buy thirty tickets, so he’s cracking out the jokes in revenge. Very witty, Dennis,’ she yelled to the man. ‘Now crawl off under your stone.’ She turned to Dora. ‘You ready?’

‘I’m not sure what to say.’

‘Just keep an eye on my boys and when they release the ducks, say the race has started. You’ll be fine, bab. No takers, then?’ Tessa yelled, once more to the crowd. ‘Right, I’ll hand over to our very own, home-grown Hollywood star, Theodora Bart!’

Dora glanced over to where Tessa’s three sons were standing knee deep in the middle of the river. As they held up sacks full of little plastic ducks, she took a deep breath, prepared to project and called out, ‘I declare this duck race well and truly started!’

She wasn’t sure what she expected. A casual stroll to the bridge, where the River Bere met the sea, maybe. She certainly hadn’t anticipated the mad dash of duck racers running along the riverbank, the squealing, the competitiveness.

As the ducks bobbed and meandered their way down the river, the crowd yelled with excitement and ran alongside. Dora let them go. The kitten heels she thought matched her floaty dress so perfectly proved themselves totally impractical. As she picked her way along the gravel beach, taking care to avoid the cowpats, she was left well behind by the crowd.

‘Ouch!’ Her heel caught on a piece of flint. She would have stumbled had it not been for a strong arm on her elbow.

‘Careful there, can’t have you going arse over tit in that rather lovely dress, can we?’

It would be him, wouldn’t it?

Mike picked up her sunglasses, which had flown off her face as she tripped. ‘Here you go. Undamaged.’ He peered at them and whistled. ‘Chanel. Nice. Just as well they’re in one piece, then.’

He was looking edible. Loose white shirt, scruffy faded denims and a red-and-white spotted scarf at his neck. It didn’t quite conceal the rugged chest exposed by the open buttons of his shirt. Dora’s mouth watered. He’d never been as well muscled at eighteen. His shoulders had been far narrower and he certainly hadn’t the thick covering of dark chest hair. She itched to trail her nails through it.

‘Dora? You’re staring.’

‘Am I?’ Snatching the glasses back, she put them on. There was a smear of dust on one lens but she didn’t bother cleaning them; she needed the protection – and not from the sunshine.

‘Can I walk with you to the finish line?’

She shrugged.

They followed the excited jumble of people, some of whom were paddling in the river, shrieking at the cold, in order to rescue their duck, lodged against a branch or rock.

They walked in silence, but eventually even Dora thought she was being ungracious. ‘Thank you,’ she said, at length.

‘You’re welcome.’

‘It’s been a while.’

‘Certainly has.’

Of course, he wouldn’t make this any less awkward, would he? She cast about for a subject matter with which to fill the silence. ‘Who was the blonde man with you? The one who was so impeccably dressed?’

Mike gave a knowing grin. ‘Thought you might notice him. Knows Phil slightly. Jed. Friend of Millie’s, apparently.’

‘That’s strange. She’s never mentioned him. Your friend Phil, he looks like a banker.’

‘Financier. He invests in pet projects I have going.’

‘So you have to keep him sweet, no matter how much a drunken boor he is.’

‘What a very Dora word.’ Mike laughed. ‘Boor! He’s actually a nice guy as long as he keeps off the scrumpy.’

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ Dora said sourly, then added, ‘Where’s the finish line?’ as her ridiculous shoes were beginning to pinch her toes. She never had to walk anywhere in LA.

‘Ken Tizzard’s at Bere Bridge. He and his team are catching the ducks before any get lost at sea.’

‘It’s mad.’ She stumbled and winced as her ankle turned over. Mike took her elbow again and his hand was hot on her bare skin.

‘But a great way of raising money for a good cause, don’t you think?’

She’d forgotten his ability to make her feel small-minded. ‘Of course,’ she replied coolly. God he smelled good. Had he always smelled like that? She couldn’t remember.

‘I’ve enjoyed The English Woman.’

‘Thank you.’ She was surprised. ‘You’re obviously a busy man, I’m amazed you have time for television.’

‘I don’t normally.’

‘Of course, you’re two seasons behind over here.’

‘Of course.’ Mike echoed her lofty tone. ‘But a friend sends me the streaming links so I’m up to date.’

‘Oh.’ He’d always had friends who supplied him with anything he wanted. ‘What did you think of it?’ She hated herself for being desperate enough to ask.

‘Yeah. Good. Usual American shouting-and-waving-hands-around style of acting but it’s tightly written. You’re wasted in it, though.’

She stopped. They’d nearly reached the old mill beyond which there was a proper path. The once-abandoned building had been restored and its grounds tidied up. It looked as if someone lived there now. She banished the image that sprang up of her and Mike kissing passionately in the shelter of the long grass that long, scorching summer so long ago. Before it had all gone sour. She remembered the feel of his generous lips on hers, his eager hands inching under her t-shirt. Their hot panting breath. The fact that they were in the open, barely concealed by the meadow grass, had made it all the more illicit and exciting. Her throat closed with lust. When she and Mike were together nothing else had seemed to exist.

