Chapter Nine
Away in a Pret A Manger
It was gone eleven by the time the Lovelaces came in, followed soon after by Nicki and a young woman Gemma had never seen before, who removed her knitted hat to reveal short auburn curls not dissimilar in colour to her own.
‘Gemma, this is Phoenix,’ Anna made the introductions. ‘She grew up in the cove but moved down to Mevagissey in the summer to live with her boyfriend.’
Nicki hugged Phoenix. ‘You look fabulous, Phee. How’s it going in Meva?’
Phoenix slipped into a seat beside Jean. ‘As the posters say, still a drinking village with a fishing problem.’ She had a gentle voice with a soft, West Country burr.
‘And how be the little maid, young’un?’ Great-Aunt Dee put aside her knitting to pick up her cup.
‘Phee has a beautiful daughter called Verity Blue,’ Anna explained as she joined them at the table with fresh pots of tea and coffee. ‘I miss my VeeBee so much.’
‘Fair to middlin’,’ Phoenix said as she spooned sugar into her cup. ‘They haven’t expelled her yet, at any rate.’ She winked at Gemma. ‘VeeBee started school last September.’
‘And how’s it going in the studio?’ Anna passed round a plate of shortbread.
‘I’m loving it.’ Phoenix took a bite of a biscuit and assumed a dreamy expression. ‘Yummy as ever.’
Gemma was intrigued. ‘What sort of studio?’
Brushing crumbs from her fingers, Phoenix handed Gemma a card. ‘Artwork. It’s a cooperative and there’s a small shop out front. I’ve started a line of postcards, bookmarks, and the like, too.’ She looked round the table expectantly. ‘They make good stocking fillers, ladies.’
‘Will you be joining the stall this year?’ Nicki pushed over one of the leaflets promoting the Christmas fayre in December.
‘I’d love to.’ Phoenix’s mouth curved. ‘Is the dishy brother around? I was hoping for a sighting.’
Anna laughed. ‘No luck today, I’m afraid.’
An hour or so later, everyone made leaving noises, and Gemma gathered her things, followed her aunts out the door and made her way with Jean back to the house on the hill.
As evening approached, Gemma joined her aunt in the kitchen.
‘Do you still need me to strip the bed in the morning, Auntie Jay?’
‘Yes, please love.’
‘So, how do you know this chap?’
Jean didn’t respond for a moment, instead busying herself with the pan on the stove. ‘Did I say it was a male friend?’
Gemma bit back her smile. ‘Not at all.’
‘Well, it is. We happen to… go way back.’
Not exactly an answer, Auntie…
‘Does he have to travel far?’
‘Can you lay the table, love?’ Jean glanced over her shoulder, sending Gemma an impish look. ‘You’re full of questions this evening.’
‘Sorry.’ Feeling guilty, Gemma opened the cutlery drawer.
Jean lifted a saucepan onto the drainer and fished out the colander. ‘Don’t be daft. It’s not something I talk about, but Greg and I… well, it’s been a bit on-off to be honest. He married, but it didn’t work out, and we reconnected online last year. He’s in Newcastle. I’d gone up to Seaham in the north-east. It’s renowned for sea glass, did you know?’
Gemma shook her head, her avid gaze on her aunt as she dished up their dinner.
‘He happened to be there that weekend and… well, my chances of visiting up there are limited, so he thought he’d pop down.’
Nearly five hundred miles for one night, Auntie Jay? Are you sure he’s expecting to sleep in the attic?
About to break into the Proclaimers’ famous track, Gemma quashed the temptation. Jean looked more flustered than the steam from the pan warranted, and she sent her aunt a fond look as they settled at the table.
‘I wish I’d bothered to learn how to cook before now.’ Gemma picked up her fork and dipped it into the pasta.
‘I can show you a few easy recipes in the morning but ready-made sauces for pasta are pretty tasty these days.’
‘When does Greg arrive?’
‘By lunchtime, he said.’ Jean met Gemma’s amused look, her own eyes sparkling. ‘He’s been here before.’
That evening, Gemma spent hours in her room watching YouTube videos and reading up on BorderLine Beat, looking into who was credited on the song lyrics – basically, all four of them – but uncovering no particular scandal.
