The Windmill Café

‘All we know is that Suki must have become unwell at some point after you left. We don’t know how or why. But,’ Matt softened his voice and held his friend’s eyes for a beat, ‘it does seem you were the last person to have been in her company. You have to help us understand what happened after you left the party together.’

As Rosie waited for Freddie to explain, her heart hammered out a concerto of sympathy. Matt and Freddie should have been enjoying a well-deserved pint after a long week at the outward-bound centre and a stint volunteering at the Windmill Café garden party. She suspected they would be the first to put their names on the list when she was looking for help with her Autumn Leaves Hallowe’en party at the end of October – if indeed she was still around to organize it.

‘Really, Matt, I promise you, there’s nothing to tell. You saw what Suki was like. She must have downed at least two bottles of prosecco before we were even introduced. She was drunk, or so I thought. I was as surprised as everyone else when she dragged me off to the lodge like that. She’s gorgeous, and it was great to meet someone who loves music just as much as I do. Believe me, I had no idea she had a boyfriend. I’m not sure what I expected to happen when we got back to her lodge. I’m not even sure anything would have happened. I’d only had a cup of tea and a couple of warm beers so I was in full command of my senses, and, call me old-fashioned, but I prefer my date to know what she’s doing.’

‘What do you mean “she was drunk, or so I thought”?’ Matt pressed.

‘When we arrived at her lodge, Suki disappeared into the bathroom. I stood at the window in the lounge. I just couldn’t get my head around what was going on. I was struggling with my conscience as to what to do next when she emerged, fully-clothed and as sober as my Aunt Marjory.’

‘What? But we all watched her swallow the entire contents of a bottle of prosecco,’ Rosie said. ‘How could she have been sober?’

‘I don’t know how, she just was. She offered to open a bottle of Moët she had brought with her, but I declined. Hate the stuff. I’m a beer and whiskey man, you know I am.’ His eyes sought Matt’s, silently pleading for his support. ‘Anyway, panic had started to set in. I mean, she’s on the verge of becoming a famous singer and who am I? No. I didn’t want to get involved in anything like that. I swear I was about to make my excuses and leave, when she apologized.’

‘For what?’

‘For the scene she had created on the lawn. She told me she’d had to make it look like she’d scored with a handsome guy. Had to make someone jealous. Teach them a lesson, like. Well, I was so relieved I didn’t have to explain my change of heart that it didn’t even occur to me to be offended at being used as some kind of pawn in whatever game she was playing.’

‘Then what happened.’

‘She pecked me on the cheek and ushered me out sharpish. It was only as I walked down the steps of the lodge that the shame and embarrassment at being unceremoniously dumped set in. All I wanted was a decent slug of whiskey to obliterate the humiliation, so I doubled back and walked through the fields to the village. I called in at the flat for a bottle of Jack and went down to the office where I knew I wouldn’t be disturbed. The next thing I knew, the Rev and Carole were hammering on the door like the world had come to an end. They knew everyone was looking for me and they came to find me.’

‘What time did you get to the flat?’

‘No idea. Probably just before seven o’clock. I bumped into Carole when I was walking across the village green on my way to the centre. She asked if I was okay, I mumbled something about being fine but she didn’t look convinced.’

‘So, you must have left Suki at just after 6.30. It takes twenty minutes to walk to Willerby through the fields. When you were with Suki, did she complain about feeling unwell; nausea, stomach cramps, light-headedness?’

‘No.’

‘And did either of you eat or drink anything?’

‘No. Look, I know what people might be thinking – that I put something in her drink, but I swear to you I didn’t. I told you, she was fine when I left. She even locked the door behind me. I heard the click. Matt, what’s going to happen? What if Suki wants to get the police involved?’

‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. We won’t know whether or not it was an accident until the doctor gets the results of the blood tests back.’

When Freddie took a sip from his pint of Guinness, Rosie saw that his hands were trembling. His familiar healthy complexion was tinged with grey, dark smudges had appeared beneath his eyes and he continually rubbed his palm over his chin. Despite her own catalogue of anxiety, Rosie’s heart ached for him.

‘Look, it’s late. I think we should all get some sleep and meet up again in the morning.’

Matt nodded his agreement, running his fingers through his hair so that it stuck up in random tufts, but his grave expression spoke of his concern as he asked ‘Is it okay if I take the sofa at yours, Fred?’

Rosie saw the look of gratitude Freddie sent to his best friend and colleague and she smiled at Matt’s kindness. Matt might look like a no-nonsense man-of-action-and-practicality on the outside – not to mention the added attraction of his toned physique and come-to-bed eyes – but on the inside, he was obviously a loyal and supportive friend who was worried about Freddie’s wellbeing after such a dreadful shock.

