Chapter Twenty-Nine
Floating Home for Christmas,
We’ve Got Seagulls All Around
Matt didn’t emerge until nearly midday, by which time Gemma had switched off all the lights and was already tugging on her boots.
‘Come on, slowcoach,’ she urged him as he made for the coffee machine. ‘We need to go now, before the tide turns.’
‘I need caffeine!’
Gemma made soothing noises. ‘Anna will have coffee poured before you’ve taken your coat off.’
Muttering under his breath, Matt shrugged into the thick coat she insisted he wear on the water, and she ushered him out to the boat with his overnight bag and the habitual laptop slung across his body.
Freezing fog hung over the river as they emerged from the creek, but visibility was sufficient for Gemma to navigate safely. There wasn’t much to see as the banks on both sides were draped in misty tendrils from about two feet above water level, and Matt stared ahead, saying nothing.
Gemma studied him covertly, then fished in her pocket. This would surely get a reaction.
She donned her Christmas headband, replete with perky antlers adorned with small bells, then hit play on a preselected tune.
‘You’re kidding me!’
Matt’s head spun in Gemma’s direction, but she faced forward, assuming innocence.
‘What?’
A huff of breath. A small laugh.
Gemma smiled to herself as Chris Rea’s Christmas classic drifted across the dark-green water of the River Polwey. Now it really did feel like Christmas Eve!
Emerging from beneath the bridge spanning the river, Gemma skirted the harbour and turned the little boat towards the small jetty near where the passenger ferry picked up on the quieter side of the bay.
Once the boat was tied up, Matt bounded onto the jetty, then took the bags one by one from Gemma, loading himself up.
‘You can’t carry everything.’
‘I can. You go on ahead and get Anna to brew that coffee.’
Doing as she was bid, Gemma sped along the lane, pausing once to see how Matt was doing. He’d stopped to take yet another call, the mobile pressed to his ear. Was it Sophia again? She seemed incredibly demanding, yet Matt took all her calls with a warmth and enthusiasm he didn’t extend to others.
Gemma’s mood dipped, and she whipped off the festive headband and stowed it in her bag.
Enticing smells emanated from an open window as she approached the door to the boot room at Westerleigh, and the sound of Christmas carols drifted out into the chilly air.
‘Come in, come in!’ Anna enveloped Gemma in a warm hug as soon as she entered the kitchen.
‘Matt’s bringing the bags. He’s desperate for coffee. I wouldn’t let him have one before we left because he got up late.’
‘Harsh but fair. You’ll be a great parent one day, Gemma.’ Oliver put aside the knife he’d been using and came over to greet her, then walked to the door.
‘I’ll give him a hand. It’s a reprieve from the sous-chef duties.’
‘I’ll show you to your room.’
Gemma could barely contain her excitement as Anna closed the bedroom door, and she turned to survey the room she’d been allocated. Matt was next door in what used to be Aunt Meg’s room, but this was the one Anna used to stay in as a child on her annual summer visits.
She walked over to admire the view from the window. The heavy frost remained on the steep hillsides encircling Polkerran, turning everything vaguely white and, if Gemma narrowed her eyes and peered through her lashes, as snow-like as she could have wished for.
The thin coating clung to the bare branches of the trees behind Harbourwatch, gave the lighthouse a cosy cap and even, in more exposed places, left a sprinkle on some of the cliff surfaces, as though someone had taken a sugar shaker to them.
With a contented sigh, Gemma unpacked her bag, before sinking onto the bed and bouncing up and down a few times. Then, she tugged her phone from her pocket and called her mum, intent on thanking her for the necklace, eager to find out how she’d found one so similar, but it went to voicemail. Leaving a message, Gemma was about to put her phone in her pocket when she spotted a notification from Instagram.
Almost quivering as she registered Harry’s name, Gemma opened the message. It wasn’t brief this time, and she typed a response, anticipation coursing through her veins as she hurried back downstairs, just as Oliver ferried an urn of soup over to the table.
Lunch was fun. Even Matt seemed relaxed, and tucked into the food with a relish Gemma had rarely seen in him, and she exchanged a contented smile with Anna as she helped clear the table.
They went for a long walk then, with Dougal trotting beside them, along the coast path above Westerleigh, where Anna pointed out an impressive modern house perched on the cliffs, explaining that it was called The Lookout and was the property she’d mentioned to Gemma once as belonging to Daniel and Lauren.
They walked in pairs down to the nearest tidal beach, where Dougal played cat and mouse with the wavelets rolling onto the wet sand. Gemma longed to know what Oliver and Matt were talking about – it seemed a quite in-depth conversation – but she was soon distracted by Anna’s chatter about the upcoming wedding.
Afterwards they walked down to the Lugger, which was packed with both locals and holidaymakers down for the season, and enjoyed a couple of drinks before making their way back to the cottage.
Matt took on the role of stoking the log burner as Oliver attended to the lamps, and Gemma helped prepare the vegetables for dinner before being shooed out of the kitchen. The men had disappeared and, taking the opportunity, she retreated to her room to call home again.
Barely five minutes later, Gemma ended the call, the phone falling to the bed as she slowly stood and walked to the window, only it had dropped dark and this time she saw nothing but her own reflection.
