Chapter Twenty-One
I’m Dreaming of a Creekside Christmas
After her two days in Polkerran Point, Gemma sent Matt a message to see what time he wanted her to meet him on the quay, reminding him of the possible window, but he didn’t reply.
Frustrated, she stayed up in her bedroom trying to write up some more travel notes, but she wasn’t in the mood and, closing the laptop, she lay back on the pillows and opened Instagram.
Unsurprisingly, Harry hadn’t responded to any of her comments on his recent posts, but he had posted a story, and she watched it through. Oddly, she felt a pang for him. Whatever had gone on with his wife, he was clearly hurting – if that was what the series of images, ending with a broken heart, meant.
She moved on to Matt’s account, but he hadn’t posted in ages, the last image being the tour announcement. Scrolling through the hundreds of comments, it was clear to her from more recent ones the fans were split between devastation at his no longer being part of it and annoyance, with several claiming they’d never have bought a ticket if it wasn’t going to be the full band.
Nothing had provoked a response from Matt.
Gemma glanced at the time and whizzed him another message.
If you won’t be here in time to catch the tide, you’ll have to stay
at Anna’s, and I’ll fetch you tomorrow.
An almost instant response came back:
I’ll see you back at Rivermills.
With a sigh, Gemma dropped the phone onto the bed. Did that mean today? Tomorrow?
‘Too many questions,’ she said to the ceiling. ‘And don’t tell me not to worry, because I do!’
A bit too much , her mind whispered. Isn’t this becoming more than a professional interest in your employer?
‘Shut up.’ Gemma rolled off the bed and stood up. Time to carry her things down to the boat and get back home.
By the time Gemma had the fire going and had ferried her Christmas gift purchases up to her room, dusk was falling.
There had been no further messages from Matt, not even a response to asking how he planned to get back and did he want any supper.
There were a couple of meal options in the freezer if need be, and, if he didn’t come back, Gemma would make do with a packet of chocolate biscuits.
The Muppet Christmas Carol was playing on an obscure channel, and, as it was her favourite festive film, Gemma lowered all the blinds and shut the curtains, added another log to the fire and curled up in one of the comfy leather armchairs, a throw over her lap and the laptop open as she half-watched the film and tried to do some online shopping for gifts for her parents.
Gemma was so enjoying duetting with Kermit to ‘One More Sleep ’til Christmas’, she let out a shriek when the hallway door opened to reveal Matt.
Ignoring how her heart leapt, she scrabbled to her feet. ‘How did you get here? I didn’t hear anything.’
Matt dropped his bags beside one of the other chairs and began to remove his thick coat. ‘I’m not surprised, with you making that racket. I was talking to Seb in the Lugger last time we were over. He said someone called Billy Two Feet had one of those dory boats you mentioned. The flat-bottomed ones that can enter the creek later than Elsie .’
Gemma checked her phone, trying not to notice the warmth permeating her skin at his first use of their boat’s name.
‘You must have cut it fine.’
‘Billy pulled the engine and used a paddle to get to the far part of the lawn.’ He gestured back towards the entrance to the creek. ‘I’m going to get changed.’
Matt had admitted to eating on the train, so Gemma made coffee and brought a plate of mince pies out, eschewing the biscuits for another day.
He was uncommunicative, even by his standards, the remote in his hand as he mindlessly flicked from channel to channel, watching something for two minutes then moving on.
Gemma viewed Matt’s figure from across the coffee table. His shoulders were rigid, his grip on the remote tight. She desperately wanted to ask about the trip – what it had been for, who had he seen and why, was it connected to the band? Something else? The mysterious Bella he’d been on the phone to? But how to open a conversation with the back of someone’s head?
‘Stop staring at me.’
With a start, Gemma averted her gaze, then peeped over. Matt had swivelled in his chair to face her.
‘Sorry.’
‘Is there something you want to say? Anything I need to know?’ He looked around the room. ‘No kitchen disasters in my absence? More trees through the roof?’
‘I’d rather you said something.’ Gemma picked up her mug, taking comfort from the warmth against her skin. His demeanour wasn’t obliging, but hey, it was worth a try.
