by Poppy Blake
Zara leapt up from the sofa, her face fixed with indignation, her hands firmly on her ample hips. Her hair had ballooned into a wild halo of curls from her habit of nervously running her fingers through it. After a few seconds of indecision as to whether to stay or escape, she managed to reign in her emotions and sunk back down into her seat. She inhaled a deep breath and levelled her eyes at Matt.
“As I’ve said, I didn’t like Theo very much, but I had nothing to do with any of this. However, I think I might have an idea who did. So, instead of sitting here accusing me, I suggest you go and question his girlfriend.”
“Penny?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Well, as this is supposed to be a wedding celebration, I thought I’d invite Abbi and Dylan and Theo and Penny over to our lodge for dinner last night. I really wanted to ask Abbi for the gossip on the TV drama she’s filming at the moment in Oxford – it’s her first decent role after lots of walk-on parts – as well as hear all the news about how her new handbag business is doing. I admit I wasn’t looking forward to listening to Theo regaling us all about how everything he puts his mind to is a runaway success, but I thought that if I had a few glasses of wine I might just be able to restrain myself from lunging at him over the table. Anyway, when I arrived at Theo and Penny’s lodge to deliver my invitation, I heard the two of them arguing.”
“Did you hear what they were arguing about?”
“Not really, it was quite heated though. I heard Theo shouting ‘Tell me where you took it!’ and then Penny saying ‘Give me my phone back!’. She’s surgically attached to that thing, isn’t she? Always taking photographs to turn into one of her amazing sketches for her children’s books. Barnie and Oscar love her Freaky Foxes series.”
“You think Theo was talking about a photograph?”
“I can’t be sure but I saw Penny storm out a few minutes later with her phone clutched to her chest and she looked really upset.”
“Okay, we’ll make sure we ask her about it when we talk to her. Thanks, Zara.”
Zara gave Rosie a weak smile as she pulled on her coat and prepared to leave.
“I’m really pleased you and Matt are doing this. Please find out who’s responsible so that Grace and Josh’s wedding isn’t ruined. The Coulsons deserve a break. I assume you know what they’ve been through with Grace’s sister?”
“We do, and I totally agree with you. You have our word that we’ll do everything we can, but don’t forget the police are investigating too, so maybe they’ll come up with something before us.”
“Maybe,” smiled Zara, her eyes filled with doubt. “Okay, if there’s no more questions, I want to get back to our lodge so I can Facetime the boys before they go to bed.”
“Thanks for talking to us, Zara,” said Matt, leaping up to show her out of the café.
“No problem.”
Matt secured the door behind Zara and strode over to the worktop in the kitchen to flick the radio on. The dulcet tune of a Chris Rea classic weaved through the room, and, coupled with the ambient aroma of festive spices from the mince pies, the café took on a cosy, relaxed feel.
“Well, I suppose it could be Zara,” said Rosie, whilst she busied herself at the sink scrubbing their empty coffee mugs in a bowl of soapy water before drying them and putting them back in the cupboard above the fridge.
“You think?”
Despite Rosie having her back to Matt she could tell he was suppressing a smile. She was aware of her tendency to suspect everyone immediately after they had spoken to them, but she decided to press on regardless.
“Yes. She has motive, means and opportunity. Did you see her face when she was telling us about the way Theo had conned her grandfather? She was like a lioness protecting her cubs’ inheritance. She could have sprinted over to the woods after Sam left for the race; it wouldn’t have taken a great deal of strength to wrap the wire around the trees, and then she could have dashed back to the lodges before anyone noticed she was gone.”
Rosie plonked down on the settee next to Matt, groaning inwardly when she spotted an errant splodge of chocolate on the arm of the seat where Zara had been sitting which meant she had to either force herself to ignore it, or suffer the embarrassment of having Matt watch her return to the kitchen for her anti-bacterial spray.
It was no good, her demons had returned with a vengeance and she knew that all the counting exercises her sister had taught her wouldn’t work this time so she might as well just get it over with. She jumped up, grabbed a slice of kitchen towel and her trusty spray, and without meeting Matt’s eyes, swiped away the offending mess. She realised she had underestimated the strength of Matt’s friendship because he said nothing.