Her heart pounded as something she couldn’t quite identify surged through her body. What on earth was going on?
Stuffing her feet into slippers, she fled from the room, only to stop suddenly outside the door to Matt’s room. There was no sound, but she knocked anyway.
‘Matt? Are you in there?’
Nothing. Gemma drew in a short breath. Her heart had calmed a little, but her stomach performed a strange little dance as she headed for the stairs, and she grasped her midriff. ‘Shhh!’
Anna was alone in the kitchen. ‘Hey,’ she called from by the range, stirring something in a large saucepan. ‘Good timing. Ten minutes until dinner.’
‘Can I do anything?’
‘All done.’ Anna beamed as she waved a hand towards the window. ‘Oliver’s a dab hand at laying tables. Talking of which, can you go and round them both up? They’re in the den.’
Gemma shivered as she crossed the lawn, her boots crunching on the grass, but, before she could head up the steps to Oliver’s den, he came down them.
‘Dinner is about ready.’ Gemma frowned. ‘Where’s Matt?’
‘Just finishing something off for me.’
Perfect.
‘I’ll let him know to not be long.’
Oliver headed into the house, and Gemma went up the stone steps, pausing outside the door to gather her wits. What exactly was she going to say?
Matt sat at Oliver’s desk. There were papers spread across it, some of which looked like financial statements, and he held a detailed printout of something.
Frowning, he lowered the sheet. ‘What’s up?’ He seemed to detect Gemma’s interest in the paperwork, and hastily pulled a leather blotter over the top.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I wanted to talk to you. To thank you. For the necklace.’
Matt’s shoulders rose and fell. ‘Saw it and thought of you, what can I say?’
Emotion grasped her throat. Did he have no clue how much that simple statement meant? Gemma took a tentative step towards him. She could feel tears welling. ‘I hardly know what to say.’
‘That makes a change.’ Matt’s lips twitched as he got to his feet, and Gemma emitted a watery laugh.
‘I’m moved, incredibly touched.’ She drew in a short breath. ‘It’s so pretty, almost identical to the one I lost.’
Matt looked hesitant, then said, ‘I collected it from the dealer when I went up to London. I’d been scouring the online auctions, but wasn’t sure on the detail, so I—’
‘Spoke to my aunt.’
He shrugged again. ‘I thought she might recall it – which she did – but, even better, she got a photo from your mum – of you, actually, wearing it.’
‘Oh!’
Gemma knew exactly the one. It was the only time she’d worn it. She drew in a short breath. ‘Thank you. Honestly, I love it. Why did you do it that way?’
Matt shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. ‘I could tell how much the treasure hunt tradition meant to you. Besides, I wasn’t sure if you’d be… emotional. No one likes an audience at times like that.’
Very astute.
Gemma bit her lip. What should she do about Harry’s message?
Matt, however, continued. ‘And I had a vague impression you love Christmas. Tears on the big day wouldn’t be the best gift.’
The full impact of what Matt had done was sinking in, and, if ever Gemma had understood the phrase ‘heart full’, it was now. Before she could caution herself out of it, she walked over and reached up to kiss Matt’s cheek, then turned on her heel.
‘Dinner’s on the table in five,’ she added over her shoulder. ‘Don’t be late.’
I’ll be there when I’ve fixed my mascara…
The evening passed in a whirl. The delicious meal of lobster bisque, pan-seared sea bass with sides, followed by Anna’s scrumptious take on a tiramisu was consumed as they talked a little about the wedding. Post-dinner, they relaxed in front of the log burner, interrupted occasionally by people popping in for a Christmas drink, including Anna’s friend Lauren and her partner Daniel, who’d arrived at The Lookout for Christmas with Lauren’s parents, who were currently babysitting Amelia.
‘I thought it was more usual to have people for drinks before you sit down to eat,’ Gemma said quietly to Anna as they filled a platter with mince pies, eyeing several neighbours whom she’d never met before.
Anna threw her an amused look. ‘And I thought you’d been long enough in the cove to realise it has its own traditions.’ She opened a second container and removed an iced Christmas cake, placing it on a stand and picking it up. ‘We fell for that last year, couldn’t get rid of anyone, so ended up sharing our supper with them all.’
Gemma followed Anna over to the coffee table with the mince pies. Fair enough!
They all retired upstairs shortly before midnight, but Gemma felt wide awake, torn over what to do about Harry’s response. Bearing in mind Matt’s earlier words, about people not wanting emotions exposed to others, when would it be best to tell him?
She glanced at her watch. It had gone midnight.
‘Happy Christmas,’ she whispered to the wall separating her room from Matt’s.
His searching for, and finding, the antique necklace and his attempt at a treasure hunt had only endeared him to her more, and she didn’t quite know what to do with the feelings this elicited. Nor did she want to think about leaving in January. It didn’t bode well for a sound night’s sleep.
Perhaps if she could get this lyric thing right, they could stay in touch, write more together? Or would that be more painful, if Sophia turned out to be someone special?
Trying to ignore this unsettling thought, Gemma got ready for bed, but as she placed her phone on the bedside table it vibrated. Harry again.
Great. Now she really wouldn’t sleep.