The Windmill Café. Poppy Blake

do you mean “she was drunk, or so I thought”?’ Matt pressed.

      ‘When we arrived at her lodge, Suki disappeared into the bathroom. I stood at the window in the lounge. I just couldn’t get my head around what was going on. I was struggling with my conscience as to what to do next when she emerged, fully-clothed and as sober as my Aunt Marjory.’

      ‘What? But we all watched her swallow the entire contents of a bottle of prosecco,’ Rosie said. ‘How could she have been sober?’

      ‘I don’t know how, she just was. She offered to open a bottle of Moët she had brought with her, but I declined. Hate the stuff. I’m a beer and whiskey man, you know I am.’ His eyes sought Matt’s, silently pleading for his support. ‘Anyway, panic had started to set in. I mean, she’s on the verge of becoming a famous singer and who am I? No. I didn’t want to get involved in anything like that. I swear I was about to make my excuses and leave, when she apologized.’

      ‘For what?’

      ‘For the scene she had created on the lawn. She told me she’d had to make it look like she’d scored with a handsome guy. Had to make someone jealous. Teach them a lesson, like. Well, I was so relieved I didn’t have to explain my change of heart that it didn’t even occur to me to be offended at being used as some kind of pawn in whatever game she was playing.’

      ‘Then what happened.’

      ‘She pecked me on the cheek and ushered me out sharpish. It was only as I walked down the steps of the lodge that the shame and embarrassment at being unceremoniously dumped set in. All I wanted was a decent slug of whiskey to obliterate the humiliation, so I doubled back and walked through the fields to the village. I called in at the flat for a bottle of Jack and went down to the office where I knew I wouldn’t be disturbed. The next thing I knew, the Rev and Carole were hammering on the door like the world had come to an end. They knew everyone was looking for me and they came to find me.’

      ‘What time did you get to the flat?’

      ‘No idea. Probably just before seven o’clock. I bumped into Carole when I was walking across the village green on my way to the centre. She asked if I was okay, I mumbled something about being fine but she didn’t look convinced.’

      ‘So, you must have left Suki at just after 6.30. It takes twenty minutes to walk to Willerby through the fields. When you were with Suki, did she complain about feeling unwell; nausea, stomach cramps, light-headedness?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘And did either of you eat or drink anything?’

      ‘No. Look, I know what people might be thinking – that I put something in her drink, but I swear to you I didn’t. I told you, she was fine when I left. She even locked the door behind me. I heard the click. Matt, what’s going to happen? What if Suki wants to get the police involved?’

      ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. We won’t know whether or not it was an accident until the doctor gets the results of the blood tests back.’

      When Freddie took a sip from his pint of Guinness, Rosie saw that his hands were trembling. His familiar healthy complexion was tinged with grey, dark smudges had appeared beneath his eyes and he continually rubbed his palm over his chin. Despite her own catalogue of anxiety, Rosie’s heart ached for him.

      ‘Look, it’s late. I think we should all get some sleep and meet up again in the morning.’

      Matt nodded his agreement, running his fingers through his hair so that it stuck up in random tufts, but his grave expression spoke of his concern as he asked ‘Is it okay if I take the sofa at yours, Fred?’

      Rosie saw the look of gratitude Freddie sent to his best friend and colleague and she smiled at Matt’s kindness. Matt might look like a no-nonsense man-of-action-and-practicality on the outside – not to mention the added attraction of his toned physique and come-to-bed eyes – but on the inside, he was obviously a loyal and supportive friend who was worried about Freddie’s wellbeing after such a dreadful shock.

      Matt had seen Rosie’s appraisal of him and she quickly averted her eyes, but not before she saw him smirk. She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t prevent a whoosh of heat flushing into her cheeks, nor the fizzle of something she hadn’t experienced for a while in her lower abdomen. She was surprised at the strength of her reaction. Was she attracted to Matt Wilson?

       Chapter 10

      Monday at the Windmill Café was unusually busy and by the time 6.30 came around Rosie’s feet were screaming their objection to the unexpected onslaught, yet despite her tiredness and the worrying events of the previous day, she was much less anxious. That’s what working in the café alongside Mia, and chatting to their loyal customers, did to her and she sent up her daily missive of gratitude to her director of fate for guiding her to Willerby, even if her stay at the village proved to be shorter than she would have liked.

      She locked the door and turned to survey the room. The circular café, with its French windows opening onto the terrace beyond, still exuded an aroma of warm buttered scones, along with the fragrance of the sweet peas she had arranged for the tables and a faint hint of Flash. A smile tugged at her lips and she knew that a good session of scrubbing would chase away the aches and pains. As she worked her way from the countertops to the whitewashed wooden tables and then the floor, her spirits lifted.

      When she had left London, with her heart cracked into multiple pieces, she had never dared to hope that she could make her life somewhere else, or that the life she pursued could be as happy – until recent events of course. She would even go as far as to admit that she was happier in Norfolk than she had been in the metropolis. For too long she had allowed her grief over the sudden ending of her relationship with Harry to marinate in a mixture of anger and self-pity. But no more. Her soul-baring to Matt the previous day had perforated her sadness and she could now say, hand on heart, that she could work towards viewing the anguish Harry had caused her as a mere blip on the landscape of her life.

      Satisfied that the café and its kitchen were squeaky clean, and still relishing the delicate tang of fresh disinfection in her nostrils, she climbed the spiral stairs up to her studio. Then, something else occurred to her. Whilst she was on the subject of self-improvement, perhaps another thing she should work on was her obsession with orderliness. Would the world really fall apart if her shirts weren’t folded in the same way or the café’s spice jars weren’t stored in alphabetical order or didn’t have their labels facing the front?

      She stripped and stepped into the shower, lathering her body and hair in beautiful, clean soapy bubbles using the Jo Malone toiletries Georgina had bought her for her birthday in July. Bliss!

      Whilst she performed a valiant attempt to tame her curls, a crystal-clear image of her younger sister sprang into her mind. Georgina had championed every tiny footstep of her success, from graduating from catering college, to designing stunning or quirky bouquets for demanding brides, to baking twists on the humble fruit scone – she had even started to hint that it was time Rosie started dating again after the debacle with Harry. But she wasn’t quite ready for that yet. The cadence of her life to date had been a symphony punctuated with tantalizing peaks and soul-scouring troughs. She needed a period of calm – or that was what she had told her persistent sister.

      The success of the Windmill Café summer garden party had been a milestone, though. She had proved to herself that she could smile and laugh and live life to the full like everyone else. The armour plate she had erected around her heart was corroding with each passing week and she could now delve into her memories and extract a happier image than her previous go-to nightmare scenarios; her life was no longer filled with Bleeding Heart flowers – or Dicentra Spectabilis as Harry had insisted on calling them in the hope of catching her out. Nevertheless, even with Georgina’s encouragement, it would be a while before she moved on to Kiss Me Over The Garden Gate – Persicaria orientale!

      As