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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: 9780008285142

Version: 2018-09-20

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

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

About the Author

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

To my lovely family who make Christmas special every year

Chapter 1

Rosie trotted down the spiral staircase from her studio above the Windmill Café with a song in her heart and a spring in her step. When she reached the bottom step, the smile melted from her lips and the clutter demons began to circle, causing the muscles in her stomach to contract and a familiar light-headedness threaten to overwhelm her.

“Oh my God, Mia! What’s going on?”

“Hi, Rosie. I thought I’d make a start on choosing the design for our entry into the Christmas Tree Carousel competition on Saturday. Which theme do you think we should go for? Gastronomic Gorgeousness with these cute knitted cupcakes? Or what about Windmill Wonderfulness with these little wooden windmill-shaped decorations?”

“Neither! We’re hosting the contest – not taking part!”

“The two are not mutually exclusive! We’re not involved in the judging, that’s the Rev’s unenviable task, so why shouldn’t we be allowed to join in the fun?” Mia held up a cherubic ornament that had seen better days, a smile stretching her lips. “Don’t you think this angel is simply adorable? Hey, we could go with a celestial theme – you know, fluffy white clouds made of cotton wool and glitter, home-made silver stars, papier-mâché moons, a few planets and these sweet little angels?”

“Mia—”

“What? You prefer something along the lines of my first suggestions? A creative culinary masterpiece? Actually, I do love those miniature silver whisks and spatulas you sourced for the Christmas crackers, and we could use the doll’s house kitchenware Grace found in the vicarage’s attic instead of baubles.”

Rosie heaved a sigh at her friend’s bubbling enthusiasm. However, there was no way she could stay irritated with Mia for long as she watched her skip from one decrepit cardboard box to the next, dipping her hands into the treasure inside like a toddler taking part in her first Christmas lucky dip. Like her approach to Christmas tree decorating, Mia had a quirky dress sense too – more nineteen sixties flower-power than twenty-first century chic. That day’s outfit was a pair of white dungarees embroidered with what might have looked to a casual onlooker like silver snowflakes, but were in fact bunches of cutlery.

Rosie allowed herself a wry smile – at least Mia had ditched the sausage-bedecked apron that usually forced their customers to perform a double-take just to make sure it wasn’t depicting something altogether more risqué. She loved Mia and was grateful for the way she had welcomed her into the community of Willerby with an all-encompassing hug, not to mention introducing her to the group of people she was now lucky enough to call friends. What she struggled with was the chaos that Mia scattered in her fragrant wake; and if there was one thing Rosie didn’t cope with very well it was clutter.

The tickle of alarm she’d experienced when she’d walked into the café was now threatening to burgeon into full-blown panic. Her heartrate increased even further when her eyes landed on the twisted garlands of lurid pink tinsel, the mounds of multi-coloured paperchains, and the tumble of old-fashioned glass baubles that were piled high on every available surface as well as the floor. Prickles of perspiration swept uncomfortably across her skin. She commenced the counting exercises her sister Georgina had taught her for when such occasions threatened to overwhelm her, but that morning those techniques did not help to wash away the mounting stress. Diversionary tactics were called for.

“I thought I’d rustle up a few dozen mince pies, and maybe a batch of chocolate yule logs and some iced ginger biscuits for the party after the judging on Saturday. What do you think?”

“Great idea. If you give me a few minutes, I’ll help—”

“No! You just concentrate on repacking all this—stuff—into the right boxes and taking it back to your car.”

Mia paused in her contemplation of an overweight plastic gnome dressed in a Santa suit, her green eyes creasing in apology. “Sorry, Rosie. I forgot about your aversion to—well, to all this…” She swept her hand around the room, lifting her mahogany waves from her face and dropping them over her shoulder in a familiar gesture. “I truly only intended to bring one box of ornaments over, but I just got carried away. Let’s go with the culinary theme, eh?”

“Agreed!”

Rosie exhaled a long calming breath, blew a wayward cooper curl from her lashes and began to help Mia return as much of the festive paraphernalia as possible to its cardboard home. When they had finished she waited for Mia to balance the boxes in a wobbly stack and carry them to the car park before selecting one of the Windmill Café’s peppermint-and-white aprons and turning her attention to the mince pies. Baking had always provided her with a sojourn of solace when all those around her were going crazy, and she couldn’t wait to delve her hands into a bowl of flour to get her fix.

But she couldn’t blame Mia for her enthusiasm. What had she expected? It was the week before Christmas, this sort of frenzied behaviour always happened at that time of year. For the first time, she was spending Christmas in the close-knit community of Willerby, the Norfolk village whose residents had woven their personal brand of magic through her veins. She loved it here and that was one of the reasons she had agreed to host the inaugural Christmas tree decorating competition at the café – to say a heartfelt thank you to everyone for their kindness. It was just that she hadn’t expected so many entries! Fourteen!

For a woman who loved to be organised and in control of every aspect of her life, Rosie definitely hadn’t thought through her seasonal gesture properly. She was fully aware of the cause of that unfortunate lapse in concentration – as was Mia – and for that she was paying the price. However, she refused to linger on the grenade-splattered landscape of her love life and began to rub the shards of cold butter into the flour to make the shortcrust pastry. Immediately, the tension in the back of her neck started to dissipate and when she added the orange and lemon zest, her mood improved even further and she could envisage the arrangements for Saturday’s competition begin to slot into the schedule template etched on her brain.

