# The Windmill Café: Summer Breeze

Poppy Blake

The Windmill Cafe is open for business!‘I relished every moment of this story … definitely not one to be missed’ Emma, Shaz’s Book BlogAs Rosie Barnes serves glasses of tangy lemonade and ice-cold prosecco at her summer garden party, she couldn’t be happier. The Windmill Café, with its peppermint green sails is a roaring success and has given Rosie a chance to escape the heartbreak of her busy life in London.But then disaster strikes when popstar Suki Richards is taken unexpectedly ill at the party. Now all eyes are on Rosie…have her famous raspberry cupcakes poisoned her most high-profile guest? Or is someone else trying to damage Suki’s chance of stardom?If Rosie wants to save her picture-perfect life, and the reputation of her beloved Windmill Café, she’s going to have to get to the bottom of the mystery…and fast!

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HarperImpulse

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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2018

Copyright © Poppy Blake 2018

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018.

Cover illustrations © Shutterstock.com

Poppy Blake asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © March 2018 ISBN: 9780008285128

Version: 2018-01-22

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Also in This Series

Keep Reading …

About the Author

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

To Mum and Dad; I know you would be so proud to see my name on the cover of a novel

## Chapter 1

‘Hurry up, Rosie, they need you outside to cut the ribbon!’

‘But I thought our resident pop star had that honour?’

‘It seems Suki Richards is far too busy scattering her celebrity stardust,’ giggled Mia. ‘Did you see the way Freddie was hanging on her every word? Yesterday he had no idea who she was, and now he’s acting like he’s her number one fan! Come on, someone needs to declare the very first Windmill Café garden party open or there’ll be a riot!’

‘Okay, if you’re sure you don’t want to do it. You’ve put in just as much work as I have – those Stilton and grape scones are to die for, not to mention the raspberry and prosecco cupcakes! Why don’t we do it together?’

‘Agreed! Oh, and by the way, you’d better have your best smile ready. When Dan Forrester from the Willerby Gazette heard Suki and her friends were staying in our luxury lodges, and that she had agreed to be guest of honour at the garden party, he jumped in his little MG and drove up here like Lewis Hamilton’s older brother.’

Rosie hobbled in Mia’s wake across the sweeping lawn at the front of the Windmill Café. She wished she had stuck to her usual preference of putting practicality over sartorial elegance and worn her ballet flats instead of the ivory stilettos with four-inch heels that sunk into the ground with every step she took and made her look like a waddling duck.

‘I’m loving the belted tea dress, Rosie. That apricot-and-cream floral pattern really complements your hair.’

‘Nothing complements my hair! It’s the hirsute equivalent of jazz hands.’

‘Don’t say that. I know lots of people who would love to have your flowing Titian curls. Right. Ready to perform today’s starring role?’ Mia handed Rosie a pair of scissors and pointed to where Dan was lurking like a pugnacious paparazzo. ‘Smile for the camera!’

Rosie forced a smile onto her lips whilst simultaneously cursing the Windmill Café’s owner, Graham Clarke, for skipping off to his villa in Barbados as soon as the date for the first annual Willerby garden party was announced. His abandonment meant that not only had she been left with organizing everything for the party, but she’d also had to step into Graham’s muddy Wellies to manage the holiday site in the adjacent field, and she had been battling her rising stress levels all day.

When Dan had eventually declared himself satisfied with his snapshots, Rosie picked up the microphone and tentatively tapped the end with her fingertips, producing a screech of bounce-back which caused every single guest to pause in their conversation and swivel round to stare at her and Mia. She ignored the pirouette of nerves that had appeared in her chest and cleared her throat.

‘Hello everyone, and a warm Willerby welcome to the Windmill Café. It’s lovely to see so many familiar faces. I hope you all enjoy the afternoon tea we have laid on for you, and that you indulge in a few glasses of the Windmill’s own speciality punch made by my wonderful friend and baker extraordinaire, Mia Williams. So, without further ado, it gives us both great pleasure to declare the very first Windmill Café garden party open!’

Rosie grabbed Mia’s hand and together they snipped the pale green ribbon to a smattering of appreciative applause, followed by an almost indecent stampede across the lawn towards the linen-bedecked tables that held the pretty three-tiered tea plates and china cups and saucers. The whole place looked exactly like any other garden party taking place in lots of villages up and down the country on a warm afternoon at the end of August. Triangles of pastel-coloured bunting and paper butterflies fluttered in the hedges, whilst wooden planters and terracotta pots, crammed with geraniums, had been dotted around the gardens. Tiny hand-crafted windmills in their signature peppermint-and-white colours rotated serenely in the breeze to add to the picturesque scene.

‘I hope there are enough sandwiches to go round. Do you think I should make a few more of the salmon and cucumber?’

‘Stop fretting, Rosie. Everything’s perfect!’

Rosie didn’t share her friend’s optimism. Life just wasn’t like that – or rather, hers wasn’t. She often felt like she was one of those characters from a comic book who walked around with a rain cloud dangling over her head whilst everyone else basked in glorious sunshine.

Nevertheless, it looked like her luck might be changing at last, or maybe old Mrs Faversham, one of the Windmill Café’s regular customers, was onto something. That day’s sunrise had brought a clear blue sky and the barest whisper of a breeze. Perfect for an end-of-summer garden party, but not so ideal if you worked in a kitchen. And a tiny one at that. Well, what did she expect when she chose to earn her living in a café in a windmill? Bijoux was overstating it!

However, apart from the heat, she adored the quirky teashop with its circular whitewashed walls – inside and out – and the most fabulous sails that she had persuaded Graham to paint a cool peppermint green. Only, the colour choice wasn’t doing its job today. Temperatures had soared during the last week and it was on course to be the hottest August on record.

Since moving to Willerby, Rosie had become an expert on the weather. She had to be. It was a skill required of anyone in charge of a café in the Norfolk countryside that was frequented by tourists, ramblers, and most of the patrons of the outward-bound activity centre on the outskirts of the village. What the meteorological gods had planned for any given day was a favourite topic of conversation and one she usually enjoyed discussing – except when the mercury recorded thirty-two degrees and she was melting like a discarded ice cream. She knew her cheeks were glowing – not an attractive sight alongside her amber curls.

‘Do you think it would be rude to ask Suki Richards for her autograph?’ asked Mia biting into a cucumber sandwich, her pinkie fingers sticking out at right-angles.

With her long mahogany waves held back in an Alice band of daisies and dressed in a flared summer cotton jumpsuit, Mia looked every inch a Sixties flower child – despite the fact that she hadn’t even been born then. As slender as a shop mannequin, she bounded through life with a smile on her face and a song in her heart. Her talents were many; not only was she famous for the lightness of her cheese scones, she also designed her own wide selection of aprons. She showcased a different one every day, mostly made from fabric she bought from market stalls. Only that morning, as they prepared to whip up a batch of the mini-Victoria sponge cakes for the garden party, Rosie had been forced to perform a double-take when Mia tied her apron strings around her midriff – only heaving a sigh of relief when she worked out that the pattern was, in fact, links of sausages and not something altogether more risqué.

‘Maybe you should wait until later when everyone’s finished eating, when the wine is flowing, and the vibe is more relaxed?’

‘Good idea. Oh, hello there, vicar. Are you having fun?’

‘I am indeed, Mia, thank you,’ smiled the vicar, smoothing his palm over his comb-over before turning his attention to Rosie. ‘The flower arrangements are absolutely wonderful, my dear. I particularly like what you’ve done with the bamboo. Very creative, I must say. In fact, the whole afternoon is an absolute triumph!’

‘Thank you, Reverend. I am hoping that if the inaugural summer party is a success, Graham might be more inclined to change his mind about the Hallowe’en and Christmas parties I’ve got planned.’

‘Gosh, you are a busy bee!’

