Chapter Fourteen
Let it Blow, Let it Blow, Let it Blow
Contrary to expectation, Gemma fell into a dreamless sleep, and when she awoke – disorientated at first – light was pouring through the curtains, a chink of blue sky visible in the gap.
Although she could hear the wind gusting round the side of the house, there was no sound in the room, and Gemma sat up slowly. One of her earphones was on the pillow, the other still in her ear, so she removed it, casting a glance at the bunk above. Was Matt still asleep?
She shoved the covers aside and crawled from the bunk, stretching her back as she stood. The top bed was empty, and Matt’s clothes had gone.
She waited for one of the guests in the room opposite to vacate the bathroom, then shot inside, taking a quick shower and dressing while in there. The mirror had steamed up, so she scurried back to the bedroom and peered at herself in the glass above the small fireplace, rubbing at a smudge under one eye. The only make-up in Gemma’s bag was a lip gloss, but yesterday’s mascara didn’t look too bad. She pursed her lips, running her hands through her long curls. It was what it was.
Anna was busy cooking breakfasts for her guests when she entered the kitchen, with Matt nowhere to be seen, so Gemma offered to help. She enjoyed ferrying warm plates of food to the dining room, serving a middle-aged couple down for the Christmas atmosphere, two young men in their twenties who were in the area to walk part of the coast path, and a mother and daughter, also visiting for the lights switch-on.
‘Phew.’ Anna leaned against the sink as Gemma placed her empty tray on the kitchen island. ‘It’s not often everyone wants breakfast at the same time.’
‘They all seem happy, and the food looked yum.’
‘Good, I saved some for you.’
To Gemma’s delight, Anna opened the warming drawer and extracted a plate containing a full English, and she followed her over to the table, where one place had been laid.
‘No Oliver or Matt?’ She thought, by adding Oliver, it wouldn’t sound as though she cared where Matt was.
Because she didn’t, did she?
‘Oliver’s gone up to Bristol, won’t be back until this evening. Matt took a call from Doug – he owns the grab hopper dredger. Douggie reckons he can use the grabber to lift the root ball. At least, he’s going to try.’
Gemma cut a slice of bacon, raising her fork. ‘Did Matt go with him, then?’
‘No.’ Anna placed a mug of tea by Gemma, then took the seat opposite, wrapping her hand round her own mug. ‘He said he needed somewhere quiet to concentrate on something, so I sent him up to Oliver’s den. He said he’d managed to postpone something from morning to this afternoon, but he seems incredibly tense about it.’
‘The tide might play ball.’ In daylight, would walking be any more feasible? With a sigh, Gemma thought again of her expensive boots. Matt’s she didn’t care about. He could easily afford to replace his.
Gemma attacked the sausage next, adding a bit of egg and popping it in her mouth. ‘Mmmm.’ Her lips turned up at the edges as she chewed. ‘Good job Matt doesn’t want me to cook like this for him every morning.’
Taking a sip of her tea, Anna smirked. ‘How was your night? Fair play to you, I honestly thought you were going to insist on the sofa.’
‘The bed was great.’ Gemma remembered Matt stumbling into her and felt heat rush into her cheeks, and Anna’s brows shot up.
‘I’m not sure how to respond to that.’
Almost choking as she swallowed the last of her mouthful, Gemma grabbed her mug. ‘Didn’t mean it like that.’ She put a hand to her warm cheek. ‘Totally innocent, I promise.’
Anna laughed. ‘I can tell there’s enough friction there to power a small car.’
Gemma rolled her eyes. ‘The man’s infuriating.’ She speared a mushroom, then remembered who she was talking to and raised her eyes in contrition. ‘Sorry. No offence meant, only one minute I want to throttle him and the next I feel like giving him a hug.’
‘Oliver said much the same when he first met Matt.’ Anna pulled a face. ‘Well, not the hugging, perhaps.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Okay, I’d better go and see how the guests are doing. Help yourself to another cuppa if you need a top-up.’
