Chapter Thirty-One
It’s a Wonderful Life
Most of the Time
Christmas dinner proceeded in typical fashion, once the Lovelaces arrived, with exclamations over the tenderness of the bird, how crisp the roasted parsnips were and Jean requesting the recipe for Anna’s home-made stuffing. The pudding was oohed and ahhed over as Oliver carried it across from the kitchen, blue flames dancing in the brandy, which Matt had sprinkled a little too generously, and then it was on to cheese and biscuits with port, followed by coffee and mince pies.
Gemma released a discreet breath as she finally consumed the last morsel. Surely she’d never need to eat again? She looked around the table, warmed by how at home she and her aunts had been made to feel.
Oliver leaned back in his seat, a glass of port in one hand, the other clasping Anna’s. Great-Aunt Dee had fixated on why they wanted to honeymoon in the Alps when it was so cold there, and no amount of explanation from Oliver about long having had a love affair with Zermatt, or Anna’s protestations that she’d been dying to go there with him, could sway the lady from her opinion.
Jean seemed to be reading something on her phone under the table, and Gemma mused over whether it was Greg. He’d not been mentioned since the lights switch-on.
Although she’d resisted it so far, Gemma’s gaze then fell on Matt, only to find him watching her. What was he thinking? Would he decide to contact Harry or did he bear too hard a grudge?
He raised his glass and Gemma reciprocated before returning her attention to the conversation. Her departure from Cornwall was staring her in the face now, and she preferred to pretend this was her life and that she and Matt would be here with Anna and Oliver for Christmases to come.
When it came time for the aunts to leave – Great-Aunt Dee having completely misunderstood Oliver and still lamenting his intention of taking Anna on honeymoon to somewhere once associated with the former love of his life, and Jean doing her best to explain – Oliver helped them into their coats and left to escort them home. Matt followed in their wake, taking Dougal with him, saying he needed fresh air, and Anna and Gemma turned their attention to clearing up.
‘You’ve been good for Matty.’ Anna handed a tea towel to Gemma, then plunged her hands back into the soapy water.
A jolt of pleasure shot through Gemma at both the implication and the warmth of Anna’s voice.
‘I’ll miss him,’ she mused. ‘Well, some parts of him.’
‘I’m not going to ask which ones,’ Anna laughed as she placed a Le Creuset pot on the drainer.
Gemma focused on drying the serving dish, but Anna continued in a soft voice, ‘I think he’s been good for you too. There’s quite the spark between you.’
Pulling a face as she hung the tea towel on the AGA rail, Gemma pondered on whether Anna knew about the hold the faceless Sophia had on her brother.
‘He needed a sparring partner. That’s all.’
‘Come on, let’s have a nightcap and nab the sofa while we can.’
‘How’re the wedding plans? Are you all sorted now?’ Gemma sipped at her limoncello, but Anna heaved a sigh.
‘I think so. At least, as much as I’m allowed. Matty has something up his sleeve.’
‘And you’re nervous about it?’
Anna prodded the ice in her tumbler of Baileys. ‘Not really. I’d planned for us to go to the registry office by taxi, but he’s insisting on handling the transport because he knows I’m a bit disappointed by… its ordinariness, I suppose.’ She threw Gemma a sheepish look. ‘I’m my own worst enemy.’
‘What does Oliver say?’
Anna sipped her drink. ‘He’s up to something too, though he denies it.’ Then she smiled. ‘Oliver’s generally anti-secrets, so I’m not quite so anxious about his plans.’
They sat in a companionable silence for a moment; then, Anna looked over. ‘You’re welcome to come along to the wedding, Gemma. If you’d like to, of course.’
Gemma’s hand went to her chest. ‘That’s so sweet of you. I heard it had become a slightly bigger affair than you’d anticipated.’
Anna started to laugh. ‘Just a bit. I’m sure the village hall will suit us all fine, though.’
She leaned forward to top up her glass, and Gemma’s eyes landed on a polished box on a side table. ‘Did you ever manage to open that caddy Matt found?’
‘Yes.’ Anna smiled faintly. ‘More of Aunt Meg’s things – letters, photos, and so on. It’s been so busy, we haven’t had time to go through them yet.’
Tucking her legs up, Gemma looked around the gorgeous space. ‘This is such a beautiful house. What did Aunt Meg do for a living?’
‘She taught at the local school. When I first met her – I was about six – she’d recently retired.’
Gemma’s brow furrowed.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Anna continued with a smile. ‘The house was a gift – made over to her, much like Oliver made it over to me. We don’t know who it was, it was all in the name of a company. Something like Bennett?’