‘I just want to give something back to the village. I’ve only been here for a few months and already it feels like home. I want people to know how much I love Willerby and how grateful I am for their unwavering support. But tell me one thing. Is it always so hot here? I know I asked for sunshine this afternoon, but this heat is bordering on tropical!’

‘Best be careful! If the weather gods hear you criticizing them, they may decide to take their revenge. We don’t want a wash-out like we had at the church fête last month, do we?’

‘Definitely not! I had visions of the holiday lodges floating out of the field like miniature houseboats on a tidal wave!’

As Reverend Coulson strolled away in search of a cup of his favourite camomile tea, Rosie glanced over Mia’s shoulder at the upmarket holiday site behind the windmill where six luxury lodges – along with a gorgeous shepherd’s hut painted peppermint-and-white – could be hired by affluent holidaymakers who craved a taste of the English countryside but refused to ditch the luxury lifestyle. Each lodge had been crafted from the best Scandinavian pine to produce a hi-spec home-away-from-home, equipped with SMEG appliances, Gaggia coffee machines, thousand-thread-count sheets and fluffy white Christy towels that were changed every day irrespective of whether the occupants had used them.

She sighed. How wonderful it would be to live in one of those wooden cabins, to be able to relax in the outdoor spa after a long, hard day slaving away in the café, gazing up at the stars with a glass of prosecco in one hand and a cookery book in the other.

But she couldn’t complain; she loved the tiny, perfectly circular studio that came with the job of café manager, baker, waitress, and reluctant washer-upper because Graham steadfastly refused to install a dishwasher. From her kitchen sink, she had an uninterrupted view of a patchwork of fields and woodland, stitched together with emerald hedgerows, and if she spun around one-hundred-and-eighty degrees, she could feast her eyes on an endless stretch of silver-blue sea sparkling with a sheen of iridescent pearls.

When she had walked out of her life in London, she had never in her wildest dreams thought she would be fortunate enough to live in a converted windmill. The flat was the ideal retreat for a heartbroken ex-florist who had left behind all the hurt and recriminations and, against the odds, managed to get her life back on track in a tiny village in the Norfolk countryside. She still sent up regular missives of effusive thanks to her guardian angel for returning to duty in the nick of time.

‘So, Mia,’ giggled Rosie, ‘which of old Mrs Faversham’s suggestions for a sun-filled afternoon did you try out in the end? Did you dance naked under a silver moon with marigolds in your hair? Or maybe you decided to go with rustling up one of her herbal recipes as a peace offering to the “rain nymphs”? Both are ridiculous, if you ask me.’

‘Well, whatever your opinion of the dark arts, her magic seems to have worked! Come on, let’s grab Matt and Freddie before they disappear. Maybe we can persuade them to help us with the tidying up and then we can all go for a celebratory drink in the Drunken Duck afterwards. I’ve noticed how well you and Matt have been getting on recently,’ Mia added, an impish glint in her eye. ‘Just say if the two of you would rather be alone.’

Rosie rolled her eyes at her friend and shook her head. Whilst she was grateful for Mia’s easy acceptance of a new arrival in her friendship group, if she thought she was setting her up with the local Action Man, she would be sorely disappointed.

She’d had it with love.

## Chapter 2

‘Hey, Rosie, great party!’ declared Freddie, hoovering up the leftover desserts like he was on a gastronomic safari. ‘Did I ever tell you that you make the most amazing cakes?’

‘Oh, but Rosie is a woman of many talents, Freddie,’ said Mia, casting a surreptitious glance in Matt’s direction to make sure he was listening whilst she listed her friend’s numerous attributes. ‘Not only is she a brilliant baker, she’s a fabulous café manager, a demon organizer, and don’t forget she used to be a super-talented florist in London. She was even commissioned to design the bouquets and bridesmaids’ posies for the weddings of several TV stars.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to…’

Rosie paused, uncertain about what to say. She didn’t want to embarrass Mia by correcting her in front of an audience – and anyway, maybe Mia counted a radio weathergirl and a Sky Sports cameraman in her definition of ‘stars’. But she was saved from having to decide by the arrival of the real-life celebrity in their midst who was clutching a bottle of champagne as if her life depended on it.

‘Hi, everyone! Rosie, this is the best garden party I’ve been to in years. It’s really kind of you to invite us all. I’m sorry I got side-tracked and wasn’t around to cut the ribbon. I really must start honing my rapid extraction skills as well as my networking skills!’

‘Thanks, Suki, that’s very kind of you. I had a lot of help though, from Mia, from the vicar’s wife Carole, and the ladies from the Willerby WI did help with the sandwiches. Can I introduce you to Matt and Freddie? They run Ultimate Adventures, the outward-bound centre in the village.’

‘Hi there!’

Suki tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder and held out her slender fingers to an awestruck Freddie, before turning her attention to Matt, her gold-flecked manicure glistening in the sunshine, her pink lips parted to reveal a perfect Californian smile.

‘I hope you and your friends are enjoying yourselves in Willerby,’ said Matt.

‘Oh, we are! It’s a fantastic start to a week away from my frazzled work schedule. When my boyfriend Felix suggested a luxury countryside break before the onslaught of all the hard work of a record contract, well, let me tell you, I leapt at the chance. The lodges are absolutely gorgeous, but next time I’m going to insist on staying in that little shepherd’s hut. It’s so cute! Anyway, excuse me, got to circulate!’

Rosie watched Suki make her way to the terrace in front of the café where her friends lounged on the peppermint-and-white painted benches, drinking champagne straight from the bottle, laughing raucously, and generally enjoying the sunshine and relaxation.

‘So, Rosie, I notice we still haven’t seen you over at Ultimate Adventures yet. What’s the matter? Allergic to mud?’ Matt laughed, cute dimples appearing in his cheeks.

With muscular shoulders and toned biceps from his daily involvement in the activities on offer at his outward-bound centre, Matt possessed that healthy outdoors kind of charm that attracted admirers and Rosie understood why Mia considered him to be perfect dating material. His spiky blond hair, the colour of honey, had been teased into surfer-dude tufts with a smidgeon of gel, but, when she took the time to look more closely, she could see a shadow of sadness lurking behind his dark blue eyes and she wondered briefly what had caused it. She had meant to ask Mia about Matt’s relationship history but hadn’t had the courage for fear her friend would interpret her questions as romantic interest. However, there was no way she was going to let him believe the reason she hadn’t visited Ultimate Adventures was because she was some kind of pristine princess, even if it was true.

‘Actually, I’m quite capable of getting down and dirty with the best of them.’

Rosie cringed when she realized what she had said and heat whooshed into her cheeks at the amusement she saw flicker across Matt’s expression.

‘So, you’re a florist, are you?’ said Freddie, oblivious to Rosie’s discomfort. ‘Did you design all these fabulous table decorations for the garden party?’

‘I did.’

‘And all the planters,’ added Mia, proudly. ‘Rosie’s a floral maestro!’

A curl of pleasure meandered through her veins at receiving a second accolade in ten minutes. She had loved flowers and plants since she was a child, learning their Latin names from her father. Their demands for regular attention had become her therapy at the most difficult time of her life, then it had turned into her passion, and eventually it had become her livelihood. She had adored the little flower shop she used to run in Pimlico with her ex, Harry Fellows, especially creating the intricate bridal bouquets and bridesmaids’ posies.

Sadly, her long-held ambition to become a celebrity wedding florist had morphed into a nightmare, and Love Lies Bleeding had become her flower of choice until she arrived in Willerby with only a suitcase to her name. The little Windmill Café had gently unwrapped the mantle of misery from her shoulders, and the warmth of the friends she’d made here had helped to plaster over the cracks in her heart so that now she greeted every day with a smile on her face. She was so grateful to have her life back on track at last and she would never do anything that would jeopardize that.

