The Windmill Café. Poppy Blake

up to you, Mr Dawson,’ said Dr Bairstow, as he opened the door of his Range Rover to deposit his medical bag on the back seat. ‘But as you’ve just heard me tell Miss Richards, at this stage I’m unable to pinpoint exactly what she’s been poisoned with. I’ll get the blood samples over to the lab immediately, and in the meantime, you should make sure your girlfriend gets some rest and drinks plenty of fluids – and I don’t mean alcohol – and that she avoids exertion until she feels stronger. She’s been very lucky not to have had an allergic reaction to whatever it was she ingested. We could have been looking at a much more serious scenario.’

      ‘What? You mean, like, she could have died?’ Felix paused in his search of the internet for the phone number of the local council to stare at the doctor.

      ‘I can’t comment any further until I know more.’

      ‘But it’s definitely something Suki ate or drank?’

      ‘Yes, either intentionally or accidentally. I’m sorry,’ added the doctor sending a sympathetic glance in Rosie’s direction.

      ‘Are you saying that someone could have poisoned Sukie on purpose?’

      ‘I’m not ruling out any possibility.’

      ‘Have you heard whether anyone else in the village has experienced similar symptoms, Dr Bairstow?’ asked Rosie, her voice wavering and not sounding like her own.

      ‘No, there’s been nothing as yet.’

      Rosie spotted the large plastic bag the doctor was holding, containing the champagne bottle Suki had taken back to her lodge with her, two used glasses and a variety of other bottles. She experienced a mule’s kick to her solar plexus when she saw the throat spray bottle was amongst them, followed by a wave of nausea as she realized the implications. What if the cause of Suki’s illness had been the honey she had given her from the café kitchen?

      ‘Hello? Is that the environmental health department? No? Well, put me through to them. Why not? Yes, my name is Felix Dawson and I want to report a severe case of food poisoning. Am I speaking to the right person? I don’t want to have to repeat myself.’

      ‘Thank you for coming, Doctor,’ murmured Rosie, her emotions swirling through her body so fast that she felt lightheaded and disorientated. ‘You will ring me if anyone else gets sick, won’t you?’

      ‘I promise to keep you informed. If it is food poisoning, then I think I’m going to be in for a very busy evening. Weren’t most of the residents of Willerby guests at the garden party this afternoon?’

      ‘Probably.’

      ‘Well, whatever Miss Richards ingested to make her so ill, it was exceptionally fast-acting. The garden party guests would already be dropping like flies. I take it no one else in your party has experienced similar symptoms?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Please try not to worry, Rosie. It’s by no means a foregone conclusion that Suki’s illness is connected to the food you and Mia, and, if I understand it correctly, the members of the local Women’s Institute, prepared.’

      ‘I really don’t understand why you can’t send someone down here immediately. We could have an epidemic on our hands! How will it look when it’s reported in the local press that a concerned resident reported the matter and the council did nothing? Of course I know what time it is. How is that relevant? I demand that you… hello? hello? Imbecile!’ Felix pressed the ‘end call’ button in a rage.

      ‘Mr Dawson, rest assured I will be in touch should there be any further reports of food poisoning from the garden party guests. I will most certainly ascertain from them full details of what they ate and drank so we can narrow down the possible cause. Until then, I suggest you utilize your energy by ensuring Miss Richards is well-hydrated and continues to rest.’

      Rosie saw a flash of irritation sweep across Felix’s expression and she thought he was going to launch into an argument with the doctor, but at the last moment he thought better of it.

      ‘Yes, of course, Doctor. All I want is for Suki to get well so we can leave this germ-ridden place as quickly as possible.’ Felix stowed his phone in his pocket and marched off towards the luxury lodge he shared with Suki.

      ‘You know,’ muttered Mia, her eyes narrowed as she followed his retreating figure. ‘I wouldn’t put it past him to have poisoned Suki himself!’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Well, apart from his totally impersonal reaction to Suki’s suffering – preferring to concentrate on calling in the authorities rather than consoling his girlfriend – what if he arrived earlier than we thought at the garden party and saw Suki disappearing with Freddie in tow?’

      ‘Mia, you really do have an over-active imagination…’

      ‘No, Matt, hang on a minute. Mia might have a point. Except, I don’t think it would be Suki that Felix would poison – it would be Freddie. Oh my God!’ Rosie’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Freddie! Where is he? He was the last person with her before she was found clutching her stomach in agony! Has anyone told him what’s going on?’

      The three friends exchanged glances and shook their heads.

      ‘We’ve got to find him. Come on! Hurry!’

       Chapter 8

      ‘We can’t just go haring off. We have no idea where to start looking.’

      ‘Well, I’m calling him right now!’

      Mia scrambled around in her bag for her phone and selected Freddie’s number. Rosie stared at her, fingers crossed in her pockets, praying for Freddie to answer with his usual chirpy greeting. But her personal deliverer of good news was off-duty, sadly not a rarity these days, and Mia’s call went to voicemail.

      ‘Freddie, it’s Mia. Call me back as soon as you get this message. It’s urgent!’

      ‘We should at least go round to his house. What if he’s lying in agony, just like Suki, unable to reach for the phone to call the doctor?’

      The very thought caused a spasm of pain to slice through Rosie’s abdomen. Just because Suki hadn’t been allergic to whatever had caused her to become so ill, didn’t mean Freddie, or anyone else for that matter, wouldn’t be. Was the reason he wasn’t answering his phone because… because it was too late?

      ‘Come on. Let’s try his flat first.’

      They all jumped into the mud-caked SUV sporting the purple logo of Ultimate Adventures and Matt skidded away from the Windmill Café car park, sending a scattering of gravel and dust in their wake like confetti at a wedding. No one spoke during the five minutes it took to drive to the Willerby village post office above which Freddie rented a studio apartment. Rosie spent the whole time fighting her runaway thoughts that insisted on racing down myriad disturbing avenues of possibility.

      When they arrived at the post office, Matt was the first to leap from his seat and together they ran to the front gate. The density of the summer foliage on either side of the pathway leading to his door drowned out all ambient noise, even the birds seemed to have taken a break from their nightly choir practice. Peace prevailed and the warm August breeze caressed Rosie’s skin like a lover’s whisper. For a few blissful seconds she felt as though there was no stomach-churning conundrum to unravel and they were just paying a friendly visit to Freddie to chat about his day at Ultimate Adventures. Sadly, her pleasant reverie was rudely interrupted when Matt began hammering on Freddie’s front door.

      ‘Freddie? Freddie?’

      Rosie stepped back to look at the upstairs window, but there was no sign of life.

      ‘Freddie?’ called Mia through the letterbox, her face almost translucent in the amber light from the streetlamps