‘That’s so intriguing—’ Gemma was about to ask more questions, but the door opened, and Matt returned with Oliver, and she found it hard to focus on anything but him, even though they stayed over by the table, poring over the antique map of Switzerland Matt had found for Oliver’s Christmas gift.
The rest of the evening passed in similar fashion until, suddenly assailed by tiredness, Gemma concealed a yawn and excused herself. Anna gave her a hug, Oliver merely raised his glass to her, and Matt said goodnight but nothing more.
His speculative gaze was hard to fathom, and Gemma merely smiled vaguely in his direction and shot out of the room.
The following morning passed in a whirl, with little time for Gemma to reflect on her deepening affection for Matt. It was a dead end on every level, she knew that. Anna and Oliver were off to a Boxing Day lunch at The Lookout – their first chance to catch up properly with Lauren and Daniel – and, although the invite had been extended to Matt, he’d declined.
Hoping it would mean some quality time with him, whatever his current mood, Gemma found herself alone when he disappeared into Oliver’s den. When she’d taken him coffee and a mince pie, he’d once more got his phone glued to his ear and what looked like the blueprints for a property spread over Oliver’s desk.
Not wanting to speculate on who he might be talking to on a holiday, Gemma escaped to her room and set up her laptop on the dressing table.
The new passport should have been the best present ever, and it was about time she embraced it and started planning.
Gemma set her phone to play music and began to review her original itinerary. Sadly, it wasn’t the distraction she sought. Although she’d priced up a flight, she couldn’t say what date she might be free to go travelling, so that was as far as it went.
‘You don’t have a contract. You can leave whenever it’s convenient for you, remember,’ she admonished.
The lecture fell on deaf ears, and Gemma stood up and stretched before peering out of the window. The heavy frost had gone, as had the benign skies. Whitecaps rose and fell outside the harbour entrance and waves crashed into the rocks below the lighthouse and Harbourwatch.
‘Aargh!’
A touch on her shoulder, and Gemma spun round to glare at Matt.
‘Not my fault if the music’s too loud for you to hear someone approaching.’
‘You could try knocking.’
‘I did.’
Matt’s gaze fell on the open laptop, and his eyes narrowed as they returned to Gemma.
‘Going somewhere?’
She stepped around him. He was too close. ‘Just pricing things up.’
Gemma resumed her perch on the stool and flicked back to the previous screen, conscious Matt had come to stand behind her.
‘Singapore. Nice.’
‘You’ve been?’ Despite herself, Gemma swivelled round on the stool, then realised her head was on a level with Matt’s chest and she rose clumsily to her feet.
‘Years ago. With the band. We played a gig there. Sad thing was, we didn’t get to see places when we toured. Aside from some organised photo shoots – usually for various press outlets – we were ushered from hotel to venue and back.’
Gemma retreated to sit on the bed, her travel journal in her hands.
‘Feel as though I’ve travelled the world and seen none of it.’
‘That’s so sad, Matt.’ Gemma’s heart went out to him, as it so often did. Then she scribbled in her notebook. That could be part of some song lyrics.
‘This makes me think about giving it a go.’ He nodded at the screen. ‘Probably Europe, though. Only this time, I’m going to make sure I see the hidden sights, find a great local restaurant, confuse the locals with my attempts at the language, try out the public transport.’
He came to sit beside Gemma, and she edged her leg slightly away, not sure she could handle the physical contact.
He pointed to her phone. ‘Can you cut that, or turn it down?’
With a smirk, Gemma did as he asked. ‘You don’t like my taste in music?’
‘I wasn’t aware you had any.’
‘Rude,’ Gemma muttered at him as she pocketed her phone.
‘Having listened to your Christmas choices over the last few weeks, I think I’m qualified to pass judgement.’
‘One of which was yours.’
‘And I rest my case.’ Matt mocked a bow. ‘Now stop interrupting. I’ve spoken with Jonno. Harry’s told them he’d made a mistake, and the others say he wants me to rejoin the tour. Apparently, Harry and Claire were already on a precipice, but she’s now confessed to having once had a fling with our manager and its now become a full-on affair. She laid the blame on me because I’d turned her down years ago.’
‘You were damned if you did, damned if you didn’t.’
‘Something like that.’
‘So is it back on?’ Gemma’s heart, which had been racketing around in her chest like a hamster on its wheel, ground to a halt as though someone had stuck a carrot through the bars. ‘The band, the tour, everything.’
‘No.’ Matt sent her a sideways glance. ‘I can’t talk to you when I’m not looking at you.’
Unsure what that meant, Gemma gave him a nudge. ‘Get up then. It’s my bed, and I was here first.’
Matt did as instructed and walked to the door. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’