‘Ah, now I understand your ‘getting down and dirty’ comment!’ grinned Matt, a flicker of mischief appearing in his eyes. ‘If you’re interested, perhaps you can let Freddie take you on a guided walk through the grounds of Ultimate Adventures. There’s lots of flora and fauna, but I don’t think you’ll find anything suitable for your table decorations, though.’

‘Sounds like a great idea,’ said Rosie, thinking it was a much better proposition than going all Tarzanesque on a zip wire through the treetop canopy. ‘I might take you up on that, Freddie.’

‘No problem. You might be the go-to girl for upmarket bridal flowers, but I’m your man when it comes to wild flowers. Wild flowers can be just as beautiful as any other, but you need to be careful what you touch. Some are toxic, not just to animals, but to humans, too. Laburnum, foxgloves, oleander, belladonna, ingesting just a small amount could kill you.’

‘Is that true?’ Mia’s eyes widened and she ran her palms up and down her forearms to eradicate the goose bumps that had appeared.

‘Deadly!’

Unlike Matt who had stuck to his work attire of figure-hugging black jeans and matching Ultimate Adventures logo-ed T-shirt, Freddie looked positively jaunty sporting a pair of smart navy trousers and a lime green polo shirt which accentuated the colour of his eyes – a prophetic choice as it did not clash with his hair, the colour of a fox’s tail. He looked like he had just stepped from the deck of his luxury yacht.

‘Gosh, I had no idea you could die from touching flowers! Rosie, what if I’ve inadvertently put one of those wild flowers in our table arrangements? Oh my God, our garden party guests are going to die in agony and it’ll be all my fault!’

Rosie laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I think we’re safe, Mia.’

‘God, where’s the prosecco? I need a top-up!’

Mia rushed off to the makeshift wine bar, with a chuckling Freddie lolloping in her wake, and Rosie and Matt sauntered after them. Suki was there too, ordering another bottle of chilled champagne.

‘Rosie, my sister Jess has suggested I perform a few songs later. Do you mind?’

‘Wow, awesome!’ declared Freddie, nodding emphatically in Rosie’s direction.

‘That would be wonderful, Suki, but do you really want to sing? I thought you were here to relax?’

‘I am, but it’s been such a beautiful afternoon, I thought I’d practise a couple of the songs I’m a bit rusty on before I go into the recording studio next week. Do you mind if I use the terrace outside the café?’

‘Of course not. Do you need me to do anything?’

‘Actually, yes. I don’t suppose you have any honey in the café kitchen, do you?’

‘Honey? Yes, I think so. Why?’

‘I use it to make my throat spray with a few drops of peppermint oil. I can’t sing without it and I seem to have run out.’

‘No problem at all.’

Rosie led Suki to the Windmill Café and through the French doors into the kitchen. She was proud that she had directed the whole operation of hosting and catering for a part of over forty ravenous villagers with flawless efficiency. She cast a quick glance around the room and, as she had expected, the place was pristine. She heaved a sigh of relief. The marble countertops had been cleared of all culinary debris, polished until they sparkled, and the sharp bite of ammonia stung her nostrils. Mia had accused her of practically bathing in the stuff but ever since she had been forced to leave her beloved little flower shop in London, she knew she had reverted to the strange kind of comfort and calm she had always found in scrupulous, obsessive hygiene standards.

‘Ergh, what’s with the intense chlorine smell?’

Suki’s exclamation took Rosie by surprise and a surge of warmth travelled from her chest up into her neck and glowed at her cheeks. However, the last thing she wanted to do was talk to Suki about her painful past and the cause of her resumed struggle with cleanliness, how making sure that everything was so clean it squeaked was the only thing that gave her the peace of mind she craved. To cover her embarrassment, she strode quickly to the cupboard above the fridge and removed a jar of Jarrah honey.

‘Is this what you’re looking for?’

‘Perfect! Thank you, Rosie, you’re an absolute life-saver. My throat is so sore from all the talking I’ve done this afternoon. I take a lot of stick from Felix and Nadia, but I can’t even think about singing without a bottle of my spray in my pocket. It’s sort of like my good luck charm. See you later. Eight o’clock on the terrace. Don’t be late!’

Rosie watched Suki flick her hair over her shoulder and meander back towards her friends, clutching the jar of honey as if it contained the elixir of youth. For some unfathomable reason, a spasm of sympathy shot into Rosie’s heart and she took a moment to contemplate the five people who had taken over the luxury lodges at the Windmill Café’s holiday site.

Felix, Suki’s boyfriend, was still conspicuous by his absence despite being expected for the ribbon-cutting ceremony, and whilst the others were certainly all fascinating characters, she had little in common with any of them. Suki and her friend Nadia clearly had more of an affinity with the contents of a drinks cabinet than an interest in either floristry or baking and she made a mental note to hide her emergency bottle of Gordon’s just in case.

She liked Jess, Suki’s younger sister, but despite being twenty-one, she acted like an immature teenager rather than an independent adult. She seemed to float along in a world of her own, happy to follow in her boyfriend Lucas’s wake like an excitable puppy on its first walk on the beach.

Rosie had already had to fight to keep Lucas out of the café kitchen. The first thing he had told her when they’d checked in at the lodges was that one day he hoped to be the proud owner of a Michelin star. The guy seemed to have modelled his entire life, as well as his physical appearance, on becoming the next version of the Naked Chef, right down to his accent – strange, because Lucas had also told her he was from Cornwall, not Essex.

Finally, her eyes came to rest on William, Suki’s tall, dark and handsome music manager, who also happened to be Nadia’s boyfriend. He stood a little apart from the group, as if watching a bunch of toddlers enjoying an afternoon cavorting in the playground. Rosie was grateful that there was at least one sensible person in their group otherwise she suspected the whole party could quite easily descend into disarray – something she wasn’t good at coping with.

## Chapter 3

After saying her goodbyes to everyone who had attended the very first Windmill Café garden party, Rosie grabbed a roll of black bin bags, handed one each to Matt, Freddie and Mia and they began to stuff them with litter. With the extra help, the tidying up didn’t take long and by six o’clock a casual onlooker would never have known there had been a party at the Windmill Café that afternoon. She made a pitcher of homemade lemonade and slumped down next to Mia at one of the tables on the terrace for a well-deserved rest, whilst Freddie went off in search of a bucket of ice in which to store his beers.

‘So, are you pleased to be back from your trek around the world?’ Rosie asked Mia, enjoying the sensation of the cold, sharp, citrusy nectar trickling down her throat.

‘Having a gap year is an awesome experience. I’ve seen some amazing sights, but there is nothing quite like being at home. Mum and Dad are ecstatic that I made it back in one piece. Mum’s got me helping with the flowers in the church, as well as baking all this stuff for the Rev’s homeless charity, and Dad’s roped me in with the gardening and tending the greenhouse. I don’t mind, though. I’m still writing my travel blog and, of course, I’m loving working with you here in the café over the summer. Did Matt tell you he’s offered me a part-time job as a zip wire instructor when the season ends in October – can’t wait to start the training with our very own answer to Bear Grylls. And Freddie’s promised to take me windsurfing and wild camping.’

‘You can definitely count me out of those very special experiences,’ Rosie shuddered. ‘What’s so enjoyable about getting cold, wet and muddy?’

‘Oh, Rosie, wild camping is lots of fun! Actually, Freddie and I were talking about trying it out in Willerby Woods next weekend. We’ll be foraging for all our food and water and sleeping under the stars. Why don’t you come along?’

‘Gosh, I’ll take a raincheck on that if you don’t mind!’ she laughed as Matt and Freddie joined them.

‘Rosie, do you mind if I make myself a coffee? Freddie couldn’t find any ice and I don’t think I could stomach another bottle of warm beer. Want one?’