It was well documented, however, that the drummer – Jonny – had been in and out of rehab over the years. Harry, the lead singer, had been quite the ladies’ man. There wasn’t much on the bassist, Roddy, or Matt, other than they clearly liked to have a fun time when they were in the band. Since they’d gone their own ways there was a dearth of news, other than occasional photos from events, rumours of celebrity hook-ups, short-term relationships, marriages, break-ups and Jonny’s ever-recurring problems.
Somehow, Gemma felt she knew less than ever about Matt Locksley.
The following morning Gemma arrived early again at Westerleigh, a little windswept from the incoming storm, but aware Anna would have to leave to pick Matt up at the station at eleven.
Burying the inexplicable spark of interest that fizzed through her every time she thought of his return, Gemma forced her attention on what Anna was doing, watching with interest as she made the dough for a batch of scones, helping to stir the mixture and mould them into shape. Gemma took detailed notes on her phone as Anna put them in the oven and gave her clear instructions on when to remove them.
‘There’s a cake stand in the sideboard in the dining room. Put the scones to cool on a wire tray first, and they’ll be ready for later. The next time you come I’ll watch you make them.’
Feeling Anna may have overestimated her potential, Gemma saw her off to call at the local farm shop before meeting Matt off the train, then glanced at her watch. Ten minutes before the scones would be ready. She walked over to look at the stunning view. It was a clear day with sunny skies, but there had been a frost overnight, and it still lay across the lawn.
Gemma approached one of the sofas, sinking into its comforting embrace with a sigh. She still couldn’t lose her concerns over that piece of paper and whether it was connected to Matt’s sudden trip to London.
She checked her watch again. Eight minutes to go.
Picking up her phone, she skimmed through her emails and checked her WhatsApp messages, before remembering the cake stand.
The dining room – now suitably dressed for the season – was at the back of the house, its windows overlooking the driveway. The furniture was well looked after and, although old-fashioned, suited the age of the house.
Sunlight filtered through the glass despite the gale, which raged and tore at the trees, and Gemma pottered around, touched to see Anna had several of Phoenix’s watercolours on the walls with price tags attached.
She studied them, trying to decide which one her aunt would most like for Christmas.
Then came the piercing sound of the smoke alarm.
Gemma shot into the kitchen, dashing over to the oven, around which curls of smoke hovered but, before she could pick up the oven gloves, the boot room door flew open and Oliver came charging in.
‘What the hell— ah.’
He took the oven gloves from Gemma and removed the scones.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Gemma croaked, mortified. ‘I forgot about them!’
To her surprise, Oliver started to laugh as he waved the oven gloves over the still-smoking scones.
Gemma wrinkled her nose. ‘I do hope the smell has gone before Anna gets back.’
‘Probably better she’s forewarned.’ Oliver opened the doors to the terrace. ‘It’s a bit chilly, but I think we need some fresh air.’
‘The scones were supposed to be for any callers today. Should I go down to Shari’s café?’
‘I doubt they’ll go hungry.’ Oliver opened a wall cupboard and indicated the neatly labelled containers inside. ‘Never any shortage of backup in this kitchen. Pop the usual on the table and get some cakes out, it’ll be fine.’
Relieved, Gemma did as she was bid as Oliver made a coffee at the machine, bringing one over for her.
‘How’s it going at the mill?’
Gemma reflected on what she’d so far experienced with Matt. ‘I’ve told Anna he isn’t eating properly.’ Or at all. ‘And he’s knocking back a bottle of wine most nights.’
Oliver drained his cup, glancing at the clock. ‘They should be back soon. Matt’s okay. He certainly isn’t in need of rehab. His only addiction seems to be to his past life. He needs to let go.’ He gave a self-deprecating smile as he headed for the dishwasher with his mug. ‘It was a lesson I had to learn – Anna’s a very good teacher.’
Gemma didn’t doubt it for a minute. If anyone could help Matt, it was his sister. Still, she couldn’t help think that perhaps Oliver hadn’t got a full grasp on what ailed his soon-to-be brother-in-law. Rather than rigidly entrapped in the past, Matt seemed haunted by it. Lost and uncertain how to find his way forward.
She walked over to study the failed offering on the draining board.
‘I truly am utterly useless,’ she muttered to the scones, which, if they could answer back, would doubtless have agreed. ‘Not only can I not follow a simple instruction, I’m at sea over how to help my boss.’
