by Poppy Blake
“Do you think the police are any closer to making an arrest, Rosie?” asked Zara as she spooned fresh coffee into a large cafétière. “I don’t mind admitting that after everything that’s happened this week, I’m really missing my boys – and so is Sam.”
“I’m not sure, but Matt’s promised to give DS Kirkham a call this morning,” said Rosie, setting a huge pan of homemade minestrone soup down in the middle of the table around which everyone had congregated and handing out spoons and peppermint and white serviettes.
“Well, I wish they’d hurry up with their investigation,” muttered Mia as she lifted a rosemary-studded focaccia from the oven sending a mouth-watering aroma of warm baked bread into the café. “It’s really not fair that Theo’s accident is the focus of everyone’s attention instead of Grace and Josh’s wedding – or our inaugural Christmas Carousel contest.”
Mia flung her tea towel onto the back of her chair in disgust, but her irritation didn’t last long. Since the moment she’d stepped into the café to help Rosie prepare lunch, she had floated from one task to the next, humming along to the Christmas tunes she had blaring from the radio, beaming as she licked melted chocolate from her fingers, even performing a twirl as she scattered a handful of pasta into the soup pan. She looked like she was taking part in a culinary musical.
When Rosie questioned her sparkling mood, Mia divulged every detail of her date with Freddie the previous evening, declaring him to be the most handsome and the most interesting guy in the whole of Norfolk and that she couldn’t wait to see him again. Then she had collapsed into a heap of giggles when she asked Rosie if she thought Freddie would mind if she asked him to wrap himself up in Christmas paper on Christmas morning.
“Oh, by the way Rosie, did I tell you that Dan Forrester from the Willerby Gazette called me yesterday to say he’s coming over to the windmill tomorrow to take a few photographs and do a piece on the winning tree? When I contacted him in November to invite him to cover the contest, he said he was much too important to attend such parochial events. I reckon he’s only changed his mind because of the police investigation and that’s the angle he’ll be playing up.”
Rosie sighed as she finished whipping up a huge bowl of mascarpone for the cranberry and white chocolate cheesecake she’d prepared for their dessert, then took a seat in between Abbi and Mia before handing round the soup bowls and urging everyone to dig in.
“How’s the investigation coming along, Rosie?” asked Penny, helping herself to a slice of the focaccia to dip in her minestrone. “Any news?”
“Nothing, I’m afraid. We’ve spoken to everyone apart from Dylan. Theo’ was adamant that it’s an attempt at poaching gone wrong. He didn’t think it’s possible that anyone could have been targeting him.”
“Hey! Perhaps we could all get involved in a bit of sleuthing?” suggested Abbi, her eyes shining with enthusiasm. “What clues have you found so far, Rosie? Tyres tracks in the woods? A discarded sweet wrapper next to the storeroom? Perhaps a letter written in code pinned to a tree?”
“None of the above. Maybe Theo is right and it was an animal trap.”
“I love all those murder mysteries on the TV,” mused Zara, as she swirled her spoon in her soup distractedly. “There are always plenty of clues, but I can still never guess who the murderer is until the very end so I’d be totally useless in the role of PI Vardy.”
“Speak for yourself!” laughed Abbi. “I think I’d look great in a deerstalker!”
Lunch was devoured with gusto and exuberant compliments were issued to Rosie and Mia, along with requests for the recipe for the cheesecake and the iced ginger biscuits that Mia had made and cut into Santa hat shapes. Rosie had just started on the clearing up when Sam appeared at the café’s door.
“Is everything okay?” asked Zara, a flicker of concern in her tone at her husband’s unexpected arrival.
“Everything’s fine! Zara, will you stop fretting about the kids. Hasn’t your mum told you they’re having a ball? What with ice cream for breakfast, chocolate biscuits whenever they want them, and helping your dad build a treehouse in the garden - it’s like a chapter from Swallows and Amazons! Tell you what, why don’t I treat you to a trip to the coast? We’ll go for a brisk walk along the sea front to blow away the cobwebs and finish up with a pint in the Drunken Duck.”