Matt had seen Rosie’s appraisal of him and she quickly averted her eyes, but not before she saw him smirk. She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t prevent a whoosh of heat flushing into her cheeks, nor the fizzle of something she hadn’t experienced for a while in her lower abdomen. She was surprised at the strength of her reaction. Was she attracted to Matt Wilson?

Chapter 10 (#ulink_caba1bbd-01ab-5b89-a77c-de34a1798d0e)

Monday at the Windmill Café was unusually busy and by the time 6.30 came around Rosie’s feet were screaming their objection to the unexpected onslaught, yet despite her tiredness and the worrying events of the previous day, she was much less anxious. That’s what working in the café alongside Mia, and chatting to their loyal customers, did to her and she sent up her daily missive of gratitude to her director of fate for guiding her to Willerby, even if her stay at the village proved to be shorter than she would have liked.

She locked the door and turned to survey the room. The circular café, with its French windows opening onto the terrace beyond, still exuded an aroma of warm buttered scones, along with the fragrance of the sweet peas she had arranged for the tables and a faint hint of Flash. A smile tugged at her lips and she knew that a good session of scrubbing would chase away the aches and pains. As she worked her way from the countertops to the whitewashed wooden tables and then the floor, her spirits lifted.

When she had left London, with her heart cracked into multiple pieces, she had never dared to hope that she could make her life somewhere else, or that the life she pursued could be as happy – until recent events of course. She would even go as far as to admit that she was happier in Norfolk than she had been in the metropolis. For too long she had allowed her grief over the sudden ending of her relationship with Harry to marinate in a mixture of anger and self-pity. But no more. Her soul-baring to Matt the previous day had perforated her sadness and she could now say, hand on heart, that she could work towards viewing the anguish Harry had caused her as a mere blip on the landscape of her life.

Satisfied that the café and its kitchen were squeaky clean, and still relishing the delicate tang of fresh disinfection in her nostrils, she climbed the spiral stairs up to her studio. Then, something else occurred to her. Whilst she was on the subject of self-improvement, perhaps another thing she should work on was her obsession with orderliness. Would the world really fall apart if her shirts weren’t folded in the same way or the café’s spice jars weren’t stored in alphabetical order or didn’t have their labels facing the front?

She stripped and stepped into the shower, lathering her body and hair in beautiful, clean soapy bubbles using the Jo Malone toiletries Georgina had bought her for her birthday in July. Bliss!

Whilst she performed a valiant attempt to tame her curls, a crystal-clear image of her younger sister sprang into her mind. Georgina had championed every tiny footstep of her success, from graduating from catering college, to designing stunning or quirky bouquets for demanding brides, to baking twists on the humble fruit scone – she had even started to hint that it was time Rosie started dating again after the debacle with Harry. But she wasn’t quite ready for that yet. The cadence of her life to date had been a symphony punctuated with tantalizing peaks and soul-scouring troughs. She needed a period of calm – or that was what she had told her persistent sister.

The success of the Windmill Café summer garden party had been a milestone, though. She had proved to herself that she could smile and laugh and live life to the full like everyone else. The armour plate she had erected around her heart was corroding with each passing week and she could now delve into her memories and extract a happier image than her previous go-to nightmare scenarios; her life was no longer filled with Bleeding Heart flowers – or Dicentra Spectabilis as Harry had insisted on calling them in the hope of catching her out. Nevertheless, even with Georgina’s encouragement, it would be a while before she moved on to Kiss Me Over The Garden Gate – Persicaria orientale!

As Rosie brushed her teeth, Mia popped into her mind and a wide smile stretched her cheeks. She knew she had hit the friendship jackpot when Mia had walked into the café and strapped on one of her outrageous aprons, ready to bake up a storm. At the ripe old age of twenty-three, she was a natural baker, but that was probably down to the fact that her mother, Sarah, one of Carole’s best friends, was a food tech teacher at the local High School. Rosie had loved the alcohol-infused nights they’d spent together putting the world to rights with that trio of oestrogen solace – chocolate, wine and gossip.

Was all this progress at an end? Would the café be forced to shut its doors because of her? She hadn’t heard anything further from Dr Bairstow, and she had been grateful for the hustle and bustle of the day because it had kept the churning trepidation at bay. However, now she was alone in her flat, she was finding it difficult not to allow the anxiety demons free rein. Where would she go next? And would she get another job in the catering industry if she was forced to leave under a cloud?

Rosie pulled on a new pair of jeans and her musings continued to meander around her brain. Inevitably, her thoughts drifted to Matt and how she had felt comfortable enough in his company to share the tragic details of her past relationship fiasco with him the previous day. Then, for some reason known only to her subconscious, she found herself imagining what he would look like without the black T-shirt that moulded his body like a second skin.

Okay, Rosie, she chastised herself, get a grip!

