THE WINDMILL CAFE_PART ONE_Summer Breeze

by Poppy Blake

  ‘I did.’

  ‘And all the planters,’ added Mia, proudly. ‘Rosie’s a floral maestro!’

  A curl of pleasure meandered through her veins at receiving a second accolade in ten minutes. She had loved flowers and plants since she was a child, learning their Latin names from her father. Their demands for regular attention had become her therapy at the most difficult time of her life, then it had turned into her passion, and eventually it had become her livelihood. She had adored the little flower shop she used to run in Pimlico with her ex, Harry Fellows, especially creating the intricate bridal bouquets and bridesmaids’ posies.

  Sadly, her long-held ambition to become a celebrity wedding florist had morphed into a nightmare, and Love Lies Bleeding had become her flower of choice until she arrived in Willerby with only a suitcase to her name. The little Windmill Café had gently unwrapped the mantle of misery from her shoulders, and the warmth of the friends she’d made here had helped to plaster over the cracks in her heart so that now she greeted every day with a smile on her face. She was so grateful to have her life back on track at last and she would never do anything that would jeopardize that.

  ‘Ah, now I understand your ‘getting down and dirty’ comment!’ grinned Matt, a flicker of mischief appearing in his eyes. ‘If you’re interested, perhaps you can let Freddie take you on a guided walk through the grounds of Ultimate Adventures. There’s lots of flora and fauna, but I don’t think you’ll find anything suitable for your table decorations, though.’

  ‘Sounds like a great idea,’ said Rosie, thinking it was a much better proposition than going all Tarzanesque on a zip wire through the treetop canopy. ‘I might take you up on that, Freddie.’

  ‘No problem. You might be the go-to girl for upmarket bridal flowers, but I’m your man when it comes to wild flowers. Wild flowers can be just as beautiful as any other, but you need to be careful what you touch. Some are toxic, not just to animals, but to humans, too. Laburnum, foxgloves, oleander, belladonna, ingesting just a small amount could kill you.’

  ‘Is that true?’ Mia’s eyes widened and she ran her palms up and down her forearms to eradicate the goose bumps that had appeared.

  ‘Deadly!’

  Unlike Matt who had stuck to his work attire of figure-hugging black jeans and matching Ultimate Adventures logo-ed T-shirt, Freddie looked positively jaunty sporting a pair of smart navy trousers and a lime green polo shirt which accentuated the colour of his eyes – a prophetic choice as it did not clash with his hair, the colour of a fox’s tail. He looked like he had just stepped from the deck of his luxury yacht.

  ‘Gosh, I had no idea you could die from touching flowers! Rosie, what if I’ve inadvertently put one of those wild flowers in our table arrangements? Oh my God, our garden party guests are going to die in agony and it’ll be all my fault!’

  Rosie laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I think we’re safe, Mia.’

  ‘God, where’s the prosecco? I need a top-up!’

  Mia rushed off to the makeshift wine bar, with a chuckling Freddie lolloping in her wake, and Rosie and Matt sauntered after them. Suki was there too, ordering another bottle of chilled champagne.

  ‘Rosie, my sister Jess has suggested I perform a few songs later. Do you mind?’

  ‘Wow, awesome!’ declared Freddie, nodding emphatically in Rosie’s direction.

  ‘That would be wonderful, Suki, but do you really want to sing? I thought you were here to relax?’

  ‘I am, but it’s been such a beautiful afternoon, I thought I’d practise a couple of the songs I’m a bit rusty on before I go into the recording studio next week. Do you mind if I use the terrace outside the café?’

  ‘Of course not. Do you need me to do anything?’

  ‘Actually, yes. I don’t suppose you have any honey in the café kitchen, do you?’

  ‘Honey? Yes, I think so. Why?’

  ‘I use it to make my throat spray with a few drops of peppermint oil. I can’t sing without it and I seem to have run out.’

  ‘No problem at all.’

  Rosie led Suki to the Windmill Café and through the French doors into the kitchen. She was proud that she had directed the whole operation of hosting and catering for a part of over forty ravenous villagers with flawless efficiency. She cast a quick glance around the room and, as she had expected, the place was pristine. She heaved a sigh of relief. The marble countertops had been cleared of all culinary debris, polished until they sparkled, and the sharp bite of ammonia stung her nostrils. Mia had accused her of practically bathing in the stuff but ever since she had been forced to leave her beloved little flower shop in London, she knew she had reverted to the strange kind of comfort and calm she had always found in scrupulous, obsessive hygiene standards.