Before Rosie could offer to do it herself, Matt had marched into the café kitchen and flicked the switch on the kettle. He spooned freshly-ground coffee into a cafetière with the careless abandon of a three-year-old in a sand pit, sending a generous scattering of the granules across the marble benchtop. Where only moments before soothing orderliness had reigned supreme, there was now a plethora of culinary chaos. Rosie’s desperation to create order that always lurked just beneath the surface reared its ugly head and her fingertips tingled with the effort it took not to rush over to the sink and grab a cloth to start wiping away the mess. She chanced a quick glance at Matt, and saw him raise his eyebrows in amused enquiry.

‘You okay?’

‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she improvised. ‘Just tired. I hadn’t realized how exhausting it would be to manage the Windmill Café as well as the holiday site, but I’m enjoying every minute of it.’

‘So, too busy to come over for a flight on the zip wire, eh?’ Matt’s eyes crinkled with mischief, nudging her flagging spirits northwards. Every time she met up with Matt at the Drunken Duck, he and Freddie had tried to encourage her to spend the day with them at the outward-bound centre and she admired their persistence with a lost cause.

‘I’d rather stick my hand in a meat grinder,’ she laughed, trying her hardest not to let her eyes drift back to the spilled coffee.

‘Not a lover of heights, then?’

Matt was right, indoor pursuits had always been more her thing, like flower arranging and baking up a storm. But, now she was settling into her new life in the country, far away from the city life and urban sprawl she had left behind in London, there was no reason why she shouldn’t introduce a few changes, and start enjoying a more rural lifestyle. Wasn’t life all about trying new things? Should she give the zip wire a go? A shiver of trepidation shot down her spine just thinking about it. Maybe she could begin with something a little closer to the ground.

‘What else do you have at Ultimate Adventures apart from the zip wire?’

‘Lots of things. We’ve got the climbing wall, there’s the quad bike safaris, you could try paintballing, field archery, hover-carting, wild camping, and there’s my personal favourite – the woodland obstacle course – although that’s best enjoyed after we’ve had some rain. Which one floats your boat then?’

Rosie gulped. Each one sounded worse than the last, and the thought of having to choose between them caused her head to spin. What on earth was hover-carting? There was only one way to find out and with all-action-hero Matt at her side whilst she gave them a go, she suspected she’d be able to conquer all of those things – except the zip wire.

She sat up straight and pushed her shoulders back, met Matt’s gaze and said ‘I think I might give the archery a go.’

‘That’s great, Rosie.’ Matt grinned broadly, his whole face lighting up with pleasure at recruiting a potential convert. ‘A fitting choice. Has anyone ever told you that you bear more than a striking resemblance to that Disney character in Brave? Same unruly hair, same scattering of freckles across the bridge of your nose, same determined tilt of the chin.’

Rosie knew exactly who Matt was referring to. She had often been told she resembled Merida, but only because of her hair, not for possessing a penchant for using a bow and arrow when things got tough – although she had often craved a soupçon of the character’s courage to get her through the difficult times.

‘Yes, quite a few actually.’

‘Okay, then it’s decided, field archery, it is. I’ll sort it out for one night next week after we close so that we can have the course to ourselves. Don’t look so terrified. I know you’re going to love it!’

She smiled at Matt’s evident delight that she had agreed to ditch her doubts and launch herself into something new. Whenever she was in his company she felt more alive, more willing to take chances, to step outside her narrow comfort zone and into the excitement of the unknown. She wondered how he did it. Harry had certainly never made her feel like that, quite the opposite in fact.

‘I think “love it” might be going a bit far.’

‘Why do you say that? How do you know until you’ve tried?’ Matt’s voice had softened as he scoured her eyes for a clue as to why she was so scared of trying something different.

Rosie felt her cheeks glow under his scrutiny. How could she explain to the super-confident Matt, that two long years with Harry constantly belittling everything she did had taken its toll and her self-esteem had crashed to an all-time low?

‘Come on let’s take our coffees outside onto the terrace and enjoy the last of the sunshine.’

## Chapter 4

‘Hi, mind if we join you on the terrace?’ asked Suki, a couple of bottles of prosecco poking out from beneath each arm.

‘Of course not.’

Rosie smiled as her holiday lodge guests made their way to the adjacent table. Suki and Jess were giggling and teasing Lucas about his lilac jumper, a replica of the one Jamie Oliver wore on the cover of his current cookery book. Nadia, her auburn bob slightly dishevelled, was encouraging William to open another bottle of prosecco rosé from the crate of twelve they had brought with them. There was still no sign of Suki’s errant boyfriend and Rosie wondered what had happened to make him so late.

‘Looks like they’ve been drinking all afternoon,’ whispered Matt.

Mia rolled her eyes, but Freddie decided to take advantage of the situation.

‘Hey, Suki, congratulations on scoring a recording contract. I’m really looking forward to hearing you sing tonight! It’ll be a real treat,’ said Freddie, tipping his head back to drink from his bottle of beer, trying to appear nonchalant – but his cheeks were flushed and he was clearly in awe of Suki and her glamorous friends.

‘Thanks, I’m stoked, but it’s no overnight success story, you know. I’ve worked my guts out for this. Since graduating from music school in Sheffield, I’ve sang in some of the most decrepit and flea-ridden bars and social clubs in the country. That’s where I met Nadia and William – oh, at uni, not the flea-ridden bars! Nadia’s been my best friend ever since, haven’t you, Nad?’

‘Certainly have,’ nodded Nadia, tucking her hair behind her ears. But Rosie detected a faint cloud of petulance pass over the woman’s polished features, before she tossed back the contents of her glass and held it to out to Lucas for a refill. ‘Ergh, it’s far too warm.’

‘Why don’t I put a couple of bottles in the freezer for you?’ asked Rosie.

‘Great idea. Thanks, Rosie,’ smiled Suki.

Rosie returned with two silver ice buckets, one for each table. But before she had the chance to plunge the remaining bottles of prosecco into the floating ice cubes, a blast of laughter exploded into the air. Lucas had stumbled backwards against the table, dislodging one of the buckets and drenching Nadia with freezing cold water containing bullets of ice.

‘Stupid idiot, Lucas! Look what you’ve done! You’ve completely ruined my dress!’ she screamed, holding the soaking fabric away from her chest in an effort to prevent the icy water seeping onto her skin.

‘Sorry, Nadia. I’m not used to drinking this much champagne in the afternoon.’

‘Prosecco, Lucas. It’s prosecco, not champagne, you philistine!’

‘Oh, come on, Nad,’ soothed Suki. ‘It was an accident. Look, why don’t you go over to my lodge to get changed? You can borrow one of my stage outfits, if you like. I’ve brought a couple with me – help yourself.’

‘Well, are you coming with me?’ Nadia asked William, her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised, clearly mollified by Suki’s generous offer.

‘Not just yet, Nad. Why don’t you get changed and come back outside? Show off the dress to us all?’

Nadia tossed another venomous glare in the direction of Lucas and stormed off towards Suki’s lodge.

Rosie watched in silent fascination as the domestic drama unfolded in front of her. She felt as though, along with Mia and Matt, she was sitting in the stalls at an open-air theatre whilst the actors performed a short sketch solely for their benefit, especially when Suki flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder, removed her silver compact and reapplied a coat of frosty pink lipstick, beaming round at her adoring audience – mainly Freddie and Jess. She had to admit that Suki did look every inch the singing star. Perhaps her scarlet, off-the-shoulder dress was a little too theatrical for the terrace of a Norfolk café, but it was the perfect outfit for a celebrity-in-the-making.

When Rosie checked the group into their lodges the previous day, Jess had boasted continuously about the recording contract Suki had just signed after years on the circuit in Ibiza’s cosmopolitan bars. She had warmed to Jess straight away; a free-spirit, a sprite of a girl, with no real comprehension of her sister’s success, and she clearly inhabited an alternate stratosphere. She had even wondered whether the girl was on some sort of medication – she was sweet and fun, but vacant and scatter-brained. Rosie quickly chastised herself for her less-than-kind thought. There was nothing wrong with being forgetful – not everyone craved extreme orderliness in their lives like she did.

