Chapter Thirty-Three
Deck the Boat with Boughs of Holly,
Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la
Gemma and Matt headed down to Polkerran on the afternoon before the wedding, parting company on the quay, Matt heading to Westerleigh and Gemma climbing the hill to stay in Potter’s Meadow.
She didn’t see or hear from him until about midnight, when she was tucked up in bed, and quickly dismissed beauty sleep to read the message.
You asleep?
Not now.
Sorry.
Nothing further came through, and Gemma nestled back against the pillows, her lids heavy. Matt hadn’t enlarged upon his intentions over the band or the tour. She had no idea if he’d been in touch with Harry, but somehow she didn’t think he had. Was that what this was about?
Is something up, Matt?
Nothing that can’t wait. Wine-induced messages are never a wise move.
Ask Anna. Night.
Thoroughly confused, Gemma dropped the phone onto the coverlet and rolled onto her side, convinced she’d lie awake for hours pondering on what message Matt had decided not to send, but she fell asleep immediately, waking only as early dawn light filtered through the gap in the curtains.
Full of anticipation, Gemma scrambled from bed and looked out of the window. It was still dark enough for the lamp posts to cast an eerie glow over the gardens and cars, on which a thick frost was discernible.
She craned her neck to get a glimpse of the neighbour’s lawn. It was also frost-covered. The perfect weather, if the clearing skies were anything to go by, for a special wedding.
Hopefully, the thick velvet cloak Anna had chosen would be warm enough for the trip to the church from the registry office in Port Wenneth. Then Gemma frowned. Matt had remained tight-lipped about how that was going to happen.
Once she’d styled her hair to her satisfaction, Gemma applied her make-up and walked up to the rail where her dress hung.
She ran a hand down the softly draped silk, patterned with burgundy, gold and green swirls, thankful for the more substantial lining beneath the fine top layer of the dress – an online find – then eyed with satisfaction the dark-green velvet, flared coat she’d taken the plunge on. Then she straightened her shoulders.
‘Come on, girl. Stop fondling and get dressed.’
‘Are you ready, Gemma love?’
Making her way down the stairs, Gemma admired her heeled ankle boots. The lacing gave them an Edwardian look, which she hoped Anna would appreciate, especially combined with the folds of her velvet coat.
‘Well, now, don’t you look a picture. I must take a photo to send to your mum.’ Jean beamed as Gemma held out the box containing the antique necklace to her aunt.
‘Will you fasten it for me, Auntie Jay? The chain is so short, I can’t see what I’m doing.’
The delicate pendant in place, Gemma turned to look in the mirror. It lay against her creamy skin above the V-neck of the dress, and she turned her head from side to side to check her earrings.
Twenty minutes later, after collecting Mrs Clegg from Deeping Lane, along with Great-Aunt Dee from her cottage further down, Jean deposited them all on the quayside and went off to park the car.
Gemma turned her attention to settling Mrs Clegg into her chair, tucking a thick blanket over her legs and straightening her woollen cap, into which she’d inserted a sprig of holly.
‘Thank ’ee, my lovely,’ the lady said, grasping Gemma’s hand. ‘Mind you don’t catch cold. ’Tis proper freezing.’
‘I’ve got some gloves,’ Gemma reassured her, before turning to assist her great-aunt with her usual layers, then dropping a kiss on her cheek. ‘You look smashing, Auntie Dee.’
Jean joined them then and, with her mother on her arm and Gemma pushing Mrs Clegg, they made their way along the harbour front towards the lane to the church, up which a stream of people made their way.
‘Poor Anna,’ Gemma said quietly to her aunt, that the older ladies might not hear. ‘So much for a quiet wedding.’
Jean sent her a comforting smile. ‘Anna takes it all in her stride, bless her.’
The church looked beautiful. The Christmas tree in the churchyard was coated in frost, the white lights glistening through the branches as though with glee. Inside, banks of poinsettias lined the altar, and beautiful posies of greenery, Christmas roses and red berries hung from the end of each pew. Candles flickered in the sconces and in two elaborate candelabra.
The buzz of conversation rose and fell as the vicar made his way down the short aisle.
‘Do you mind if I go and watch Anna arrive, Auntie Jay?’
Nearly said Matt instead of Anna then, didn’t you?
Shut up!