“I’ll make us some coffee,” said Mia when she returned, pressing their prized Gaggia machine into action. “Freddie called when I was at the car. He’s on his way over to set up the marquee this afternoon, and then he and Matt will deliver the trees tomorrow – no cost because they sourced them from the woodland around Ultimate Adventures. That’ll please Graham!”

Rosie rolled her eyes at the mention of the habitually absent owner of the Windmill Café - and the adjacent luxury holiday site that housed a selection of Scandinavian lodges and a perfectly proportioned shepherd’s hut painted in the same colours as the windmill and its sails. Once again, with a regularity that was becoming highly suspicious, Graham had managed to come up with an unbreakable prior engagement – this time with a snowboard in the Swiss Alps – when she and Mia had presented their plans for the café’s Christmas promotional event. At the Summer Breeze garden party in August, her erstwhile boss had taken a ‘well-earned’ break from the routine in his villa in Barbados, and during the Autumn Leaves bash he had sailed away from Palma harbour on his brother’s yacht.

However, his absence had turned out to be fortuitous because on each occasion one of the guests staying in the holiday lodges had suffered a terrible accident. First, pop star-to-be Suki Richards had been poisoned, and then Rick Forster, an avid myth-seeker, had been shot with a bow and arrow. Fortunately, both incidents had been wrapped up by the time Graham returned home and he’d only heard the details after the event – a much better scenario as far as Rosie was concerned. In fact, had Graham been there she suspected he would never have agreed to their plans to hold the Christmas Tree Carousel competition at the Windmill Café and Mia would have been devastated. Nevertheless, this time she had every intention of ensuring that everything ran smoothly.

“Do you think we’re crazy?” asked Rosie as she slid the last batch of mince pies into the oven and began the ritual of squirting every worktop with anti-bacterial spray to eradicate any lingering germ from existence. Whilst she loved the delicious aroma of nutmeg, cinnamon and cloves that was currently ballooning through the air, she preferred the satisfying smell of Flash with a top note of chlorine.

“What do you mean?”

“Holding the competition the day before Grace and Josh’s wedding?”

“It’s perfect!” declared Mia, as usual only seeing the positive in any given situation. “It means that their guests can take part in the contest too. It’s a great way to break the ice and give everyone something else to focus on before the frenzy starts.”

“And added another six people to our competitors list!”

“The more the merrier! We’ll set up the trees in the marquee tomorrow morning, and then, after the men’s cycle race has finished, the contestants can make a start. That’ll give everyone a full three days to complete their masterpieces before the judging takes place on Saturday afternoon.”

Rosie finished her session of extreme cleaning with a flourish and felt the last vestiges of her earlier stress drain from her veins. She swept her eyes around the room, satisfied it was as pristine as she had left it the previous evening before Mia had landed with her cornucopia of Christmas knick-knacks.

“It’s a bit of an usual activity for a stag party, don’t you think? A ten-mile cycle race?” said Rosie, wrinkling her nose in bewilderment at Josh’s choice of pre-wedding celebration with his closest friends.

“Not if cycling is your passion. And according to Grace, Josh is not only passionate about his bike, he’s obsessed! You know, last weekend he did the Coast-to-Coast with his best man, Sam, and a group of other friends who couldn’t make it down to Norfolk this week. If I were Grace I’d have him on flower arranging duties!”

“So how many are taking part in the stag party sprint in the morning?”

“Well, according to Freddie, apart from Josh and Sam, there’ll be another three; Dylan, Abbi’s boyfriend, Theo, an old friend of Josh’s who’s arranged the wedding cars at mate’s rates, and Archie, everyone’s favourite pub landlord from the Drunken Duck; so seven guys in total, if you include Matt and Freddie.

At the mention of Matt’s name, Rosie averted her eyes from Mia’s and became interested in choosing the perfect mince pie to go with her coffee, the surge of warmth spreading across her cheeks having nothing to do with the heat from the oven and everything to do with Mia’s not-so-casual reference to the owner of Ultimate Adventures.

“You’ve got to talk to Matt, Rosie.”

“I have talked to Matt!”

“You know what I mean – about Harry’s proposition.”

“I haven’t decided what to do yet.”

“Even more reason why the two of you should have a chat. Okay, so we all know you turned down Harry’s marriage proposal – we were there when he dropped the bombshell on you at the Autumn Leaves party. And, if I might add, you made the right decision when you chose to go with your gut instinct.”

Rosie’s lips twitched in amusement at her friend’s candour. “Thank you, Mia, I’m pleased you—”

“What I’m talking about is Harry’s business proposition. I don’t blame you for thinking about it, it was a great offer – a half share of a florist business in Pimlico is not to be tossed away without very careful consideration, especially when you were so good at it before Harry messed up by frolicking amongst the blooms with a random selection of blushing brides.”

“Hardly a random selection, there was only Heidi…”

“As far as you know,” added Mia, impishly. “But even as his business partner, I ask you one question, Rosie. Can you trust him? Are his motives selfless? Or has he simply discovered the hard way that it was your creative talent that attracted all those lucrative bridal contracts, not his, and he regrets letting you go?”

“That’s three questions!”

“And here’s another two. How can you even contemplate leaving the Windmill Café? And won’t you miss Matt?”

“Mia, I’ve told you, I love it here, but I’m just the part-time manager of a small holiday site that practically runs itself, and a café that is currently only open on Saturdays and Sundays until Easter. If, and it’s only an if, if I accept Harry’s proposition I will be the legal owner of a successful business enterprise in London. Before I stumbled on Harry and Heidi amongst the roses, I had a kaleidoscope of fresh ideas to take wedding floristry to new heights, you know that.”

