The Windmill Café. Poppy Blake

okay?’

      ‘I’m fine. Don’t worry.’

      ‘Didn’t her boyfriend realize that there is no way any malicious germ could survive after an encounter with Rosie Barnes and her faithful antibacterial spray?’ giggled Georgina.

      ‘Clearly not.’

      Rosie prayed that her sister wouldn’t dwell on the issue as she had never been good at keeping the truth from her. She cast around in her tangled thoughts for a change of subject but Georgina beat her to it.

      ‘So, tell me more about the summer garden party. Have you emailed photographs to Graham like I suggested? Has he agreed to your suggestion to do an autumnal-themed party yet? What did the guests think of the raspberry and white chocolate cupcakes?’

      Rosie spent the next ten minutes playing up the positives of the Windmill Café’s first summer party to her sister, almost convincing herself that it had been a total success. She asked for details of the historical drama she was rehearsing for and about the progress of the rock musical her husband Jack was working on. Her mood started to lift as it always did when she and Georgina spent time gossiping, until the inevitable question was asked.

      ‘And are you really expecting me to believe that there was not one hot-blooded male at the party? Or in the whole of Willerby for that matter?’

      ‘Well, I…’

      ‘Oooh, there is! Spill the details, Rose. Come on, please, Jack is about as romantic as a wet fish at the moment. It’s this damn musical he’s got himself involved in, it’s eating up every spare bit of his time and more. Actually, I was thinking of coming up to Norfolk and bunking up with you in that cute little windmill of yours for a few days until opening night or I think I might just go crazy.’

      Panic spread across Rosie’s chest. The last thing she wanted was for Georgina to discover what was going on and put on her metaphorical deerstalker. She had to deflect her suggestion without upsetting her or raising her suspicions about the café, or indeed organizing her wedding to the first unattached guy she set her eyes on – suitable or otherwise.

      ‘Matt and I are just friends…’

      ‘Does he work at the café?’

      ‘No. He owns an outward-bound centre in the village…’

      ‘Ah, so he’s a real-life hunk? He must be if he spends his days scrambling over obstacle courses, riding quad bikes and flying along zip wires! Has he invited you to go yomping with him yet? Or skinny dipping?’

      ‘No, Georgie, he has not. As I said, we’re just friends.’

      ‘Friends can turn into lovers, you know, Rosie.’

      Rosie managed to deflect her sister’s cross-examination to the subject of their mother and her recent penchant for synchronized swimming and they ended the conversation with promises to speak again at the weekend. After they had said their goodbyes, she craved a dose of friendly company, unable to admit to herself that what she really wanted to do was escape the arrival of one of the holiday site guests. She decided to make her second trip in two days to Ultimate Adventures, a place where she knew she would receive a warm welcome.

      When she arrived at the outward-bounds centre, the car park was already full of gleaming 4X4’s and mud-splattered vans belonging to the people crowding the wooden reception area eager to make a start on that day’s schedule of activities. She grabbed a seat on one of the sofas and waited for Freddie to process everyone and send them in the right direction.

      ‘Why don’t you come through to the kitchen, Rosie, and I’ll make you a brew?’ said Freddie, dropping his Ultimate Adventures fleece on the kitchen table and adding to the mountain of chaos already there. She could feel the familiar craving for order rushing through her veins, moving ever upwards until, with huge effort, she forced it from her mind.

      ‘I don’t think you’ve ever made me a cup of tea before! I’m looking forward to this.’

      ‘Don’t worry, I’ll taste it first and you can wait to see if I keel over and die before you risk taking a sip. I won’t be offended. And I don’t know about you, but I’m starving – want to take your life in your hands and share an omelette with me, too?’

      ‘You make the tea, Freddie and I’ll rustle up the omelettes,’ Rosie laughed.

      Once again, the task of feeding others came to her rescue. She threw herself into making the fluffiest omelettes possible, whisking the eggs until her hands ached, hunching over the stove and the heavy cast iron frying pan, her eyes smarting from the fragrant steam. The aroma of fresh, herb-filled omelettes served to encourage Matt out of his office. She rummaged in the fridge and tossed together a salad; a combination of lettuce, tomatoes and carrot strips fashioned into broad ribbons, with a ‘secret recipe’ vinaigrette and they all dug in.

      ‘You make a mean omelette, you know, Rosie. But this salad is… well, different.’

      Rosie giggled when she saw Freddie sniff, and then inspect, the ingredients of the salad before raising a forkful into his mouth. What was he expecting to see? Curled purple petals nestling between the rocket and the radicchio? But still, she noticed he waited until Matt had taken a mouthful before devouring his.

      Watching them relish every mouthful gave Rosie pause for thought. Maybe she should think more positively about the imminent arrival of the inspectors that day, view the recent upsetting turn of events as part of the patchwork of living life to the full, an event stitched into the rhythm of her life which added to what she would become. She knew for sure that any philosophical acceptance of the possibility she could have no job or home by the weekend was not only down to her affinity with food preparation, but to the man who sat opposite her scraping his plate of the last morsel.

      ‘It’s a particularly nasty thing to do though, don’t you think?’ mused Matt. ‘Lacing Suki’s throat spray with poison. It’s as though someone wanted her to really suffer.’

      ‘But why? She’s lovely. She’s kind to her sister – even though Jess is a bit flighty. We know William adores her. And she’s paid for a week’s break in luxury lodges with outdoor spas just because she wanted everyone to have fun. She’s generous, popular, well-liked, excited about her future and on the brink of something special. Can it really be one of her friends who did this to her and not an unbalanced fan or spurned admirer who followed Suki here?’

      ‘I’m sure of it, and that person clearly used the spray because they wanted her next live performance to be affected – which leads me to believe it was someone who was envious of her success. What they didn’t foresee was that Suki would offer to sing whilst on holiday in Norfolk.’

      ‘What do you mean? Oh!’ Freddie picked up on Matt’s train of thought. ‘Yes! Suki has been offered the recording contract – jealousy. And what if Nadia knew about William and Suki’s affair but was biding her time, planning her revenge?’

      ‘It’s a theory.’

      ‘And poison. It’s not like a blow to the head, is it? In fact, the person didn’t even have to be around when Suki took it,’ added Rosie.

      ‘Mmm, interesting point, Miss Jessica Fletcher, I think you may be onto something.’

      The tinkle of a brass bell reverberated through to the kitchen and interrupted their deductions.

      ‘I’ll go,’ said Matt, leaping from his chair and striding from the room.

      Rosie couldn’t stop her eyes from roaming over Matt’s strong physique, those broad shoulders, those taut buttocks, and the memory of his firm hands as he’d guided her own on the bow. She could still feel the warmth of his body moulded perfectly next to hers and smell the faint whiff of his aftershave on her jacket.

      ‘Freddie? Can you come out here, please?’

      Freddie shoved a whole chocolate biscuit into his mouth and shrugged his shoulders at Rosie. When the kitchen door swung open, Rosie saw who Matt was talking