by Poppy Blake
Rosie couldn’t fault Mia for her impassioned submissions on behalf of Matt. Everything she had said was true. Matt had come to her aid when she had been accused of poisoning one of the lodge guests with her baking, and she had returned the favour when one of his outward-bound clients had been speared with an arrow, an incident that had threatened the future of his business. There had been no expectations of anything in return, simply a celebratory drink at the local pub, the Drunken Duck.
“It isn’t that Matt’s not speaking to you, Rosie. He’s a decent guy, and he just wants to give you the space to make your decision without any external influences. He’s wrong on this occasion, in my opinion. He should be standing right here in front of you, telling you exactly why you should tell Harry to get lost and to stay where you are cherished – if not for your cheerful and generous personality, then certainly for your fig-and-walnut scones and these fabulous St. Clements mince pies.”
Mia did have a point. Harry’s reappearance in her life had sent Matt away. Once she had persuaded her ex-boyfriend that her response to his marriage proposal was a resounding no! she had promised to think about his business proposition, arguing to herself that she would be crazy not to.
When Harry made the return trip to Willerby at the beginning of December, he had brought with him the accounts, as well as a formal legal contract setting everything out in black-and-white that she would be a part-owner of the florist’s shop and business. Harry had been stoical about her rejection of marriage, but urged her not to turn down the chance of financial security for the rest of her life – unlike her position as the Windmill Café manager which, if the last few months were anything to go by, was precarious in the extreme.
However, what had really caused her to prevaricate over Harry’s offer was the fact that if she lost her job at the café, she would also lose her home and she didn’t think she could go through that trauma again. Residing in the dark recesses of her mind was a hard nugget of fear that history would repeat itself, and her dreams were filled with memories of the day her mother had been forcibly evicted from the family home after her father’s death. The incident had changed the path of her life and had been the catalyst for her battle with the cleanliness demons. She had no idea how she was going to make the decision, though, and Harry’s increasingly regular phone calls were not helping.
She had tried to seek Matt out, to reassure him that their friendship was unaffected by the recent turn of events. However, when she had arrived on the doorstep of the wooden reception cabin at Ultimate Adventures, Freddie had explained to her that Matt had jumped on a last-minute flight to Tenerife to climb Mount Teide with a group of his father’s climbing buddies, and since his return two weeks ago he had steadfastly avoided her.
“Maybe there’ll be another mystery for you to solve that will bring you back together,” mused Mia as she drained the dregs of her coffee and went to wash her mug in the sink and return it to its allotted space.
“God, I hope not! All our lodge guests are here for the stag party and then to celebrate the wedding on Sunday. Grace, not to mention, the Rev and Carole, would be mortified if anything untoward happened to them!”
Chapter 2
“Oh my God! It’s freezing! I can’t believe the guys still wanted to take part in the cycle race instead of adjourning to the pub for a cosy few pints like most stag party enthusiasts!” said Rosie, screwing up her nose in disgust as she wrapped her arms around her waist in an effort to fend off the relentless downpour and keep warm. “More to the point, I can’t believe you managed to persuade me to form part of the welcoming committee!”
A shiver of discomfort shot down her spine as she peered through the gloom into the densely packed woodland at the rear of the outward-bound centre. Ultimate Adventures offered a plethora of activities including mountaineering, gorge scrambling, a treetop zip wire adventure, and even an obstacle course that mixed physical strength with mental agility. She could understand how these pursuits would be appealing in the summer months, but not on a wet Wednesday morning in the middle of December. In fact, there was something almost menacing about the way the naked trees crowded forward, blocking out what little light was left in the pewter-coloured sky.
“Lots of cycle addicts love this kind of weather – makes the whole ride much more interesting.” Mia laughed as she blew on her palms and clapped her mittened hands together in excitement. “Anyway, it’s just a shower.”
“This isn’t a shower, it’s a monsoon!”
The rain was coming down in stair rods, hammering the wooden planks of the reception’s veranda with a vicious acrimony and drenching the small but courageous – and some might say crazy – gathering of spectators at the finish line. Rosie tightened the hood of her padded jacket around her chin in an attempt to prevent her curls from ballooning like copper candyfloss but she was fighting a losing battle.
