Chapter Thirteen
All is Calm, All is Bright
Wait a Minute… What’s that Light?
‘What?’ Matt stared at Peggy in disbelief. ‘Of course we can!’
Peggy took a gulp of her pint. ‘Sorry, Matt, my ’ansom. I put a call in to Douggie, but there be no proper way to hoist a stump out of water in the dark.’
Douggie, whoever he was, must be pretty strong, Gemma mused silently, taking in the concerned faces in the booth.
‘Who’s—’
‘Douggie?’ Peggy checked her watch. ‘He’s got a dredger with a girt crane on. I’ll give him your number, Matt. He’ll let you know dreckly it’s removed. Can’t promise what time on the morrow, mind.’
‘We’ll have to leg it up through the fields and down through the woods.’ Matt glanced at Gemma. ‘Hope your phone battery’s fully loaded. We’ll need both torches.’
‘Too treacherous,’ Peggy warned, draining her glass. ‘You’ll break they necks coming down through them trees, it’s a proper slalom. Had a walker airlifted out t’other day, smashed ankle, and that were a tumble in daylight. Right teasy, he was, after being dragged up the hillside in a stretcher to the field where the ’copter was.’
Matt slumped back against the bench seat. ‘I have to get back by ten in the morning. Non-negotiable.’
Her mind automatically calculating the tide as best she could, Gemma chewed on her lip. Whatever Matt’s reason for urgency, she had more pressing concerns. There was – allegedly – no room at her aunt’s, and Great-Aunt Dee didn’t have a spare room either. Would she be able to kip on a sofa, maybe at Nicki’s?
‘You can come to us.’ Anna’s voice was reassuring, but Oliver cast her a strange glance.
‘I thought you only had—’
‘The back room is free.’
‘Share?!’ Matt and Gemma exclaimed simultaneously, the latter not sure whose expression was more horrified.
No. Way.
‘I’d rather sleep on a park bench,’ said Matt, picking up his glass.
‘I’d rather you did, too,’ Gemma muttered.
‘It’ll be fine.’ Anna lowered her voice, conscious of people all around them. ‘It’s separate beds.’
‘But he snores !’ Gemma took a slug of wine. It didn’t help.
Anna smirked, but it was Oliver who spoke.
‘Interesting. Can you hear him all the way over in the cottage?’
Colour flooded Gemma’s cheeks, and Matt eyed her with curiosity.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘I heard you. One evening. You went to bed early, I was still cleaning up.’
‘Boring, but credible,’ Oliver summarised. ‘Right, let’s head back.’
They squeezed through the throng filling the pub and emerged into the cold night air, Matt still bemoaning the fact he needed to get away as soon as possible the next day. As Oliver fell into step with him, Gemma turned to Anna.
‘I’ll need to go over to the Spar for a toothbrush, and so on.’ She gestured along the bridge towards the centre of the village, but Anna tucked her arm through Gemma’s.
‘I run a B in reality it solved nothing. She couldn’t understand why she was so tense. It wasn’t as though he was going to try to jump her bones.
I might try and jump his though…
Gemma started to giggle. The mental image of Matt’s horrified expression, if she scaled the steps and leapt on top of him, was enough to relieve her tension, and before long she had drifted off to sleep.
A sound disturbed her some hours later: the door opening and closing. Too tired to lift her eyelids, she simply rolled over to face the wall and, although her playlist had long ended, the earphones were sufficient to muffle any sound. The steps creaked, however, as Matt made his way up to bed, and Gemma blearily opened one eye and peered at the phone still gripped in her hand.
Bloody hell! It was gone two in the morning! What on earth had Matt found to do in all that time?
She must have drifted off to sleep after that, her dreams punctuated by a reindeer playing a guitar, the lap of water and someone whispering in her ear that she’d never discover the secret.
The next time Gemma woke, light was coming from somewhere. She rubbed her eyes, and they were drawn to the window. The curtains were closed, but there was a gap at the top and the sky was still dark. Sitting up, she looked around the room in the eerie glow. Was Matt even in the room?
There was no sound from the bunk above. No snoring, not even the gentle purring she had detected the night she’d gone to his bedroom and found him crashed out on the bed.
‘Oh well,’ she said quietly to the room. ‘Need to pee anyway.’
She opened the door as carefully as she could and slipped out onto the landing, the floorboards creaking underfoot as she crept to the bathroom and back again.
When she came back into the room, there was no mysterious light anywhere. It was pitch black, and she swore under her breath as her toe came into contact with the leg of a chair. A faint sound came from the upper bunk and her eyes strained in the darkness, but, although she could make out a shape, there was no indication of whether it was Matt or a random passing bear who’d taken up residence.
Lying flat on her back, sleep eluded Gemma again. How long would it take for the fallen root ball to be removed? Then her brow furrowed. The strange light had returned, and she checked her phone. It was nearly four a.m.
Gemma sat up. It was obvious the light emanated from the upper bunk, and she eased her legs out from under the duvet, ducking her head to avoid it hitting the base as she stood up and turned round.
‘What are you doing?’
The light had already gone out and there was silence. Then she heard a heavy sigh.
‘Nothing.’
Liar.
There was another silence, followed by the rustling of bedding as Matt’s form appeared, and he started to come down the steps with his back to her. Dark though it was, Gemma’s sight had adjusted sufficiently to make out he did at least have something on his lower half.
‘Oh!’
What she hadn’t expected was for him to turn round and walk right into her.
Matt muttered an expletive, but his arms had instinctively closed round Gemma to steady her, and she stood frozen in place, her nose pressed to his bare chest.
God, he smelled good! Unexpectedly so.
He set her away from him. ‘Did you sniff me?’
‘As if,’ Gemma managed, then swallowed quickly. Thankfully, Matt had got up for another purpose, and he left the room muttering to himself. Filled with curiosity, Gemma stood on the bottom edge of her bed, hanging onto the upper bed rail, and peered into Matt’s.
She could make out something oblong lying on the pillow, and she reached out to touch it. It was a tablet, and the screen sprang to life. Straining forward, she managed to decipher the header at the top of the page: The Making of Modern Britain .
Flipping the tablet over so it went dark again, Gemma stepped down as the door opened, and before Matt began his ascent of the steps again she was under the covers, eyes closed.
How on earth would that inspire him to write music?
Gemma wrinkled her nose. Matt’s aftershave wrinkled back, and she rolled over with a huff of breath.
Great. Now she was going to dream of him, wasn’t she?