by Poppy Blake
‘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
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.
Rosie was glad she was holding Matt’s hand as question after question coiled through her brain as if on a ribbon of tickertape. What if they hadn’t found Suki when they did? How had the poison been administered? Who would do such a dreadful thing? And more to the point, why?
‘Dr Bairstow, I noticed you removed a champagne bottle from the lodge,’ said Matt, his voice sounding far too loud in the wood-panelled room. ‘I assume that’s because you believed it was the last thing Suki consumed and intended to check out the contents?’
‘I have had the bottle checked…’
‘Does that mean there was something in the champagne?’ interrupted Lucas, running his fingers through his quiff which, despite all the recent turmoil, remained fixed in place at his forehead. Rosie did notice, however, that his eyes were rimmed with red and his previous boyish energy had melted away.
‘So, does that mean that guy was poisoned too?’ asked Nadia, flicking her eyes at Suki.
‘What guy?’ demanded Felix, drawing in a long drag of nicotine and allowing the smoke to escape from his lips in a mist of grey vapour. ‘What are you talking about, Nadia? Suki? What’s she talking about?’
Felix abandoned his place at the window and strode over to where Suki and Nadia sat, his hands on his hips, glaring down at them. Nadia stared back at him, unwilling to go any further. Suki’s face couldn’t have bleached any whiter.
‘What guy? Tell me!’
‘Well, if you’d been here when you promised, you would know what I’m talking about, and, maybe none of this would have happened,’ snapped Nadia. ‘If you cared about Suki, really cared about her, instead of just her fame and potential fortune, you would have been at the garden party with us instead of getting plastered with your friends in Colchester. If you had been here, Suki would never have flounced off with that outward-bounds guy and we could all have been spared this nightmare!’
‘What outward-bounds guy? Suki, what’s Nadia wittering on about?’ Felix’s face was a mask of confusion as he swung his eyes to Lucas, then William, and finally bellowed, ‘Will someone just tell me what’s going on?’
It seemed Lucas was the only one prepared to put him out of his misery. ‘One of the guys from the outward-bound centre in the village was at the garden party – Freddie something. Doesn’t he work with you, Matt? Anyway, Suki took a bit of a shine to him, that’s all.’
‘That’s all? That’s all? So why did Nadia think he might have been poisoned if Suki had?’
Now everyone in the room squirmed. Even Lucas looked uncomfortable.
‘Will? Lucas?’
‘Sorry, mate…’
‘It’s okay,’ interrupted Suki, raising her gaze to meet Felix’s squarely. ‘Felix, you weren’t here. I knew you’d be getting drunk with the lads and I was angry with you. I’d had a couple of bottles of champagne and I decided to whip up the gossip mill. Freddie and I came back here to have a drink and talk music together.’
‘You came back to our lodge with some random stranger?’
‘Felix, I get to decide who I spend my time with, not you…’
‘What’s the matter with you, Suki. If you were poisoned deliberately, the person most likely to be responsible is this Freddie guy. I want him found and I want him arrested. In fact, I’m calling the police. This is turning into something much mor
e serious than an innocent bout of food poisoning.’
‘Before you do that, Felix, perhaps you would permit me to finish answering Matt’s question,’ said Dr Bairstow, raising his eyebrows which only served to highlight the crooked bridge of his nose. ‘Whilst the lab found no trace of any toxic substance in the champagne bottle, they did detect traces of a foreign substance capable of causing nausea and vomiting in the bottle containing Suki’s throat spray.’
A gasp of disbelief reverberated around the room.
‘Oh, my God! I knew it,’ cried Felix. ‘You and your bloody throat spray. I knew it would make you sick one day. Why on earth you persist in using it all the time is beyond me. Maybe now you’ll listen to me for once and ditch it. There’s no reason why you can’t just go on stage and sing without relying on contaminated comforters made from dodgy stuff you buy over the internet.’
‘The lab has promised to expedite their efforts to identify the precise ingredient that caused your illness, Suki, and as soon as I have that information, I’ll call you. In the meantime, perhaps you should refrain from using it again.’
‘I will, Doctor, and thank you for coming over here in person to tell me about the results.’ Suki gave him a weak smile of gratitude before attempting to push herself up from the chair, clearly still feeling the after-effects of her recent stomach-emptying trauma.
‘It’s okay, Suki. I can see myself out.’
Dr Bairstow retrieved his medical bag, smiled at Matt and Rosie and left.
‘Felix, I think you need to apologize to Matt,’ said Suki.
‘What for?’
‘For labelling his friend Freddie a criminal.’
Felix flashed his eyes at Matt and muttered something that was definitely not an apology under his breath.
‘I’m sorry, everyone, but I really would like to have an early night. I’m absolutely exhausted, but tomorrow is another day in sunny Norfolk and I for one am looking forward to getting this holiday back on track. I promise not to sing or to use any throat spray!’
