Chapter Twenty-Two
Somehow, the four of them had shuffled seats so he was now sitting on the edge of the booth seat next to Ty with Zennor and Yolande on the swivel chairs.
He’d insisted on driving so he couldn’t touch any alcohol. He didn’t want a single inhibition to come down while he was at Trev’s ‘fundraiser’. He was determined to prove he could be generous, mature and a model of civilised friendliness with both Zennor and Trev.
He had to give Trev the benefit of the doubt.
His motivation might have nothing to do with impressing Zennor, and stem merely from public-spiritedness and a sincere desire to help the club.
He might have changed from the manipulative and ruthless character Matt had known back in the day.
Then again, Matt mused as he watched Trev hold court in front of a group of women, the sun might rise in the west tomorrow morning.
The sight of Zennor walking into the Piano Bar had almost killed his resolve stone dead. He’d wanted to sweep her off her feet, carry her out of the room, and kiss her until she couldn’t stand up. Which, he reminded himself, was all a bit Trev. She’d probably have hit him anyway.
He smiled to himself and found Zennor looking at him intently. ‘What are you smirking at? she asked, her eyes glinting with suspicion.
‘Nothing. Just – hoping the band will be good.’
‘They should be great but I’m nervous for the lead singer, Marielle.’
‘Why?’
‘She was like a cat on a hot tin roof earlier. You know how it is – opening a gig is like strolling into a strange house and asking to use the loo.’
Matt laughed. ‘Yeah, you’ve got to be confident and charming, funny, and very good. No pressure then …’
Marielle was still deep in conversation with the keyboard player, who had his arm on her back, reassuring her. She must be very nervous. He knew how she felt.
‘I’m sure she’ll smash it once she’s got into her stride,’ Zennor said.
Trev walked on stage and introduced the band. Everyone applauded warmly and there were a few cheers from the band’s mates.
Yolande and Zennor turned their swivel chairs towards the stage. The music started with ‘Dreams’ by Fleetwood Mac. Good choice, thought Matt. Everyone knew it, it was ideal for the vibe, and it wouldn’t fry the vocal cords too soon.
However, before the first phrases were over, Matt was lost. Since he was sitting slightly behind Zennor’s chair, his gaze kept wandering to the draped back of her dress, the wisps of hair that had escaped her updo and curled into the nape, and the tiny freckles on her smooth skin.
And, wow, that perfume – the coconut one that would always transport him back to a deserted beach at midnight.
He was glad she hadn’t changed it for something bland and sophisticated.
He could kiss her neck, run his fingers down her back …
it would only take a fraction of a second …
While everyone around him was tapping along to the band, he leaned forward as far as he dared and blew out a breath, knowing no one could hear and hoping no one would notice.
Zennor shifted in her seat and reached behind her to touch her neck as if something had landed there. Matt lifted his glass to his lips and fixed his gaze firmly on the stage.
She looked round and caught his eye with a wary frown.
‘They’re good, aren’t they?’ he whispered.
She nodded and then refocused on the stage.
Matt exhaled slowly and deeply to tame his rampant heartbeat. Yeah, he could have kissed her or touched her neck. It would only take a fraction of a second to ruin the whole evening and any chance he ever had with Zennor.
The band must have been good because being able to hold his attention for even a minute of the time he was sitting behind Zennor was a miracle.
The bass player produced a show-stopping sax solo during a version of Gerry Rafferty’s ‘Baker Street’, an oldie that was still an absolute banger in Matt’s eyes.
Tyler, Yolande and Zennor exchanged a few snatched words of admiration. By the break, and after waiters had been delivering drinks non-stop to the tables, the audience was in a buoyant mood. The set ended with cheering and applause and some whoops.
The band left the stage and headed to a quiet corner near the end of the bar which had been roped off for them.
‘They’re really good, aren’t they? Especially Marielle. With such a great voice and presence, she could make it on her own.’
She certainly had ‘presence’, as Zennor termed it. Her voice was soulful and jam-packed with emotion whether she was belting out rock anthems or holding the audience in the palm of her hand with a torch song.
He agreed with Zennor: she could do bigger and better than weddings and corporate shindigs.
‘Wow. They are fantastic. I wasn’t sure what to expect from a local act but wow. So good,’ Yolande said to Zennor.
‘They are,’ Zennor said, visibly basking in the praise for her clients.
‘Ty says you used to sing – you and Matt,’ Yolande went on.