“And you never know, maybe this rain will turn into snow,” beamed Grace, the end of her perfectly-formed nose tinged pink from the cold. “Don’t you think that would make an absolutely amazing backdrop for our wedding photographs?”
“And the Christmas tree competition!” added Mia with a glint of mischief in her eyes as she glanced across at Rosie.
“I agree with Rosie,” mumbled Abbi, Grace’s best friend and chief bridesmaid, as she twirled her frilly cerise umbrella over her shoulder like a female version of Gene Kelly and frowned up at the bruised sky.
Rosie experienced a stab of empathy when she saw that Abbi’s previously smooth bob was no longer straight but plastered haphazardly to her cheeks and forehead. The pale pink sequinned stilettos that matched the gorgeous leather satchel she had designed and hand-sewn herself were clearly no match against the onslaught of rain gods.
“Give me a tropical beach anytime!” Abbi continued. “If Dylan ever gets around to proposing to me, I’m definitely opting for wall-to-wall sunshine, a pretty white gazebo on the sand and as many palm trees swaying in the breeze as possible.”
“Well, I could hardly do that, could I? Mum and Dad would have killed me if I’d decided to get married anywhere other than at St Andrews!” giggled Grace, as she flicked her messy blond curls behind her ears and squinted into the distance for a potential early glimpse of the cyclists. “Anyway, I happen to think every season has its own splendour.”
“Oh, me too,” declared Penny, Theo’s girlfriend who, like Grace, had been keen to be part of the boys’ intrepid welcoming committee. “I love all the raw, tempestuous beauty of the natural environment. There’s almost a mystical aura hanging over the foliage, don’t you think? I can easily imagine this whole place being populated by a horde of mythical beasts; the ivy-laced boughs their playground, the hidden copses where they take an afternoon snooze. It’s the perfect inspiration for my next children’s book. I can’t wait to get my pencils out when I get back to the lodge and start sketching.”
As if to prove her artistic credentials, she pulled out her mobile phone and took a few random photographs of the surrounding woodland, sending a whiff of patchouli oil into the air and causing the plethora of silver chains to jangle against her ample chest. With her penchant for wearing black, from her heavily drawn makeup down to the colour of her nail polish, she occupied the opposite end of the sartorial colour spectrum to Abbi.
Rosie recalled booking Penny and Theo into their luxury Scandinavian lodge the previous day and had been amazed at the amount of painting equipment Penny had brought with her. Canvases of varying sizes, paint palettes, a whole battalion of brushes. There was so much stuff that a casual observer could have been forgiven for thinking she was running an artist’s retreat for the other guests at the Windmill lodges, which included Josh’s best man and his wife, Sam and Zara, as well as Abbi and Dylan – who had turned down the luxury lodge to stay in the cute peppermint-and-white shepherd’s hut despite its size. When she had suggested one of the larger lodges, Abbi had reminded her that after spending the summer backpacking in south east Asia, the shep
herd’s hut was the height of decadence for them.
“Hey, Penny, do you think you could do a pastel sketch of St Andrew’s church as a wedding present for us?”
“Wow, yes, I’d love to!”
“Oh, do you do portraits? I’d love one of the twins,” said Zara, tucking her neat mahogany curls behind her ears, her face brightening when she spoke of her two boys currently having the time of their lives at their grandparents’ farm in the Lake District.
“No problem,” smiled Penny, clearly delighted to have got two commissions in the space of five minutes.
Rosie cast her eyes around the group of women from beneath her lashes. Despite the inclement weather, everyone had managed to achieve a sense of style. Compared to them, she felt like Cinderella’s bedraggled cousin in the mismatched outfit she had selected that morning for comfort and practicality rather than sartorial elegance. Why hadn’t she worn a jaunty bright orange hat-scarf-and-gloves combo like Zara, or a quirky leather jacket like Penny? Of course, Mia had chosen a white down-filled jacket she had embellished herself with appliqué snowflakes and what Rosie had assumed were branches adorned with red berries but had turned out to be reindeer antlers and Rudolph noses.