“Well, I don’t know how you can even contemplate working alongside that unfaithful, disloyal, lying moron!” huffed Mia, who had spent the remainder of the Autumn Leaves party after Harry’s shock appearance – and very public marriage and business proposal – glaring at him as though he was the Big Bad Wolf personified. Even after he had left, having spent a fruitless weekend trying to persuade Rosie that he was truly sorry for what he had done, assuring her that Heidi was ancient history and that he’d learned his lesson and would never repeat it, Mia had refused to speak about him, apart from labelling him a Dastardly Destroyer of Dreams. “Anyway, Matt misses you.”

“Matt has avoided me for six weeks.”

Rosie experienced the familiar mule’s kick to the stomach when she uttered those pain-filled words. In the months leading up to Harry’s arrival at the end of October, she had grown close to Matt Wilson, the hunky owner of the outward-bound activity centre hidden in the woodland on the other side of Willerby, through their amateur sleuthing activities. More than that, Grace had even invited them both to her wedding on Christmas Eve and Rosie had been delighted to accept, especially as Mia’s meddling had meant she was going as Matt’s Plus One – until Harry had popped up unannounced and thrown a spanner in the works.

“You and Matt are made for each other!” declared Mia, grabbing a mince pie from the wire cooling rack and slumping down onto one of the café’s white leather sofas, holding her palm under her chin to catch any wayward crumbs – a crime punishable by a ferocious glare from Rosie.

“Mia, I’m still friends with Matt. It’s his decision to avoid me and the café.”

But Rosie knew Mia wasn’t listening to her assurances because she was intent on delivering her own agenda.

“You and Matt make a fabulous team. You solved those crimes before the police had even finished slurping their coffee! When you’re together, you are greater than the sum of your parts – and not just in the puzzle-wrangling arena. There’s something almost effervescent about you when he’s by your side – something that’s completely missing when Harry’s around. I watched you carefully when Harry graced us with his presence again at the beginning of December to press his case. Your sparkle was missing-in-action – he snuffs it out with his overbearing personality.”

Mia flicked her fingers to emphasise her point.

“Do you really want to go back to being the old Rosie? Okay, so you were a florist to the stars and that’s amazing, but what you have here is more than just a job. You have a home and you are surrounded by friends who love you – not to mention a guy who thinks the world of you. When Matt, and Freddie, offer their help, they want nothing in return – unlike Harry!”

Rosie couldn’t fault Mia for her impassioned submissions on behalf of Matt. Everything she had said was true. Matt had come to her aid when she had been accused of poisoning one of the lodge guests with her baking, and she had returned the favour when one of his outward-bound clients had been speared with an arrow, an incident that had threatened the future of his business. There had been no expectations of anything in return, simply a celebratory drink at the local pub, the Drunken Duck.

“It isn’t that Matt’s not speaking to you, Rosie. He’s a decent guy, and he just wants to give you the space to make your decision without any external influences. He’s wrong on this occasion, in my opinion. He should be standing right here in front of you, telling you exactly why you should tell Harry to get lost and to stay where you are cherished – if not for your cheerful and generous personality, then certainly for your fig-and-walnut scones and these fabulous St. Clements mince pies.”

Mia did have a point. Harry’s reappearance in her life had sent Matt away. Once she had persuaded her ex-boyfriend that her response to his marriage proposal was a resounding no! she had promised to think about his business proposition, arguing to herself that she would be crazy not to.

When Harry made the return trip to Willerby at the beginning of December, he had brought with him the accounts, as well as a formal legal contract setting everything out in black-and-white that she would be a part-owner of the florist’s shop and business. Harry had been stoical about her rejection of marriage, but urged her not to turn down the chance of financial security for the rest of her life – unlike her position as the Windmill Café manager which, if the last few months were anything to go by, was precarious in the extreme.

However, what had really caused her to prevaricate over Harry’s offer was the fact that if she lost her job at the café, she would also lose her home and she didn’t think she could go through that trauma again. Residing in the dark recesses of her mind was a hard nugget of fear that history would repeat itself, and her dreams were filled with memories of the day her mother had been forcibly evicted from the family home after her father’s death. The incident had changed the path of her life and had been the catalyst for her battle with the cleanliness demons. She had no idea how she was going to make the decision, though, and Harry’s increasingly regular phone calls were not helping.

She had tried to seek Matt out, to reassure him that their friendship was unaffected by the recent turn of events. However, when she had arrived on the doorstep of the wooden reception cabin at Ultimate Adventures, Freddie had explained to her that Matt had jumped on a last-minute flight to Tenerife to climb Mount Teide with a group of his father’s climbing buddies, and since his return two weeks ago he had steadfastly avoided her.

“Maybe there’ll be another mystery for you to solve that will bring you back together,” mused Mia as she drained the dregs of her coffee and went to wash her mug in the sink and return it to its allotted space.

“God, I hope not! All our lodge guests are here for the stag party and then to celebrate the wedding on Sunday. Grace, not to mention, the Rev and Carole, would be mortified if anything untoward happened to them!”

Chapter 2

“Oh my God! It’s freezing! I can’t believe the guys still wanted to take part in the cycle race instead of adjourning to the pub for a cosy few pints like most stag party enthusiasts!” said Rosie, screwing up her nose in disgust as she wrapped her arms around her waist in an effort to fend off the relentless downpour and keep warm. “More to the point, I can’t believe you managed to persuade me to form part of the welcoming committee!”