‘You’re staring again, Dora. And looking flushed.’ Mike was looking at her intently.

Fuck. He remembered too. How could he not?

Dora tugged her brain back into the conversation. Flustered by memories, she went on the defensive. ‘It’s the network’s biggest-grossing show. I hardly think my time is wasted.’

‘Oh Dora, Dora. You know that’s not what I meant.’ Mike chuckled, a throaty sound, which took her straight back to when they’d shared his post-coital cigarette. She’d had to eat an entire packet of extra-strong mints before daring to go home. If Mum and Dad thought she’d been smoking, they’d have killed her. Still would.

‘I’ve got to go. I’m meeting my parents in town.’ She knew she was coming across as prissy but it was her only defence against the desire that was curling in her loins. For him. Always for him.

At the mention of her parents, Mike’s face closed.

Millie came running up to them. ‘Mikey, I mean Mike! You’ve won! One of your ducks came in first.’ She waved a piece of paper at him. ‘Here’s your voucher. I do a great afternoon tea if you fancy it. Maybe bring Dora?’

He turned to Dora, his blue eyes glittering. ‘Maybe I’ll just do just that.’

Chapter 5

Millie and Dora were sitting on the terrace of the Old Harbour Inn soaking up the last rays of sun.

‘Can’t believe we have to drink wine out of plastic cups,’ Dora moaned.

‘Health and safety,’ Millie murmured and topped up their glasses. ‘Still, the view alone makes up for it.’

She was right. the Old Harbour Inn was a little further west than the café and had views over to the beach on the other side of the harbour. It had the best view of the setting sun.

Dora sat back and inhaled the salty, vinegary, seaweedy smell of her youth. It was good to be home. ‘Do you remember when we thought an alco-pop was the height of sophistication?’

Millie giggled. ‘I think it was, back then.’ She swirled her wine around her glass before taking an appreciative sip. ‘Thank God things have changed a bit. Tessa’s really grateful for all your help, Dor.’

‘Not sure I did much but, bruises on my ducky bottom aside, I was glad to help out. Things all right between you two?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t know, you just don’t seem as close as you used to be.’ Dora tapped her nose. ‘Call it actor’s intuition.’

‘Well, we had a bit of a falling-out a few months ago.’

‘I knew there was something. What happened?’

Millie explained how Tessa had agreed to supply bread to the Blue Elephant café, Millie Vanilla’s biggest rival. ‘She’s back baking for me now, when she can. Blue Elephant are making it hard for her to get out of her contract,’ Millie sighed. ‘It’s a real pain. I’m still having to get some bread from Berringtons.’

‘Ooh Berringtons,’ Dora said. ‘Remember their lardy cake? And their ham rolls were good too. Standard lunch at sixth form, I seem to recall. Don’t tell me Berringtons have gone downhill.’

‘I never understood how you ate lardy cake every day for two years without putting on an ounce.’ Millie shook her head. ‘Their bread is fine for sandwiches but, with the new menu I’ve got, I need something a little more unusual. Tessa’s been developing some rosemary bread, which is wonderful, and her walnut bread is gorgeous. It’s just that she hardly has time to breathe, let alone make bread.’

Dora, starved of carbs for eight years, salivated. ‘But you two are okay now? You know she’s never been my bag, but I know she’s a good friend to you.’

Millie nodded. ‘The whole family has. They’re my sort of adopted family, I suppose.’ She stroked a sleeping Trevor’s silken tummy with a bare toe.

‘He’s gorgeous, Mil. I’d love a dog but –’ Dora was interrupted by a couple asking for an autograph.

‘I told my Lee it was you. It is Theodora Bart, isn’t it?’ the woman trilled. ‘We saw you at the duck race this afternoon.’ They insisted on a selfie and a chat and by the time they’d gone, most of the pub’s other drinkers were staring.

‘Do you mind if we go, Millie. It’ll only encourage others if we stay.’

‘Of course,’ Millie murmured, casting a regretful glance at the half-full bottle.

Dora followed her look. ‘We’ll take this with us, shall we? Find somewhere secluded on the beach and hide. Grab the glasses.’

Giggling they tripped across the cooling sand and sat where the wooden groyne met the path which ran in front of the beach huts. Sheltered under the lip of the concrete path, which ran parallel to the promenade, they were more or less hidden.

‘I feel about fifteen again,’ Millie giggled as she flopped down. ‘We always used to come here to gossip.’

‘Best thing is you can still see all of the beach. Perfect for spying. Refill please.’ Dora held out her glass.

‘Does that happen often?’

‘What?’

