Chapter Twelve
Winkle, Winkle; Little Spar
‘I’ll leave you to it.’ Oliver kissed the top of Anna’s head and disappeared into the crowd.
‘He’s off to the Lugger.’ Anna straightened her woolly cap. ‘We’ve got a booth reserved for later.’
Did she mean for Matt as well? Would that mean Gemma hanging around to get him home? They couldn’t leave too late, or the tide might catch them out.
The man in question was almost upon them, but there was no jaunt to his step, despite him being out in public, and Gemma felt for him. Matt could be a bit of a prat sometimes, but right now he looked like a lost boy who simply needed someone to tell him things would be okay.
‘Hey.’ He hugged Anna. ‘Told you I’d be here. Now, where’s the bar?’
Rolling her eyes, Anna hooked her arm through his. ‘Come on, let’s get you a beer while we wait for the arrival.’
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Gemma said. ‘I’m going to see my aunt and track down Great-Aunt Dee. She and her cronies will be kicking up a storm somewhere.’
‘Oh!’ Anna looked confused. ‘Aren’t you joining us at the Lugger?’
Touched that she had asked, Gemma looked at Matt, who held her gaze steadily. ‘I don’t know. Am I?’
He shrugged. ‘Not my invite.’
‘What is it with you two?’ Anna threw them both an exasperated look. ‘Start channelling some damn Christmas spirit, the pair of you.’
‘Lead me to the spirits and I’ll channel some, I promise.’ Matt grinned at Anna.
‘I’ll catch you later.’ Gemma tucked her hands into her pockets and turned away.
‘We’ll be in the Lugger about seven thirty,’ Anna called, and Gemma waved a hand before walking back along the front, past a more traditional stall offering winkles, cockles and mussels, towards the ice cream shop, where she chatted to Jean for a bit and was introduced to Greg. She shook the man’s hand firmly, but he was soon distracted by someone wanting a waffle, and Gemma turned back to her aunt.
‘You never said he was such a dish,’ she mouthed, her lips twitching, and Jean threw her a quelling look.
‘Shhh.’
Slipping round to stand on the side away from Greg, Gemma whispered in her aunt’s ear. ‘So, he’s the reason you don’t have a spare room, huh? Not sharing your—’
‘Gemma.’ Jean spoke through gritted teeth as she served a customer, summoning a smile for the startled young woman who was taking the crêpe from her.
‘Sorry.’ Gemma nudged her aunt’s arm. ‘Only teasing.’ The temperature was dropping, so she tugged her gloves from her pocket. ‘Does Auntie Dee know?’
‘No, and she’d better not find out!’ Jean warmly greeted the next customer and, taking her cue, Gemma said goodbye and turned away, hiding her amusement. Auntie Jay was full of surprises!
There was a queue for coffee outside Karma, but Gemma knew Shari – who ran the small café-cum-bakery on the other side of the bay – had a pop-up somewhere, because that was whom Anna had been making cinnamon buns for. She wandered around, admiring even more window displays, and found the stall outside the Spar. There were two or three people waiting, so Gemma joined them.
It was so cold now, her breath formed in the air, and she looked upwards, as the swirls circled towards the ink-black sky speckled with stars. Pink-cheeked children skipped past towards the water, and Gemma glanced at her phone. Santa would be along in about a quarter of an hour.
Once furnished with a cup of hot chocolate and a bun, she retraced her steps, joining the happy throng around the harbour. She found a low wall to perch her cup on, eyes scanning the crowd. The harbour lights cast a warm glow over the gathered faces.
She could see Nicki, Hamish and their boys over the far side now, and they exchanged enthusiastic waves. Along from them, Mrs Clegg was in her wheelchair, a thick rug tucked over her legs, Great-Aunt Dee sitting by her side on one of the benches along the front, both tucking into small dishes of seafood with their little wooden forks.
A few teenagers stood by the fish and chip shop, enjoying their takeaways and laughing uproariously about something, and several people had come out of the Three Fishes, drinks in hand, to watch proceedings. A tannoy system played Christmas tunes, and Gemma wondered if Matt had stuck his fingers in his ears.
Then, as seven o’clock approached, an excited buzz came from the crowd and a light could be seen coming under the bridge and skirting the outer harbour wall before turning in to the entrance. Adorned with fairy lights and a large reindeer head sporting a jaunty Christmas hat on the roof of the cabin, the little red and white passenger ferry turned in a circle as arms on board waved lanterns and the crowd cheered.
Gemma sipped her hot chocolate, then peeled off a piece of bun and popped it in her mouth. It melted in a delicious, gooey mass.
‘Ohhh,’ she groaned. ‘That’s good.’
‘You have an entirely unhealthy relationship with food.’
At least I have one…
Gemma took a smaller strip of the bun. ‘And you have one with alcohol. At least mine is keeping me alive.’
Matt inhaled. ‘Damn, that smells good.’
‘One of Anna’s,’ Gemma mumbled, her mouth full of the yummy treat.
A hand reached round and stripped a piece from the bun, and Gemma turned on Matt.