When her eyes fell towards her footwear, Rosie cringed. Olive-green Wellington boots weren’t the most glamorous of attire – although they did match her wax jacket. She really should have made more of an effort, especially as this was the first time she would be seeing Matt in weeks. However, she reminded herself that Matt wasn’t the kind of person who judged a book by its glossy cover and she relaxed.
“Look! Here they come!” cried Mia, shielding her eyes with her hand and pointing towards a flicker of luminous yellow Lycra just beyond the row of conifers standing to attention like a battalion of sentries guarding the road that lead to the reception lodge. “Can you see who’s out in front? Is it Matt or Freddie? Oh, I really hope it’s Freddie!”
“It won’t be if Theo has anything to do with it!” muttered Penny with a roll of her kohl-rimmed eyes and a twist of her upper lip. “You’ve no idea how competitive he is. He’d even try to outride Chris Hoy!”
“Well, it definitely won’t be Dylan,” laughed Abbi. “He’s more of a Sunday afternoon cyclist – with plenty of planned beer stops at as many rural pubs as he can get away with. He hates all this racing malarkey. However, you should have seen the look on his face when he saw the zip wire earlier – he almost swooned! I suspect he might be tempted to renege on his promise to enter your Christmas tree decorating contest, Rosie, in favour of spending some time flying through the air like Peter Pan’s older brother.”
Abbi had mentioned Dylan’s aversion to anything conducted at high speed, especially whilst on two wheels, on a couple of occasions and Rosie wondered what had happened to cause that but didn’t like to pry. She couldn’t wait to welcome all seven men back safely so they could return to the café and make a start on the best part of the day - sipping mugs of creamy hot chocolate laced with a generous dash of brandy and sampling the mini cappuccino roulades she had whipped up earlier, before everyone was let loose on their respective Christmas trees.
“Yay! You were both wrong!” squealed Grace, pogoing up and down on the spot, clapping her hands in jubilation. “It’s Josh! Come on, Josh! Come on, Josh!”
Rosie watched as the frontrunner finally emerged from the arboreal sanctuary and raced down the main driveway towards the veranda where Theo had insisted that they rigged up a makeshift red ribbon for the winner to drive through. Grace was right, her husband-to-be was in the lead, but only by a few seconds as Freddie had appeared from another gap in the trees ten metres to Josh’s left, his head bent low over the handlebars, pumping his legs with dogged determination. Her heart gave a pleasurable nip when she saw that Matt was in third place. It was all she could do to prevent herself from cupping her hands around her lips and screaming Go Matt! in a very unladylike fashion until Mia linked arms with her and Grace.
“Come on, ladies. Let’s get over to the finishing line. You too, Penny – we might need a photo-finish! Coming Zara? Abbi?”
Rosie watched Abbi stand on her tiptoes to scan the fringe of the woodland for any sign of Dylan, anxiety creasing her forehead as she chewed on her lower lip. It was a few nerve-wracking minutes before she spotted him fifty metres of so behind Sam.
“Oh, thank God! There’s Dylan – bringing up the rear as usual!” Abbi sighed, but Rosie saw the relief spread across her attractive features. She might bemoan her boyfriend’s lack of expertise when it came to vehicular activities but she clearly worried about him all the same. “I thought he might have fallen off or something.”
Everyone rushed through the drizzle to where Penny had crouched down onto her haunches next to a wooden post and levelled her mobile phone camera, poised to snap a picture of the victor’s triumphant achievement.
“Yay! Yay! Josh!” screeched Grace, rushing forward to embrace her fiancé before reaching up to kiss him tenderly on the lips. Her evident excitement lit up her pretty face, framed by a ruffle of damp corkscrew curls that sprang from beneath her woolly bobble hat.
Freddie was next over the finishing line, a wide grin splitting his freckled face as he yanked off his safety helmet and strode over to offer Josh a congratulatory handshake.
“Great ride, Josh, especially the last hundred metres!”
“You too, mate. That was awesome. I might even be forced to rethink my earlier criticism of Theo’s insistence that we start the stag celebrations with a gruelling cross-country race! Now I can’t wait to have a go at the Ultimate Adventure’s obstacle course and the zip wire. Although don’t tell him I said that. He has a habit of letting compliments go to his head!”