“Is that what your gut instinct is telling you about Zara?”
“No, not really,” she sighed as she resumed her seat. “I like Zara and I know Grace adores her; she’s always telling us anecdotes about what the twins have been getting up to. Josh and Sam have been friends since they were teenagers, too. If she wanted to attack Theo, I reckon she would have done it as soon as she found out about the way he’d swindled her grandfather, not waited for months to plan her revenge - she’s a Woman of Action not of simmering rage.”
Matt grinned.
“Ah, the carefully considered deductions according to Rosie Barnes, Doyenne of Detectives. By the way, those mini yule logs were delicious. I hope there’re on the menu for the party on Saturday.”
“So you think we should still go ahead with the Christmas Carousel competition then?”
“Yes! Unless, of course, you want a riot on your hands. Everyone’s looking forward to it and I think it’ll provide a great diversion whilst this mystery is being investigated. You should have heard Josh telling Dylan earlier about the best way to attach a stuffed parrot to the branch of a fir tree! And I can’t wait to debut my own festive creation! I reckon Freddie and I are going to give you and Mia a run for your money!”
“Not a chance!”
She flicked the tea towel she was holding at him and he caught her wrist to stop her. A spasm of heat burned through her skin and a swift arrow of desire jettisoned into her lower abdomen. With his tufted hair and eyelashes the colour of sunshine, it was all she could do not to fall into his arms and kiss him until she was breathless. That exquisite zing of attraction was a revelation for Rosie because, despite the fact that she had loved Harry, he had never ignited her senses like Matt did. Even her fingertips tingled with the effort required not to slide her palms around his neck and pull his lips towards hers.
But none of that could happen until she’d made her decision whether to return to London. It wouldn’t be fair on either of them after what they’d been through in their previous relationships. So, fearful that Matt would notice her reaction and suggest they discuss the subject that hung in the air between them like a great big windmill-shaped Piñata ready to explode, she plumped for pursuing their respective theories on the case in hand.
“What do you think Theo and Penny were arguing about last night?”
“I don’t know, but it’s definitely going on my list of questions to ask her when she gets back from the hospital. Although,” Matt paused to glance at his watch. “I think we’d better leave that until tomorrow. Maybe you could invite her over to the café for a bit of breakfast and interrogation? Or suggest you help her to make a start on her Christmas tree design?”
“Great idea. Penny’s definitely the most creative person in the mix! I really think she’ll be in with a chance of winning with Theo out of the way. Oh, I didn’t mean…”
“What?”
“I wasn’t suggesting that Penny had something to do with Theo’s accident just so she could snatch the trophy for once.”
“People have done much worse for a lot less! Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Matt hesitated on the threshold, clearly on the verge of saying something else. However, he thought better of it, twisted his lips into a half-hearted smile
and disappeared into the night.
Rosie performed a final sweep of the café, her eagle eye searching for any errant crumb and finding nothing. She switched the light off and slowly mounted the spiral staircase to her studio above the café, her bones heavy with lethargy. As she prepared for bed, she sent up a silent request to her personal Director of Fate that when she woke up in the morning the police would have arrested a suspect so that life at the Windmill Café could return to normal.
If not, she and Matt only had two days until the Christmas Carousel competition, two days before the wedding rehearsal dinner on Saturday night, in which to unravel the secrets behind what had happened in the woods. She prayed that Grace and Josh’s celebrations would not be overshadowed by the spectre of a potential murderer floating amongst the chandeliers in the dining room at St Andrew’s vicarage.
However, try as she might, she couldn’t come up with a plausible theory for Theo’s accident and she spent the time before she slipped into the oblivion of sleep not only scraping the bottom of the barrel of ideas, but scouring the wooden layer beneath.