Jean looked up from unravelling her mother from one of her copious shawls. ‘Go on, off you go. I’ll keep an eye on these two reprobates.’
The front rows had been reserved – probably for those who were actually invited guests – but the older ladies had wanted to be near the action, claiming they were hard of hearing. It was the first either Jean or Gemma had heard of it, but, as they were probably closer to Anna than many of the locals filling the pews, who were they to argue? Perhaps they were hoping she’d have a silken bag of biscuits on her and could toss them a few?
Hiding her smile, Gemma walked back down the aisle and out into the crisp late-morning air.
She hovered on the threshold, hoping the wedding party hadn’t been caught in traffic in busy Port Wenneth.
Her phone pinged and she extracted it from the pocket of her coat, glad she’d worn the soft, fingerless gloves her great-aunt had given her for Christmas.
Just approaching. Come to the harbour. M
Intrigued, Gemma walked down the lane and emerged onto the quayside, wondering if Matt would expand on what last night’s message had meant.
She couldn’t see a taxi or any other car approaching. The chugging of a small engine drew her gaze towards the entrance of the harbour as one of the boats that ran coastal and river trips in the summer glided into view – only it looked nothing like the serviceable vessel she was used to seeing.
There were six people on board – one steering the boat slowly into the harbour now, and five passengers – and Gemma walked forward, delighted by the sight.
Her gaze roamed the occupants as the boat moored, only to find Matt’s eyes on her. She beamed at him, her breath swirling upwards into the air as her stomach lurched like a ship on stormy seas when he returned the smile. He looked so proud!
The vessel had been dressed for the occasion, with red cushions on the bench seating, and greenery and flowers hung in garlands from the hand railing surrounding the boat on three sides. Judging by Anna’s flushed cheeks and wide smile, she was as thrilled as any bride could be.
The small wedding party were soon ashore, and Gemma took some quick photos before Anna rushed over to hug her.
‘You look stunning!’ Gemma exclaimed, though she’d expected nothing less. ‘And so happy.’ Her throat caught with emotion.
‘You do too,’ Anna said, squeezing Gemma’s hands as they parted.
Gemma watched Anna and Oliver make their way across the road, Lauren and Daniel – who’d been the witnesses to the ceremony – following behind.
Anna’s dress of ivory silk was barely visible under her fur-lined cloak, but the garments skimmed her pretty ankles and her hair was—
‘Beautiful, isn’t she?’ Matt had come to stand beside Gemma.
‘Absolutely. And that up-do with the pearls is so pretty.’
‘Nicki’s handiwork earlier. Took bloody hours. Thought Oliver was going to wear the floor out waiting for Anna to appear.’
Then Gemma noticed Matt’s hands stuffed into his velvet jacket’s pockets, and she tapped one. Rolling his eyes, he extracted them.
‘You do know it’s freezing? Especially out there on the water.’
‘Yes, but you’re about to give your sister away, and you can’t do that in a misshapen jacket!’
‘Always nagging,’ Matt intoned as they went to catch up with the others.
‘You don’t look too bad yourself,’ he threw over his shoulder as he stepped up to place Anna’s arm on his. Gemma ducked her head, ignoring the skip of her heart, and hurried up the aisle to sit beside her aunt, behind where Lauren and Daniel had taken a seat beside an older couple with a small child on the lady’s lap – who must be Lauren’s little girl, Amelia.
Music emanated from the opposite side of the church, and Gemma almost held her breath as Matt and Anna’s steps approached.
‘Not now, Mum,’ Jean cautioned and Gemma looked over.
Great-Aunt Dee leaned round her daughter, holding out a bag of Fox’s Glacier Mints. Gemma smiled and shook her head.
Shutting out Jean’s shushing as she tried to remove the crackling bag of mints from her mother’s surprisingly iron-like grip, Gemma stared ahead, admiring the stylish, choppy layered bob Lauren sported. If only her hair could be tamed in such an effortlessly casual way…
Gemma looked over then as Matt and Anna drew level. Anna looked serenely beautiful and Matt so smart in his velvet suit, his thick, dark hair skimming the collar of the white shirt, cufflinks catching the candlelight as he raised Anna’s hand to place it in Oliver’s.
Matt stepped back, but, instead of taking the vacant space in the front pew, he appeared at Gemma’s side.
‘Budge up,’ he muttered unceremoniously, and Gemma scooted closer to Jean, who shuffled over too as Matt sank onto the pew.
