Chapter Sixteen
Over a week later, Zennor was still coming to terms with both of her exes being back in St Ives while she and Roo were preparing to shut up the office on Friday afternoon.
Zennor packed her laptop away in its bag while Roo collected some perishables from the staff fridge to take home.
Matt had inevitably been round the office a couple of times over the past ten days and she’d had to get used to his presence – not that there’d been much chit chat with the contractors with Roo there and everyone being so busy.
Zennor had missed one of his visits when she’d taken a quick break to Bournemouth for her nan’s eightieth birthday party. Her mum had hired a seventies tribute band and everyone, including her nan, had had a whale of a time.
She had had her heart in her mouth waiting for Matt to mention Trev but so far he hadn’t.
He must know the man was back. St Ives was a small town with a febrile gossip network.
It was impossible that he hadn’t heard news as big as Trev’s takeover of the St Piran’s.
Besides, Sybil now knew and had probably told Matt.
Zennor had tried to downplay the shock she’d felt at seeing Trev.
After all, he wasn’t going away and she was going to have to get used to coming across him.
She’d already seen him from a distance, walking along the Wharf, and bumped into him while queueing in her favourite deli café which had also been a favourite of his.
He and some guy she didn’t recognise had been shaking hands as if they’d done a deal.
As soon as his business acquaintance had left, Trev had stayed to say hello and mentioned that they’d been discussing new branding for the St Piran’s.
Zennor had told Roo about Trev being back, trying to downplay his reappearance as much as she could. She wasn’t sure her friend had been convinced.
Roo returned to the main office. ‘Are you still going to this painting party at the Surf Club tomorrow afternoon?’
‘Hopefully, though I’ve had enough of the smell of gloss to last me a lifetime.’ Zennor didn’t mind doing her bit at the painting day, even though Matt would be there and probably supervising everyone.
‘Looks good, though, doesn’t it?’ Roo asked, eyeing the smartly painted walls of their office. ‘Matt’s done a good job.’
‘His decorators have done a good job.’
Roo raised an eyebrow.
She sighed. ‘OK. I agree. It does look good and the best thing is, it’ll all be finished soon and they can get out of our hair. So are you coming to the painting thing?’
Roo pulled a face. ‘Maybe. I’m going to try to drop in after Sierra’s swim class. Jake is taking Freddie to his cricket academy so he can’t come. Freddie isn’t supposed to bowl or bat yet but the coach invited him to come along and cheer on the team and maybe act as twelfth man.’
‘Poor Freddie.’ Zennor pictured his sad little face. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a large van squeezing along the Wharf, tooting its horn. It was the window fitters, who were replacing the doors and windows on the kitchen extension over the weekend.
She slotted her laptop into her backpack.
‘I’m planning to see a couple of bands tomorrow before I go to the Surf Club,’ she said. ‘They’re the ones who contacted us looking for representation. I looked at their showreels online and they look promising but you know it’s always best to see them live.’
‘Did you tell them you’re going along?’ Roo asked.
‘No. I want to be able to watch them without them being nervous. The swing quartet are at the Real Ale Festival in Hayle and the function band are doing a small wedding at White Rocks, so I can get a good feel for how they perform without them knowing I’m watching. Hopefully they’ll do great.’
Saturday dawned with a heat haze over the sea and the sky turning that intense blue of a hot clear summer day.
Zennor had planned to have a quick dip off Porthgwidden before breakfast to try and clear her head.
Even though she was hardened and hardy, the early-morning chill took her breath away.
The water hadn’t had time to come in over the hot sand yet and she didn’t stay in long.
Even so, as she cleaved through the gentle swell as one of only two people in the water, she felt briefly liberated from her cares.
By the time she’d got out and flung a dress over her swimsuit, the Digey café had opened and she was first in the queue for a cappuccino and cinnamon roll.
After dropping into the Real Ale Festival, she headed to the youth theatre where a dress rehearsal for a kids’ production was taking place.
Buzzing with excitement and adrenaline, the kids swarmed off the stage to be greeted by families’ hugs and encouragement.
The excited faces and joyful congratulations transported Zennor back to all the times her mum and dad had taken her to performances and rehearsals.
With the stage empty, the theatre director Paul trotted down the steps and hugged her warmly. ‘Hello, stranger.’
She laughed. ‘Hi, Paul. Sorry, I’ve been busy.’
‘Of course you are. You’re a big shot agent now.’