Oliver’s phone rang and he took the call, walking over to the window, and Gemma extracted a box of cupcakes from the cupboard, then recalled she hadn’t collected the cake stand.
She returned to the dining room and retrieved it from the sideboard, but a movement caught her eye as she straightened. Anna’s car was in the driveway, and a strange sensation flickered through Gemma as Matt emerged from the passenger seat clutching a brown paper bag, the wind tearing at his hair.
Gemma hurried back to the kitchen, where she laid the cupcakes neatly on the stand before carrying it to the table.
Oliver’s call had ended, and Anna blew him a kiss as she entered the kitchen, then swiftly noted the contents of the stand.
‘I’m so sorry. I got distracted.’
Anna smiled reassuringly as she set the kettle on the range to boil. ‘I remember the first time Aunt Meg taught me. I burned three batches of scones before they were even close to edible, and that was without being distracted.’
It was hard to believe, but Gemma loved Anna for trying to make her feel better.
Pretending she hadn’t noticed Matt’s arrival in the room, Gemma picked up a pile of side plates and put them on the table as Matt tossed his coat on a chair, dipped his head in Oliver’s direction and assumed his habitual saunter as he came over.
‘Why do you do that?’ Gemma said quietly.
‘Oliver has that effect. Makes me feel like I should curtsey.’ Matt ran a hand through his windswept hair.
‘I didn’t mean that.’ Gemma straightened a placemat. ‘I meant the swagger.’
Matt pouted. ‘I do not !’
Whatever…
Gemma’s gaze narrowed as she surveyed him. ‘Did you get a haircut?’
His thick brown hair was shorter, with choppy layers. It suited him much better than the old look.
‘Wasn’t going to risk seeing Barrie the Butcher.’
Gemma’s puzzlement was evident, and he elucidated.
‘Runs the cove’s barber shop.’
‘Oh.’ Gemma laughed. Then her eye was caught by Matt’s discarded jacket. ‘Did you get a new coat too? Is that a Barbour?’
‘You said I needed a thicker one.’ Matt sent her a mocking look. ‘Far be it from me to ignore my housekeeper’s advice.’
‘It’s a shame you don’t follow it with regard to meals. You don’t eat enough.’
‘I picked up something at Paddington.’
‘I hope it’s not catching.’
‘Haha. So funny.’ Matt indicated the paper bag on the island, emblazoned with the Pret logo. Then awareness dawned on his features as Anna came to add a pot of coffee to the table.
‘Oh God. Are they all on their way again?’
‘I’ll leave you to it.’ Oliver raised a hand as he went out the door.
‘Nicki’s coming with some of the Christmas fayre info,’ Anna admonished her brother gently as she returned to the kitchen, but knowing people were on their way seemed sufficient to have Matt retrieve his coat and turn to Gemma.
‘Ready to go back?’
Did she have a choice?
‘Here.’ Anna pressed a large bag for life on Matt. ‘This is for Gemma, but you can carry it.’
Matt rolled his eyes, but his smile was warm as he dropped a kiss on Anna’s cheek. ‘See you tomorrow, then.’
‘You’ll definitely come?’ Anna held Matt’s gaze, and Gemma looked between them as something silent was communicated.
‘I promise, I told you.’
Matt said nothing further as they walked back down to the harbour. To be fair, he was quite laden, with his holdall, the laptop bag once more slung across his body and the bag from Anna. Gemma didn’t think he’d appreciate an offer to help, so she just tried to keep up with his long stride, and soon the bags were stowed in the boat and she had the engine running.
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ Gemma’s gaze took in the picturesque harbour and the old buildings huddled along the waterfront, and Matt studied the village, clinging to the hillside against its wooded backdrop.
‘Looks like someone’s vomited pastel paint.’
Charming.
‘Good trip?’ she said over her shoulder as she manoeuvred Last Chance away from the jetty. She longed to ask him why he had gone.
‘Depends.’ Matt’s gaze was on the horizon, his handsome features marred by something Gemma couldn’t define. The breeze lifted his newly cropped hair from his forehead as she increased speed, and the strange spasm flew through her body again.
Turning away, she focused on steering the boat. This was no time to start fancying the man, or for caring about what was troubling him. Anna may have hoped Gemma would look out for her brother, but, as he clearly viewed Gemma as nothing more than the hired help, there might not be much she could do.