She tossed her hair brush onto the glass shelf beneath the mirror and selected a powder-blue tank top from her carefully co-ordinated wardrobe. Matt was much more than the local Bear Grylls, with an affinity for the great outdoors and a penchant for flying through the air on a zip wire. Even before he knew the results of Suki’s tests, he had stood loyally by her side and come up with a practical solution to absolve her of guilt.

In a strange twist of fate, Matt had happened on one of the interests she had hoped to pursue in happier times before her childhood had imploded. Whilst she had loved her mother dearly, she had always been a Daddy’s Girl. She had not only shared her father’s passion for gardening, but also his obsession with detective novels, their favourites being the stories written by that grand dame of murder mysteries, Agatha Christie. She had read every one of her books before the age of fourteen and had loved discussing the twists and turns with him, especially enjoying their competitions to be the first to identify the culprit.

In fact, her interest in solving puzzles had fuelled her early ambitions to follow in her father’s footsteps into the legal profession, albeit not into commercial law like him, but criminal defence. She had moved on from Agatha Christie to become fascinated with courtroom dramas, discovering John Grisham whose stories had sealed her dream to qualify as a lawyer. Sadly, she had been forced to shelve her best-laid plans in the face of overwhelming upheaval which had a detrimental effect on her exam results. Reading Law at university was no longer an option and she had been guided by a sympathetic personal tutor to her second passion, food, or more precisely, baking. In any case, passion or not, it was a talent she’d had no alternative but to hone if what was left of her devastated family were to eat.

Now she couldn’t wait to take her place right there next to Matt, eager to ask questions, to weigh up the answers against the facts and discover the reasons why Suki became so ill so quickly. The irony was, at the moment, she seemed to be the suspect and not the protagonist sleuth! She would have given her precious Gaggia coffee machine to know what her beloved father would have said about that!

A sharp knock on the door of the café made her jump. She secured her hair with a gem-encrusted comb, squared her shoulders and trotted down the stairs, with the precise whereabouts of the kitchen knives and rolling pin running through her mind. She rolled her eyes at her foolishness.

‘Hi, Matt. Come in.’

‘Actually, I thought you might want to take a walk over to Suki’s lodge. I’ve just seen Dr Bairstow’s Range Rover arrive in the car park. I think he’s got the results of her blood tests.’

Rosie’s spirits took a nosedive and her stomach felt as though she had plunged from the top of a rollercoaster down to the bottom. Nevertheless, the sooner she knew what had caused Suki’s illness the better, even if she was to blame. She nodded and went to snatch her jacket from the coat stand, careful to lock the door behind her. As they made their way across the field to the lodges, apprehension clouded her thoughts and she struggled to make conversation but she knew Matt understood the reason for her silence.

Matt’s rap on the door was answered by a white-faced William. Every eye in the room turned to see who had arrived, but no one objected to their presence. With tremendous effort, Rosie forced herself to ignore the nerves tingling at her fingertips and to concentrate on what the doctor was saying to Suki and Felix. If she was going to be leaving Willerby, then she needed to understand the reasons why.

‘So, the test results are conclusive – Suki was poisoned. However, it is extremely unlikely that the cause was linked to any of the food or drink served at the Windmill Café summer garden party.’

It took a few moments for what Dr Bairstow had said to sink in. When it did, Rosie experienced such a surge of relief that she grabbed hold of Matt’s hand to prevent herself from collapsing in a heap on the floor – she didn’t want to give the doctor more work than he had bargained for. Inevitably, the conclusion raised a disturbing question.

‘Do you mean… are you saying… that someone actually targeted me? That they put poison in my food or my drink at the party?’ gasped Suki, her eyes widening in shock.

‘I’m sorry to say that it looks like that’s the case,’ said Dr Bairstow.

The terror written across Suki’s expression turned Rosie’s stomach and for a brief moment she actually wanted the results of the test to have confirmed food poisoning. Whilst that conclusion would have been devastating for her, and for the future of the Windmill Café, these things happened in the catering industry. Yes, she would have lost her job, and Graham would have lost a great deal of money, but in all likelihood the business would probably have recovered from the ashes of its devastation. But now it looked like Matt’s suspicions had come to fruition. Someone had wanted to hurt Suki – or worse – and a slither of fear meandered down her spine causing the hackles at her hairline to rise.

For several interminable minutes, no one spoke and silence rolled into every corner of the lodge. No one wanted to be the one to burst the bubble of calm-before-the-storm, as if by doing so the evil that may be loitering in their midst would be invited in. Suki, Jess, and Nadia sat huddled together on the leather sofa, their hands clutching the mugs of coffee they had been drinking when the doctor arrived to deliver the dreadful news. Felix stood next to the French doors leading to the veranda, his arms folded across his chest, staring out at the bucolic beauty of the Windmill Café’s grounds. He lit a cigarette and it seemed no one had the heart or the energy to challenge him.