Two Metres From You

by Heidi Stephens

  Gemma re-read the letter. It’s not for me, Matthew or anyone else to tell you where you belong. This line made her head spin a little. Where do you belong, Gemma? It was an impossible question; she’d never belonged anywhere.

  She folded the letter carefully and picked up her phone, feeling a touch of guilt that she still hadn’t answered Matthew’s message from last night. How was my day? Well, I mostly felt like shit, walked Mabel’s paws off, then had a go at your mother before getting drunk in the bath. How was yours?

  She chewed her lip and thought for a while, then tapped in a reply. Sorry for delay. Yesterday was busy, lots of sorting out to do. Would be nice to see you for a cider before I go. Gx

  It was the worst kind of reply, really – dry, indifferent, chilly. It wasn’t at all how Gemma felt, but she needed to keep Matthew at arm’s length if she had any hope of getting through the next few days. She genuinely wanted to see him before she left, but also needed to make it clear that her agenda was a drink and a hug goodbye, rather than spectacular sex against the cold tiles of the shower under a torrent of hot water. Gemma shivered at the memory – had that really only been last week?

  She looked at her watch; she couldn’t put off calling Caro any longer, but the signal in the house wasn’t really up to a proper chat and she couldn’t exactly stand in the garden where Matthew could hear. She decided to walk to the shop – she could take Mabel for her afternoon walk after talking to Caro, then log back on for the first Autumn Club online meeting at 2 p.m. in case they needed any technical support. She stroked Mabel’s head for a few moments, then nudged her out of bed. Mabel glared at her resentfully, then plodded through the kitchen to sit by the back door. Gemma felt another pang of misery and guilt. He’s not coming, Mabes.

  The sun was fully up by the time she walked through the village. It was forecast to start raining tomorrow, so this would be the last day in what had felt like weeks of unseasonably warm and dry weather for April. It felt only fitting that the clouds would roll in just as Gemma was readying to leave, and she found herself welcoming the change – she didn’t want to be shut in a tiny flat if it was sunny outside. Cold and wet meant she could hunker down with Mabel and read books until this was all over.

  The shop was open when she arrived, so she avoided her usual perch on the step and took Mabel to the churchyard instead. It was deserted, so Gemma did a lap until she found a patch of grass with a good signal and sat down. Mabel sniffed around the graves nearby, then turned a few circles and settled in the sun a few metres from Gemma. The churchyard was quiet and tranquil, and for a long moment Gemma sat with her face angled towards the sun and soaked up the warmth and peace, delaying this call with Caro for as long as possible.

  ‘Gem! Thank God. I thought you were dead in a ditch.’

  ‘Don’t be a drama queen. I’ve been busy.’

  ‘Hang on.’ Gemma heard a chair scraping, doors opening and closing and muffled voices before Caro returned. ‘Right, that’s better, I’ve hoofed Tony out of the office for a few minutes. How are you? Matthew hasn’t been returning my calls either, so I’m guessing you’ve both had your mouths full.’ Caro howled at her own joke, and Gemma rested her head on her knees. Pull the plaster off, Gemma. It’s going to hurt either way.

  ‘Caro, stop. Please. It’s not happening. I’m coming back to London on Thursday.’

  Caro was silent for a moment. ‘What? Why?’

  ‘You know why. I can’t stay here. I appreciate the loan of the cottage and it’s been amazing, but I need to get back to real life.’

  There was another silence, longer this time. Gemma could hear Caro breathing, the muffled noise of shouting children somewhere in the background. ‘Wow. Where are you going to live?’

  ‘In the flat next door to Joe. The guy who owns it is going home to Sweden for a month. After that I’ll rent somewhere.’

  ‘Right.’ Gemma caught the edge in Caro’s voice, clearly pissed off that Gemma had spoken to Joe, but not her. ‘What about Matthew?’