‘I’m a very small-time agent for a tiny regional agency,’ she said, rolling her eyes good-humouredly. ‘I see your shirts haven’t dimmed.’
Paul laughed. Today he was in a tangerine linen affair which somehow worked with his mauve hair. ‘I have a reputation to keep up. No one can miss me in this.’ He sat next to her. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Well, I’ve been to see a couple of acts in town and I decided to drop by. I also wanted to check in on how the plans for the St Eia Festival are going.’
The St Eia Festival was bigger than ever this year with events taking place in the library, local hotels, community halls, open spaces and the youth theatre.
Paul threw up his hands and gazed heavenwards. ‘Don’t mention it! I rue the day I ever volunteered to be on the committee!’
‘No, you don’t.’
He heaved a dramatic sigh but then smiled. ‘You’re right but it is tremendously hard work. I hope I stay the course without keeling over.’
‘You will and I’ve got the artists sorted for the Sea Fever finale so you don’t have to worry about that at least.’
After a quick chat about the festival, Paul hugged her goodbye. ‘I know you’re too busy to help out these days, but we miss you here. You and Matt. Actually, I heard he’s back in town?’
‘Yeah, he is …’
Paul sighed wistfully. ‘I remember when you did a duet at the Surf Club. It was beautiful.’
‘We were drunk.’ Zennor laughed. ‘And my duetting days are over.’
‘Matt has such a divine voice.’ Paul had a dreamy expression on his face. ‘I’ll never forget when he used to sing in the Fishermen’s Choir on the quay. I heard he was a property developer now? Owns offices and shops.’
‘Did he? Well, you know all the gossip, Paul.’ Zennor smiled while feeling desperate to change the subject.
‘Don’t you already know all about it? Sybil told me he was doing your place up.’
‘He isn’t personally. His team of contractors are,’ she said and kissed Paul on the cheek. ‘It’s been lovely to see you again. I’ve missed this.’
As she made her way down to the Surf Club, she wondered why a simple visit to her old friends had to involve Matt.
She’d also been economical with the truth: she fully remembered Matt singing in the choir.
How could anyone forget the golden boy joining the older men and singing Cornish folk songs so beautifully?
There hadn’t been a dry eye in the house, including her own.
The club car park was already almost full. Dozens of people were milling around the building and carrying paint pots, brushes and tools. Zennor squeezed her car into a space between Matt’s van and a skip, discreetly swapped her dress for dungarees, and joined them.
Roo had sent a text saying she couldn’t make it after all because Freddie was a bit upset at the cricket. They’d changed plans as they all needed some family time.
Zennor would miss her friend yet totally understood. Looking at the bustle and chaos around her, she suspected they’d have had little time for chatting anyway.
Music was blasting out of speakers when she walked in to find Matt in paint-spattered jeans, a T-shirt and work boots, rolling paint on the end wall of the new function room.
She watched the muscles shifting across his shoulders as he reached high with the long-handled roller.
Somehow, he still managed to make her heart skip several beats.
His eyes widened when he saw her.
‘What can I do?’ she said.
‘You can help out here if you like.’
‘Matt! We could do with the big stepladder on this end, pronto!’
‘Sorry, I’m needed.’ Grinning, he held out the roller. ‘Do you mind taking over?’
‘Fine.’
‘Great. I’ll be back in a bit.’
‘Don’t rush. I can handle it.’
Matt seemed to have taken her at her word, because while Zennor was soon joined by another member of the club, Matt didn’t return for almost an hour. By that time, Zennor was sweaty, had aching arms and was covered in paint, but the end wall of the clubhouse was finished.
‘Sorry about that,’ he said and then nodded at the wall in approval and surprise. ‘Looks good. I think we’re packing up for today. Thanks for the help.’
‘I’m happy to do what I can. I love this club.’
She did her best to wash the emulsion off her hands and face in the toilets. There was no point changing her clothes. Everyone was in their messy gear, frazzled and overheated, so she headed for the terrace, letting the breeze cool her hot skin and drinking from her Chilly bottle.
The younger kids were playing on the beach where a gazebo had been set up over a barrel barbecue, its smoke blowing towards the sea.
Beer in hand, Matt joined her at the balcony, which was now a smart glass one that opened up great views over the beach. He was still in the vest, sweat glistening on his tanned arms and flecks of paint in his tousled hair. He was more gorgeous than ever and Zennor’s heart did several somersaults.