“Okay, you’re on. But only after we’ve helped Rosie and Mia with the washing up.”
“Don’t worry, we’re fine,” Rosie assured her, secretly relieved that she would have her beloved café to herself so she could indulge in to a full-on session of cleaning without having to face the barrage of questions she was usually subjected to about her thoroughness. Explaining her obsession never got any easier.
“What about you, Penny? Fancy joining us?” asked Sam, clearly aware of the state of her relationship with Theo and offering her an alternative to spending the afternoon by herself.
“Actually, I’d love a trip to the coast. Can you hang on whilst I fetch my sketch pad?”
“Sure. What about you, Abbi?”
“You know what, I think I’ll go over to the vicarage and help Grace finish off the wedding favours,” said Abbi, uncurling her legs from beneath her bottom and reaching for her coat.
“Why don’t you join them?” Rosie asked Mia. “You’ve worked like a Trojan today, what with single-handedly sorting out the café’s entry for the Christmas tree competition, and helping me to prepare lunch, it’s your turn to take a break.”
“You can’t fool me, Rosie Barnes. You just want the place to yourself so you can get stuck in to a cleaning marathon, don’t you?”
“No, I was just—”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound unkind. Actually, I think I’ll pop over to Ultimate Adventures. I’m expecting my zip wire instructor certificate to arrive any day! I can’t wait to lead my very first expedition through the tree tops. Want me to reserve you a place, Rosie?”
“Maybe in the audience! Send Freddie my love, won’t you?” she grinned, her heart soaring at the love written across Mia’s pretty face.
“Absolutely.”
As soon as Mia closed the French doors, silence expanded into all four corners of the café and Rosie exhaled a long sigh of relief. She removed her box of cleaning goodies from the cupboard under the sink and made a start on her cleaning ritual. For the first time that day, she relaxed, relishing the rhythmic workout that was better than any Zumba class. She was so absorbed in her spraying and scrubbing that she didn’t hear the door open and jumped when she heard her name.
“Rosie?”
“Oh, hi Dylan.”
“I don’t suppose you could rustle me up a sandwich, could you? I’m starving and there’s nothing but a few stale bread rolls in our lodge. Oh, and is that cheesecake?”
“Come in. Come in. How about a bowl of home-made minestrone and a slice of focaccia?”
“Wow, that sounds amazing! Thanks, Rosie.”
Dylan ate every scrap she put in front of him while giving her a running commentary on the current state of the Christmas trees in the marquee and his opinion on those that were in the running for the silver trophy and those worthy of the wooden spoon.
“Theo’s driving everyone insane, as usual. I think I’ll give him a wide berth this afternoon and take a walk up to the Drunken Duck.”
“Oh, if you give me a minute to grab my coat, I’ll walk over there with you.”
Dylan’s jaw opened in surprise, but he was far too polite to refuse. They made their way from the café and sauntered through the holiday site towards the road leading to Willerby. The December afternoon was blustery and fresh, the wind lifting Rosie’s wayward curls high above her head and slapping them across her face with alacrity.
“Abbi said you used to be a medic?”
They had paused at a large, recently-excavated pond behind the peppermint-and-white shepherd’s hut where Dylan was staying with Abbi. The fishpond was Graham’s current work-in-progress where he planned
to house a school of Koi carp. Water lilies and pond weed floated like mermaid’s hair just beneath the surface and a solitary magpie hovered nearby.
“Yes, I was – until I had my accident.”
Rosie’s ears pricked up. Maybe this was her chance to find out what had happened. She glanced at Dylan from beneath her eyelashes, unsure whether she should persuade him to excavate painful memories. Thankfully she didn’t have to.
“I fell off my bike during a road race around Cornwall and fractured several vertebrae in my neck. At one point my surgeon wasn’t sure whether I’d walk again let alone get back in the saddle. But I did. After everything that happened, and the gruelling physio to get me back on my feet again, I realised I wasn’t getting any younger and it was time to shoot for my dreams. My parents were great, they helped me make one of the hardest decisions of my life - to give up my medical career in favour of fulfilling one of my long-held ambitions.”