  Gemma sighed. ‘It isn’t going to happen, Caro. It’s been a great lockdown romance, but neither of us are the settling-down type, and putting ninety miles between us isn’t going to help. I’m sorry. I know he’s your friend and he’s been great, but there’s no future in it.’ Gemma realised she’d been preparing this speech for days, it came across like she was reading from an autocue.

  ‘Fucking hell, Gem, when did you become the ice queen?’

  Gemma’s eyes filled with tears, and she furiously blinked them away. ‘I’m sorry. It’s self-preservation. I don’t know what else to say.’

  More silence; all Gemma could hear was Caro’s pen tapping on her desk, and her own heartbeat. Mabel loped over and lay beside her, her head on her knee, and for a minute it felt like Aunt Laura was there beside her.

  Caro took a deep breath. ‘OK, there’s something you need to know. I wasn’t going to tell you but I can’t see any other way.’

  Gemma sat upright, her nerves suddenly on edge. What was this?

  Caro continued. ‘I knew Fraser was cheating on you when I rang that day. I made a last-minute decision to join you for your class but realised I didn’t have my phone and couldn’t remember which gym.’ Gemma rolled her eyes; this was classic Caro. ‘So I ran to yours on the off-chance you hadn’t left yet. You clearly had, because there was some random woman on your doorstep as I turned into your street; I saw Fraser open the door and pull her in like he couldn’t wait to get her kit off, then give her arse a feel for good measure. I had to sprint home to get my phone, then I rang Joe to work out what to do.’

  ‘You rang JOE? Why didn’t you ring me?’

  ‘Because you’d have made excuses for him, given him the benefit of the doubt. You’d have let him talk his way out of it.’ Gemma winced at what was probably the truth. ‘So we plotted to get you home early so you’d catch him out.’

  ‘Which I did.’

  ‘Which you did. Joe was hiding in the doorway opposite ready to take photos in case she left before you got back, but our plan worked and you caught him at it.’

  ‘I really did. Going at her fanny like a Cornetto in a heatwave.’ Caro hooted, and Gemma couldn’t help but join in. ‘Did I tell you he turned up here on Saturday?’

  ‘WHAT? NO! Oh my God, tell me more.’

  ‘In a minute. Tell me more about this plan you hatched.’

  Another pause, shorter this time. ‘OK, but this is the bit you’re not going to like.’ Gemma could hear the tension in Caro’s voice, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  ‘Getting you to Crowthorpe was part of the plan. I’d been thinking about it for a while. Fraser was SUCH an unworthy prick and I just thought getting you away from him for a bit might help you see it. Which is why I dropped all those hints, saying that you could use the cottage any time, if ever you needed to get away.’

  Gemma thought back to the times she and Caro had talked about West Cottage. She hadn’t noticed at the time, but it was always offered to Gemma as a bolthole, never to her and Fraser as a romantic weekend. It was the first place she thought of when she left Fraser’s flat, because Caro had planned it that way. What else had she planned? Gemma’s voice tightened.

  ‘And Matthew? Was he part of the plan?’

  The silence gave Gemma her answer, and she resisted the temptation to throw her phone into the long grass. ‘Caro?’ She repeated the question through gritted teeth. ‘Was Matthew part of the plan?’

  Caro tried to maintain her bravado, but Gemma could hear the tinge of shame in her voice. ‘Yes. Look, I just thought you’d be perfect for each other. I’ve thought it for years, but I didn’t see any point introducing you when you were living in Laura’s house – neither of you are the long-distance type. But the shit with Fraser presented an opportunity, so I took it. I didn’t tell Matthew and obviously I didn’t know about the lockdown; that was a bonus. I just hoped you’d get out of this shithole and fall in love with the village, and maybe Matthew at the
same time. You’re both a shambles when it comes to relationships and it didn’t seem like there was very much to lose.’

  Gemma’s head felt jumbled, this was all too ridiculous. ‘I thought you hated this village. You never come here. Why would you send me down here like some kind of desperate spinster?’

