The Windmill Café. Poppy Blake

Miss Barnes, time to fulfil your promise to give field archery a go. Don’t look so terrified. I know you’re going to love it!’ Matt strode into the storeroom behind the office and came back with an armful of equipment. ‘Here, put this on.’

      Rosie took a flat piece of leather with three elastic fastenings from Matt and turned it over in her hand. She had no idea what to do with it. Not wanting to look like a complete idiot, she watched from beneath her eyelashes as he yanked his own protective arm brace onto the inside of his forearm and then copied him.

      ‘Okay, here’s your quiver. We’ll start with six arrows each, I think.’

      As Matt leaned forward to fasten the quiver securely around her waist, Rosie caught a whiff of his lemony cologne and smiled. Perhaps she was going to enjoy this activity if it meant being in such close contact with Action Man himself, she thought, until Matt produced the bow from its wooden case and her jaw gaped.

      ‘Is that a long bow?’

      ‘No. This is a recurve bow – see how the riser is moulded to the shape of your left hand? You balance the bow on the arch between your left thumb and index finger like this. The arrow is then placed on this rest and the nock at the end is clicked into the string like this. Make sure you’re wearing your finger guard when you draw the string back, with the arrow between your first two fingers and your elbow and forearm horizontal to your cheek. Unbreakable rule number one – never draw the string unless you are aiming for a target. Ready to give it a go?’

      ‘Erm…’

      Rosie fumbled as she tried to take the bow from Matt’s hand. If it wasn’t for Matt’s swift reactions the whole thing would have tumbled to the ground.

      ‘Sorry.’

      ‘Here, let me demonstrate.’

      To Rosie’s surprise, Matt moved behind her and pulled her spine into his abdomen so that she made contact with the rock-hard muscles of his torso. He then slid his left arm under hers, cupped her hand holding up the bow, draped his right arm over her shoulder and guided her fingers into the right position on the string. She could feel his breath tickling her right cheek and she was relieved that he couldn’t see her face when he placed his chin on her shoulder and whispered. ‘Pull the string back only as far as the corner of your lips before releasing the arrow.’

      When Matt stepped back to allow her to aim at the first target – fastened to a tree trunk less than twenty metres away – she thought her whole body would crumple to the ground like a puppet clipped of its strings. However, she managed to stay upright and released the arrow, watching in dismay as it flew straight past the target and imbedded in a branch to her left. Rosie’s heart leapt into her mouth as a bird gave flight with a loud shriek of objection to having his dinner interrupted.

      ‘Great first attempt.’

      ‘Really?’

      ‘Yes. Now stand next to me and watch my stance. Your left arm should be stretched out at right angles to your body when balancing the bow, your right elbow should be raised and parallel, your head turned ninety degrees to your left. Look through the sight, line it up to the centre of the target and aim for the gold.’

      Matt drew the string of his bow to his chin, lowered the arrow to the target and released the string. The arrow flew straight into the centre of the straw boss and he allowed the bow to see-saw forward on his thumb. Rosie was deeply impressed by the grace and elegance of the whole movement, not to mention the accuracy of the shot.

      ‘Okay. Let’s move on.’

      Rosie almost cantered to the next target in the woodland in anticipation of another demonstration from Matt. He had been right – this was the perfect way to relax after the earlier trauma at the café.

      ‘Why don’t you take up your stance while I watch?’

      Rosie tried to remember how Matt had held his bow. ‘Like this?’

      ‘Looks great. But try looking straight ahead first to get your posture right, then turning your head to the left, raising your bow in a smooth, uninterrupted movement, positioning the sight on the target…’

      ‘But where’s the target?’

      Matt smiled. ‘Right there.’

      ‘But that’s a… oh, I get it.’

      As Rosie squinted through the shadowy light she could just about make out the silhouette of an over-large grey squirrel. On closer scrutiny, she realized it was made from straw and had a target attached to its tail. She took a steadying breath, followed Matt’s instructions to the letter, and fired off her next arrow.

      ‘Yay!’ cried Rosie, as a surge of exhilaration whipped around her body.

      ‘Congratulations, you made your first hit. I think you might be a natural.’

      ‘That felt amazing! I really didn’t think I would be able to do anything like this. It’s obviously all down to my fabulous instructor! I bet everyone loves shooting in the woods with you.’

      Again, Rosie’s cheeks glowed as she realized she had made yet another risqué comment to Matt, but she had seen his eyes suddenly cloud over. The ragged, tormented look she had seen on his face as he’d argued with Mia outside the vicarage had returned.

      ‘Well, not everyone.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      Rosie desperately wanted Matt to open up about his past, to confide in her about what had happened at St Andrew’s church to cause such sadness, such heartache. She spotted an upturned tree trunk and sat down, making it clear she was offering a listening ear just as he had done when she had told him about Harry.

      Matt hesitated for a moment before joining her, clasping his hands between his thighs and lowering his head.

      ‘I know you must have thought my reaction that night at the vicarage was strange. I also know that Mia won’t have told you what was behind it because she and Freddie are such loyal friends. The truth is that I can’t face even being in the vicinity of St Andrew’s church, so it’s easier to simply avoid the place altogether. Carole and Roger were so kind, so sympathetic, helpful and practical, and I’m grateful for everything they did to ease the hurt, but I never want to set foot in Carole’s cosy kitchen again.’

      Matt was silent for so long, lost in the labyrinth of painful memories, that Rosie thought he’d forgotten she was there. She wanted to ask him to explain, but she knew she had to let him find the right words in his own time. If she had thought this was going to be a straightforward archery shoot, a chance to simply deflect the anxiety over what was happening at the café, then she had got much more than she had bargained for. And yet she was glad they had this chance to spend time together. Sitting there, beneath the rippling canopy of leaves, she felt closer to Matt, as though he was more than just a friend intent on exposing her ineptitude for outdoor activities and she wanted to offer whatever solace she could to remedy to his sorrow.

      ‘What happened, Matt?’

      ‘My fiancée, Victoria, walked out on me.’

      ‘And she told you whilst you were at the vicarage?’

      ‘No, she didn’t have the courage to do anything so forthright. She just didn’t show up.’

      ‘Show up?’

      ‘At the church. She left me standing at the altar in St Andrew’s. Sent her father to deliver the bombshell. Carole and the Rev were awesome. It was as though they’d been through similar situations hundreds of times. I know I was in shock. They put the vicarage at our disposal and my whole family rallied around to smooth over the after-effects, but the worst thing was that I had no idea why Victoria had done it. Not an inkling that anything was wrong.’

      ‘Matt, I’m so sorry…’

      Rosie’s heart performed a summersault of anguish on Matt’s behalf as she pictured him standing next to his best man waiting for his bride to walk