Chapter 6
Rosie slid a batch of cranberry and white chocolate breakfast muffins into the oven and rummaged in the kitchen drawer for a paring knife to peel a knuckle of ginger for a sticky gingerbread recipe she’d inherited from her grandmother. It was barely dawn with only scant wrinkles of ivory light on the horizon over the North Sea, but as it was the shortest day of the year, that wasn’t surprising. As she weighed out the ingredients and began to mix them together, she found herself humming a Christmas tune and smiled. Baking really did have a meditative effect and she relaxed and enjoyed the swirl of well-being undulating through her veins.
Unfortunately, her new-found serenity didn’t last long because just as she finished chopping the ginger into tiny pieces, she heard the back door click. Without thinking, she spun round, the knife raised in defence, her heart hammering a concerto of panic against her ribcage sending a jolt of electricity spiralling out to her extremities.
Oh God! Was it her turn to be sliced with a cheese wire?
“Hello? Rosie? It’s just me, Corinne?”
“Oh, thank God. Hi Corinne,” breathed Rosie, whipping her arm around her back to hide her offensive weapon before Corinne appeared in the kitchen. She plastered a welcoming smile on her lips, nonchalantly pirouetting on her heels to continue with her task of slicing the ginger, praying Corinne hadn’t seen her overdramatic reaction to her arrival.
“Adriano has given me the morning off from the deli so I can come over to help in the café. What do you want me to do?” asked Corinne in her sing-song Welsh accent as she flicked the sides of her ebony bob behind her ears before reaching for a spare Windmill Café apron that hung on the back of the kitchen door.
“Do you know how to rustle up a pancake mix? I thought I’d invite our lodge guests over for breakfast and we can make them into snowman shapes to give them a festive theme. What do you think?”
“It’s a great idea, and I actually have a lovely recipe for gluten-free vegan pancakes too, so I’ll whip up a mix of that as well, shall I?”
“Go for it!” Rosie smiled brightly, unsure how Corinne planned to make pancake batter without flour, eggs and milk!
“Can I help too?” asked Zara, poised on the threshold, her eyebrows raised in question and her padded orange jacket lending her the appearance of an overstuffed satsuma. Rosie turned her back so Zara wouldn’t see her grin.
“Fabulous! Come on in, the more the merrier. There’s an apron over there, but before you start could you give Penny, Abbi and Dylan a call to see if they want to come over to the café for breakfast? When you’ve done that, maybe you could help with slicing the fruit so we can have a fresh fruit salad. I know Corinne will enjoy that.”
“Perfect accompaniment to my vegan pancakes!”
“Vegan pancakes?” said Zara, screwing up the bridge of her nose in distaste.
“Yes. I make them a lot. I’m gluten-intolerant and I don’t eat eggs so I make them with porridge oats and coconut milk. They’re delicious!”
“Mmm, think I’ll take your word for it. I’m not sure I’d be able to persuade Barnie and Oscar to eat them though.”
“Hi, everyone. I thought I saw Zara heading this way. Need an extra pair of hands?”
Abbi appeared, smiling at their culinary labours, displaying a perfect set of white teeth that could grace any toothpaste ad. Despite the early hour, her makeup was photo-shoot perfect and her honey-blonde hair immaculate. Rosie felt like one of the Ugly Sisters standing next to her. That morning, Abbi had chosen a turquoise leather bucket bag with gold tassels to accessorise her outfit of bleached denim jeans and white angora sweater with embroidered powder-blue snowflakes. If her acting career faltered, she clearly had an eye for the next big thing in the fashion arena, thought Rosie.
“No sign of Penny?”
“Not yet, but the blinds in her lodge are down so she definitely came back last night. She’s probably having a well-deserved lie-in before going back to the hospital. Poor thing, she must be exhausted after everything that’s happened. I mean, it’s not every day your boyfriend nearly has his head sliced off and you get grilled by the police about it!”
“Bit graphic for eight o’clock in the morning, Abbi,” chastised Zara, grimacing.
“Ooops, sorry.”
With so much help, a sumptuous breakfast was ready in no time and right on cue, Sam and Dylan arrived on the doorstep.
“We’ve just seen Penny in the middle of a yoga session on her veranda. She says she’ll hop in the shower and be over in ten minutes,” said Sam, reaching for a pancake and having his hand slapped away.
