Christmas Trees

by Poppy Blake

  “That’s a great idea! Don’t worry, I’ve got this. See you later.”

  Rosie said goodbye to Matt and made her way to where she’d parked her Mini Cooper. She was relieved the engine started first time and drove with caution to the village, leaving her car in the Drunken Duck car park – with the vicarage bursting at the seams with wedding guests there was no space to park nearby.

  She crossed the road and paused for a moment beneath the kissing gate at the entrance of St Andrew’s church. In three days’ time, Grace and Josh would stand beneath the impressive arched gateway as husband and wife. She really hoped the police would solve the mystery of what had happened in the woods soon so that her friends could sail towards their special day without a cloud of impending doom loitering on the horizon.

  Rosie meandered along the pathway leading up to the church. Sprigs of grass protruded from the cracked surface like giant’s nasal hair, dense rhododendron bushes crowded on either side, and an unpleasant aroma of damp, rotting vegetation met her nostrils. A sudden rustle of leaves caused her to pause, her senses on high alert. Insidious fingers of fear raked at her skin and caused goosebumps to scamper across her forearms.

  Was the person who had arranged Theo’s accident watching her from the depths of the foliage at that very moment?

  She squinted through the veil of shadow to her left, a bolt of shock alighting her veins when a pair of shining black pearls stared straight back at her. She broke into a sprint, and when she arrived on the vicarage doorstep, she pressed the doorbell with excessive alacrity.

  “Hi Rosie, great to see you. What’s the matter?” asked Carole, her forehead creasing in concern. “Why are you out of breath? Come in. Come in. Oh, I see you’ve brought Constance with you.”

  “Constance?”

  “Our friendly neighbourhood cat. Look.”

  Rosie almost laughed out loud when she saw the coal-black cat strolling towards them with a look of haughty disdain written across its feline features.

  “Oh, yes. Erm, I was wondering whether you wanted any help with the wedding flowers?”

  “Ah, thanks, Rosie. That’s music to my ears!”

  “Well, I have designed a fair few bouquets in my time.”

  “And for celebrities, too, I hear!”

  As soon as she stepped over the threshold, Rosie was once again enveloped in the familiar warm mantle of comfort. The air smelled of home-baked bread, furniture polish and freshly ground coffee beans. Grace, Abbi and Corinne sat at the kitchen table, a jumble of blooms, foliage and spools of pale pink ribbon piled high in the centre. Grace was experimenting with blocks of green oasis that had been cut to fit her mother’s pretty Portmeirion bowls, and a set of china teacups had also been pressed into service as flowerpots. The whole scene was a neat synopsis of village life – welcoming, relaxed, with the promise of a decent cup of coffee and a sweet treat.

  “Rosie! Am I glad to see you. I have no idea what possessed me to think we’d be able to handle the flower arrangements ourselves! Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all. In fact, I’m really looking forward to it. I adore flowers.”

  “Oh my God! I completely forgot! Forgive me.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Well, I know you still haven’t decided whether to take Harry upon his offer. What if helping me with my wedding bouquets makes you yearn for your former passion and you decide to leave us, and your job at the Windmill Café, and dash back to the bright lights of the metropolis? It’ll be all my fault—”

  “Grace, Grace,” Rosie laughed. Freddie had been right, the stress levels in the Coulson household were rising. However, she had no desire to get into a discussion about where her future lay, whether that be Pimlico or Willerby. “I think you’ve got enough to worry about without adding me to your list. Okay, so what sort of design are you looking for?”

  The women spent the next two hours following Rosie’s lead as she demonstrated a selection of posies that could be hung on the ends of the pews and then recycled as table decorations. The fragrance of the flowers, mingled with Carole’s Estée Lauder perfume, set the scene perfectly for an afternoon of gossip about cupcakes, confetti and couture. Rosie filled them in on the romance that had been played out in front of her starring Mia and Freddie and everyone agreed that it was about time the two got together, that it would have probably happened much sooner had it not been for the events at the Summer Breeze party.