A shiver of discomfort shot down her spine as she peered through the gloom into the densely packed woodland at the rear of the outward-bound centre. Ultimate Adventures offered a plethora of activities including mountaineering, gorge scrambling, a treetop zip wire adventure, and even an obstacle course that mixed physical strength with mental agility. She could understand how these pursuits would be appealing in the summer months, but not on a wet Wednesday morning in the middle of December. In fact, there was something almost menacing about the way the naked trees crowded forward, blocking out what little light was left in the pewter-coloured sky.

“Lots of cycle addicts love this kind of weather – makes the whole ride much more interesting.” Mia laughed as she blew on her palms and clapped her mittened hands together in excitement. “Anyway, it’s just a shower.”

“This isn’t a shower, it’s a monsoon!”

The rain was coming down in stair rods, hammering the wooden planks of the reception’s veranda with a vicious acrimony and drenching the small but courageous – and some might say crazy – gathering of spectators at the finish line. Rosie tightened the hood of her padded jacket around her chin in an attempt to prevent her curls from ballooning like copper candyfloss but she was fighting a losing battle.

“And you never know, maybe this rain will turn into snow,” beamed Grace, the end of her perfectly-formed nose tinged pink from the cold. “Don’t you think that would make an absolutely amazing backdrop for our wedding photographs?”

“And the Christmas tree competition!” added Mia with a glint of mischief in her eyes as she glanced across at Rosie.

“I agree with Rosie,” mumbled Abbi, Grace’s best friend and chief bridesmaid, as she twirled her frilly cerise umbrella over her shoulder like a female version of Gene Kelly and frowned up at the bruised sky.

Rosie experienced a stab of empathy when she saw that Abbi’s previously smooth bob was no longer straight but plastered haphazardly to her cheeks and forehead. The pale pink sequinned stilettos that matched the gorgeous leather satchel she had designed and hand-sewn herself were clearly no match against the onslaught of rain gods.

“Give me a tropical beach anytime!” Abbi continued. “If Dylan ever gets around to proposing to me, I’m definitely opting for wall-to-wall sunshine, a pretty white gazebo on the sand and as many palm trees swaying in the breeze as possible.”

“Well, I could hardly do that, could I? Mum and Dad would have killed me if I’d decided to get married anywhere other than at St Andrews!” giggled Grace, as she flicked her messy blond curls behind her ears and squinted into the distance for a potential early glimpse of the cyclists. “Anyway, I happen to think every season has its own splendour.”

“Oh, me too,” declared Penny, Theo’s girlfriend who, like Grace, had been keen to be part of the boys’ intrepid welcoming committee. “I love all the raw, tempestuous beauty of the natural environment. There’s almost a mystical aura hanging over the foliage, don’t you think? I can easily imagine this whole place being populated by a horde of mythical beasts; the ivy-laced boughs their playground, the hidden copses where they take an afternoon snooze. It’s the perfect inspiration for my next children’s book. I can’t wait to get my pencils out when I get back to the lodge and start sketching.”

As if to prove her artistic credentials, she pulled out her mobile phone and took a few random photographs of the surrounding woodland, sending a whiff of patchouli oil into the air and causing the plethora of silver chains to jangle against her ample chest. With her penchant for wearing black, from her heavily drawn makeup down to the colour of her nail polish, she occupied the opposite end of the sartorial colour spectrum to Abbi.

Rosie recalled booking Penny and Theo into their luxury Scandinavian lodge the previous day and had been amazed at the amount of painting equipment Penny had brought with her. Canvases of varying sizes, paint palettes, a whole battalion of brushes. There was so much stuff that a casual observer could have been forgiven for thinking she was running an artist’s retreat for the other guests at the Windmill lodges, which included Josh’s best man and his wife, Sam and Zara, as well as Abbi and Dylan – who had turned down the luxury lodge to stay in the cute peppermint-and-white shepherd’s hut despite its size. When she had suggested one of the larger lodges, Abbi had reminded her that after spending the summer backpacking in south east Asia, the shepherd’s hut was the height of decadence for them.

“Hey, Penny, do you think you could do a pastel sketch of St Andrew’s church as a wedding present for us?”

“Wow, yes, I’d love to!”

“Oh, do you do portraits? I’d love one of the twins,” said Zara, tucking her neat mahogany curls behind her ears, her face brightening when she spoke of her two boys currently having the time of their lives at their grandparents’ farm in the Lake District.

“No problem,” smiled Penny, clearly delighted to have got two commissions in the space of five minutes.

Rosie cast her eyes around the group of women from beneath her lashes. Despite the inclement weather, everyone had managed to achieve a sense of style. Compared to them, she felt like Cinderella’s bedraggled cousin in the mismatched outfit she had selected that morning for comfort and practicality rather than sartorial elegance. Why hadn’t she worn a jaunty bright orange hat-scarf-and-gloves combo like Zara, or a quirky leather jacket like Penny? Of course, Mia had chosen a white down-filled jacket she had embellished herself with appliqué snowflakes and what Rosie had assumed were branches adorned with red berries but had turned out to be reindeer antlers and Rudolph noses.

When her eyes fell towards her footwear, Rosie cringed. Olive-green Wellington boots weren’t the most glamorous of attire – although they did match her wax jacket. She really should have made more of an effort, especially as this was the first time she would be seeing Matt in weeks. However, she reminded herself that Matt wasn’t the kind of person who judged a book by its glossy cover and she relaxed.

“Look! Here they come!” cried Mia, shielding her eyes with her hand and pointing towards a flicker of luminous yellow Lycra just beyond the row of conifers standing to attention like a battalion of sentries guarding the road that lead to the reception lodge. “Can you see who’s out in front? Is it Matt or Freddie? Oh, I really hope it’s Freddie!”