‘That was meant to be between us,’ Ty said, yet rolled his eyes good-humouredly. ‘I can’t trust you to keep a secret.’
‘I didn’t know it was a secret,’ Yolande protested.
‘It isn’t,’ Matt said. ‘Ty’s winding you up.’
‘Only on the odd night at the pub when we were very young,’ Zennor cut in.
‘And very drunk,’ Matt added. ‘At least I was.’
Everyone laughed, although Matt wasn’t convinced by Zennor’s smile.
‘Ah! Hello. Are you enjoying yourselves?’
The hairs on the back of Matt’s neck stood on end. Trev had approached the table, all smiles and affability. Matt sensed Zennor stiffening beside him but he kept repeating his mantra: be nice for her sake.
Knowing nothing of the history between them, Yolande answered cheerfully. ‘It’s great. The music is brilliant.’
‘That’s thanks to Zennor,’ Trev said. ‘She spotted the band and pianist.’
‘I only booked them,’ Zennor said hastily.
‘Yes. But you knew they’d be a perfect fit for the Piano Bar and I had total faith in your judgement.’ He turned to Matt. ‘Matt. Good to see you. Thanks for supporting tonight.’
‘I’ll support anything that helps the Surf Club,’ Matt said as pleasantly as he could.
‘I must admit it was all ridiculously last minute and I’m amazed how many people dropped everything to come and lend their support.
In fact I was chatting to Dawn and she was saying how much work you’d done gratis at the clubhouse and so I thought I ought to do my bit too. You don’t mind, do you, Matt?’
Matt minded more than any reasonable man should mind and yet he had no choice but to say, ‘Like I said, if it’s for the club, it’s fine by me.
’ His phone beeped, giving him the chance to glance away.
‘Oh dear. That’s my car app saying I’ve left it unlocked – not that I’d expect it to be nicked at an upmarket place like the St Piran’s, but better safe than sorry. See you in a minute.’
He walked out, not looking behind him, and walked past the doorman. He didn’t go to his car because he already knew it was locked: the beep had been a spam text.
Despite the windows being open to the evening air, the crowded room still felt warm and stuffy to Matt.
He rolled up his shirt sleeves and wished he could ditch the jeans for board shorts, head down on to the beach and cool himself off with a swim under the stars.
He couldn’t, of course, because he was an adult now and he had a responsibility to people to behave with maturity and dignity.
He’d learned that impulsive and stupid actions that came with a short-lived moment of satisfaction were followed by a lifetime of regret.
His route took him past the working area of the hotel, which he’d last seen at Zennor’s wedding when he’d been hanging around trying to calm down.
It had always intrigued Matt to see the parts of a hotel guests weren’t meant to.
While no expense would be spared inside, the working areas showed the real character of the place: that glossy door from a bar or restaurant often led to a multitude of sins.
Despite its chic makeover, the St Piran’s was no different. In an alley between the kitchens and a storeroom, next to overflowing bins watched by sharp-eyed seagulls, the band was having a vape while Marielle sipped a bottle of Evian.
Matt stopped for a few seconds to observe them and had begun to move on but Marielle caught up with him.
‘Hey!’ She was a little out of breath. ‘I thought it was you. The guy who ruined Trev and Zennor’s wedding.’
Matt sighed and then frowned, taking a closer look at the singer.
Marielle’s kohled eyes and dyed raven hair didn’t ring a bell at all with him.
He’d never met a Marielle as far as he knew and yet …
her husky voice and long, tanned limbs sparked a memory …
one that, now he’d realised, he couldn’t ignore.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Long time no see. You look different.’
‘Oh?’ She tugged at a lock of hair and laughed nervously. ‘This is my stage persona. I slob around bare-faced in trackies at home.’
He smiled. ‘And this is your first gig at this hotel?’
‘I know. I couldn’t turn it down.’
‘A great opportunity,’ Matt said, knowing he ought to walk away right now.
‘Zennor’s given me – us – a break by taking us on. It’s up to us to make the most of the opportunity.’
‘So, you’ve given up waiting on tables?’ There, it was out. Too late to rein back now. ‘And the name? Marielle? You’ve changed that too.’
‘Marielle is my stage name. I’m still Roz to my friends and family.’
‘Yeah, I heard Trev call you Roz at the wedding.’
Marielle exhaled sharply but then curled her lip and laughed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You know exactly what I mean,’ Matt said quietly.
‘Is that a threat?’ she asked, her voice rising higher.