‘People asking you for autographs.’

‘Not so much over here, although it depends. Not often when I’m going incognito like tonight.’ Dora gestured to her enormous sunglasses and straw hat. ‘It’s just if one person recognises me it seems to spark others off. Half of them don’t even know who I am. They just assume I’m famous enough to warrant a signature and a selfie. Once a guy got me to sign his arm and then had a go at me as he was disappointed I wasn’t Bonnie Wright. You know, out of the Harry Potter films?’

Millie screwed up her eyes. ‘I suppose you do look a bit like her. Not really thought about that before. Cor, my bestie the celeb! Not really thought about that before either!’

‘Yes well,’ said Dora, evenly. ‘Just remember, I’m really only Dora Bartlett, who held your hair off your face when you were sick the first time you got bladdered. And listened to you wax lyrical about, oh, who was it?’

‘Rick.’

‘Oh yes, he of the floppy fringe, soulful brown eyes and poetic tendencies. Whatever happened to him?’

‘He went to Manchester to do electrical engineering. Living in Watford now. Everyone seems to leave here.’

Dora ignored her friend’s mournful tone. ‘Okaay. Living the dream, then.’

Millie snorted. She leaned against Dora. ‘I’ve missed you. I can never get hold of you when you’re in the States, you know.’

‘Yeah well, the schedule gets pretty crazy.’

‘It’s so good to have you back, Dor.’

‘Get off, you soppy mare. Never took much to get you drunk, did it?’ They watched as Trevor rolled on his back, wriggling into the sand, getting his golden-brown coat covered. Millie went suddenly rigid against her. ‘What is it, honeybun?’

‘Oh God. It’s him. He’s back. Jed’s back.’

Chapter 6

Millie pointed a wavering finger at a tall blonde man walking along the promenade. He vanished behind the beach huts only to reappear towards the harbour end of the prom.

Dora lowered her sunglasses to see better in the gathering dusk. ‘Oh, I saw him earlier at the duck race. He’s friends with one of Mike’s cronies. Some city type, I guess.’ She squinted at Jed’s disappearing form. ‘Mike said you knew him.’ She peered at Millie, who had gone white beneath her tan. ‘Come on, then, spill the goss.’

She filled Millie’s glass with the last of the wine and settled back against the groyne, a now snoring Trevor lying on her feet.

‘He’s a man I know. Knew. He came into the café in January and I fell for him.’

‘Don’t blame you, he’s gorgeous.’

Millie nodded. ‘Kind too. He paid for Daisy’s operation when Arthur couldn’t afford it.’

‘Daisy?’

‘Arthur Roulestone’s golden retriever.’

‘Ah. So why does the reappearance in Berecombe of this totally gorgeous, beautifully dressed, and apparently kind, man give you a nervous breakdown?’

‘Oh Dor. He’s the man I love. Will always love. But –’

‘But?’

‘He just happens to work for Blue Elephant.’

‘No shit!’

Millie nodded. ‘Or rather, as he was at pains to point out, he’s their management consultant or something. Or was. He’s stopped doing work for them now.’

Dora relaxed. ‘Not so bad, then.’

‘Not if you don’t count him overseeing the opening of the branch here and not telling me. The café which may yet put me well and truly out of business.’

‘Ouch.’ Dora finished her wine and crushed the plastic glass. ‘And it’s the not-telling you that really hurts?’

‘Yup.’ Millie stared gloomily into her wine. ‘That and the fact that he and I come from different worlds.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh, he travels the world, is never in one place longer than five minutes, skis, dives, has holidays in St Lucia. That sort of thing.’

‘Oh, that sort of thing.’ Dora sounded amused.

‘Don’t laugh!’

‘I wasn’t laughing, honey. It’s the sort of life I had until recently. It doesn’t stop us getting on, does it?’

‘Of course it doesn’t. But you’re not my lover, are you? And you’ll go away too at some point, won’t you? And I’ll still be here.’

‘It wasn’t like Millie to be self-pitying.’ Dora put an arm around her. ‘If he loved you, he’d give it all up, wouldn’t he? To be with you?’

‘What and live in Berecombe and run the café with me?’ Millie gave a hard laugh.

‘Maybe that’s what he’s looking for?’

‘He said once I was home to him,’ Millie said wistfully.

‘Well, there you go, honeybun.’

‘But I’d never be enough for him. I know I wouldn’t.’

Dora stared at her friend. It wasn’t like her to be defeatist either. ‘Millie, you’re one of the kindest, most generous people I know. And you’re beautiful.’ When Millie snorted derisively she added, ‘Yes, you are. You look just like Keira Knightley with added curves. And you’re brave. Far braver than me. I couldn’t have taken on what you did when your parents died. You know me, I’d collapse in a fit of the vapours.’

‘You did an awful lot of crying. I think you did my share too.’