“It won’t be if Theo has anything to do with it!” muttered Penny with a roll of her kohl-rimmed eyes and a twist of her upper lip. “You’ve no idea how competitive he is. He’d even try to outride Chris Hoy!”

“Well, it definitely won’t be Dylan,” laughed Abbi. “He’s more of a Sunday afternoon cyclist – with plenty of planned beer stops at as many rural pubs as he can get away with. He hates all this racing malarkey. However, you should have seen the look on his face when he saw the zip wire earlier – he almost swooned! I suspect he might be tempted to renege on his promise to enter your Christmas tree decorating contest, Rosie, in favour of spending some time flying through the air like Peter Pan’s older brother.”

Abbi had mentioned Dylan’s aversion to anything conducted at high speed, especially whilst on two wheels, on a couple of occasions and Rosie wondered what had happened to cause that but didn’t like to pry. She couldn’t wait to welcome all seven men back safely so they could return to the café and make a start on the best part of the day - sipping mugs of creamy hot chocolate laced with a generous dash of brandy and sampling the mini cappuccino roulades she had whipped up earlier, before everyone was let loose on their respective Christmas trees.

“Yay! You were both wrong!” squealed Grace, pogoing up and down on the spot, clapping her hands in jubilation. “It’s Josh! Come on, Josh! Come on, Josh!”

Rosie watched as the frontrunner finally emerged from the arboreal sanctuary and raced down the main driveway towards the veranda where Theo had insisted that they rigged up a makeshift red ribbon for the winner to drive through. Grace was right, her husband-to-be was in the lead, but only by a few seconds as Freddie had appeared from another gap in the trees ten metres to Josh’s left, his head bent low over the handlebars, pumping his legs with dogged determination. Her heart gave a pleasurable nip when she saw that Matt was in third place. It was all she could do to prevent herself from cupping her hands around her lips and screaming Go Matt! in a very unladylike fashion until Mia linked arms with her and Grace.

“Come on, ladies. Let’s get over to the finishing line. You too, Penny – we might need a photo-finish! Coming Zara? Abbi?”

Rosie watched Abbi stand on her tiptoes to scan the fringe of the woodland for any sign of Dylan, anxiety creasing her forehead as she chewed on her lower lip. It was a few nerve-wracking minutes before she spotted him fifty metres of so behind Sam.

“Oh, thank God! There’s Dylan – bringing up the rear as usual!” Abbi sighed, but Rosie saw the relief spread across her attractive features. She might bemoan her boyfriend’s lack of expertise when it came to vehicular activities but she clearly worried about him all the same. “I thought he might have fallen off or something.”

Everyone rushed through the drizzle to where Penny had crouched down onto her haunches next to a wooden post and levelled her mobile phone camera, poised to snap a picture of the victor’s triumphant achievement.

“Yay! Yay! Josh!” screeched Grace, rushing forward to embrace her fiancé before reaching up to kiss him tenderly on the lips. Her evident excitement lit up her pretty face, framed by a ruffle of damp corkscrew curls that sprang from beneath her woolly bobble hat.

Freddie was next over the finishing line, a wide grin splitting his freckled face as he yanked off his safety helmet and strode over to offer Josh a congratulatory handshake.

“Great ride, Josh, especially the last hundred metres!”

“You too, mate. That was awesome. I might even be forced to rethink my earlier criticism of Theo’s insistence that we start the stag celebrations with a gruelling cross-country race! Now I can’t wait to have a go at the Ultimate Adventure’s obstacle course and the zip wire. Although don’t tell him I said that. He has a habit of letting compliments go to his head!”

Matt skidded to a halt next, his whole body covered in random speckles of flying mud, even his cheeks, followed by Sam. Rosie’s stomach gave an uncomfortable twist when she saw that Matt was looking directly at her. However, before she could say anything to him, Abbi had shoved her to one side to welcome Dylan like a conquering hero.

“Yay! Dylan! You did it!”

Dylan removed his helmet and ran his fingers through his spiky ebony hair, his face a curious shade of overworked putty, his jaw clenched tight after being forced to endure his personal idea of purgatory. His relief the ride was at an end was palpable.

“Never, ever, ever ask me to do that again!” Dylan spluttered, his breath coming in ragged spurts as he struggled to regain his composure. “Why couldn’t we have gone for a few drinks at the local pub like any normal stag party? Theo Morris has to be one of the hardest task-masters I’ve ever come across and that includes the physio guys at the hospital!”

“Speaking of Theo, where is he?” asked Rosie, looking back down the winding, leaf-strewn roadway towards the stone pillars that guarded the entrance gate to Ultimate Adventures. Everyone paused in what they were doing to squint through the gloom of the trees but there was no sign of the director in charge of Dylan’s horror movie.

“Actually, I have to admit that I thought it was strange he wasn’t in pole position,” said Josh, draping his arm around Grace’s shoulder and pulling her close. “I just assumed he’d found a short-cut and would be waiting for us here with that irritatingly superior smirk he usually wears when he’s about to be crowned the winner of something again.”

“Come to think of it, I didn’t see him after we entered the woods, either,” said Matt, refastening the chin strap of his helmet. Instead of remounting his cycle, he strode into the wooden storeroom next to the lodge and jumped onto one of Ultimate Adventure’s quad bikes. “Maybe he’s lost. I’ll see if I can find him.”

“I’ll come with you,” offered Freddie, running over to reverse another quad bike from the shed. He cocked his leg over the seat and revved the engine, expelling a cloud of grey exhaust fumes into the wintry air. “Ready when you are.”