‘Will Nadia be okay? She didn’t look very happy about being drenched in water,’ said Rosie, concerned that William hadn’t followed her to their lodge as she had so clearly wanted him to.

‘Oh, don’t worry. She’ll be fine,’ said William, a flicker of irritation floating across his expression. ‘But it doesn’t help when Lucas starts teasing her.’

‘Did you see the look on her face when the water hit her?’ laughed Lucas. ‘Ah, I wish I’d had my mobile ready. That would have been some ice bucket challenge for my Facebook page – seeing the uptight cow brought down a peg or two.’

‘You promised you’d make an effort to be kind to Nadia while we’re here, Lucas,’ Suki reprimanded him. ‘You know how she’s feeling at the moment.’

‘So what? If she can’t be happy for her best friend’s good fortune and insists on indulging in a childish spurt of jealousy, how is that my fault?’

‘Stop it, Lucas,’ interjected William, a sharp warning tone creeping into his voice.

Once again, that strangest of feelings swept over Rosie – as though she, Mia, Matt and Freddie were invisible, incidental onlookers. She saw Lucas flash his eyes at William, clearly considering some scathing retort, but at the last minute he made the decision to change the subject, although Rosie wasn’t sure it was to safer ground.

‘Anyway, where’s Felix got to, Suki? I thought you said he would be here in time for the garden party. Must have been some reunion session with the lads in Colchester last night. Always did say Felix knows how to party. Not the old-ladies-style bash we’ve just been subjected to. Sorry, Rosie, but excuse me if I left my tiara and pearls behind in Ibiza!’

Rosie opened her mouth to respond but had no idea what to say so she closed it again, ending up looking like a gobsmacked goldfish. She caught Matt’s eye and he smirked at her, rolling his eyes at their new friends’ antics as Lucas snaked his arm round Jess’s slim waist, drew her towards him and dropped a kiss on her lips.

‘Had a little par-tay ourselves last night though, didn’t we, honey?’

‘We did!’ giggled Jess, leaning backwards so she could coil her arms around his neck.

‘But hey, Rosie, Mia, I must congratulate you both on earning your crowns as Queens of Culinary Excellence! I don’t know who made those scones, but they were a-maz-ing! And you’ve got to give me the recipe for those raspberry cupcakes! De-lic-ious. I poked my head in the door of the café this morning and I saw you both slaving away. You don’t know how lucky you are to have such great facilities – the windmill’s kitchen is like a real professional chef’s laboratory compared to the pokey crevice where I’m expected to perform my culinary magic for a discerning crowd of inebriated tourists.’

Lucas shoved the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows and curled his upper lip in disgust at his misfortune.

‘It’s usually roast chicken and chips with a side of coleslaw thrown in, and there’s always a constant litany of complaints. Hard work and talent count for nothing in the restaurants of San Antonio. Any monkey can heat up a beef curry in the microwave or fry a basket of scampi. That is not what I spent three years at catering college for.’

‘Chill Lucas,’ said Jess, trailing her fingers through his blond quiff whilst her own hair, woven with brightly-coloured beads, rippled in the late afternoon breeze. ‘You’re a fabulous chef. It’s just a matter of time before your genius is discovered – then you’ll get your own restaurant where you can do whatever you like, I just know it. I reckon you’re absolutely on the verge of getting your big break like Suki has. In the meantime, you just need to keep working hard at that lobotomy qualification!’

A very unladylike snort erupted to Rosie’s left as Mia spluttered into her glass of prosecco. She didn’t dare look in her friend’s direction in case she succumbed to a fit of giggling too, but instead looked on in surprise at the swift change in Lucas’s demeanour towards his girlfriend.

‘It’s botany, you idiot. Not lobotomy.’

Lucas shoved Jess’s arm away, scraped back his chair and stalked off towards their lodge.

‘So, erm, Suki, where was your last gig?’ asked Matt in an effort to lighten the mood.

‘Nadia and I had a residency in a bar in San Antonio throughout the summer season and this year Will decided to come over from Majorca where his family live to join us, didn’t you, Will?’

‘I play bass guitar in a rock band, but I also get to act as their manager for my sins. I handle all the bookings and do all the paperwork. It was a contact of mine who had actually come to see me play who spotted Suki singing and put us in touch with a guy at Mountside Records. They loved her voice, and the rest, as they say, is history.’

‘So, you were instrumental in delivering Suki’s big break?’ asked Rosie, understanding a little better why Nadia seemed so prickly. It would stretch anyone’s friendship to see their boyfriend arrange their best friend’s route to stardom whilst their own career floundered in obscurity. She watched Suki grab one of the bottles of fizz from the ice bucket and take a swig.

‘That’s right,’ sighed Suki, wiping dribbles of liquid from her chin with the back of her hand. ‘Will was the catalyst to my newfound fame and potential fortune, much to Nadia’s annoyance. He persuaded the guy from Mountside to offer her a gig as a backing singer but she threw it back at him in disgust. It’s one of the reasons we’re here, actually – as an apology. I thought that if we spent some quality time together, doing something completely different, she would come round. To be honest, it was my boyfriend Felix’s idea to come to Norfolk - although I’m not sure he’s going to be my boyfriend for much longer. The selfish idiot promised me faithfully that he’d be here to help me cut the ribbon for the garden party. But, as you can see…’ she swung the bottle in a wide arc spilling some of the contents on the terrace. ‘No sign of him.’

Rosie completely understood Suki’s irritation; Felix’s absence had been the reason she and Mia had become honorary ribbon-cutters instead of their celebrity guest – not that she minded.

‘Why hasn’t Felix arrived yet, Suke? Has he called you to say he’ll be late?’ asked Jess.

‘No, of course not. He’s the most inconsiderate moron this side of the M25.’

Suki’s eyes suddenly came to rest on Freddie as though she was seeing him for the first time. His jaw gaped open and Rosie had the distinct impression that a little drool escaped from his lips. She watched him clamp his mouth shut, slide his hands into his pockets, and scuff his loafers in the grass, raising his shoulders and elbows towards his ears in feigned disinterest.

‘Hey, Freddie plays in a band, too, Suki,’ said Mia with a mischievous glint in her eye. ‘He’s really good, too - had a very successful gig last month in our local pub. He adores all kinds of music, so I bet you have heaps in common. Perhaps you should get together to discuss the quirks of the industry sometime?’

‘Oh, I think I can do better than that!’

As Rosie, Matt and Mia watched on in amusement, Suki drained the remaining contents of the bottle she was holding in one go. Steadying herself, she bent down to remove her stilettos, linked her arm through Freddie’s and began to steer him towards the lodges in the field behind the Windmill Café.

‘Freddie and I are going to compare musical notes and put a bit of the theory into practice,’ Suki shouted over her shoulder.

‘Hey, Suki,’ Lucas called, a smile splitting his cheeks when he passed them on the footpath as he made his way back to the group. ‘I hope you haven’t forgotten you promised to sing for us before we go out for dinner tonight!’

‘Of course not! I’ll get ready and see you back here on the terrace in an hour!’ Suki giggled as she stumbled through the gate, clinging onto Freddie’s arm to remain upright just as Nadia appeared on the veranda of her lodge and performed a rather comedic double-take.

Freddie turned his head for a final look at his friends, his face a mixture of jubilation, trepidation and fear.

## Chapter 5

‘Do you think we should rescue him?’ asked Mia, her forehead creased with anxiety as she swung her gaze from Rosie to Matt and back to Rosie again.

‘I’m not sure…’

‘Don’t look so worried, Rosie. I’m sure your friend will be quite safe,’ laughed Jess.

‘What’s Suki doing?’ demanded Nadia when she arrived on the terrace, noticing William’s eyes were still trained on the door of the lodge through which Suki and Freddie had disappeared a few minutes earlier. ‘And was that Freddie she was with?’