‘Well, I loved them too, don’t forget.’

Millie let her head sink onto her friend’s shoulder. ‘Oh Dor, you’re such a good pal.’

‘Even though I have the temerity to go skiing and have been known to holiday in St Barts?’

‘Even that.’ Millie’s voice was slurred.

‘Good, there’s hope for me yet, then. I think, my lovely, we’d better get you home and to your bed.’ She picked up their discarded bags, the crumpled wine glasses and the bottle and put the loop of Trevor’s lead around her wrist. ‘Come on, my sandy boy. You need to go home too.’

As they meandered along the promenade, towards Millie’s flat, Dora’s mind was busy plotting how to get her best friend well and truly hooked up and back with the delectable Jed.

Chapter 7

‘It’s just one big social whirl in Berecombe nowadays, isn’t it?’ Dora slugged back her wine and surveyed the crowd milling about at the launch of the Arts Workshop.

‘Hello Dora. Standing on the edge of the party and looking superior as usual? Bit Mr Darcy, isn’t it?’

‘I really don’t have to make any effort at that, Mike.’ It came out more diva-ish than she meant. Whenever he came near she felt herself reduced to a stereotype. The truth was she was lonely and a bit self-conscious. Tessa and her husband Ken were the focus of everyone’s attention, something she was more used to being, and Millie was busy overseeing the catering. The venue they’d decided upon for the Workshop was an old youth club tucked away in a grimy part of town next to the tennis court and children’s playground. The interior was rundown and filthy. She felt distinctly uncomfortable and out of place and Mike’s presence wasn’t helping.

‘It’s hardly the sort of thing I’m used to.’ Whoa! Where had that come from? Was she channelling Scarlett O’Hara now?

‘No, I don’t suppose it is.’ Mike’s voice was dry. ‘I suppose it hasn’t occurred to you that you could use your celebrity status, however limited, to help them fundraise?’

She turned on her heel. ‘Putting aside the fact I already have, I don’t suppose you have either? Or is your celebrity status even more limited?’ She smiled archly and was pleased to see the barb hit home. There was a fascinating pulse beating at the base of his throat. Dora stared at him, a desire to either hit or kiss him warring. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. Oh, she definitely wanted to kiss him. Maybe to find out if it was as good as the memory. Mainly, to kiss him until she left him gasping for mercy. Deliberately and very slowly, she licked her lips and then looked him straight in the eye. He gave a sort of strangled gasp and she knew she’d won this round.

He blew out a breath, looking as if he longed to get away. From nowhere Kirstie appeared and claimed his arm. She gawped up at him, adoringly. ‘Darling, there are literally millions of people you need to meet.’ As if only just realising Dora’s presence, she added, ‘Oh hello again, Theodora.’ She gave a cat’s smile.

‘Kirstie.’ Dora looked from Mike to the girl. So this was how it was? She might have known. The disappointment felled her like a physical blow. How had she been so stupid?

Mike cleared his throat. ‘Dora, I’ll introduce you to Jed, shall I? Only be nice to him, he’s had his heart broken.’

‘Oh Mike, you silly boy. I’m sure Theodora will be lovely to Jed.’ Kirstie batted a hand at Mike’s arm. She turned a baleful gaze upon Dora. ‘Won’t you?’

‘I’ll try my best.’ Dora gave them her best celebrity mile-wide smile and was gratified to see both blink. She drank her wine down in one and gave the empty glass to Kirstie. ‘Put that somewhere, won’t you?’

‘Who is going to be nice to me?’ A deep, cultured voice sounded behind them.

‘Ah, Jed,’ said Mike. ‘Dora here is panting to meet you.’ Mike gave Dora an evil look and allowed himself to be led away by a sullen Kirstie.

In her head Dora stuck out a tongue at them. Then she pulled on a professional veneer and put out her hand. Jed. ‘How nice to meet you.’

‘Jeez, you’re Theodora Bart!’

‘This is very true.’

‘Sorry, did I just go all fan-girly?’

Dora laughed. ‘You did, rather.’

‘It’s just that I love The English Woman. I travel a lot so have to download it. Saved many a lonely night in a hotel room.’

‘I’m very gratified you like it. And it’s plain Dora when I’m here in Berecombe.’

Jed lifted a couple of fresh glasses from a tray being circulated by the Tizzards’ eldest son and passed one to her. ‘Then Dora it is.’ He clinked glasses with her. ‘It’s a complete pleasure to meet you.’

Dora drank the wine and observed him over her glass. A smooth operator, confident and assured; she’d met many like him. Expensive clothes and a permanent suntan, he was good-looking in a glossy blonde way. Not remotely her type, but she could see how he had dazzled poor Millie. For a second she very much hoped his heart had been thoroughly broken. Then remembered her pledge was to get these two together. Well, there was no time like the present.

‘So, I understand you know Millie?’