by Poppy Blake
“Rosie, come on!” urged Mia, flashing her eyes impatiently at her.
She chanced a glimpse at Matt’s face and when she saw the crinkle of amusement in his eyes, heat flooded her cheeks and she relaxed, enjoying the sensation of being in Matt’s company once again, not to mention the fact that there seemed to be no awkwardness in his demeanour. One of the things she loved about being with Matt was his constant urging that she grab her courage by the scruff of its neck and experience things outside her comfort zone. Life wasn’t a dress rehearsal and every ounce of pleasure should be squeezed from each new adventure. That was the mantra Matt’s father had lived by and he’d achieved more than some people would in three lifetimes before the climbing monsters claimed him for their own.
“Scared?”
“No way!”
Rosie shelved her fear, took a deep breath and climbed onto the back of Matt’s quad bike, wrapping her arms around his muscular torso and leaning in close. He smelled of fabric conditioner from his damp cycle gear mingled with his familiar citrusy cologne, and every one of her senses sparkled at his proximity. When he revved the engine, a whip of excitement shot through her body and headed southwards. Her thoughts zoomed to the forthcoming weekend when, had Harry not made his unscheduled appearance, she would be starring in the role of Matt’s Plus One at Grace and Josh’s wedding.
She and Matt might possess character traits at opposite ends of the organisational spectrum, but their humour-filled tolerance of each other’s foibles had led to what she had secretly hoped would be not only a lasting friendship, but someone more intimate. Her blossoming relationship with Matt – sealed whilst they’d worked together to save each other’s businesses – was responsible for papering over the cracks in her heart caused by Harry’s infidelity and was one of the reasons she had been able to turn down his marriage proposal without hesitation.
“This way!” shouted Freddie, taking the lead on their search-and-rescue mission.
In single file, they bobbed along a narrow pathway through the woodland at the rear of the Ultimate Adventures reception lodge. Looking over her shoulder, Rosie thought the building resembled an old wooden steamer moored against the dense forest backdrop; a safe haven amidst an arboreal storm.
For ten minutes, the quad bikes and cycles bucked and bounced on the uneven ground like a procession of kangaroos on steroids and Rosie had to fight to keep down her breakfast. Nevertheless, her overriding sensation was one of warmth and contentment of once again being so close to Matt and knowing that she was exactly where she wanted to be.
“You okay?” shouted Matt, turning his head slightly so she could hear his voice above the drone of the engine.
“I’m fine. More than fine, actually.”
She lay her cheek against his back, arguing with her internal critic that she was making them more aerodynamic, but accepting that an avalanche of emotions had started to tumble through her veins. This is what being with Matt did to her – something she had never experienced with Harry in all the time they had been together. She knew she had to tell Matt how she felt, and she resolved that once they had found Theo she would find the right moment to do just that.
They rode on in convoy for another fifty metres or so until the vegetation grew thicker and the shards of wintry daylight struggled to penetrate through to the forest floor. Rosie’s fingers were so cold she contemplated sticking them into Matt’s pockets, but before she could decide whether that was appropriate or not, there was a cry from behind them.
“There! Over there!” shouted Josh, veering off between two silver birch trees, their trunks adorned with a botanical garland of holly and ivy. His manoeuvre had been so sudden that Grace had to cling onto him for dear life, her legs poking out at right angles in an effort to maintain her balance. Nevertheless, she had a beaming smile on her face and was clearly enjoy the unexpected trip through the forest.
They came to a halt beside Theo’s cycle, its wheels still rotating in the air like an upended tortoise unable to right itself - but there was no sign of its rider.
“Where is he?” said Penny, dismounting her bike and squinting into the gloom, her forehead creased in confusion.
The only sound to punctuate the air was a soft ballad of birdsong rippling through the leaves, and even though the rain had finally ceased, water droplets the size of grapes still pattered down intermittently from the canopy above.
“He can’t be far,” said Freddie, jumping from his quad bike and scouring the area. “Let’s spread out. If he’s come off his bike at speed he might be injured - he could be unconscious or wandering around disorientated.”