“Okay,” declared Corinne, untying her apron and returning it to its place on the back of the door. Rosie loved working with her new assistant because she was almost as fastidious in her approach to hygiene as she was. “I’ll leave you to enjoy your food.”
“Are you sure I can’t persuade you to stay and eat with us? There’s more than enough!”
“It’s really kind of you, Rosie, but I’ve arranged to meet a couple of friends for coffee.”
“Well, before you go, why don’t I give you a guided tour of the empty lodge? It’s really lovely, you know. There’s a hot tub, thick, fluffy white towels, luxury toiletries—”
Corinne smiled but shook her head. “It sounds fabulous, but I really am fine in the flat, honest, and Coco’s happy there. I’m just across the road from the vicarage, too, so I can collect Alfie when we go out for walks - Carole’s been so busy with all the wedding arrangements she doesn’t have time to take him out as much as she’d like. I’ll been sticking to the main roads, though, from now on. It’s really frightening to think a potential killer might still be out there, planning their next attack.”
Rosie noticed that Corinne’s hands trembled whilst she spoke. She watched her shove them into the pockets of her skinny jeans and attempt to fix an expression of false bravado on her face. Rosie wasn’t fooled.
“Corinne?”
“Mmm?”
“It’s okay to be scared, you know. I’m frightened, too. In fact, I wasn’t going to tell you but when you came through the door this morning, I grabbed the potato peeler in case I needed to stab my unexpected visitor. Are you sure about the lodge?”
“Yes, really, I’m fine. See you tomorrow. Same time?”
“Yes, please. And thanks, Corinne, I couldn’t have done any of this without your help. Will you send Adriano my thanks, too? I know Christmas is a busy time at the deli. Why don’t you take a dozen of my St Clement’s mince pies for him?”
“Fab. Adriano loves your mince pies! Thanks, Rosie.”
Corinne’s demeanour perked up at the talk of all-things cake related. She zipped her lime-green showerproof jacket up to her chin, said goodbye to everyone, and jogged across the terrace to the car park where she’d left her bicycle, turning around to give Rosie a final wave.
“Don’t tell Corinn
e I said this, but her porridge pancakes are disgusting!” announced Dylan as he munched his way through a second helping of Rosie’s snowman pancakes which had been drizzled with a generous splash of maple syrup and a pinch of grated nutmeg.
“I suppose that’s the sort of thing you have to get used to if you’re gluten-intolerant, allergic to eggs and chocolate, and have chosen a vegan lifestyle,” laughed Rosie.
“Gosh, talk about taking all the fun out of life!” smirked Dylan, pouring himself a double espresso and adding two heaped spoonfuls of demerara sugar.
Rosie saw Abbi roll her eyes at him as he crammed yet another pancake into his mouth, his cheeks bulging like a greedy hamster. Zara giggled at his juvenile antics, which she was probably used to seeing at the breakfast table at home.
A surge of contentment spread through Rosie’s veins for the first time since the previous morning. Sharing food with others, even with relative strangers, provided more than just the opportunity to sate the physical appetite. It delivered solace and distraction – something they could all do with an injection of.
As soon as the food had been devoured, Rosie couldn’t wait to evict her guests from the café so she could get on with the best part of hosting - clearing up the culinary debris and returning the surfaces to their pristine glory. She didn’t want to appear rude, but her reinvigorated hygiene monsters were beginning to scream in her ears, ordering her to grab her cloth and get scrubbing. Just as she thought she was about to burst with frustration, Abbi came to her rescue.
“Need any help with the washing up, Rosie?”
“No!” she shot back a little too swiftly causing colour to rush to her cheeks. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m happy to do it myself. Why don’t you all go over to the marquee and get started on decorating your Christmas trees? There’s only two days left before the judging on Saturday. Did you bring everything you need with you?”
“Absolutely! As soon as Grace told me about the competition, I started to plan my entry!” gushed Abbi, her blue eyes bright with creative enthusiasm. “It took me ages to choose a theme, but I think I’ve nailed it!”