Suddenly feeling like a Grade A bastard, Matt shook his head. ‘Of course not. I didn’t mean it to come across like that. I only …’
‘Look, I’ve always regretted what I did – what we did. After your performance at the reception, I put two and two together and guessed you’d spotted us. When I think about it now, I hate myself. I certainly never saw Trev again afterwards. If that’s any reassurance.’
‘It’s – none of my business. It shouldn’t have been back then but I cared about Zennor.’
‘Please don’t tell her who I am. I was dreading you recognising me tonight and I’ve been agonising over what to do. Then I suddenly thought I’d try to – to speak to you and give my side of the story. I’m still not sure if I’ve made a huge mistake. Zennor’s been so good to me and the band.’
‘You’re not,’ Matt said, feeling sorry for her, though he was certainly angry with Trev. ‘It’s none of my business.’
Marielle shook her head and almost smiled. ‘If you really think that, you’re kidding yourself. And I can’t believe you’re not going to tell Zennor that I was the woman all over her new husband.’
A deep sadness crept over Matt. He wished he could undo his mistakes, but agonising over the past was pointless and corrosive. ‘What good would it do?’
‘Put you in her good books?’ Marielle asked.
Matt laughed bitterly. ‘I don’t think anything will ever put me in Zennor’s good books around this.
We’ve all worked hard to leave the past behind.
You, me and Zennor.’ He declined to add Trev to the list. ‘Everyone needs a second chance. Let’s face it, you weren’t the newly married spouse who decided to hit on a young woman in a vulnerable position. ’
‘I knew what I was doing,’ she said quietly. ‘I can’t use that as an excuse.’
‘Thanks for the honesty, but I still prefer to lay the blame at Trev’s door.’ He sighed. ‘You’re brilliant, by the way. Your band are great, too, but I agree with Zennor. You could make it on your own if you want to.’
Her eyes were on stalks. ‘Zennor said that?’
‘Yeah.’ Matt wondered if he should have passed on Zennor’s praise.
‘Shit. I – I don’t know what to say. And it’s great to hear but for now we come as a package. My cousin is the drummer and my best friend’s mate is on bass guitar. An old college friend on keyboards. I can’t let them down.’
‘I admire your loyalty,’ Matt said, thinking that the reality of the music business might shake her resolve eventually.
‘And I’m so grateful to you for not telling Zennor. Truly, I am.’
Matt felt embarrassed. ‘No need. I don’t think she’d thank either of us. Have a good second half and I’m glad you gave up the day job.’
So many emotions swirled around as he walked back into the Piano Bar: sadness, anger and a helplessness at what he should do next – if anything.
All of them had to be shoved aside when he found Trev had moved on and Dawn was at the table, holding books of raffle tickets.
‘Hello there. I hate to disturb your evening but would you mind awfully giving me a hand? We’re running a raffle and we need someone to sell tickets.
Sorry, it’s old school tonight – cash only. But I can give you a float.’
Zennor put her wine glass down immediately. ‘No problem, Dawn!’
Matt wasn’t sure if she wanted to get away from him. He smiled. ‘Happy to help. What’s the prize?’
‘Well, we’re very excited about that. Trev has very kindly offered a two-night stay in the hotel with dinner, breakfast and a luxury spa treatment. Isn’t that generous of him?’
Zennor exhaled. ‘Wow.’
This time, Matt had no idea if her enthusiasm was feigned or not. ‘It is,’ Matt said, his jaw aching with fake jollity. ‘I presume that rules us out of entering, then?’
Dawn looked flustered. ‘Oh – erm – it probably does as you’re selling tickets. I am sorry.’
With a grin, Matt patted her arm. ‘Don’t be. I’m delighted to be able to help the club.’
‘You’ve done so much already,’ Dawn said. ‘I’m relieved that someone else is stepping in to do their bit.’
By that, Dawn presumably meant Trev.
With his smile pinned in place, Matt toured the tables, charming people to buy tickets and bigging up the prize. In return, he nodded and made polite noises while hearing how amazing the evening had been and how Trev had transformed the hotel.
Matt didn’t point out that the place had been done up before Trev had taken over.
He was determined not to be churlish or let his real feelings show even if his jaw ached from smiling and his bonhomie was flagging.
He wished he didn’t automatically curl his lip whenever he caught sight of Trev and no one was looking.
Sometimes he wished he just wasn’t … who he was. He wished he was a generous, kind, forgiving man. Most of all, he wished he didn’t know the things he knew about Trev. He vowed not to tell Zennor or else he might risk making her despise him all over again.