The group fanned out and began to search the undergrowth, not sure what they expected to find. Rosie felt nauseous, not only from the ride but from a deep sense of foreboding that permeated her whole body. Above her head, a squirrel scampered along the dishevelled, skeletal branches and the repetitive coo of a pair of wood pigeons floated from on high, yet the trees bore down on her like a battalion of malevolent warriors. The woodland atmosphere felt oppressive, tinged with the odour of wet soil and crushed pine needles. Her damp fringe tickled at her lashes, and she brushed it away only for it to fall back into place as she tipped her head downwards to scan the thick carpet of vegetation beneath her feet for any clue that Theo had passed that way.
“Where do you think—” began Rosie, but her question was interrupted by a piercing shriek reverberating through the air. “Was that Penny?”
The hackles on the back of her neck rose in alarm as she met Matt’s eyes briefly before he sprinted to where Penny was standing in a small clearing surrounded by a brigade of holly bushes. Rosie stumbled in his wake, sending up a swift request to the guardian angel of cyclists that Theo had been found with nothing more than a twisted ankle or sprained wrist. She just couldn’t take any more traumatic incidents.
When Rosie reached Matt’s side, the shock hit her like a sledgehammer to the solar plexus. She gasped for breath, drawing her forearms into her abdomen, but she couldn’t prevent the dry retch from escaping her throat. Beside her, Mia was experiencing an identical reaction. She was barely aware of Matt and Freddie rushing to Theo’s side to check for a pulse.
“Oh my God, is he okay?” whimpered Penny, kneeling down next to Theo, her hands pressed to her mouth, her body trembling uncontrollably as she stared transfixed at the blood oozing from a deep gash across his shoulder and upper arm. “Matt, Freddie, tell me he’s okay?”
Matt removed his jacket and pressed it against Theo’s wound whilst Freddie checked his airways.
“Is he—?”
“He’s unconscious. Must have hit a branch and come off his bike. Rosie, can you hold this here whilst I call for an ambulance?”
Rosie heard Matt’s words but her reflexes had temporarily disconnected from her modem and she found that she was frozen to the spot. With tremendous effort she managed to drag herself back to reality and knelt down next to Matt to maintain the pressure on Theo’s wound whilst he removed his mobile phone to call for help.
“We heard a scream, what’s going…. oh, my God, is that Theo?” cried Grace, grabbing hold of Josh’s hand as she stared at the harrowing scene unfolding before her. “What happened?”
“Fell off his bike,” mumbled Penny, her voice an octave higher than usual, her face drained of every last vestige of colour. “Matt says he must have been hit by a branch or something.”
But Rosie caught Matt’s eye as he finished giving directions to the first responders. Like him, she had seen the laceration on Theo’s upper body up close – and it was a perfectly horizontal gash, almost as if he’d been cut with a cheese wire.
Chapter 3
Rosie stared out of the window at the pretty kissing gate at the bottom of the vicarage’s garden. She marvelled at how festive the bright red holly berries looked, dancing a jig in the stiff December breeze when such cruelty played amongst them. It was no accident that she and Mia had joined Grace and Abbi in making a beeline for the
vicarage, seeking the all-encompassing comfort that was always on offer there.
Dragging her eyes away, she watched Grace set down a flower-bedecked teapot in the middle of the heavily scarred table that dominated the kitchen whilst her mother, Carole, fussed over a plate of home-made mince pies. She supposed that, over the years, the table had seen more than its fair share of confidences and its presence had soothed many an aching heart.
A sturdy, cream-enamelled Aga purred away in the corner, piping warmth and comfort into the room along with a delicate aroma of crushed rose petals and homeliness. Alfie, the family’s white Lhasa Apso, snoozed in his basket, one eye cocked for an unexpected titbit. Unlike what had occurred in the woods that morning, nothing bad could happen here.
It was late Wednesday afternoon and under other circumstances they would all have been busy making a start on creating their arboreal masterpieces in the marquee at the Windmill Café instead of waiting for news on how Theo was recovering from his ordeal in the forest.