  Caro laughed. ‘Oh, Gem, I don’t hate Crowthorpe, I love it. I never go there because I never want to leave. But I can’t live there, it’s too far to commute every day and Tony would hate it. He’d be rabidly jealous of Matthew, for a start, can you imagine?’ Gemma could absolutely imagine the face-off between Dressage Tony and country-boy Matthew; she’d willingly pay for a ticket and bring popcorn. ‘I just can’t bring myself to sell it, it’s all I have left of Mum and Dad. So I thought of you. You’re a country girl at heart, just like Laura.’

  Gemma winced at the second reference to her aunt. Caro had spent many weekends in Norfolk with Aunt Laura during university, and later had regularly made up a party of three for dinner or a theatre trip when Aunt Laura was in London. Aunt Laura had called her ‘Sweet Caroline’, which was something of a joke as there was nothing sweet about Caro, but she had admired her spirit and ambition. There weren’t many black women in the upper ranks of London advertising, but Caro had fought her way to the top on pure merit and hard graft.

  That said, this particular campaign had been completely out of order and Gemma wasn’t going to let her off the hook. ‘This is bullshit, Caro. You can’t just throw Matthew and me together like some kind of fucking experiment and cross your fingers everything falls into place. And more importantly, we’re both your friends and we have feelings. I don’t know about Matthew, but I feel like utter shit right now. It’s not your job to sort my life out.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry. It’s just you’re my friend and I love you, but you make really bad fucking choices all the time. Seeing Fraser with that woman made me so furious, but it also gave me a chance to show you a different kind of life. I had a feeling you’d be happy in Crowthorpe, so it seemed like it was worth the risk.’

  ‘I was happy. I am. But I can’t stay. I just can’t.’

  ‘Of course you can. You can rent the cottage for less than a shitty flat in London. You can learn to drive, work from home, jump on the train to town whenever you need to. Nothing is stopping you but your own stupid fear of being happy.’

  Gemma gasped in fury and started to protest, but Caro interrupted. ‘I’m going to go now, there’s nothing left for me to say. I’m sorry I interfered, but please just think about it, Gem. You have choices, lots of people don’t. Don’t waste them.’ Caro hung up, and then it was just Gemma in the churchyard, with a sleeping dog at her side.

  A cider would be lovely, but I’m afraid I’m not very good at goodbyes. Maybe better to remember the good times and leave it at that? Mx

  OK, you’re probably right. Gx

  I’m kidding. I’m coming over now. I don’t have any cider, but we don’t need it. Mx

  Matthew strode through the kitchen door, scooped Gemma up like she weighed nothing and carried her through to the lounge, his face full of animal intent. He closed the door to keep Mabel out, pulled the curtains so violently Gemma thought he’d bring the wooden pole down, then pushed her gently but firmly back on to the sofa, his eyes glittering with something unfathomable between fury and lust. He leaned over her, one hand creeping under her skirt and up the inside of her thigh, and the other burrowing under her T-shirt. Gemma could hear the urgency of his breathing as he whispered in her ear.

  ‘Do you want this?’

  ‘What? I . . .’ She opened her legs a little further, willing his hands not to stop.

  ‘Do you want this? I’ll leave now if you don’t.’ The fingers simultaneously edged under the lace of her knickers and brushed over her nipple. ‘Up to you.’

  She barely had time to cry ‘Fuck, yes’ before he buried his face into her neck with a groan and plunged his fingers inside her. Gemma was floored by how intense the sensation was; she felt like she’d been stripped back to nothing but muscles and nerves. She closed her eyes as Matthew’s hands and lips roamed every inch of her body with a relentless fervour that didn’t abate until they were both burned out and breathless. Matthew rolled over to face her, a slow, sleepy smile on his face. ‘If you run a bath and find us both a drink, I’ll apologise to your dog.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Tuesday, 28 April

  To Do

  Absolutely no plans whatsoever

  Gemma lay on her side, her face inches from Matthew’s shoulder. His slow, steady breaths told her he was still asleep, but she couldn’t resist trailing her hand down his back to his waist, then gently sliding her hand around his torso and pulling herself into the warmth of his back. The view through the skylights showed her a morning that was grey and heavy with rain, and the room felt cold. She pulled the duvet tightly over both of them and snuggled in a little further.