‘Yes, he’s Suki’s chosen suitor for an afternoon of summer delight. Love is in the air…’ Jess began to sing before descending into a fit of giggles. She slipped her hand into Lucas’s and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on his nose.

Nadia rolled her eyes at their public display of affection before turning back to William ‘What are you looking so glum about? It’s me who got the soaking, not precious Suki. Felix should be here by now. If she gets caught it’s her own fault.’

Rosie glanced at Mia whose expression morphed from apprehension to abject anguish. Again, she experienced the weirdest of feeling – of floating above the ground, looking down on their guests’ interactions instead of being a part of them – and she was shocked when she saw Nadia pinch William on the arm to jolt him out of his reverie.

‘I agree,’ said Lucas, taking a long glug from a bottle of beer, all trace of his previous bad mood gone. ‘Felix has had his fun, now it Suki’s turn to have hers. Hey, Nadia, why don’t you ask if you can do a number with Suki tonight?’

‘Because we’re supposed to be relaxing and having fun.’

‘The two things aren’t mutually exclusive, Nad,’ said William, rearranging his facial features into something akin to sympathy. ‘But I’m sure Suki won’t mind if you want to perform a duet together. I see you helped yourself to one of her most expensive dresses. You know she was planning to wear that herself tonight.’

‘She said I could choose anything I like, and I like this one. This emerald green enhances my colouring much better than Suki’s, don’t you think?’ She twisted her hips in the sequinned sheath dress and patted her re-styled bob.

‘You’re gorgeous, Nad,’ confirmed Jess, her ruby nose stud glinting in the sun as she swayed to the fragmented snatches of pop music spilling from the Windmill Café’s open windows.

‘Well, I reckon we should snatch a few more bottles of bubbly and grab a front row seat over on the terrace,’ suggested Lucas. ‘I know Suki’s picking up the tab for the drinks today, but it’ll be a drop in the ocean when she hits the big time, won’t it, Will?’

‘Shut up,’ snapped William. ‘Let’s not forget that we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Suki’s generosity. Stop dreaming of being the next Jamie Oliver and get real. I’m off for a shower. See you in half an hour.’

‘William? William…’ Nadia called after him.

‘Stay and have some of this fizz with us, Nad,’ said Lucas, slumping down on the grass and dislodging the cork into the flower beds with a cry of ‘whoop’.

‘Mmm, it’s delicious.’ Jess laid her head on Lucas’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, Luc. I think you’re going to be even better than Jamie Oliver. Much more handsome, anyway. When Suki is famous, she’ll eat in your restaurant, bring all her celebrity friends…’

‘Oh, shut up Jess and pass the bottle,’ snapped Nadia. ‘Might as well make the most of the freebies whilst we’re stuck in this dull backwater place. Sooner we’re back in San Antonio the better. There’re loads of luxury spa retreats in Ibiza, so why did Felix insist on us coming here? Oh, to think I could be soaking up the sunshine on your Uncle Ken’s yacht, working on my tan with a selection of cocktails on tap!’

‘Actually, you couldn’t, Nad. Uncle Ken and Aunt Martha have taken The Cortia over to Sardinia for the week to meet up with Bart and Juliette for their daughter’s wedding, or was it for their engagement? Or it could have been the birth of their first baby. Oh, I don’t know. Anyway, they’re not at their villa so that’s why Suki agreed to Felix’s suggestion to come over here.’

‘Where is the sod, anyway?’

‘You know Felix. Once he’s in a session…’

‘I think he’s started to drink much more since he lost his role in that soap opera and didn’t even get through the first round of auditions for the Renault ad. I bet his earnings from acting haven’t even kept him in toothpaste this year. But if you ask me, it’s a little like the pot calling the kettle! Did you see the way Suki was putting away the prosecco earlier? And dragging that guy she’s just met off to her lodge? She’s only doing it to get back at Felix and make him toe the line.’

‘But Felix won’t know, will he Nad? We’re not spilling on Suki. She’s the most fabulous sister in the world, and she’s your best friend, too,’ Jess reminded Nadia, her voice soft and dreamy as she cuddled into Lucas. ‘Felix is just jealous of Suki’s talent, always has been. Even more so now she’s going to be a famous pop star whilst he’s still waiting for his starring role in a Hollywood blockbuster. But he loves showing off at our villa, and down at the harbour on Uncle Ken’s yacht, so he’s not about to give that up, is he? And she lets him run around all the beach resorts in her Z4.’

‘Did you hear what kind of car he’s rented for the week here in Norfolk?’ said Lucas, nibbling at Jess’s neck. ‘Only a Jaguar XJS convertible. Hope he lets me take it for a spin. Are you sure you can’t persuade Big Sis to shell out for a car for you, Jess?’

‘Eww. Get a room you two,’ scoffed Nadia.

Rosie heard a crunch on the pathway behind her and turned around, expecting to see William. However, the footsteps did not belong to William, but to Felix. She had never been fond of verbal fireworks, and, seeing the look on Nadia’s face, she decided it was time she, Matt and Mia left their guests to their own devices before the impromptu mini-concert started at eight. She got up and collected the empty pitcher and glasses to take back to the café, wash in hot soapy water and put away in their allocated space.

‘Come on, Mia. We’d better get…’

‘Hi, guys. Where’s Suki?’

‘Where’ve you been Felix? The garden party finished two hours ago – it’s almost eight o’clock. You were supposed to be here at 2 p.m. sharp to cut the ribbon with Suki.’

‘Can’t blame me for giving it a miss, can you? The lads persuaded me to go to this new Sports bar – a little more exciting that this genteel granny’s outing.’

Rosie sank back down in her seat. It was obvious there was no way she was going to persuade Mia and Matt to miss out on the live entertainment. She saw Felix flash his camera-ready smile at his three friends, displaying no ill-effects from an afternoon on the booze. His bleached-blonde hair looked as though he had just vacated the barber’s chair – neatly cropped and sporting a touch of gel. His designer jeans hugged his buttocks like a second skin and his multi-striped shirt opened at the neck to reveal just a hint of golden chest hair.

‘Hang on a minute.’ Felix jogged back across the lawn to the car park and grabbed a box of craft ale from the boot of a scarlet Jaguar XJS.

‘Is that Felix?’ asked William, re-joining them and taking a seat next to Nadia.

‘Yes, and it looks like he’s brought another crate of beer with him so he can top up his alcohol levels to get through the evening,’ said Lucas. ‘Look at him. How did he even manage to steer that beautiful vehicle on these winding country roads without ending up in a ditch somewhere? Felix always was a lucky sod.’

‘Someone needs to tell him that his drinking is out of control,’ said William as Felix lurched back towards them, staggering under the weight of the bottles.

‘Not just Felix with a problem though, is it?’ said Nadia. ‘It’s Suki too. You saw her at the party – but that’s the first time I’ve seen her hook up with a stranger. By the way, Jess says we have a gossip embargo. No spilling the juicy secret to Felix and standing back to watch the explosion.’

‘Hey, William, my friend.’ Felix grasped William’s palm and patted him on the back. ‘What’s the word on the high-rolling manager’s circuit?’

‘You’re drunk, Felix.’

‘I think I’ll make a cafetière of coffee,’ declared Rosie, anxious to escape the soap opera. She signalled for Mia to follow her as she made her way into the windmill, but Mia shook her head, her eyes as wide as saucers. Even Matt stayed glued to his seat!

‘Suki’s promised to perform a couple of songs before we go out for dinner tonight.’

‘Oh, goody!’ said Felix, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. ‘Can’t wait for that unexpected treat. Yes, coffee with a wee dram should see me through one of Suki’s gigs. I thought we were here to chill out, not to be subjected to another “I love Suki fest.”’