Matt didn’t respond, taking a sip of his own coffee.
‘Please, Matt. I want to help.’
‘There’s nothing you can do.’
‘I can listen. Sometimes it helps to talk things out. You can trust me.’
Matt’s gaze was assessing for a moment. ‘I know.’
‘So what happened in London? Did you try to see Harry again? Was that why you went?’
‘No. I went Christmas shopping.’
Gemma sent him a stern look.
‘Okay, okay. I wanted to see Jonno. He’s literally in a hole right now. Financial problems.’ Matt shook his head. ‘You don’t want to know. It’s not the drink this time.’ His tone was defensive.
‘I know. You told me, he’s clean.’
‘Jonno came out of the band as well off as the rest of us, but he made some unwise decisions when he wasn’t quite himself. Lost it all. He still gets the annual royalties, and that’s no drop in the ocean, but he’s maintaining two households and his confidence is shot. Going back on tour was going to give him an injection of funds and I’d hoped – with support – he’d get his mojo back. I’m worried about how he’ll cope with the pressure. I was going to be there to make sure he was okay. Now…’ Matt pursed his lips. ‘Jake – he’s our manager – is a bundle of nerves, and it’s stoking Jonno’s fear. He says ticket sales have stalled since news of the split came out. Harry is no support, it’s all about him, and, although Jonno and Roddy have told him to sort things out, he’s told them to cut all contact with me or they’re out too. So be it. If he doesn’t have faith in me, then he’s no loss.’
‘Except it hurts – the lack of trust.’
Matt lowered his head. ‘We were like brothers once. I thought our bond unbreakable, despite going our own ways.’
‘The trouble is, he thinks you’ve broken it. And the tour… you’re worried about Jonny coping if you’re not there?’
‘He’ll fall back into drinking, I know he will. Harry thinks Jonno’s susceptibility is a source of amusement. He torments him, always has.’
He’s tormented you too, if you could only see it. He’s a mind abuser.
‘This is why you signed up for the tour. For Jonny. And now—’
‘I’m worried sick it will finish him. His second marriage is now rocky with all this financial mess he’s got them into. He adores Bryony. If she leaves him, takes the baby… he’s already lost his other kids.’
‘So if there was a way, would you rejoin the tour?’
Matt said nothing, his face darkening. ‘Harry has his head in the sand, as usual. Without a ginormous spade, I’m unlikely to be able to dig it out.’
Determined to redouble her efforts to connect with Harry, Gemma hesitated, then spoke tentatively.
‘Is there something else, Matt?’
‘Persistent, aren’t you?’
‘Sorry, but I’m not giving up on trying to help you yet.’
‘Well, you can’t help with the Harry situation, and you definitely can’t do anything about…’ His voice tailed away and Gemma’s heart melted faster than a chocolate penguin on a hotplate. He looked completely at a loss.
Walking over, she cautioned her traitorous heart to behave and sank down on the sofa beside him. She longed to take his hand, but that would be a step too far. There were, after all, boundaries.
‘Try me.’
Matt folded his arms across his chest, his mouth in a stubborn line, but Gemma’s lips twitched.
‘Come on, don’t play the sulky little boy with me. You can’t pretend aloofness with someone who’s had to wash your undies.’
A reciprocal twitch came, and his mouth softened as he turned his gaze to her.
‘Persistent, like I said.’
‘What could be so bad?’
Unfolding his arms, Matt leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together. ‘I was doing something to make me feel more worthy of being Anna’s brother.’
Gemma blinked. Anna adored Matt beyond any fault he might have! How could he not see it? Her lips parted, but he forestalled her.
‘Don’t. Can you imagine what it’s like, to be blessed with that kind of unconditional, unquestioning love? When Anna gives her heart to someone, she does wholly and fully.’ He pulled a face. ‘That’s why that obnoxious cousin of hers had the ability to hurt her so much.’
‘I would have thought it was a joy.’
He shook his head. ‘Anna’s well educated, and especially mad about history.’
‘And historians,’ Gemma said with an impish look, and was rewarded by a faint smile in return.
‘She’s intelligent and well read,’ Matt continued. ‘All the things I’m not.’