  ‘Ergh, what’s with the intense chlorine smell?’

  Suki’s exclamation took Rosie by surprise and a surge of warmth travelled from her chest up into her neck and glowed at her cheeks. However, the last thing she wanted to do was talk to Suki about her painful past and the cause of her resumed struggle with cleanliness, how making sure that everything was so clean it squeaked was the only thing that gave her the peace of mind she craved. To cover her embarrassment, she strode quickly to the cupboard above the fridge and removed a jar of Jarrah honey.

  ‘Is this what you’re looking for?’

  ‘Perfect! Thank you, Rosie, you’re an absolute life-saver. My throat is so sore from all the talking I’ve done this afternoon. I take a lot of stick from Felix and Nadia, but I can’t even think about singing without a bottle of my spray in my pocket. It’s sort of like my good luck charm. See you later. Eight o’clock on the terrace. Don’t be late!’

  Rosie watched Suki flick her hair over her shoulder and meander back towards her friends, clutching the jar of honey as if it contained the elixir of youth. For some unfathomable reason, a spasm of sympathy shot into Rosie’s heart and she took a moment to contemplate the five people who had taken over the luxury lodges at the Windmill Café’s holiday site.

  Felix, Suki’s boyfriend, was still conspicuous by his absence despite being expected for the ribbon-cutting ceremony, and whilst the others were certainly all fascinating characters, she had little in common with any of them. Suki and her friend Nadia clearly had more of an affinity with the contents of a drinks cabinet than an interest in either floristry or baking and she made a mental note to hide her emergency bottle of Gordon’s just in case.

  She liked Jess, Suki’s younger sister, but despite being twenty-one, she acted like an immature teenager rather than an independent adult. She seemed to float along in a world of her own, happy to follow in her boyfriend Lucas’s wake like an excitable puppy on its first walk on the beach.

  Rosie had already had to fight to keep Lucas out of the café kitchen. The first thing he had told her when they’d checked in at the lodges was that one day he hoped to be the proud owner of a Michelin star. The guy seemed to have modelled his entire life, as well as his physical appearance, on becoming the next version of the Naked Chef, right down to his accent – strange, because Lucas had also told her he was from Cornwall, not Essex.

  Finally, her eyes came to rest on William, Suki’s tall, dark and handsome music manager, who also happened to be Nadia’s boyfriend. He stood a little apart from the group, as if watching a bunch of toddlers enjoying an afternoon cavorting in the playground. Rosie was grateful that there was at least one sensible person in their group otherwise she suspected the whole party could quite easily descend into disarray – something she wasn’t good at coping with.

  Chapter 3

  After saying her goodbyes to everyone who had attended the very first Windmill Café garden party, Rosie grabbed a roll of black bin bags, handed one each to Matt, Freddie and Mia and they began to stuff them with litter. With the extra help, the tidying up didn’t take long and by six o’clock a casual onlooker would never have known there had been a party at the Windmill Café that afternoon. She made a pitcher of homemade lemon
ade and slumped down next to Mia at one of the tables on the terrace for a well-deserved rest, whilst Freddie went off in search of a bucket of ice in which to store his beers.

  ‘So, are you pleased to be back from your trek around the world?’ Rosie asked Mia, enjoying the sensation of the cold, sharp, citrusy nectar trickling down her throat.

  ‘Having a gap year is an awesome experience. I’ve seen some amazing sights, but there is nothing quite like being at home. Mum and Dad are ecstatic that I made it back in one piece. Mum’s got me helping with the flowers in the church, as well as baking all this stuff for the Rev’s homeless charity, and Dad’s roped me in with the gardening and tending the greenhouse. I don’t mind, though. I’m still writing my travel blog and, of course, I’m loving working with you here in the café over the summer. Did Matt tell you he’s offered me a part-time job as a zip wire instructor when the season ends in October – can’t wait to start the training with our very own answer to Bear Grylls. And Freddie’s promised to take me windsurfing and wild camping.’