Left to her own devices, Gemma polished off her meal, then picked up her mug, stopping to pet Dougal, curled up in his basket, before heading to the window. The sky wore a pastel-blue cape, with gossamer strands of feather-like clouds trailing its length. The sea glistened under a weak sun, and although the strong wind whipped the sea into white caps, crashing against the rocks beneath the lighthouse, the water barely rippled where it entered the embrace of the cove.
Gemma peered down towards the harbour in the distance. She ought to go and check on Last Chance , not that she’d be going far if they couldn’t shift the root ball.
She wandered back up to the room and stripped both beds. Whatever it took, there was no way she was spending another night sharing a bunk room with Matt Locksley.
Leaving the room tidy, Gemma carried the bundle of laundry and towels to the utility. When she returned to the kitchen, Anna was busy loading the dishwasher.
‘They’re all off to get ready for a day out. As soon as they’ve gone, I’ll go up and do the rooms.’
‘What can I do?’
Anna tossed her a cloth. ‘Would you be a darling and go and wipe down the tables? The placemats go in the sideboard.’
Gemma did as she was bid, glad to be of use, and the morning moved along rapidly as she offered to clean the shared bathroom she and Matt had used while Anna did the bedrooms.
They were back downstairs by ten thirty, and Anna hurried to set the table.
‘I’m expecting the full crowd this morning. Crafting is in full swing for the fayre.’
First through the door from the boot room were Great-Aunt Dee and her daughter.
‘Alright, my lovelies,’ the elderly lady greeted them, but Jean looked confused as she ran a hand through her wind-swept hair.
‘We weren’t expecting to see you, Gemma.’
It didn’t take long to explain what had happened the night before. Jean was positively pink-cheeked, and Gemma hid her smile. She had a feeling Greg hadn’t passed the night in the attic bedroom after all.
‘Sorry, love,’ Jean whispered as she took a seat.
Not as much as I was.
‘I was fine.’ Gemma smiled reassuringly at her aunt. ‘And Anna does a cracking breakfast.’
‘Where’s that young Mr Seymour to then?’ Great-Aunt Dee beamed at Anna, then dug into the large bag she’d brought with her and pulled out an array of coloured threads and some needles.
Anna explained Oliver’s absence as the door opened again and Phoenix came in, followed closely by Nikki.
‘Morning!’ Phoenix greeted them all.
‘Old Patrick’s on his way,’ Nikki announced as Anna started to place home-made brownies on a plate. ‘He’s bringing Mrs Clegg, but he’s finding it slow going pushing the wheelchair up the lane. Hamish has gone to help him.’
‘I keep telling him to stop,’ Mrs Clegg declared to the room in general as Old Patrick finally wheeled her in. ‘I can walks a bit. Me legs might wobble, but they gets me from A to B.’
She walloped Old Patrick with her walking stick as he made to help her out of the wheelchair.
‘Come and sit down, Mrs Clegg,’ Anna said kindly, dragging forward a high-backed chair. She settled the old lady into it and tucked a shawl over her knees. ‘Can I get you a nice cup of tea?’
‘How did it go last night then, my lovelies?’ Mrs Clegg looked round at the others as they enjoyed the tea and cakes.
Gemma didn’t like to ask Old Patrick how many buckets they’d managed to collect.
The general consensus seemed to be that it had been a successful evening, with plenty of money raised for the RNLI, a good contribution towards the cost of the summer arts festival and building excitement for the Christmas fayre, which would take place in early December.
‘They lights are proper ’ansom this year,’ added Great-Aunt Dee. ‘That Devonshire woman had done something right afore she took off.’
‘Wasn’t so good an evening for Charlie the Crab,’ piped up Phoenix.
‘Why?’ Anna picked up the teapot to offer top-ups.
Old Patrick chuckled. ‘Silly old tuss.’
‘That’s a bit harsh, Patrick.’ Jean eyed him sternly.
‘What happened?’ Nikki looked from Phoenix to Patrick.
‘’ad his sights set on the Lugger’ – Old Patrick stretched his arm out, using the hand as a direction marker, straight ahead – ‘veered sideways into harbour, din ’ee?’
‘Oh my,’ Gemma exclaimed. ‘Is he okay?’