Rosie carried a tray of mugs and two huge cafetières of industrial-strength coffee outside and poured one for everyone. The sun was sinking towards the horizon, sending a kaleidoscope of salmon and indigo streamers across the sky on what had turned out to be one of the most exhilarating and exhausting days of her life – and it wasn’t over yet.

The early evening air retained its warmth and the aroma of freshly mown grass and crushed lavender excavated painful childhood memories that Rosie had banished into the crevices of her mind and had not examined for a while, nor was she about to now. She checked her watch. It was 8.15 and there was still no sign of Suki getting ready to entertain them with a tune.

‘Where do you think she is?’ murmured Mia.

‘Relax. Stars always take ages to polish their shine!’ said Matt. ‘And she did have rather a lot to drink this afternoon. She’s probably sleeping it off.’

‘Well, I’m not sitting here like a faithful lapdog!’ declared Felix, tipping the final dregs of coffee into his mouth. ‘If Suki insists on dragging out her microphone, the least she can do is be on time.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me! How can you say that when you’ve just arrived over six hours late?’ said William. ‘Look, I’ll go and…’

‘No, you won’t!’ said Nadia, pushing William back down into his seat. She obviously hadn’t forgiven him for his lack of support in the ice bucket incident. ‘I will.’ She made her way to the edge of the terrace, but stopped next to the door of the café where Rosie, Matt and Mia were sitting. She glanced back over her shoulder at William, clearly hesitant about disturbing Suki on her own and regretting her refusal of his assistance. She recovered well, and smiled at Rosie and Mia. ‘Would you mind coming with me?’

‘Sure.’

Rosie and Mia got up from the bench and followed Nadia. Matt rolled his eyes and joined them as they made their way across the field to Suki’s lodge. They paused on the veranda, Rosie and Mia exchanging anxious glances, fearful of what they could be interrupting after the afternoon shenanigans and the potential fallout it would produce.

‘Don’t you think we should knock?’ asked Matt.

Nadia shot a quick look at Rosie and Mia, also uncomfortable about disturbing her friend’s beauty nap.

‘What are you all waiting for?’ demanded William, as he came up behind them and elbowed Nadia to one side. He strode to the door of the lodge and knocked. ‘Suki? Come on. Have you forgotten that you promised to sing for us on the terrace before we go out for dinner tonight? Everyone’s waiting for you – including Felix! Suki?’

Silence.

Rosie met Mia’s eyes. If Freddie was still in there, surely he would have opened the door to shoo them away. William knocked again, this time jiggling the handle and pounding on the door.

‘Suki, wake up!’

Matt stepped forward, lines appearing in his forehead. ‘Is there a duplicate key, Rosie?’

‘Yes, of course, but…’

‘Can you fetch it?’

Rosie’s stomach lurched at the tone of Matt’s voice and the genuine concern etched in his eyes. For what seemed an interminable few seconds, her feet felt like they were encased in concrete and she couldn’t move.

‘I’ll go,’ said Mia, sprinting off towards the café where they kept the spare keys.

William was now frantically banging his fist on the sturdy, panelled door. ‘Suki!’

‘What’s going on?’ asked Jess, joining them, with Felix not far behind her. ‘William?’

‘We can’t wake Suki. Mia has gone for the spare key.’

Ripples of anxiety surged through Rosie’s veins as a myriad of possibilities spun through her mind, each one more dreadful than the next. Within minutes, Mia was back, clasping a brass ring of dangling keys, pausing on the wooden steps of the lodge as she fumbled to select the correct one.

Felix snatched them from her. ‘I’ll take those. If anyone’s going to intrude on Suki’s privacy, then it’s going to be me. And if she wants to have a snooze before we go out for dinner then surely that’s her prerogative. Stop gawping!’

Matt moved to let Felix pass but William held his ground.

‘We just want to make sure Suki is okay.’

Felix opened his mouth to deliver an angry retort, but the look on William’s face prevented him from continuing. Instead, he slotted the heavy iron key into the lock and turned, a loud thud telling the gathering that the key on the inside of the door had dropped to the floor.

‘Suki, darling, I’m back. Sorry about being so late, but you know how the guys get when… Oh my God!’

Rosie closed the space from the steps to the front door in record time and pressed into the room behind Felix, William and Matt. The sight that met her eyes would remain seared in her mind’s eye for a long time. Suki lay on her king-sized bed, her legs curled into her chest, groaning in agony, her face as white as the windmill’s walls.

‘Call an ambulance!’ screamed Felix, sprinting to the bed and cradling Suki’s head in his lap.

‘Suki!’ cried Jess, rushing to her sister’s side.

Suki’s face held a waxy quality, her eyes glazed as though she had indulged in more than just an afternoon of alcohol. Perspiration bubbled at her temples and her groan had morphed into the heart-rending whimper of an injured animal. As Rosie watched on in horror, a spasm of pain gripped Suki and she crunched forward, vomiting on Felix’s lap before relaxing back against Jess, some of her earlier colour returning to her face. A few moments later, her eyes seemed brighter and she managed a weak smile for her sister.

Rosie felt a movement at her elbow and turned to look at Mia. She was so pale she looked like she’d just rolled off a pathologist’s slab. Her lips were moving but Rosie couldn’t hear what she was saying so she tipped her head towards her.

‘Mia?’

‘Oh my God, Rosie! I think we might have just poisoned our first celebrity guest!’

Before Rosie could think of a suitable reply, Mia’s legs gave way and she crumpled into Rosie’s waiting arms. With Matt’s help, she settled her friend on the sofa, loosening the buttons at the neck of her jumpsuit and wafting her face with a magazine. A few seconds later, Mia started to come round, her kind, chestnut eyes wide with anxiety.

‘I’m so sor…’

‘Shush. Just take it easy.’

Satisfied that Mia was going to be okay, Rosie turned her attention back to Suki. Felix was still cradling her head against his chest and Jess lay next to her, their fingers laced, sobbing uncontrollably. Nadia and William hovered nearby, their expressions reflecting their shock of discovering their friend in such agony. Suki herself, however, had recovered her usual pallor, but continued to wince as the occasional spasm of pain erupted in her abdomen.

Relieved that the worst seemed to be over, Rosie surveyed Suki’s bedroom. Even in such traumatic circumstances she had to fight to staunch the sudden compulsion to start tidying up. Apart from the wardrobe that was crammed to bursting with an assortment of glittering cocktail dresses more suited to Las Vegas than the Norfolk coast, there was a jumble of toiletries and a huge purse of cosmetics tossed on the dressing table. Foundation, blusher, eyeliner and lipsticks were scattered over the glass top, as well as a hairbrush, heated tongs and a glass bottle containing a pale golden-brown liquid – probably her precious throat spray. Suki had clearly been in the middle of fixing her makeup and preparing for her approaching performance when she became ill.

‘I said no, Felix. I don’t want you to call an ambulance, and I don’t need a doctor. Stop fussing. It’s just an upset stomach.’

‘Food poisoning more like,’ growled Felix, shooting a venomous look in Rosie’s direction.

‘We don’t know that,’ said Matt, the voice of calm amid all the hysteria. ‘Look, Suki, we should leave you to rest. Perhaps you could have a think about what you’ve eaten today and give Rosie a call? I’ll go over to the village to check if any of the other garden party guests have reported similar symptoms.’

‘Well, if you ask me, it’s obvious what’s happened. I want the Windmill Café closed down immediately. I’m calling in the environmental health guys. Suki can’t afford to get sick! She starts recording next week. Some relaxing experience this has turned out to be!’

‘Felix, will you let these people leave so they can check on the other guests?’

Felix reluctantly stepped away from the door allowing Rosie and Matt to lead a still-shaky Mia onto the veranda and down the steps towards Rosie’s studio apartment above the café.

## Chapter 6

As soon as they had settled Mia on one of the overstuffed sofas in the café, she fell asleep, curled into a tight ball like a newborn kitten. Matt called Carole, explained as succinctly as he could what had happened and asked her to activate the Willerby grapevine to see if anyone else had fallen victim to a potential food poisoning bug.