  When everyone had made five posies each, with Rosie concentrating on a larger, more elaborate display for the top table, Carole insisted on laying each of the arrangements on a huge wooden tray and then scrutinising the results like an art critic considering the Turner prize. Rosie wouldn’t have been surprised if she had scored them out of ten!

  “You are an absolute genius, Rosie. Thank you for coming to our rescue.”

  “Gosh, no thanks required, I’ve had fun.”

  “Okay, it’s coffee and carrot cake all round!” declared Carole, making herself busy with the kettle.

  “Not for me, I think I’d better be making tracks,” said Corinne. “Don’t want to be late.”

  “Thanks, Corinne.”

  “No problem. Bye everyone.”

  Corinne grabbed her denim jacket, called Coco to heel, and slammed the front door of the vicarage behind her with a resounding crash.

  “Where’s Corinne off to?” asked Rosie, scanning the sink for the bleach so she could help Carole to wipe the table and kitchen benches down before she indulged in a slab of her host’s signature bake.

  “Freddie’s offered to take her for a windsurfing lesson this afternoon,” said Carole, setting the cafetière down on the table. “Apparently, she adores water sports and was a member of her local rowing club before she arrived in Norfolk. The two of them went kayaking last week and I think they’ve got plans to hire a boat when the weather improves. She’s slotted in to village life rather well, don’t you think?”

  “She’s lovely!” declared Grace, her demeanour much more relaxed now the issues with the flowers had been resolved. “You should see the Italian buffet dei dolci she’s made for the evening reception.”

  “What about your wedding cake?”

  “It’s spectacular, isn’t it, Abbi? Exactly the design I wanted! It’s hidden in the dining room, though. It’s safer there - no risk of any freak accidents.”

  “Or poisonings,” muttered Carole, not altogether joking. She patted her curls, freshly highlighted with golden strands in preparation for her daughter’s wedding, and straightened the skirt of her flower-sprigged tea dress before slicing the cake.

  “So, everything is sorted! Now all you need to do, Rosie, is solve this woodland mystery and normal service can be resumed. I have every faith in you and Matt, but I’m sure you won’t say no if I ask Dad to request a little help from a higher authority?”

  “Not at all,” smiled Rosie. “We need all the help we can get!”

  Chapter 9

  Rosie jogged back to her car, her mind swirling with ideas for new recipes to try out at the Windmill Café when it re-opened full-time in April. However, she also found her thoughts lingering on how much she had enjoyed creating the bespoke wedding posies and table arrangements for Grace and Josh’s wedding. She smiled to herself when she recalled the floristry competitions she had won whilst in London, and the weird and wonderful prizes she had received for her efforts – a year’s supply of fertilizer anyone?

  As she scrambled in her pocket to locate her car keys, she became aware of the gnaw of anxiety in the pit of her stomach caused by the fact that unless she and Matt focused all their energies on discovering who had set the trap in the woodland, then the happy occasion would be spoiled. They needed to talk to Theo as soon as possible and if he wasn’t going to be discharged from hospital the next day, then they needed to take a trip to Norwich to see him. They also still had to talk to Dylan and Sam. She had purposely left Josh off her list of potential suspects – there was no way he woul
d have done anything to jeopardise his own wedding!

  She found her keys and was about to open the driver’s door of her little Mini when her heart gave a leap of surprise.

  “Hi Rosie, how’s Grace holding up?”

  “Oh, hi Sam. Well, she’s still upset about this whole episode in the woods, but she’s much more relaxed now than when I arrived a few hours ago. As far as the wedding is concerned, though, I think everything is on track; the flowers arrangements have been finalised, the wedding favours and place cards are done, and the cake is sorted. Actually, I was just thinking about coming to see you at the lodge. We should—”

  “Hello, Sam, hi Rosie. Are you on your way in to the Drunken Duck or on your way out?” asked Matt, striding over to offer Sam his palm and deposit a tantalisingly brief kiss on Rosie’s cheek. She tried to ignore the ripple of interest that shot down her spine and lodge somewhere deep in her lower abdomen.

  “Oh, no, I was just—”

  “Let me buy you a drink,” offered Matt, as usual taking advantage of an unexpected stroke of luck.