“Dreadful, just dreadful. Poor Theo,” Carole muttered, shaking her head, her soft features wreathed in bewilderment. “Have you spoken to Matt, Rosie? Are there any more details about how the accident happened?”
Rosie unfolded her arms and took a seat at the table in between Mia and Abbi, accepting a mug of fragrant Earl Grey tea - Carole’s preferred beverage of solace. After all, as the Reverend Roger Coulson’s wife, she was no stranger to hearing regular divulgences tinged with sadness, pain and grief from her visitors.
“Apparently someone stretched a length of wire between two trees. Theo was travelling so fast on his cycle he wouldn’t have seen it until the last minute. Fortunately, his reflexes were sharp enough to force him to swerve and avoid a head-on collision, otherwise… well, at least he’s only looking at twenty or so stiches instead of something much more serious.”
“But who would do such a terrible thing?” asked Grace, her face ivory-pale and her fingers trembling on the handle of her mug.
“No idea,” said Rosie, recalling the brief conversation she’d had with Matt half-an-hour earlier. “Matt says the police have cordoned off the area and forensics are conducting a fingertip search.”
“What I really want to know is whether this was some random act of violence. Or did the person responsible target Theo in particular? If so, how did they know he would use that shortcut back to the lodge? They couldn’t have! And if Theo wasn’t the intended victim, who was? Could it have been Matt or Freddie, or Josh even?”
Grace couldn’t continue. Her body crumpled under the strain and she dropped her head into her palms, her blonde curls falling over the back of her hands as her shoulders shook with each racking sob. Rosie’s heart squeezed with sympathy as she watched Carole take her daughter into her arms. Grace was the most exuberant, joyful person Rosie knew, but today there were red rings of distress beneath her eyes as she contemplated the contents of her teacup. This wasn’t how a bride-to-be should be spending the last few days leading up to her wedding, wondering if someone was lurking about in the village waiting for an opportunity to murder her fiancé or their friends.
“Mum, do you think we should cancel the wedding? How can we ask our guests to come to Willerby when there’s a crazy person on the loose?”
“Absolutely not! Don’t worry, darling, the police will catch whoever did this.”
“Carole’s right, Grace. We have to trust them to do their job,” added Abbi, as she topped up her friend’s mug just for something to do with her hands.
“But that could take weeks, or months!”
“Unless—” began Mia, tossing Rosie a surreptitious look from beneath her lashes.
“Mia—”
Grace’s eyes widened with interest as she understood what Mia had been about to suggest.
“Yes! Mia, that’s a great idea! Rosie, you and Matt have already solved two mysteries. Why don’t you join forces again and find out who did this dreadful thing?” she pleaded, drying her eyes with the scrap of lace her mother had produced from the sleeve of her hand-knitted cardigan. “And if the perpetrator is caught quickly the wedding can go ahead as planned without our family and friends looking over their shoulders and feeling as if they’re inadvertent extras in an episode of Midsomer Murders. You will help with the investigation again, won’t you, Rosie? Please?”
“I’m not sure Matt will be as enthusiastic about joining forces with me this time. Things between us have been a bit… well, different recently. You know, after Harry proposed.”
“But you turned him down. Thank God!” countered Mia.
“I turned down his marriage proposal – we’re still discussing the business proposition.”
“You can’t seriously be contemplating leaving us to go back to London, Rosie. You love it here! You’re an important part of the community now, especially after you’ve singlehandedly rejuvenated the Windmill Café. Who will organize our Summer Breeze parties, or our Autumn Leaves celebrations, not to mention our Christmas Carousel competition?”
“Erm, Graham?” suggested Rosie.
“He’d be useless!” declared Mia, reaching out for one of Carole’s iced ginger cookies to dunk in her tea. “Anyway, our esteemed boss is never here! Hasn’t he always found something else more glamorous to do whenever we’re hosting the celebrations?”
Rosie had to agree with Mia. Since she’d arrived in Norfolk the people around the table in the vicarage had become her friends. With their help, she had grappled with her grief over the discovery of Harry’s affair and she was now happy to report that she woke each morning with a smile on her face, confident that she had a better-than-average chance that the struggle to bedtime would be devoid of melancholy. She was a totally different person to the one who had arrived at the café, draped in a mantle of gloom that she’d worn as some sort of protective battle armour - and there was one person who had contributed to that improvement more than any other.