  ‘You can definitely count me out of those very special experiences,’ Rosie shuddered. ‘What’s so enjoyable about getting cold, wet and muddy?’

  ‘Oh, Rosie, wild camping is lots of fun! Actually, Freddie and I were talking about trying it out in Willerby Woods next weekend. We’ll be foraging for all our food and water and sleeping under the stars. Why don’t you come along?’

  ‘Gosh, I’ll take a raincheck on that if you don’t mind!’ she laughed as Matt and Freddie joined them.

  ‘Rosie, do you mind if I make myself a coffee? Freddie couldn’t find any ice and I don’t think I could stomach another bottle of warm beer. Want one?’

  Before Rosie could offer to do it herself, Matt had marched into the café kitchen and flicked the switch on the kettle. He spooned freshly-ground coffee into a cafetière with the careless abandon of a three-year-old in a sand pit, sending a generous scattering of the granules across the marble benchtop. Where only moments before soothing orderliness had reigned supreme, there was now a plethora of culinary chaos. Rosie’s desperation to create order that always lurked just beneath the surface reared its ugly head and her fingertips tingled with the effort it took not to rush over to the sink and grab a cloth to start wiping away the mess. She chanced a quick glance at Matt, and saw him raise his eyebrows in amused enquiry.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she improvised. ‘Just tired. I hadn’t realized how exhausting it would be to manage the Windmill Café as well as the holiday site, but I’m enjoying every minute of it.’

  ‘So, too busy to come over for a flight on the zip wire, eh?’ Matt’s eyes crinkled with mischief, nudging her flagging spirits northwards. Every time she met up with Matt at the Drunken Duck, he and Freddie had tried to encourage her to spend the day with them at the outward-bound centre and she admired their persistence with a lost cause.

  ‘I’d rather stick my hand in a meat grinder,’ she laughed, trying her hardest not to let her eyes drift back to the spilled coffee.

  ‘Not a lover of heights, then?’

  Matt was right, indoor pursuits had always been more her thing, like flower arranging and baking up a storm. But, now she was settling into her new life in the country, far away from the city life and urban sprawl she had left behind in London, there was no reason why she shouldn’t introduce a few changes, and start enjoying a more rural lifestyle. Wasn’t life all about trying new things? Should she give the zip wire a go? A shiver of trepidation shot down her spine just thinking about it. Maybe she could begin with something a little closer to the ground.

  ‘What else do you have at Ultimate Adventures apart from the zip wire?’

  ‘Lots of things. We’ve got the climbing wall, there’s the quad bike safaris, you could try paintballing, field archery, hover-carting, wild camping, and there’s my personal favourite – the woodland obstacle course – although that’s best enjoyed after we’ve had some rain. Which one floats your boat then?’

  Rosie gulped. Each one sounded worse than the last, and the thought of having to choose between them caused her head to spin. What on earth was hover-carting? There was only one way to find out and with all-action-hero Matt at her side whilst she gave them a go, she suspected she’d be able to conquer all of those things – except the zip wire.

  She sat up straight and pushed her shoulders back, met Matt’s gaze and said ‘I think I might give the archery a go.’

  ‘That’s great, Rosie.’ Matt grinned broadly, his whole face lighting up with pleasure at recruiting a potential convert. ‘A fitting choice. Has anyone ever told you that you bear more than a striking resemblance to that Disney character in Brave? Same unruly hair, same scattering of freckles across the bridge of your nose, same determined tilt of the chin.’

  Rosie knew exactly who Matt was referring to. She had often been told she resembled Merida, but only because of her hair, not for possessing a penchant for using a bow and arrow when things got tough – although she had often craved a soupçon of the character’s courage to get her through the difficult times.

  ‘Yes, quite a few actually.’

  ‘Okay, then it’s decided, field archery, it is. I’ll sort it out for one night next week after we close so that we can have the course to ourselves. Don’t look so terrified. I know you’re going to love it!’

  She smiled at Matt’s evident delight that she had agreed to ditch her doubts and launch herself into something new. Whenever she was in his company she felt more alive, more willing to take chances, to step outside her narrow comfort zone and into the excitement of the unknown. She wondered how he did it. Harry had certainly never made her feel like that, quite the opposite in fact.

