Chapter Three
On the Fifth Day of Christmas,
My True Love Gave to Me… (sing along now) Five Uuu-sed Towels
To Gemma’s relief, Matt clearly had no interest in sitting round the table drinking tea with the Lovelace family. He said something to Anna about needing to ‘go te’t mill’ in a passable Yorkshire accent, which drew an affectionate smile from his sister, and, without a further glance in the ladies’ direction, strolled out of the door he’d come through earlier.
‘Is your brother here until the wedding then, my lovely?’ Great-Aunt Dee addressed Anna as she approached the table.
‘He’s spending a few nights with us.’ Anna’s tone was warm. ‘But he’s going to be in Cornwall for several months. He’s taken the lease on Rivermills House.’
‘How interesting!’ Jean leaned forward. ‘Is this because of the studio?’
‘Yes.’ Anna sank into the seat beside Gemma, her happiness almost palpable. ‘He’s hoping the seclusion will inspire him.’
‘Is he an artist, then?’ He certainly didn’t look like one. Then Gemma pulled herself up. Who was she to assume what an artist should look like? Wouldn’t paint-stained overalls and a brush tucked behind the ear be a tad stereotypical?
‘He was in a band,’ Nicki said. ‘A few years ago.’
The queue of young women waiting for selfies suddenly made sense.
‘Matt’s a musician,’ Anna added, gathering plates from the table. ‘His old band is reuniting for a tour in the spring but, before they join him at Rivermills to rehearse, he’s keen to write some new music. The converted mill is a holiday let, but there’s this iconic recording studio beneath where some amazing albums have been made.’
Gemma liked the sound of it. ‘The perfect escape.’
‘It is. It’s set on a creek, pretty isolated.’ Anna added the last plate to her stack. ‘The only way in is a difficult route on foot through the woods, or by boat when the tide’s in.’
In spite of herself, Gemma was intrigued. She loved messing about on the water, but before she could indulge her curiosity, her aunt made moving noises.
‘Best be a-going, Anna. Let you get on. Mum needs to call on Cleggie, see how she’s faring.’
Nicki picked up her keys. ‘How is she since the op, Mrs L?’
‘Fair to middlin’.’ Great-Aunt Dee’s expression was uncharacteristically solemn. ‘Teks a while to heal when you’m our age, my lovely. Reminds me, mind. Jeannie – we’m best stop by the chemist. Cleggie asked for more of they incompetence pads.’
Nicki exchanged an amused look with Gemma. ‘I know a few people who could make use of those.’
Jean glanced at her watch. ‘We’ll go there now. I’m due over at the Lugger. I promised to help decorate the tree.’
Gemma checked her phone. Yes, definitely only 7 November. ‘Already?’
‘It’s never too early for Christmas in the cove, Gemma,’ Jean admonished, but with a kind smile.
By the time they all were ready to leave, Anna had loaded the dishwasher, and she walked over to meet them by the boot room door to say farewell.
‘What are you up to now, Gemma?’
‘Nothing much. Thought I’d go for a mooch round the village, see what’s changed since I last visited.’ It sounded about as exciting as it was.
‘You can come with me, if you want? I’m going into town too.’
To be honest, Gemma didn’t know what she wanted, but she accepted the invitation, walking over to stare out of the window while Anna gathered what she needed and went to say goodbye to the absent Oliver.
There was a large, Gothic-style house on the cliffs opposite Westerleigh Cottage, currently being battered by a strong wind, waves crashing against the rock face below. The house seemed unperturbed.
A sound caught Gemma’s attention, and she swung round as Matt returned to the room. He had the worn leather bag slung across his body and a guitar case in hand, which he laid aside as a dog scampered over to him. Sinking to his haunches, Matt gave the dog a vigorous rub, then straightened.
‘What breed is he?’ Gemma nodded towards the dog, who remained by Matt’s feet, staring slavishly up at him.
‘Not sure. They think Dougal’s a cockapoo of some sort.’
Matt walked over to the kitchen island and picked up a folder. Was he vaguely familiar? ‘Where’s Anna?’
‘Gone to speak to Oliver.’ Gemma crossed the room as he added the folder to his bag. ‘So what band were you in?’
‘BorderLine Beat.’
Blimey! They were huge years ago. Four youngsters, plucked from obscurity and thrust into the limelight, delivering several catchy hits.
‘No, don’t think I remember,’ Gemma mused, but Matt merely sent her a mocking look.
‘The old concussion again?’
Gemma assumed an innocent look. ‘You’ve no idea how handy it can be.’
Matt leaned back against the island, arms folded across his chest. ‘Surely you remember “This Little Christmas Song”?’
It was difficult to pretend about that one. It was one of her favourite Christmas tunes – after Mariah, of course – but he didn’t need to know that. Gemma was certain Matt’s ego was perfectly satiated.
‘I do,’ she said. ‘Wow!’