“Me too!” said Mia, clearly not wanting to be left behind when there was fun to be had. She leapt behind Freddie and snaked her arms round his waist, her expression brooking no argument.

“Count me in,” added Zara, hopping onto Freddie’s cycle and pedalling over to Sam. “What do you think’s happened to him?”

“Nothing,” tutted Penny, rolling her eyes as she stuffed her phone into the pocket of her black jeans. “This is probably his idea of a joke to get us all as rain-soaked as possible! Theo is so selfish when it comes to competitions – it’s always got to be all about him winning the top prize. But you’re not leaving me behind. I’m coming with you so I can give him a piece of my mind.”

Penny grabbed Matt’s discarded cycle, struggling to climb on. When she had, she folded her arms and turned to stare expectantly at Abbi and Dylan.

“Well? Are you coming?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” pleaded Dylan, his Adam’s apple working overtime as the full horror of what Penny was expecting him to do dawned. “I’ve just cycled ten miles!”

“I think someone should wait here,” reasoned Abbi, coming to Dylan’s aid. “Just in case we need to summon for help. I mean, what if something awful has happened to him? What if he’s fallen off his bike and is lying in a ditch somewhere writhing in agony?”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Abbi,” said Grace, smiling at her best friend. “But that’s a sensible idea. We’ll call you when we find him - probably propping up the bar in the Drunken Duck!”

“Rosie?” asked Mia.

Rosie glanced around the gathering. All eyes were now on her as the last one to join the party of intrepid rescuers. Should she stay behind with Abbi and Dylan? That was what she wanted to do, because the only alternative was to ride with Matt on the back of his quad bike and that experience filled her with absolute terror. After the recent cooling of their friendship because of Harry’s reappearance on the scene, her stomach churned with indecision. She really didn’t want to sit astride the mud-caked, over-grown bluebottle as they bounced over the uneven terrain, but the real reason for her reticence was the fact that she would have to mould her body to Matt’s in order not to fall off. Could she do that?

“Rosie, come on!” urged Mia, flashing her eyes impatiently at her.

She chanced a glimpse at Matt’s face and when she saw the crinkle of amusement in his eyes, heat flooded her cheeks and she relaxed, enjoying the sensation of being in Matt’s company once again, not to mention the fact that there seemed to be no awkwardness in his demeanour. One of the things she loved about being with Matt was his constant urging that she grab her courage by the scruff of its neck and experience things outside her comfort zone. Life wasn’t a dress rehearsal and every ounce of pleasure should be squeezed from each new adventure. That was the mantra Matt’s father had lived by and he’d achieved more than some people would in three lifetimes before the climbing monsters claimed him for their own.

“Scared?”

“No way!”

Rosie shelved her fear, took a deep breath and climbed onto the back of Matt’s quad bike, wrapping her arms around his muscular torso and leaning in close. He smelled of fabric conditioner from his damp cycle gear mingled with his familiar citrusy cologne, and every one of her senses sparkled at his proximity. When he revved the engine, a whip of excitement shot through her body and headed southwards. Her thoughts zoomed to the forthcoming weekend when, had Harry not made his unscheduled appearance, she would be starring in the role of Matt’s Plus One at Grace and Josh’s wedding.

She and Matt might possess character traits at opposite ends of the organisational spectrum, but their humour-filled tolerance of each other’s foibles had led to what she had secretly hoped would be not only a lasting friendship, but someone more intimate. Her blossoming relationship with Matt – sealed whilst they’d worked together to save each other’s businesses – was responsible for papering over the cracks in her heart caused by Harry’s infidelity and was one of the reasons she had been able to turn down his marriage proposal without hesitation.

“This way!” shouted Freddie, taking the lead on their search-and-rescue mission.

In single file, they bobbed along a narrow pathway through the woodland at the rear of the Ultimate Adventures reception lodge. Looking over her shoulder, Rosie thought the building resembled an old wooden steamer moored against the dense forest backdrop; a safe haven amidst an arboreal storm.

For ten minutes, the quad bikes and cycles bucked and bounced on the uneven ground like a procession of kangaroos on steroids and Rosie had to fight to keep down her breakfast. Nevertheless, her overriding sensation was one of warmth and contentment of once again being so close to Matt and knowing that she was exactly where she wanted to be.

“You okay?” shouted Matt, turning his head slightly so she could hear his voice above the drone of the engine.

“I’m fine. More than fine, actually.”

She lay her cheek against his back, arguing with her internal critic that she was making them more aerodynamic, but accepting that an avalanche of emotions had started to tumble through her veins. This is what being with Matt did to her – something she had never experienced with Harry in all the time they had been together. She knew she had to tell Matt how she felt, and she resolved that once they had found Theo she would find the right moment to do just that.

They rode on in convoy for another fifty metres or so until the vegetation grew thicker and the shards of wintry daylight struggled to penetrate through to the forest floor. Rosie’s fingers were so cold she contemplated sticking them into Matt’s pockets, but before she could decide whether that was appropriate or not, there was a cry from behind them.

“There! Over there!” shouted Josh, veering off between two silver birch trees, their trunks adorned with a botanical garland of holly and ivy. His manoeuvre had been so sudden that Grace had to cling onto him for dear life, her legs poking out at right angles in an effort to maintain her balance. Nevertheless, she had a beaming smile on her face and was clearly enjoy the unexpected trip through the forest.

They came to a halt beside Theo’s cycle, its wheels still rotating in the air like an upended tortoise unable to right itself - but there was no sign of its rider.

“Where is he?” said Penny, dismounting her bike and squinting into the gloom, her forehead creased in confusion.