  ‘I think “love it” might be going a bit far.’

  ‘Why do you say that? How do you know until you’ve tried?’ Matt’s voice had softened as he scoured her eyes for a clue as to why she was so scared of trying something different.

  Rosie felt her cheeks glow under his scrutiny. How could she explain to the super-confident Matt, that two long years with Harry constantly belittling everything she did had taken its toll and her self-esteem had crashed to an all-time low?

  ‘Come on let’s take our coffees outside onto the terrace and enjoy the last of the sunshine.’

  Chapter 4

  ‘Hi, mind if we join you on the terrace?’ asked Suki, a couple of bottles of prosecco poking out from beneath each arm.

  ‘Of course not.’

  Rosie smiled as her holiday lodge guests made their way to the adjacent table. Suki and Jess were giggling and teasing Lucas about his lilac jumper, a replica of the one Jamie Oliver wore on the cover of his current cookery book. Nadia, her auburn bob slightly dishevelled, was encouraging William to open another bottle of prosecco rosé from the crate of twelve they had brought with them. There was still no sign of Suki’s errant boyfriend and Rosie wondered what had happened to make him so late.

  ‘Looks like they’ve been drinking all afternoon,’ whispered Matt.

  Mia rolled her eyes, but Freddie decided to take advantage of the situation.

  ‘Hey, Suki, congratulations on scoring a recording contract. I’m really looking forward to hearing you sing tonight! It’ll be a real treat,’ said Freddie, tipping his head back to drink from his bottle of beer, trying to appear nonchalant – but his cheeks were flushed and he was clearly in awe of Suki and her glamorous friends.

  ‘Thanks, I’m stoked, but it’s no overnight success story, you know. I’ve worked my guts out for this. Since graduating from music school in Sheffield, I’ve sang in some of the most decrepit and flea-ridden bars and social clubs in the country. That’s where I met Nadia and William – oh, at uni, not the flea-ridden bars! Nadia’s been my best friend ever since, haven’t you, Nad?’

  ‘Certainly have,’ nodded Nadia, tucking her hair behind her ears. But Rosie detected a faint cloud of petulance pass over the woman’s polished features, before she tossed b
ack the contents of her glass and held it to out to Lucas for a refill. ‘Ergh, it’s far too warm.’

  ‘Why don’t I put a couple of bottles in the freezer for you?’ asked Rosie.

  ‘Great idea. Thanks, Rosie,’ smiled Suki.

  Rosie returned with two silver ice buckets, one for each table. But before she had the chance to plunge the remaining bottles of prosecco into the floating ice cubes, a blast of laughter exploded into the air. Lucas had stumbled backwards against the table, dislodging one of the buckets and drenching Nadia with freezing cold water containing bullets of ice.

  ‘Stupid idiot, Lucas! Look what you’ve done! You’ve completely ruined my dress!’ she screamed, holding the soaking fabric away from her chest in an effort to prevent the icy water seeping onto her skin.

  ‘Sorry, Nadia. I’m not used to drinking this much champagne in the afternoon.’

  ‘Prosecco, Lucas. It’s prosecco, not champagne, you philistine!’

  ‘Oh, come on, Nad,’ soothed Suki. ‘It was an accident. Look, why don’t you go over to my lodge to get changed? You can borrow one of my stage outfits, if you like. I’ve brought a couple with me – help yourself.’

  ‘Well, are you coming with me?’ Nadia asked William, her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised, clearly mollified by Suki’s generous offer.

  ‘Not just yet, Nad. Why don’t you get changed and come back outside? Show off the dress to us all?’

  Nadia tossed another venomous glare in the direction of Lucas and stormed off towards Suki’s lodge.

  Rosie watched in silent fascination as the domestic drama unfolded in front of her. She felt as though, along with Mia and Matt, she was sitting in the stalls at an open-air theatre whilst the actors performed a short sketch solely for their benefit, especially when Suki flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder, removed her silver compact and reapplied a coat of frosty pink lipstick, beaming round at her adoring audience – mainly Freddie and Jess. She had to admit that Suki did look every inch the singing star. Perhaps her scarlet, off-the-shoulder dress was a little too theatrical for the terrace of a Norfolk café, but it was the perfect outfit for a celebrity-in-the-making.