Matt skidded to a halt next, his whole body covered in random speckles of flying mud, even his cheeks, followed by Sam. Rosie’s stomach gave an uncomfortable twist when she saw that Matt was looking directly at her. However, before she could say anything to him, Abbi had shoved her to one side to welcome Dylan like a conquering hero.
“Yay! Dylan! You did it!”
Dylan removed his helmet and ran his fingers through his spiky ebony hair, his face a curious shade of overworked putty, his jaw clenched tight after being forced to endure his personal idea of purgatory. His relief the ride was at an end was palpable.
“Never, ever, ever ask me to do that again!” Dylan spluttered, his breath coming in ragged spurts as he struggled to regain his composure. “Why couldn’t we have gone for a few drinks at the local pub like any normal stag party? Theo Morris has to be one of the hardest task-masters I’ve ever come across and that includes the physio guys at the hospital!”
“Speaking of Theo, where is he?” asked Rosie, looking back down the winding, leaf-strewn roadway towards the stone pillars that guarded the entrance gate to Ultimate Adventures. Everyone paused in what they were doing to squint through the gloom of the trees but there was no sign of the director in charge of Dylan’s horror movie.
“Actually, I have to admit that I thought it was strange he wasn’t in pole position,” said Josh, draping his arm around Grace’s shoulder and pulling her close. “I just assumed he’d found a short-cut and would be waiting for us here with that irritatingly superior smirk he usually wears when he’s about to be crowned the winner of something again.”
“Come to think of it, I didn’t see him after we entered the woods, either,” said Matt, refastening the chin strap of his helmet. Instead of remounting his cycle, he strode into the wooden storeroom next to the lodge and jumped onto one of Ultimate Adventure’s quad bikes. “Maybe he’s lost. I’ll see if I can find him.”
“I’ll come with you,” offered Freddie, running over to reverse another quad bike from the shed. He cocked his leg over the seat and revved the engine, expelling a cloud of grey exhaust fumes into the wintry air. “Ready when you are.”
“Me too!” said Mia, clearly not wanting to be left behind when there was fun to be had. She leapt behind Freddie and snaked
her arms round his waist, her expression brooking no argument.
“Count me in,” added Zara, hopping onto Freddie’s cycle and pedalling over to Sam. “What do you think’s happened to him?”
“Nothing,” tutted Penny, rolling her eyes as she stuffed her phone into the pocket of her black jeans. “This is probably his idea of a joke to get us all as rain-soaked as possible! Theo is so selfish when it comes to competitions – it’s always got to be all about him winning the top prize. But you’re not leaving me behind. I’m coming with you so I can give him a piece of my mind.”
Penny grabbed Matt’s discarded cycle, struggling to climb on. When she had, she folded her arms and turned to stare expectantly at Abbi and Dylan.
“Well? Are you coming?”
“Don’t look at me like that,” pleaded Dylan, his Adam’s apple working overtime as the full horror of what Penny was expecting him to do dawned. “I’ve just cycled ten miles!”
“I think someone should wait here,” reasoned Abbi, coming to Dylan’s aid. “Just in case we need to summon for help. I mean, what if something awful has happened to him? What if he’s fallen off his bike and is lying in a ditch somewhere writhing in agony?”
“I’m sure he’s fine, Abbi,” said Grace, smiling at her best friend. “But that’s a sensible idea. We’ll call you when we find him - probably propping up the bar in the Drunken Duck!”
“Rosie?” asked Mia.
Rosie glanced around the gathering. All eyes were now on her as the last one to join the party of intrepid rescuers. Should she stay behind with Abbi and Dylan? That was what she wanted to do, because the only alternative was to ride with Matt on the back of his quad bike and that experience filled her with absolute terror. After the recent cooling of their friendship because of Harry’s reappearance on the scene, her stomach churned with indecision. She really didn’t want to sit astride the mud-caked, over-grown bluebottle as they bounced over the uneven terrain, but the real reason for her reticence was the fact that she would have to mould her body to Matt’s in order not to fall off. Could she do that?