A frown creased Matt’s forehead. ‘Why “wow”?’
‘You look so… young.’
‘Meaning?’
‘How old were you when you were in the band?’
‘I was seventeen when we first formed.’
‘And together how many years?’
‘About five, then we split.’
‘Why was that?’
‘No idea.’
‘Really?’
The relief on Matt’s face when Anna came back was immense, and Gemma suppressed a twinge of guilt. Why did this man instantly raise her hackles?
After Matt left, she and Anna walked down the lane into the village, this time eschewing the ferry and taking the longer route, passing the cottages huddled by the bridge either side of the Lugger, its sign swinging in the wind, and crossing the river to enter the main part of the cove.
It was more sheltered by the harbour, and for a moment Gemma and Anna leaned on the wall and looked out across the water. All the pleasure boats normally moored there were stored in orderly fashion on dry land, their masts in serried ranks.
For some reason – and much against her inclination – Matt remained on Gemma’s mind.
‘So how is your brother getting to the mill? Walking or boat?’
Anna laughed. ‘Matt’s never steered a boat. He usually walks, but Peggy – she’s the property manager, lives upstream in Polwelyn – will take him up there today.’
‘I saw him on the train, but he didn’t have a guitar case.’
‘He dropped a lot of things here last week, but he’s left his car in Hampshire this time. It’s not like he can use it to get to the creek, and when I’ve got guests there’s no room for it.’
Gemma enjoyed spending time with Anna. She was warm and friendly and clearly extremely popular with the locals, which made progress rather slow.
‘I forget about the pace of life here.’
‘It must be even quieter up at Potter’s Meadow.’
Gemma smiled faintly as they made their way along the street. ‘It’s okay. I’m not sure how I’ll feel in a week or two, though. That’s as long as I ever stayed, and never at this time of year.’
‘I used to come here every summer when I was in school. I missed it dreadfully when I had to be an adult and work instead!’ Anna pointed across the road to a smart cafe. ‘Can you fit in another coffee?’
They took seats by the window in the café, Karma, watching three people try to manhandle a huge tree into the hole created to support the annual addition to Polkerran’s harbour front.
‘We’ve got the big lights switch-on soon.’ Anna stirred the top of her cappuccino, blending the chocolate sprinklings with the froth. ‘And a few weeks later, the Christmas fayre. I tried to persuade Matt to do a solo spot – we always have music – but he’s been non-committal so far.’
‘Is he trying to keep a low profile?’
Anna looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘I’m not sure.’ She sent Gemma a sheepish look. ‘We’ve only been in each other’s lives for eighteen months.’
Gemma blinked. ‘Wow!’
‘It’s a long story.’
With a laugh, Gemma picked up her mug of coffee. ‘I’ve got time if you have.’
She listened with deepening interest to Anna’s tale, how she and Matt – born Alistair – had been separated when very young (neither had had any memory of having a sibling) after their parents died in a car crash. Anna – barely six months old at the time – had been raised by an older, distant cousin who wasn’t prepared to take on two little ones, so Matt had been adopted. Anna had discovered his existence by chance the previous year, tracked him down, and their relationship had finally been able to start.
No wonder she dotes on him…
Discomfort swirled through Gemma. Why was she so negative about a man she barely knew? It wasn’t her nature. Had the accident knocked something off-kilter?
They parted company after their coffee, and Gemma made her way back up the hill, feeling the strain on her leg at the incline.
She paused as she turned in to Potter’s Meadow to rub her aching calf muscle, her gaze then moving over the rooftops to the steel-grey sea, taking in the arms of land protecting the cove. Although the lack of a passport felt frustrating, she knew she was in no condition yet to resume her travelling, but Polkerran in winter felt like a trap from which there was no immediate escape.
Gemma loved her aunts, but how many quiet evenings by the fire could she endure?
A few days later, Jean placed a plate of toast on the table, and Gemma took a piece, picking up the pack of Flora, dipping her knife in and slathering an unhealthy number of calories onto the slice.
‘What will you do with yourself today, lovely?’
Same as yesterday, same as the day before… It already felt like Gemma had been in Polkerran for a month. How was she going to last until January? ‘Not sure, Auntie Jay.’
‘Why don’t you take the train to Truro? You could do the shops, replace some of your lost wardrobe?’
Gemma raised the toast to her mouth. ‘I’m trying not to dip into my savings right now.’
She watched her aunt drying cutlery. Jean ran the village ice cream shop in season but seemed to have all manner of jobs at this time of year, from covering reception at the posh hotel at the top of the hill to delivering home tutoring for some of the local children. When she wasn’t out, she indulged her hobby of making small items of silver jewellery incorporating sea glass salvaged from Cornish beaches.
‘I need something to do with my time.’ Gemma’s gaze went inadvertently to the clock. ‘I started a travelogue but I lost my notebooks in the fire.’
‘Can’t you use your photos as a prompt?’