Rosie’s heart bounced when she saw the emotion on Dylan’s handsome face.
“I handed in my notice and Dad was on hand to help me to set up my junior football academy. He’s always been a sports fanatic, an avid Manchester United supporter, and he’s definitely passed his passion on to me.”
“Did he play football when he was young?”
“Yes. He played for a local youth team, but it wasn’t just football that fired his canons. He loved golf, cricket, archery, tennis - you name it. And do you know what? I do too. Oh, I know what I do now doesn’t save lives, and some of my so-called friends have accused me of wasting my education, even accused me of taking up a place at med school that could have gone to someone more committed. But I’m much happier now than I’ve ever been. I’ve found my niche in the world at last and that feels great.”
“What does Abbi think about the academy?”
“She’s really supportive, apart from the financial worries. She’s right, of course - the business is permanently strapped for cash. There’s so much to think about on the management side of things, too. All I want to do is teach the kids to play a decent game of football. I hate all the admin stuff, the interminable paperwork, the negotiations with the insurance guys, the health and safety courses. I know it’s important, but it takes up so much time. Dad used to do all that before he passed away.”
“Oh, Dylan, I’m really sorry to hear that,” said Rosie, warming to Dylan with every passing minute of their conversation. It took tremendous guts to give up a lucrative profession that you had studied hard for in order to follow your passion, and, of course, she understood the impact of losing a much-loved parent.
“Without Dad keeping on top of everything I really started to get into a mess.”
A shadow of sadness settled in Dylan’s eyes and he slowed his walking pace.
“Football isn’t just a sport, you know; a quick kick-around once a week. It’s a means of getting young people outdoors, to exercise and socialise with people they may not otherwise have the chance to meet. Handled right, it can teach them discipline, and a good fast game can get rid of the excess energy that kids always seem to have in abundance. It also gives them a goal, to coin a phrase. I’ve come across lots of children whose parents couldn’t care less if their children spend twelve hours a day, or more, in front of a computer screen, eating pizza, drinking soda. Some of them are actually very talented when they get to the academy and put the work in.
“But when I speak to their parents about their own part of the commitment needed to nurture their kid’s talent; the early morning starts to drive them to an away game, the cost of the kit, never mind the academy’s fees, well, they back off pretty quickly. There was one young lad last season, Cameron, he had great potential and he really loved his football, but his mum lost her job half way through the season and couldn’t afford to send him anymore. The boy was heartbroken so I called round to their house and had a chat to his mum about helping out with laundering the club’s kit and we managed to sort it out. Worked for me, worked for Cameron, and for his mum. He’s now got a place at United’s junior academy! It’s one of my proudest achievements.
“But helping the kids out means there’s less money in the academy’s coffers. And what with subsidising the cost of the petrol for our away matches, buying the kids bottled water for when they forget to bring their own, never mind paying the club’s rent and insurance—well—needless to say we’re broke. I think we might have to close the doors in the new year.”
Rosie could see that the stress Dylan was under weighed heavily on his shoulders.
“Is there nothing else you can do? What about asking for a bank loan?”
“Already done that.”
Dylan averted his eyes as he began to chew at the skin on the side of his thumb nail.
“And I take it the answer was no?”
Dylan nodded. He turned his back on Rosie in a futile attempt to hide his misery as he contemplated a future without his beloved academy. Fortunately, they had arrived outside Adriano’s Deli and the waft of freshly baked pizza and roast coffee beans was irresistible.
“Fancy a coffee?” asked Rosie.
“I thought you’d never ask!”
Chapter 14
Rosie pushed open the cheery scarlet door to the deli, smiling at the familiar tinkle of the brass bell. The low hum of chatter mingled with a backing track of operatic music and the delicious aroma of rich espresso and warm pastries – Adriano’s was a little slice of Italian heaven transported to the Norfolk countryside. The room had been decorated with an abundance of festive white fairy lights and a large Christmas tree stood in the corner festooned with miniature football scarves and rosettes in the colours of Adriano’s favourite team – AC Milan. She considered asking him if he planned on entering it in the Windmill Café’s Christmas tree competition. It was certainly original!