The only sound to punctuate the air was a soft ballad of birdsong rippling through the leaves, and even though the rain had finally ceased, water droplets the size of grapes still pattered down intermittently from the canopy above.

“He can’t be far,” said Freddie, jumping from his quad bike and scouring the area. “Let’s spread out. If he’s come off his bike at speed he might be injured - he could be unconscious or wandering around disorientated.”

The group fanned out and began to search the undergrowth, not sure what they expected to find. Rosie felt nauseous, not only from the ride but from a deep sense of foreboding that permeated her whole body. Above her head, a squirrel scampered along the dishevelled, skeletal branches and the repetitive coo of a pair of wood pigeons floated from on high, yet the trees bore down on her like a battalion of malevolent warriors. The woodland atmosphere felt oppressive, tinged with the odour of wet soil and crushed pine needles. Her damp fringe tickled at her lashes, and she brushed it away only for it to fall back into place as she tipped her head downwards to scan the thick carpet of vegetation beneath her feet for any clue that Theo had passed that way.

“Where do you think—” began Rosie, but her question was interrupted by a piercing shriek reverberating through the air. “Was that Penny?”

The hackles on the back of her neck rose in alarm as she met Matt’s eyes briefly before he sprinted to where Penny was standing in a small clearing surrounded by a brigade of holly bushes. Rosie stumbled in his wake, sending up a swift request to the guardian angel of cyclists that Theo had been found with nothing more than a twisted ankle or sprained wrist. She just couldn’t take any more traumatic incidents.

When Rosie reached Matt’s side, the shock hit her like a sledgehammer to the solar plexus. She gasped for breath, drawing her forearms into her abdomen, but she couldn’t prevent the dry retch from escaping her throat. Beside her, Mia was experiencing an identical reaction. She was barely aware of Matt and Freddie rushing to Theo’s side to check for a pulse.

“Oh my God, is he okay?” whimpered Penny, kneeling down next to Theo, her hands pressed to her mouth, her body trembling uncontrollably as she stared transfixed at the blood oozing from a deep gash across his shoulder and upper arm. “Matt, Freddie, tell me he’s okay?”

Matt removed his jacket and pressed it against Theo’s wound whilst Freddie checked his airways.

“Is he—?”

“He’s unconscious. Must have hit a branch and come off his bike. Rosie, can you hold this here whilst I call for an ambulance?”

Rosie heard Matt’s words but her reflexes had temporarily disconnected from her modem and she found that she was frozen to the spot. With tremendous effort she managed to drag herself back to reality and knelt down next to Matt to maintain the pressure on Theo’s wound whilst he removed his mobile phone to call for help.

“We heard a scream, what’s going…. oh, my God, is that Theo?” cried Grace, grabbing hold of Josh’s hand as she stared at the harrowing scene unfolding before her. “What happened?”

“Fell off his bike,” mumbled Penny, her voice an octave higher than usual, her face drained of every last vestige of colour. “Matt says he must have been hit by a branch or something.”

But Rosie caught Matt’s eye as he finished giving directions to the first responders. Like him, she had seen the laceration on Theo’s upper body up close – and it was a perfectly horizontal gash, almost as if he’d been cut with a cheese wire.

Chapter 3

Rosie stared out of the window at the pretty kissing gate at the bottom of the vicarage’s garden. She marvelled at how festive the bright red holly berries looked, dancing a jig in the stiff December breeze when such cruelty played amongst them. It was no accident that she and Mia had joined Grace and Abbi in making a beeline for the vicarage, seeking the all-encompassing comfort that was always on offer there.

Dragging her eyes away, she watched Grace set down a flower-bedecked teapot in the middle of the heavily scarred table that dominated the kitchen whilst her mother, Carole, fussed over a plate of home-made mince pies. She supposed that, over the years, the table had seen more than its fair share of confidences and its presence had soothed many an aching heart.

A sturdy, cream-enamelled Aga purred away in the corner, piping warmth and comfort into the room along with a delicate aroma of crushed rose petals and homeliness. Alfie, the family’s white Lhasa Apso, snoozed in his basket, one eye cocked for an unexpected titbit. Unlike what had occurred in the woods that morning, nothing bad could happen here.

It was late Wednesday afternoon and under other circumstances they would all have been busy making a start on creating their arboreal masterpieces in the marquee at the Windmill Café instead of waiting for news on how Theo was recovering from his ordeal in the forest.

“Dreadful, just dreadful. Poor Theo,” Carole muttered, shaking her head, her soft features wreathed in bewilderment. “Have you spoken to Matt, Rosie? Are there any more details about how the accident happened?”

Rosie unfolded her arms and took a seat at the table in between Mia and Abbi, accepting a mug of fragrant Earl Grey tea - Carole’s preferred beverage of solace. After all, as the Reverend Roger Coulson’s wife, she was no stranger to hearing regular divulgences tinged with sadness, pain and grief from her visitors.

“Apparently someone stretched a length of wire between two trees. Theo was travelling so fast on his cycle he wouldn’t have seen it until the last minute. Fortunately, his reflexes were sharp enough to force him to swerve and avoid a head-on collision, otherwise… well, at least he’s only looking at twenty or so stiches instead of something much more serious.”

“But who would do such a terrible thing?” asked Grace, her face ivory-pale and her fingers trembling on the handle of her mug.

“No idea,” said Rosie, recalling the brief conversation she’d had with Matt half-an-hour earlier. “Matt says the police have cordoned off the area and forensics are conducting a fingertip search.”