  “What’s the local beer like?”

  “I think you’ll love it.”

  They piled into the Drunken Duck. Matt paused at the bar to give his order to Archie while Rosie led Sam into the room at the rear. It was five o’clock and most of the pub’s patrons had either left for the day or hadn’t yet arrived, so they had the place to themselves.

  Rosie loved the snug, and that day it was suffused in a dusty light that gave the whole room a sepia feel. Archie had chosen to furnish it with an eclectic mix of antique and modern styles, from the benches and tables fashioned from old church pews to the framed photographs and old maps of local landmarks. An orphaned copy of that day’s newspaper rested on the mantelpiece waiting to be adopted, and there were tattered beer mats galore.

  The chaos should have caused Rosie’s disorder hackles to rise and yet they didn’t. Far from it. When she sunk down into the leather banquette next to the roaring fire, she relaxed and allowed the comfortable ambience to perform its magic. This was a space she could happily spend hours in, relishing the soft murmur of conversation, the gentle clinking of glasses, the scent of yeasty local craft ales.

  However, a quiet drink was not on the agenda and she resolved to sharpen her wits so that she could extract the salient facts from Sam without causing him to beat a hasty retreat.

  “Mmm, you’re right, Matt. This beer’s good,” announced Sam after swallowing half a pint of Wherry in one go. “Boy, did I need that. I’ve spent the whole afternoon being attacked by a barrage of pine needles whilst Zara hums and haas about achieving the perfect balance between symmetry and colour coordination, or some such malarkey.”

  Sam inspected the backs of his hands where numerous scratches evidenced his complaints.

  “She’s still down there, in the marquee, tweaking every branch and rearranging every bauble. Anyone would think Kirstie Allsopp was on her way with a battery of TV cameras! She nearly snapped my head off when I suggested we adjourned for a drink at the Drunken Duck or treated ourselves to a coffee at Adriano’s deli! I suppose it keeps her mind off worrying about the boys, not to mention this fiasco over Theo’s accident. Do you think there’s any way it could have been an accident? Someone put up an animal trap and made an error of judgement about the height?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” replied Matt, replacing his pint of Guinness on the beermat and running his tongue along his upper lip to collect the froth. “Freddie and I swept the area behind the Ultimate Adventures lodge the night before the race and that wire wasn’t there then, I’m certain of it. Someone put it there specifically for our cycle ride.”

  “So any one of us could have been the victim!”

  “True. We really need to talk to Theo about that.”

  Rosie knew Matt had stopped himself from going on to say that he suspected Theo had surveyed the area the previous day too; it was the only way he could have known about the shortcut.

  As she sipped her glass of Merlot, she took a few moments to consider their companion. At six-foot-two and with a slender, well-honed physique, Sam Vardy projected a charismatic image. His short blond hair had been teased into a perfect quiff at his forehead and his clean-shaven face still displayed a light tan from his recent trip to the golf courses of Dubai. His crisp, baby pink shirt, open at the neck to reveal a smattering of golden hairs, was Jermyn Street quality and Rosie suspected the diamond cufflinks at his wrists – each depicting a miniature set of golf clubs – were the real thing.

  “Sam, we all want to get to the bottom of what happened to Theo, especially Josh and Grace, so do you mind if Rosie and I ask you a few questions?”

  “Of course not. The sooner the imbecile is caught the better!”

  “Thank you. I wonder if you could start by telling us how well you know Theo?”

  “We met at our local cycling club – mutual interests built up our friendship, I suppose. I don’t go there as often as I used to but we’ve kept in touch.”

  Sam shrugged his shoulders and flashed a smile at Rosie before slotting his palms into his trouser pockets and crossing his ankle over his thigh so he could lean back in his seat in a calm, nonchalant manner. Rosie thought he was trying too hard to be composed and she had the strangest feeling he was hiding something; it was a revelation that she enjoyed. It meant she was getting better at this sleuthing business and she knew her beloved father would have been immensely proud of her. She wasn’t sure whether Matt had noticed, so she decided to ask her own questions with an assertiveness she knew Sam would respond to.