The ceremony commenced and, although some aspects were reminiscent of a traditional church wedding, the blessing service was more informal and relaxed – unlike Gemma, whose senses were on high alert, conscious of Matt’s proximity, that damn aftershave and his hand resting on the pew between them.
Gemma could determine Matt’s tension growing as the time neared for his contribution, and, unable to stop herself, she laid her hand on his before he left the pew, only to catch her breath as he turned it palm-up to clasp hers in return.
Matt didn’t look at her as he released her to go and take his place at the piano, but Gemma willed him to enjoy the moment. She’d heard him practising, but the acoustics of the church, coupled with his elegant fingers caressing the keys as he drew a moving rendition of a Dario Marianelli composition – ‘The Secret Life of Daydreams’ – from the instrument? combined to almost overwhelm her with emotion.
As the music came to an end, spontaneous applause rang out, followed by someone at the back of the church calling out, ‘You bewty.’
Matt’s relief was palpable as he walked over to place a kiss on Anna’s cheek, and Gemma’s throat tightened as his sister raised a hand to her brother’s face, a tear trembling on her lashes.
Feeling emotion well behind her own eyes at seeing the embodiment of Anna and Matt’s genuine love for each other – once stolen away from them but now, thankfully, restored – Gemma sniffed, and gratefully accepted a tissue from Jean as Matt slid into the pew beside her again.
She’d be lucky if she had any make-up left by the end of this.
When Gemma emerged from the church into the cold December air, the congregation had gathered in clusters in the churchyard, chattering like starlings perched on telegraph wires.
Matt stood to one side, his phone to his ear again. He looked cold and unamused by whatever he was listening to.
‘Wasn’t it beautiful?’ Lauren came over to stand beside Gemma, Amelia in her arms. ‘I’m not one for tears, but they nearly had me going a couple of times.’
Daniel joined them, rubbing noses with the little girl and then draping an arm over Lauren’s petite shoulders.
‘I might sob for a week,’ he said, winking at Gemma as Lauren’s parents joined them. ‘Although the entertainment value was classic Polkerran, with the big man reciting How do I love thee —’
‘Anna’s all-time favourite poem,’ Lauren interjected.
‘To the accompaniment of Cleggie’s snores.’
Gemma laughed. ‘Oliver’s expression was a hoot when Old Patrick told him to “geddon with it and kiss the bride dreckly!”’
She looked around at the locals, expressions joyful as they made their way under the lychgate and out into the street.
‘It might not have been the intimate event Anna wished for, but I hope she’s happy.’ Gemma sighed happily. ‘The flowers in the church were heavenly. And their arrival on that beautifully dressed boat was so romantic!’
Lauren sent Gemma an amused look. ‘Anna’s such a planner, I’m not sure how she let go enough to have Matt arrange the transport.’
‘What made him think of it?’
‘She’d always dreamed of going to her wedding by boat along a creek, like Daphne du Maurier did over at Fowey, sailing up Pont Pill to walk up to Lanteglos church. When it had to be Port Wenneth first, the idea came to Matt to bring them back to her beloved cove by water. Oh look, here come the newly-weds.’
Amelia held out her arms to Daniel, and he lifted her into his hold as she tucked her bonneted head into his neck.
Gemma followed them down the path, so engrossed in all she’d heard, she barely noticed there were now only about twenty people left clustered outside the gates to the church. Judging from their attire and unfamiliar faces, she assumed these were the close friends Anna had spoken of.
The streets were all but deserted as a chill wind whirled up the narrow lane from the harbour, and Gemma shivered, fishing in her bag for her gloves.
‘Sorry, guys,’ she whispered to her ears, placing a hand over each. ‘I didn’t want to ruin my hair with a woolly hat.’ She half expected them to respond with ‘We’ll never forgive you’.
Outside the gate were two beautifully groomed horses, harnessed to an elegant carriage. More greenery and Christmas roses adorned the sides and soft red blankets lay on the seat.
Her eyes desperately sought Matt, and as soon as she saw him she flew to his side. He said nothing, merely held Gemma’s green gaze with his own dark one.
Knowing she couldn’t say what she wished, Gemma reached up and quickly dropped a kiss on his cheek, stepping back before she could do anything quite so stupid as nuzzle his neck.