Matt Wilson – Willerby’s answer to Bear Grylls.
She had loved spending time with him as they delved into the backgrounds of the guests at the Windmill lodges to unearth the motives behind the incidents that had threatened the businesses of the café and the outward-bounds centre. Now she was being urged to resume their partnership to save Grace and Josh’s wedding. How could she refuse?
“Please, Rosie,” implored Grace, her face creased with anguish as she pushed back her chair to allow Alfie to jump into her lap. “Please say that you’ll help to find out who did this to Theo.”
“Look, I know things have been a bit awkward between you and Matt these last few weeks,” continued Mia as she finished sending a text and then met Rosie’s eyes to push her agenda. “But, if you want my opinion, he misses you, really misses you. You both just need to talk about what happened with Harry, clear the air and move on. No better time to do that than whilst doing a bit of amateur sleuthing together.”
“And don’t forget you’ve agreed to be Matt’s Plus One at our wedding. It’ll be the first time he’s set foot in St Andrew’s church since the fiasco with Victoria running out on him, so you can’t let him down too!”
Rosie recalled the steamroller tactics Grace had employed to coerce them into agreeing to partner each other at her forthcoming nuptials on Christmas Eve at St Andrew’s Church. It was a day Grace had been planning ever since she’d set eyes on Josh whilst backpacking around Thailand with her best friend, Abbi. Six months later, the two girls had met up with Josh again whilst he was completing a five-hundred-mile cycle ride up the east coast of Vietnam from Hoi An to Halong Bay, during which Abbi had met Dylan who knew Josh through his Extreme Cycling Excursions company.
“I wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world, Grace. And, of course I don’t mind joining forces with Matt to help investigate what happened to Theo. But I don’t think I’ll have a lot of time to devote to searching for clues and deducing theories this time. Not only do I have the guests in the lodges to look after, but I’ve still got the Christmas Carou
sel competition to organise and supervise, as well as all the catering to sort out for the party on Saturday afternoon after the judging.”
“I knew you’d say something like that,” said Mia, a twinkle appearing in her eye as she slipped her mobile back in her pocket with a grin. “And I think I might just have a solution.”
The vicarage’s doorbell tinkled right on cue.
Chapter 4
“Hello, it’s just me! The door was open. Coco! Coco! Come here!” came a sing-song voice from the vicarage’s hallway before the kitchen door was shoved open by the nose of a honey-haired Lhasa Apso who rushed in to greet them vociferously before claiming the perfect spot in front of the Aga. Clearly Coco had been there before. However, her owner wasn’t so comfortable to be met by a room full of visitors and visibly blanched when she saw the five women sat around the table hugging their matching Portmeirion mugs, all eyes resting on the new arrival. “Oh, hi. I didn’t realise everyone would be congregating here?”
“Hi, Corinne,” smiled Mia, getting up to fetch an extra mug and an empty plate when she saw Corinne was carrying a white confectionery box emblazoned with the Adriano’s Deli logo. “Thanks for coming over. Tea or coffee?”
“Erm, coffee please, black,” said Corinne, nervously flicking the sides of her short bob, the colour of liquid coal, behind her ears as she slipped into the seat next to Rosie and raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrows in enquiry.
Rosie shrugged her shoulders. It was clear that Mia had asked Corinne to come over, but she had no idea why. She had only met the waitress from Adriano’s Deli once before when she and Matt had popped in to sample a selection of their delicious Italian confectionary. She felt the corners of her lips twist upwards when she recalled their brief conversation. It had turned out that Adriano had chosen to employ a waitress who was not only a committed vegetarian, but was also gluten-intolerant and therefore couldn’t eat anything that was on offer at his deli. However, that didn’t prevent her from enthusing over the myriad of pastries that were on offer, a selection of which Mia was decanting onto a platter adorned with a profusion of the ubiquitous Portmeirion flowers.