‘Give that back!’
‘Shhh!’ he cautioned, finger to his lips. ‘Don’t spoil the moment.’
The tannoy was now emitting ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’, and everyone began to sing along as the boat moored and the man himself stepped ashore to rapturous applause.
‘Your turn.’
Matt pointed at the bun and Gemma took another piece, then he relieved her of the remains.
‘I don’t remember saying I’d share.’
‘Precisely why I didn’t ask.’
They watched Santa make his way up the slipway, two youngsters dressed as elves accompanying him, towing a wobbly, well-worn stuffed donkey that appeared to only have wheels on three of his four legs. Several people walked alongside, shaking charity buckets, and Gemma looked around to see if Old Patrick had managed to offload his.
‘Where’s Anna?’
‘Bumped into someone who wanted to talk to her about some festival in the summer . She said she’d see us in the pub in a bit.’
Matt’s mood seemed more buoyant, but that might have been whatever drink his sister had managed to find for him.
‘Come on, I want to see the switch-on.’ Gemma put the now empty bag into Matt’s hand and turned to follow the crowd towards the tree on the front.
Matt dropped the bag into a bin, then licked his fingers. ‘Sticky.’
Ten minutes later and it was all over. The tree lights leapt into life and, street by street, the coloured strings of lights flickered into being, casting a warm and welcoming glow over the upturned faces. Christmas, it seemed, had arrived in Polkerran Point.
‘The Lugger it is, then.’
Matt started to ease his way through the crowd, but Gemma held her ground. Should she go? Wouldn’t it be better to agree to meet him back at the boat? She could hang out with her aunts, or track down Nicki…
‘Hey.’
She looked up. Matt peered over the top of several pairs of festive antlers. ‘You coming?’
Of course she was.
‘Sorry, excuse me,’ she muttered as she made her way through the crush to where he waited, and they walked in silence towards the quieter area near the bridge. She glanced at him, and Matt turned his head as they crossed the river. His face was illuminated by the lamp posts along the bridge and, although he seemed okay, his eyes still had a deadened look.
Should she say something?
‘Look, I’m—’
‘Don’t,’ he said, stepping into the road, currently devoid of traffic due to the parking restrictions in place for the evening. ‘I should have burned it straight away.’
‘But what—’
‘You don’t want to know.’
She sure as hell did ! Didn’t he know anything about women?
‘Have you talked to Anna about it?’
‘Just drop it.’
As they arrived at the pub, Matt faced Gemma. The pub lights were fully in her face. Hardly flattering; self-consciously, she tucked an auburn curl behind her ear. Her lip gloss had worn off on the bun. Lord, she hoped she didn’t have crumbs round her mouth or currants in her teeth!
‘And don’t say anything to her.’
‘Oh, good. I like that you owe me a favour.’
‘Don’t hold your breath,’ he intoned as he opened the door for her, and Gemma shot inside, whipping off her gloves as the heat embraced her.
She could see Oliver in a booth and Anna shedding her coat and taking a seat beside him. Nicki, Hamish and her boys were at an adjacent table, tucking into hot dogs.
Gemma stopped to say hi while Matt headed for the bar, and then she joined Anna and Oliver in the booth.
‘Did you enjoy it?’ Anna ran a hand through her windswept hair.
‘ Loved it.’
Oliver grunted. ‘It’s not Fowey exactly.’
Anna rolled her eyes at Oliver. ‘No, but it’s ours .’
Matt came over with the drinks and slid into the booth opposite Gemma, next to Anna.
‘We ordered some snacks.’ Anna indicated the platter containing warm flatbreads, bowls of hummus, some olives and a tin bucket of skin-on fries.
‘Fill your boots,’ Oliver said, picking up his wine glass.
Gemma grabbed a napkin and scooped a handful of fries onto it.
‘You’d better eat quick. Gemma has big boots.’
She glared at Matt, but he merely raised his glass to her. If she wasn’t enjoying her rosé so much, she might have thrown it over him.
‘Isn’t that the lady who looks after Rivermills?’ Nicki pointed to someone forcing their way to the front of the queue at the bar.
Matt narrowed his gaze. ‘Peggy. Looks like she needs a drink.’
To their surprise, however, Sebastian – who ran the pub with his husband, Gavin – pointed over to their booth, and Peggy turned round, whipped off her hat and squeezed her way over.
‘Oh my lovelies. Jus’ come downriver from Polwelyn I did, and you’m won’t believe what’s tekken place.’
Gemma’s brow furrowed as she and Matt exchanged a glance.
‘What’s up?’
Oliver pulled out a stool from under the table. ‘Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?’
Despite her harassed appearance, Peggy sent Oliver a grateful look. ‘Job done. Seb’s bringing me a pint. Now.’ She turned back to Matt. ‘You know that girt tree root, where yon creek meets the river?’
‘Hard to miss. It’s crouched like a troll waiting to attack.’
A snort came from Peggy. ‘That it did. Part of the bank gave way after all the rain. Damn thing rolled down into the gap. There be no way you’m getting a boat in or out of Rivermills this night.’