‘For goodness’ sake, Matt! You’re as bright as the next person. You were self-taught, and you found success from a young age through sheer talent and hard work. You came from nowhere, with little formal education, and you showed everyone.’
Matt snorted. ‘You forget I can’t hold a note.’
‘Rubbish. I’m not convinced taking Harry’s word on anything is wise. Your musical ability is unquestionable. Think of all you’ve achieved. How you’ve given your parents – and yourself – financial security forever.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. I’m not ungrateful, and I understand the privilege of my life, but having wealth feels shallow compared to simpler things.’
‘There are quite a few who’d like life to be less complicated where money’s concerned,’ Gemma said gently.
Matt let out a long breath. ‘I get it.’ He ran a hand through his hair, and she longed to be able to smooth it. To soothe him; but Matt continued. ‘I’ve lost my way over the years. Idled them away. What’s my purpose? Where am I going with my life? When the tour idea came up, not long after I found out about Anna, it seemed as though change was finally coming. I had a reason for doing things. It’s why I decided to try… only now it’s all slipping away.’
His voice faded as his head lowered, and Gemma clenched her fist so as not to place the hand on his exposed neck.
‘So?’ She tried to regroup. ‘To go back, what was it you tried to do to impress Anna?’
Matt heaved a breath, then got to his feet to fetch the well-worn leather bag, digging inside for his laptop and opening it on the coffee table.
‘This.’
Gemma scanned the display – some sort of dashboard – then narrowed her gaze as she took in the name of the website.
‘You’ve been studying. That’s what you’ve been doing all this time, in the studio.’
‘Well done, Sherlock. This’ – Matt opened a document – ‘was my last assignment. I’d struggled so hard with it, despite masses of support from Oliver lately, who’s never let on to Anna, and from Bella. She’s my online support tutor,’ he added, and Gemma tried to ignore the wash of relief at discovering her identity. ‘It was due in the morning we went over for the lights switch-on, so I’d asked if I could have a twenty-four-hour extension. I’d not taken my laptop and I can’t access this software without it – it’s where I have to upload the course work – so, when we got delayed, I had to beg hard for another few hours. It’s why I had to get back, regardless of the tide.’
Gemma flopped back against the sofa, her mind fleeing back to that morning, to Matt’s evident stress and desperate desire to reach Rivermills.
He closed the laptop. ‘Wish I hadn’t bothered.’
Ah.
‘Bad result?’
‘D. The exam is in January – I have to go to the nearest centre to sit it – and I’m not ready. I’ve failed again.’ His head fell into his hands, and this time Gemma edged a bit closer.
‘Matt?’ She spoke softly, then, summoning courage from somewhere, took his hands in hers and tugged.
He raised his head, his dark eyes tortured, and she squeezed both hands before releasing them.
‘What subject was it?’
‘A level history. I thought it would make Anna happy, and it seemed to impress Oliver. I finally felt like we’d found some common ground.’
Bless him. Tears pricked Gemma’s eyes, and she sniffed. ‘I’m sorry. Can you not change subject to something you’d enjoy?’
‘Like what?’
‘Music?’ she hazarded. ‘You’d probably hate any other academic subject as much as you do the current one. You do know neither Anna nor Oliver will care it isn’t history? I mean, your sister can’t play an instrument can she, but I bet that doesn’t lower her in your estimation. We don’t all have to love the same things. It would be a pretty boring world if we did.’
For a moment, Matt’s hazel eyes held Gemma’s. Were they warm, or was that wishful thinking?
‘You’re right,’ he said slowly, his gaze still on her. ‘Boring as hell.’
Heat began to creep across Gemma’s neck, and she swallowed carefully.
Then, Matt smiled faintly, breaking the look and spinning the laptop round. ‘Come on then, help me choose a subject to switch to, and I’ll call Bella in the morning and tell her I’m done with history.’ He paused, flexing his shoulders. ‘Bleddy hell, as the locals say. I feel like a ton weight’s been lifted off my shoulders. I could kiss you.’ He grinned at her. ‘But don’t worry, I won’t.’
Damn , Gemma intoned silently . Must try harder.