  “If you got on so well why were you arguing with him outside your lodge on Tuesday night?”

  Bingo, she thought as she saw his face take on the colour of overworked putty.

  “Oh, you know – just general stuff. Anyway, I think we were chatting, not arguing.”

  “Well, your voices were definitely raised, and apparently you were heard saying ‘no, no, no’. Never mind, I suppose I’ll just have to pass the information on to the police so they can ask you about it themselves.”

  “No! Erm, no, there’s no need to do that!” Sam’s eyes widened and a nervous tic appeared just above his left cheek. He removed his ankle from his thigh so he could lean forward, placing his elbows on his knees, the remainder of his pint of Wherry left untouched. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you, but does the information have to go any further that this room?”

  “We can’t give you any guarantees,” said Matt before Rosie could respond.

  Sam’s previous display of macho bravado seeped from his body. He rubbed his palm over his face then laced his fingers on the table in front of him to prevent them from shaking. He took a deep breath before he spoke, his throat tightening around each word.

  “You know what I do for a living – I’m a golf Pro at one of the West Midlands’ most prestigious golf clubs, but I’ve also been fortunate enough to be consulted on the design and construction of a few championship-quality golf courses, both here in the UK and abroad. It’s an amazing opportunity, something that was beyond my wildest dreams when I was at university. My brother Marcus and I have been obsessed with the game since we were five years old. He’s a Pro, too, at an exclusive club in Dubai – it was Marcus who put in a word for me as a design consultant for a new course out by the airport. It’s taken two years to complete but it’s been worth every setback – it’s a true championship course in every sense of the word!”

  “What has this got to do with Theo’s accident?” asked Rosie, keen to divert the conversation away from bunkers and fairways.

  “I’m getting there.” Sam pulled his lips between his teeth and began to chew at the skin on the inside of his cheeks. His whole body had started to tremble. “The Dubai project meant that I had to be away from home for weeks on end. At first, I spent all my spare time working on my swing with Marcus, or on the tennis court, or at the gym. But I was bored and I missed Zara and the boys.”

  Rosie watch
ed Sam swallow down his discomfort and realised immediately what was coming.

  “I don’t know how it happened, but there was this female golf Pro at the club where Marcus worked, a real party girl. We went out for a few drinks and, one thing led to another – Well, do I have to spell it out? We had a relationship. I managed to keep it quiet and we were especially careful when we were around Marcus, but this one weekend Theo flew out unannounced, hoping to squeeze in a couple of rounds, and he caught us in a compromising position.”

  Sam concentrated on his clenched hands, taking a few moments to compose himself. Beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead and his eyes had taken on a wary look.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I totally deserved the blasting Theo gave me. He was livid – and rightly so. He’s godfather to our twins! He kept going on and on about honour and integrity and respect. Of course, I terminated my relationship with Natasha immediately and swore to Theo that I would never do anything to jeopardise my family again. In return he promised he wouldn’t tell Zara.”

  “Is that what you were arguing about on Tuesday night?”

  “Sort of.”

  Sam grabbed his glass and finished his beer in one gulp, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, and studiously avoided looking in Rosie’s direction.

  “What do you mean by ‘sort of’?”

  “I’m not proud of myself, but Theo had discovered – I have no idea how – that I spent a weekend up at Gleneagles with Natasha a few months back. It was a celebration bash for everyone who’d been involved in the Dubai project. I’d had a barrelful of whiskey and I succumbed to temptation. It was a one-off, but of course I’d broken the promise I’d made to Theo, not to mention Zara and the boys.”

  Sam began to fiddle with the strap of his Tag Hauer watch strap, his fingers shaking.

  “This time he was determined to tell Zara. He kept saying that he’d already given me a chance to rectify my disgraceful behaviour and I’d chosen not to take it. He said it was his duty to disclose my indiscretions. I begged him to think about the impact his revelation would have on the boys but he refused to listen. The only thing I managed to get him to agree to do was to wait until after Josh and Grace’s wedding. I know how much Zara adores Grace and I didn’t want what I’d done to spoil their day. I do love Zara.”