The final gasps of the evening sun streaked through the windmill’s windows sending a kaleidoscope of pretty colour through Rosie’s dreamcatcher. She felt as though it was a slap in the face after the way the day has ended. All the hard work she and Mia had put into making the first Windmill Café garden party a success had backfired spectacularly. Not only was there a distinct possibility that she had poisoned their first celebrity guest with her baking, there was also the chance that Felix would follow through with his threat and call in the food inspectors which could lead to the closure of the café, if not permanently, then certainly temporarily.

Rosie couldn’t hold her emotions in check any longer and an avalanche of distress flowed through her veins. Could she have been responsible for giving the whole of the village food poisoning? If so, it would not only be the end of her career in the catering business, but there was a distinct possibility that the Windmill Café would never recover from the negative publicity. And even if the café wasn’t closed, it was hardly an encouraging advertisement for a friendly village café where just eating a scone or indulging in a toasted teacake could mean you’d be taking your life in your hands.

What would she do if she was fired? Where would she go to next? Was she destined to be a nomad, lurching from one trauma to the next? Had she been a fool to think that she had at last found a place amongst friends where she could be happy? Why did life always have to drop grenades in her path? First her beloved dad, then the debacle with Harry, and now the Windmill Café. What was Graham going to say when he found out? If he had to close the holiday site down as well, he would be facing possible bankruptcy because of her.

Hot tears gathered along Rosie’s lashes and she would have succumbed to a bout of weeping if she had been alone, or with just Mia to share her distress, but she didn’t want to crumble in front of Matt who always seemed to exude an air of practicality in the face of adversity. She didn’t want him to think she was some kind of helpless female. She turned her back and, for want of anything else to do, set the kettle to boil. She grabbed the huge brown teapot from its designated resting place in the cupboard and three mugs, hand-painted with a windmill design.

‘You know, Rosie, this kitchen is so clean it could be pressed into service by the local heart surgeon. If you ask me, there’s no way any of the food you made for the garden party could have been contaminated with even a microscopic germ. You saw how much Suki had to drink, it was probably something to do with that.’

‘I hope so. I couldn’t bear to think that my food has poisoned everyone at the garden party,’ she said, handing Matt a mug of steaming tea.

‘It’s far too early to be making any assumptions, Rosie. Anyway, where’s your self-belief?’

She tried to smile, grateful for Matt’s support, but she knew it didn’t meet her eyes. Uncontrolled emotions continued to churn through her body causing her to feel lightheaded. She was ashamed to admit that she craved the indulgence of a session with the bleach, an almost overwhelming urge to grab a cloth and start scrubbing the already immaculate benches to wash away the non-existent bacteria that could have been responsible for Suki’s illness.

She took a seat on the sofa opposite a gently snoring Mia, surreptitiously pushing her hands underneath her bottom and starting the counting exercises that her sister Georgina had taught her when her compulsion to clean was at its peak after her breakup with Harry. She knew Matt was aware of her discomfort, but he said nothing for which she was grateful.

One of the reasons she felt so contented in Willerby was because of her attachment to Mia, Matt and Freddie. But was everything she had achieved in overcoming her heartache after leaving London about to be extinguished with a flick of fate, forcing her to move on to somewhere new? If that was the case, she realized with a spasm of guilt, she hadn’t fulfilled her promise to join Matt and Freddie for a day of high-octane shenanigans at Ultimate Adventures, despite their constant cajoling and encouragement. She met Matt’s vivid blue eyes and saw a gentleness that melted her reserve. She suddenly felt as though she could say anything to him and he wouldn’t judge her, especially now that she seemed to have been pulled into another drama that was destined to ruin her life.

All her energy seeped from her veins as uninvited memories of her relationship with Harry began to crowd her thoughts. She saw Matt watching her closely as she chased her indecision down blind alleyways, and suddenly she wanted to open up to him about the reasons why her self-esteem had been at rock bottom when she’d arrived in Willerby.

‘The reason my confidence is battered is because Harry, my ex, told me repeatedly that the only thing I was good at was keeping the little flower shop we ran together in Pimlico organized and spotless. Of course, in a way he was right. I don’t have any formal training in floristry, my educational background is in catering. It took me months of persuasion before he allowed me to design a wedding bouquet for one of our clients and he was so dismissive of my initial attempts that I nearly gave up.’

‘I take it you didn’t?’

Rosie saw Matt’s jaw tighten and was grateful he was on her side. She could have done with a friend like him around when the worst happened. However, simply meandering the memory maze caused the familiar emotions of worthlessness to rear their obnoxious heads, and the muscles in her stomach contracted painfully. Yet, her time at the Windmill Café with Mia’s constant cheerleading ringing in her ears had enabled her to understand that the problems she had experienced had been instigated by Harry’s dismissive behaviour towards her and she was able to look upon the termination of their relationship from a totally different perspective. As her sister Georgina had repeatedly told her, what Harry had done was reprehensible whichever way you looked at it, and this gave her the courage to continue with her story.

‘One of the first flower shop clients I was “let loose” on was a magazine journalist who wanted to renew her wedding vows. I spent hours researching her favourite flowers, peonies, and I managed to find one called “Bride’s Dream” – a gorgeous, frilly white flower that I paired with baby’s-breath and wrapped in glossy dark green foliage. Even if I say so myself, her bouquet was stunning. Harry begrudgingly said it was acceptable.’

Rosie could picture the posy as though it were nestled on the table in front of her. She had loved the photographs that Annika had emailed to her the week after her ‘second honeymoon’ in the Maldives. She had even printed a couple off and framed them, much to Harry’s disapproval.

‘But the best thing was, Annika loved the flowers so much she wrote a special feature on fresh new ideas for bridal flowers and asked me to design three additional bouquets to showcase in her article. I was over the moon! That article increased our business four-fold and as a result we started to get commissions from minor celebrities.’

Rosie paused, unsure whether she could go on. Recalling that painful time was making it difficult to breathe normally and her heart hammered a concerto of distress against her ribcage. Of all the friends she had made in Willerby, only Mia knew about Harry’s infidelity, minus the details about how she found out – it was just too embarrassing. She saw that Matt was listening to every word she said, his expression serious, and she suddenly wanted to get the whole terrible episode out in the open. Maybe if she gave her demons wings, they would fly!

‘I never forget things – it’s one of my, erm… well, my personality quirks. I was on my way to meet a harpist at one of the West End theatres to discuss ideas for her bridesmaids’ bouquets when she called and asked me to take a few flower samples to show her. I doubled-back to the shop to collect the beautiful white calla lilies that we’d just had delivered that morning and… well, imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon Harry getting more than a little acquainted with one of our brides underneath the chrysanthemums. Talk about saying it with flowers! The two of them were practically screaming it!’

Rosie dashed away a solitary tear in irritation. That sharply focused image had been imprinted on the insides of her eyelids for far too long. What had happened was in the past and she had moved on.

‘Rosie, I’m so sorry.’ Matt reached out to squeeze her hand and an intense burst of his citrusy aftershave made the corners of her lips curl upwards despite her sadness.

‘Thanks,’ she muttered, grateful to see the genuine empathy in his eyes

‘You probably won’t believe this, but I know exactly how you feel.’

‘Really?’ She attempted a weak smile. ‘Did your ex-girlfriend cause the cancellation of a two-hundred-thousand-pound wedding? Because that’s what happened. Heidi was due to say “I do” to a Greek shipping lawyer the following week. She had called into our shop to finalize the guests’ buttonholes and apparently couldn’t resist sampling everything that was on offer. Surprisingly, they’re still together, although Heidi refuses to work alongside Harry in the shop. It was four months ago and whilst I no longer have feelings for Harry, I’m still working on my forgiveness skills.’