‘Oh aye.’ Old Patrick picked up his refilled mug. ‘They fished ’im out good and proper. Took ’im away in an ambulance they did. The daft beggar’s back home now.’
‘I remember Charlie running the kayak stand,’ Gemma said to Anna. ‘I used to love messing around in his boats when I was a kid.’
Gemma watched with amusement as the locals caught up on all the village gossip, devouring Anna’s biscuits and cakes and several mugs of tea or coffee before everybody produced whatever it was they were working on for the fayre.
Phoenix had painted several small watercolours of the village at various times of year, including a snowy harbour that had come straight from her imagination. Today she was busy putting them into frames.
Old Patrick, it seemed, had a talent for woodturning, and from the bag hanging on the back of Mrs Clegg’s wheelchair he produced a selection of wooden animals, some of which were recognisable and some of which weren’t.
Both of the elderly ladies were fond of knitting, but since Mrs Clegg’s recent illness she had lost interest in the hobby. In the meantime, she had rediscovered a childhood love of crochet, and she brought out an assortment of objects, ready to add the finishing touches.
‘Er, Mrs Clegg?’ Gemma picked up one of the items from the table. ‘Is this a… lighthouse?’
‘Oh no, my lovely!’ Mrs Clegg tittered. ‘Idea came to me, it did, when I thought about what Jeannie does. It’s ice cream, see? Didn’t have no beige thread, so I used salmon pink.’
Nikki and Phoenix exchanged a glance and met Gemma’s amused expression with their own.
‘So this…’ Gemma tentatively touched the rather bulbous end to the strangely formed piece of work. ‘This is ice cream… in a, er… cone?’
Phoenix smothered a giggle, then returned her attention to fastening her frame.
‘Right on, my lovely. ’T’is a double-scooper, that is. Proper job.’ Mrs Clegg struggled to her feet. ‘Need a pee.’
As she disappeared through the door, Gemma met Jean’s eye, and she shook her head, smiling.
‘She has no idea, Gemma, love.’
Phoenix looked up. ‘That it resembles a certain part of the male anatomy?’
‘There be no accounting for taste,’ Old Patrick said wisely, his attention on polishing a wooden shape that seemed to have three ears.
‘Cleggie’s happy enough,’ added Great-Aunt Dee. ‘Sold half-a-dozen already, to some maid having one of they hen things.’
Nicki leaned across the table. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Aye.’ Old Patrick straightened to meet their curious gazes. ‘One of the ladies at WI put it on some website – Testy, or summat – where people makes things. She packs they up and sends ’em off up country.’
‘Cleggie’s full of surprises,’ Jean added, before returning her attention to fastening a shard of green glass to a bracelet.
Gemma hid her smile. So was Auntie Jay, if Greg was anything to go by.
She glanced at the clock. It was nearing midday. Would Douggie have managed to raise the root ball yet? She checked her phone. Nothing from Matt. Was he still up in Oliver’s office? She was about to ask Anna when the boot room door swung open and the man in question came in.
He looked stressed, his hair in disarray, as though he’d run his hand through it one too many times.
‘Coffee, Matt?’ Anna smiled over at him, but he shook his head.
His gaze found Gemma’s. ‘Can we go now?’
‘Is the blockage gone?’
‘No. But I can’t wait any longer. I have to get back.’
‘But we can’t use Elsie , Matt!’
‘I’m not talking about the boat. We’re walking, and we have to leave now.’
Gemma was conscious of eyes moving between her and Matt as though they were on Centre Court.
‘It’s too dangerous, remember what Peggy said? The route through the woods is thick with mud, slippy as hell. Besides’ – her eyes dropped to Matt’s designer boots – ‘we don’t have the right footwear.’
‘If you don’t want to come, fine. I’m going.’
He walked over to Anna, gave her a hug, dropped a kiss on her cheek and raised a hand towards the spectators.
‘New balls, please,’ Nicki murmured with a smirk, as the door slammed behind him and Gemma got resignedly to her feet.
It looked like she was going to get very muddy and very cross with a certain musician in the next hour.