A flicker of interest shot through Gemma – she’d taken hundreds in those first weeks – and she grabbed her phone. ‘I made some notes too. Yes, here they are. Thank you, Cloud, wherever you are!’ She blew a kiss at the ceiling, fizzing with excitement. All she needed was somewhere quiet and a bit of space to get it all down on the new laptop.
She looked around the small kitchen. There was always the table, she supposed, but not if Jean was cooking or making her jewellery. There was no space in the tiny bedroom; but, now the seed had been planted, Gemma wasn’t going to give up. She’d visit the little bookshop, where they also sold stationery. For some reason, she’d always loved to write longhand rather than type. She’d been more devastated by the loss of her notebooks than that of her credit cards, which were so easily replaced.
‘I’m heading into town,’ she mumbled through the last mouthful of toast. ‘See you later.’
Clutching the paper bag containing her precious purchases, Gemma walked along the harbour front, pausing outside a vacant shop to read the planning application attached to a nearby lamp post.
‘Hey.’
With a smile, she greeted Anna. ‘This used to be a souvenir shop when I was a kid. I spent a ridiculous amount of pocket money here over the years.’
Anna laughed as they fell into step together. ‘Me too. Someone’s put in for a change of use to a restaurant.’
They continued along the street until they arrived at the bottom of the hill leading up to Potter’s Meadow.
‘So, how’re things going?’
‘Oh, you know.’ Gemma shrugged, and Anna’s brow creased.
‘It’s not your head?’
‘No. I hate saying it, but I’m bored. I wondered if there might be a part-time job going somewhere. Cafe? Bar? The hotel? It wouldn’t hurt to top up my savings, and I need to pay my way at Auntie Jay’s.’ She raised the bag still clutched to her chest. ‘I’m hoping to get a bit of writing done, retrospective travel journal, only there’s nowhere quite right at my aunt’s.’
‘Do you want to come home with me? I needed a few supplies for the B&B but I’m heading back for a bit of lunch. Oliver’s in London, so I could use the company.’
Gemma willingly fell into step with Anna, and they chatted about this and that and were soon at Westerleigh Cottage.
An hour later, Gemma laid her cutlery aside, then used a finger to scoop up a last bit of sauce, licking it with a dreamy expression on her face. ‘This is so tasty.’
‘Shall I give you the recipe?’
Before Gemma could confess to being as much use to the culinary arts as her Great-Aunt Dee was to the English language, the boot room door opened and Matt came in.
‘What are you doing here?’ Anna’s surprise was evident.
He walked over to the table in the window. ‘What sort of welcome is that to your long-lost brother?’
Anna rolled her eyes as he hugged her. ‘You have to stop playing that card. You haven’t been long-lost for over a year now. How come you’ve left your creekside haven?’
Matt dropped into the chair opposite Gemma, and she tried not to find him a little bit adorable as he turned pleading hazel eyes on his sister.
‘I’ve had to trudge up through those damn woods. Can’t you come and stay? If you were there to look after me, I’d be able to lose myself in what I’m doing. I’m out of towels.’
‘There are five fully equipped bathrooms, Matty.’
‘And I’ve been there five nights!’
‘It’s not a hotel. You can’t drop the towels in the bath and expect them to be fresh the next day. Ask Peggy for instructions on how to use the washing machine.’ Anna was clearly amused and trying not to show it, and Gemma held back her own smile.
‘I’m low on loo roll, too. And I haven’t worked out how to use the dishwasher. Not that I’ve cooked much. I’m living on raw food, Anna.’
His voice was pleading, but Gemma couldn’t help it. She laughed.
Matt seemed to realise she was there and glared across the table. ‘It’s not funny! I took this lease so I could do nothing but focus on… things.’
‘Matty.’ Anna’s voice was soothing, and he threw Gemma one last look before resuming his puppy-dog expression. ‘I have a business to run here, plus I’m not leaving Oliver to look after you. You chose to go out there, knowing how remote it was. You have to make it work.’
His head dropped into his hands and Gemma resisted the urge to kick him under the table. ‘Can’t you cook for me every week? I could freeze some of the meals?’
‘No, I can’t.’ Anna spoke firmly, though she winked at Gemma. ‘I’m too busy with my wedding preparations.’
Gemma suspected Anna could have found time if she wanted to, but for some reason she seemed to feel the need to teach her brother a lesson – albeit in her own gentle way.
‘What you need, Matty, is a live-in housekeeper. Can you afford one?’
Matt looked offended. ‘Of course I can! I’ve got one at home in Hampshire, only she refused to come with me. Said she doesn’t like water.’ Then his demeanour brightened. ‘You know everyone, Anna, can’t you find me someone quickly?’
‘Your wish is my command.’ Anna turned her hazel eyes on Gemma, whose skin suddenly felt alarmingly hot. ‘How do you feel about being a live-in housekeeper for my brother?’