Rosie smiled at Corinne who was busy serving another customer but indicated the table next to the window. She wriggled out of her coat and stuffed her bobble hat in the pocket before meeting Dylan’s eyes. She had been intending to use their time together to ask him about Theo’s accident, to see whether there was anything he could add to what she and Matt had already uncovered, but after hearing about his financial woes, she was reticent about introducing yet another distressing thread to their conversation. She decided to go to the counter to order their coffees to allow Dylan a few moments of privacy to gather his thoughts.
“Hi Corinne. I fancy a bit of a treat this afternoon, but it all looks so amazing, it’s hard to choose! What do you recommend?”
“Well, Adriano made one of his signature torta della Nonna this morning. He says it’s an old family recipe and refuses to share it with even his most loyal employees! Fancy a slice of that?”
“Absolutely!”
“Ciao, Rosie!” cried Adriano, appearing from the kitchen with a platter piled high with cannoli. He set the pyramid of pastries down on the counter so he could envelope Rosie in a fragrant bear hug. She rolled her eyes at Corinne over his shoulder and saw her giggle. Adriano often greeted his customers effusively, it was part of the deli’s charms. “Ah, yes, you have made an excellent choice! As a fellow connoisseur, you must tell me what you think of my grandmother’s pie! Here, take a piece for your friend, too. Looks like he could do with some cheering up!”
Rosie carried two huge slices of Adriano’s torta della Nonna back to the table. When Dylan’s eyes fell on the unexpected offering, his face lit up like the Christmas tree in the corner and he grabbed a fork and dug in with relish.
“Sorry, Rosie. My emotions seem to be getting the better of me at the moment. Abbi’s totally consumed by the wedding and her next acting role, not to mention her new business enterprise, and I don’t want to spoil things for her by moaning about what’s going on with the academy. We’ll manage, but I’m exhausted from trying to put a brave face on everything after the shock of losing Dad, supporting Mum, then the business worries, and now Theo’s accident. The only bright star of the last two years has bee
n meeting Abbi.”
Almost as if he’d wished it, the door of the deli burst open and Grace and Abbi tumbled in to join them. From that moment on their conversation took on a much more upbeat vibe, with the wedding arrangements being the focus of attention. Corinne delivered hot chocolates all round, and a sharing platter of Adriano’s cartocci filled with brandy cream which were demolished in minutes.
“I don’t want to put you and Matt under any pressure or anything, Rosie, but do you have any ideas about who might be responsible for Theo’s accident yet?” asked Grace, her face creasing in desperation as she licked the last of the cream from her fingers. “Even Mum’s started to talk about cancelling the wedding, saying that tomorrow is our last chance to ring everyone before they set off. I think she might be right. Josh and I don’t want to get married with a dark cloud of fear floating over the whole ceremony! So, if you could identify the person responsible by say, ten o’clock this evening, Josh and I will be eternally grateful?”
Rosie knew Grace was joking but she couldn’t fail to see the hope in her eyes. She also noticed that both Adriano and Corinne had paused in their task of washing down the vacated tables to listen to her answer. A ripple of remorse wove through her body. Grace and Josh had put their trust in her and Matt.
Whilst she had no idea how Matt was getting on with his investigations into Theo’s background, she just couldn’t bear to admit the truth that they were no closer to discovering the identity of the culprit than when they’d started; that everyone she and Matt had spoken to so far seemed to have a reason for wanting Theo to suffer, not to mention the opportunity to rig up the trap in the woodland. So, for reasons known only to her subconscious, she decided to embroider her reply with a splash of positivity.
“Actually, Matt and I might have some news shortly. We still have some loose ends to check first, though, so do you think you could keep this to yourselves? Just until we’ve told the police about what we’ve uncovered? We don’t want the person responsible to be tipped off now that we have them in our sights, do we?”