  That Matthew was here at all was entirely unexpected, and Gemma still didn’t quite know what to make of it. His message last night had sent her into a whirlwind of confusion, followed by one of the most mind-blowingly intense experiences of her life. In the final post-bath, post-wine moments before sleep pulled her under, she had wondered if she might wake up with regrets. But today she had none. It hadn’t felt irresponsible or complicated or desperate on either part, but more like ending things on a high. Rather than feeling sad that her lockdown stay in Crowthorpe was ending, Gemma felt full of gladness that it had begun.

  ‘Don’t stop.’

  Gemma hadn’t realised she was stroking Matthew’s arm, her body moulded as best it could around his broad back. ‘I thought you were asleep.’

  ‘How could I possibly be asleep when you’re that close?’ Gemma paused, resting her hand on the warm skin of Matthew’s shoulders. She needed to clarify that they were both in the same place, just for her own peace of mind. ‘You know I’m still leaving, right?’

  Matthew gave a short out breath through his nose that told Gemma he was smiling. ‘I know. It’s fine. I’m not going to beg you to stay. But you’re not going until Thursday, right?’

  ‘Yes. I need to pack and clean this place tomorrow, and check in with the first Parent Pop-In. Then I’m getting the train on Thursday morning.’

  ‘So what are you doing today?’

  Gemma paused, mentally running through her to-do list. There was nothing on it. ‘I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it.’

  ‘I don’t need to work today, I’m a bit ahead of schedule. So maybe we can go somewhere, get out of the village for a bit.’

  ‘It’s cold and raining.’

  Gemma could hear his eyes rolling. ‘Then we’ll wear weather-appropriate clothing. Honestly, you city girls.’

  Gemma felt inexplicably happy. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Wait and see. There’s something I want to show you.’

  It was late morning by the time they made it to Matthew’s van, having been waylaid by practical things like toast and coffee and walking Mabel, but also their unwillingness to break the spell they’d woven around each other since last night. Even getting dressed took Gemma for ever, as Matthew removed items of clothing as quickly as she could put them on. By the time she finally managed to get her boots on and slip out of the back door with Mabel in tow, Gemma’s face hurt from laughing. She’d grabbed the first T-shirt in the clean pile, which happened to be the commemorative Spice Girls one she’d worn in the garden four weeks before.

  Matthew smiled appreciatively as she climbed into the van. ‘Nice T-shirt.’

  Gemma crossed her arms self-consciously and prepared to defend her first love. ‘I was a huge fan back in the day. Caro bought me this, we were both at the same gig even though we didn’t know each other then.’ The Wembley shows had been at the end of the European leg of the tour, after Geri Halliwell had left the band, so only four of the Spice Girls featured on the T-shirt. She swallowed this fascinating fact, reasonab
ly confident that Matthew wouldn’t care.

  ‘Not their best album, though.’

  Gemma looked up. ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Spiceworld. Wasn’t their best album. Spice was better. It has “Who Do You Think You Are” and “Say You’ll Be There” on it, which are obviously the best Spice Girls songs.’

  Gemma was momentarily dumbfounded, both by the outrageous omission of ‘Stop’ as the best Spice Girls song, and by the sudden realisation that the last five weeks had clearly been a lie and Matthew was definitely gay. He started the engine and slowly rolled the van towards the lane.

  ‘I will concede that those two are in the top three. You are full of surprises, Mr Thorpe.’

  Matthew hit the brakes and turned to look at her. ‘Why would you call me that?’

  Gemma’s brain frantically spun through the letter from his mother, which she had definitely signed Christine Thorpe. ‘It’s your surname. Isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s my mum’s maiden name. She used it for her interiors business because her married name is Painter, which created some confusion in the interiors world. She still uses it, just out of habit. I’m Matthew Painter.’ He stared at Gemma intently, as her face turned from white to pink to a deep crimson. ‘How did you know my mum’s surname?’