The Windmill Café. Poppy Blake

any news yet on anyone else getting sick?’

      ‘Not yet. I’ll give Reverend Coulson another call,’ said Matt and strode outside onto the café terrace.

      Rosie had the strangest sensation that she’d been cast as an extra in a film; disconnected from reality, her movements those of an automaton as she forced herself to perform the tasks assigned to her by the director, of rinsing the teapot, tossing in fresh teabags and sloshing the milk into a jug. She located the sugar bowl and poured three mugs of strong tea, setting everything down on the coffee table in front of Mia.

      Rosie tried to swallow down the hot tea, craving its reassuring warmth, but her throat felt like it had contracted around a miniature pineapple. Thoughts ricocheted around her brain about Matt’s suggestion that they investigate the cause of Suki’s illness themselves. Little did he know that one of her childhood obsessions had been detective novels and that she had spent many a happy afternoon with her father racing through the pages until the culprit was unveiled - usually whilst in a drawing room of a Georgian manor house. But this wasn’t fiction, it was real life!

      ‘I can’t just sit here drinking tea. I need to know what’s going on. I’m going to find Matt.’

      She left the café with Mia, now fully recovered from her fainting spell, hot on her heels. They found Matt striding backwards and forwards outside Suki and Felix’s lodge winding up his telephone conversation with Carole.

      ‘Carole and the Rev have managed to contact a few more people who were at the party this afternoon and so far none of them have experienced any of the symptoms of food poisoning. In fact, everyone, without exception, has praised the smooth organization and the delicious food. Carole told me to tell you that two people have even made enquiries about outside catering for a wedding and an upcoming christening at the church next month.’

      ‘Told you,’ smiled Mia, squeezing Rosie’s hand and rolling her eyes at Matt’s expression of disgust when he mentioned the word ‘wedding’. Rosie noticed Matt’s strange reaction and filed it away for future exploration when the current crisis was over. She had no idea when that would be, or indeed whether she would even get the chance.

      ‘It’s not all good news, though. Felix has insisted on Suki being checked over because she’s still experiencing stomach cramps, so Dr Bairstow is on his way over.’

      ‘Do you think…’ Mia paused, flashing a quick look at the windows of the lodge where the blinds had been drawn. ‘I’m probably way out of line here, but do you think Suki could have taken something to… erm… well… to give her confidence a bit of a boost for the show she was going to put on for us tonight, and maybe she just accidentally took a bit too much?’

      ‘Actually, Suki doesn’t do drugs,’ came a small, tremulous voice from the veranda above their heads.

      Mia’s face flooded with heat. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean… I wasn’t implying…’

      ‘It’s okay,’ said Jess, moving out of her hiding place on the veranda and slumping down on the bottom step like a lost waif, her eyes bloodshot from shedding copious tears over her sister’s suffering. ‘Lots of people in the music industry use some form of performance enhancement, I know that, but not Suke. She’s totally clean.’

      ‘But maybe she just …’ persisted Mia, as Rosie took a seat next to Jess.

      ‘No, she wouldn’t. She just wouldn’t. I know her. Suki doesn’t do any drugs. Not even paracetamol.’

      ‘Well, hopefully the doctor will be able to throw more light on what’s caused her illness,’ said Matt, pointing to Dr Bairstow’s black Range Rover pulling into the Windmill Café’s car park.

      Rosie watched the popular village doctor jump out of the driver’s seat and rush round to the passenger side to collect his bag of tricks. He had clearly been disturbed whilst indulging in his favourite past-time because he was still wearing his rugby strip, tracksuit bottoms, and trainers.

      ‘Have you contacted your parents to let them know what’s happened?’ asked Matt.

      ‘Our parents passed away in a helicopter crash when I was ten. We’ve only got each other – and our uncle and aunt. They’re on their yacht in Sardinia at the moment. Oh God, Auntie Martha’s going to be so worried,’ Jess squeaked, crumpling into Rosie’s arms, her delicate shoulders heaving, her long wavy hair falling over her face.

      The doctor’s arrival had forced everyone but Felix to vacate the lodge so Suki could be examined in private. Lucas, William and Nadia joined them outside on the veranda, their eyes fixed on an indeterminate point in the distance rather than looking at Rosie and Mia, who they clearly still thought had poisoned their friend.

      Rosie swallowed down hard on her distress about her uncertain future to concentrate on the misery Suki was suffering, sending up a prayer for a speedy diagnosis and recovery. Matt caught her eye, gestured for her and Mia to follow him, and they made their way back to the café terrace. Rosie headed for one of the wooden benches, which in the daytime was usually crammed with ravenous customers, and sat down. Mia slid into a seat opposite her and Matt perched on the table, a faint whiff of his lemony cologne floating on the warm evening air.

      ‘I know it’s too early to speculate, but I really don’t think this is food poisoning. We all ate at the garden party, and no one else in Suki’s party or in the village has reported similar symptoms.’

      ‘So you think Suki’s suffering from some kind of sickness bug?’ asked Mia.

      ‘Mmm, maybe, but there could be another explanation too.’

      ‘What do you mean?’ asked Rosie, her stomach performing a swift flip-flop.

      Matt’s forehead creased into parallel lines as he worked through his new theory. ‘Why don’t you tell me what you know about Suki Richards? Who she is, why she’s here, everything.’

      ‘I don’t know much more than you, really.’

      Rosie felt flustered, her mind suddenly washed clean under the intensity of Matt’s questions. Obviously, he had meant what he said when he’d suggested they investigate the suspected food-poisoning incident themselves. She selected a strand of hair, twisting it rhythmically between her fingers, as she scoured her sluggish brain for a place to start.

      ‘She’s here with her sister and a group of friends to celebrate the signing of her recording contract. She’s been singing in bars in Majorca and Ibiza since she left music school and this is her big break. Oh my God, what if this affects her voice?’

      ‘I think it would be unusual if there were any lasting side-effects from a bout of vomiting. What else do you know? Who booked the lodges?’

      ‘That was Suki’s boyfriend, Felix – apparently one of his friends came here last summer and loved it. Felix persuaded Suki to come as it would be her last chance to relax before the music business stole her life – his words not mine. He even asked us to order in a certain brand of champagne because it’s Suki’s favourite.’

      ‘And did Felix pay for the lodges too?’

      ‘No. Suki paid for everything. She wanted to treat her friends to celebrate landing her recording contract.’

      ‘So, if it’s not drugs or a reaction to overindulgence of alcohol, what else could it be?’ asked Mia. ‘Some sort of allergy to an ingredient in the food? Or… no…’

      ‘What?’

      ‘Maybe someone put something in her food? A deranged fan or a jealous love rival?’

      ‘Mia, don’t be so dramatic!’

      ‘Look, there’s Felix,’ said Matt, jumping up from the bench and striding towards Suki’s boyfriend who had left the lodge and was sauntering towards the car park, taking the opportunity to snatch a quick cigarette.

      ‘What did the doctor say?’

      ‘Exactly what I thought he