“What I really want to know is whether this was some random act of violence. Or did the person responsible target Theo in particular? If so, how did they know he would use that shortcut back to the lodge? They couldn’t have! And if Theo wasn’t the intended victim, who was? Could it have been Matt or Freddie, or Josh even?”

Grace couldn’t continue. Her body crumpled under the strain and she dropped her head into her palms, her blonde curls falling over the back of her hands as her shoulders shook with each racking sob. Rosie’s heart squeezed with sympathy as she watched Carole take her daughter into her arms. Grace was the most exuberant, joyful person Rosie knew, but today there were red rings of distress beneath her eyes as she contemplated the contents of her teacup. This wasn’t how a bride-to-be should be spending the last few days leading up to her wedding, wondering if someone was lurking about in the village waiting for an opportunity to murder her fiancé or their friends.

“Mum, do you think we should cancel the wedding? How can we ask our guests to come to Willerby when there’s a crazy person on the loose?”

“Absolutely not! Don’t worry, darling, the police will catch whoever did this.”

“Carole’s right, Grace. We have to trust them to do their job,” added Abbi, as she topped up her friend’s mug just for something to do with her hands.

“But that could take weeks, or months!”

“Unless—” began Mia, tossing Rosie a surreptitious look from beneath her lashes.

“Mia—”

Grace’s eyes widened with interest as she understood what Mia had been about to suggest.

“Yes! Mia, that’s a great idea! Rosie, you and Matt have already solved two mysteries. Why don’t you join forces again and find out who did this dreadful thing?” she pleaded, drying her eyes with the scrap of lace her mother had produced from the sleeve of her hand-knitted cardigan. “And if the perpetrator is caught quickly the wedding can go ahead as planned without our family and friends looking over their shoulders and feeling as if they’re inadvertent extras in an episode of Midsomer Murders. You will help with the investigation again, won’t you, Rosie? Please?”

“I’m not sure Matt will be as enthusiastic about joining forces with me this time. Things between us have been a bit… well, different recently. You know, after Harry proposed.”

“But you turned him down. Thank God!” countered Mia.

“I turned down his marriage proposal – we’re still discussing the business proposition.”

“You can’t seriously be contemplating leaving us to go back to London, Rosie. You love it here! You’re an important part of the community now, especially after you’ve singlehandedly rejuvenated the Windmill Café. Who will organize our Summer Breeze parties, or our Autumn Leaves celebrations, not to mention our Christmas Carousel competition?”

“Erm, Graham?” suggested Rosie.

“He’d be useless!” declared Mia, reaching out for one of Carole’s iced ginger cookies to dunk in her tea. “Anyway, our esteemed boss is never here! Hasn’t he always found something else more glamorous to do whenever we’re hosting the celebrations?”

Rosie had to agree with Mia. Since she’d arrived in Norfolk the people around the table in the vicarage had become her friends. With their help, she had grappled with her grief over the discovery of Harry’s affair and she was now happy to report that she woke each morning with a smile on her face, confident that she had a better-than-average chance that the struggle to bedtime would be devoid of melancholy. She was a totally different person to the one who had arrived at the café, draped in a mantle of gloom that she’d worn as some sort of protective battle armour - and there was one person who had contributed to that improvement more than any other.

Matt Wilson – Willerby’s answer to Bear Grylls.

She had loved spending time with him as they delved into the backgrounds of the guests at the Windmill lodges to unearth the motives behind the incidents that had threatened the businesses of the café and the outward-bounds centre. Now she was being urged to resume their partnership to save Grace and Josh’s wedding. How could she refuse?

“Please, Rosie,” implored Grace, her face creased with anguish as she pushed back her chair to allow Alfie to jump into her lap. “Please say that you’ll help to find out who did this to Theo.”

“Look, I know things have been a bit awkward between you and Matt these last few weeks,” continued Mia as she finished sending a text and then met Rosie’s eyes to push her agenda. “But, if you want my opinion, he misses you, really misses you. You both just need to talk about what happened with Harry, clear the air and move on. No better time to do that than whilst doing a bit of amateur sleuthing together.”

“And don’t forget you’ve agreed to be Matt’s Plus One at our wedding. It’ll be the first time he’s set foot in St Andrew’s church since the fiasco with Victoria running out on him, so you can’t let him down too!”

Rosie recalled the steamroller tactics Grace had employed to coerce them into agreeing to partner each other at her forthcoming nuptials on Christmas Eve at St Andrew’s Church. It was a day Grace had been planning ever since she’d set eyes on Josh whilst backpacking around Thailand with her best friend, Abbi. Six months later, the two girls had met up with Josh again whilst he was completing a five-hundred-mile cycle ride up the east coast of Vietnam from Hoi An to Halong Bay, during which Abbi had met Dylan who knew Josh through his Extreme Cycling Excursions company.

“I wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world, Grace. And, of course I don’t mind joining forces with Matt to help investigate what happened to Theo. But I don’t think I’ll have a lot of time to devote to searching for clues and deducing theories this time. Not only do I have the guests in the lodges to look after, but I’ve still got the Christmas Carousel competition to organise and supervise, as well as all the catering to sort out for the party on Saturday afternoon after the judging.”

“I knew you’d say something like that,” said Mia, a twinkle appearing in her eye as she slipped her mobile back in her pocket with a grin. “And I think I might just have a solution.”

The vicarage’s doorbell tinkled right on cue.

Chapter 4

“Hello, it’s just me! The door was open. Coco! Coco! Come here!” came a sing-song voice from the vicarage’s hallway before the kitchen door was shoved open by the nose of a honey-haired Lhasa Apso who rushed in to greet them vociferously before claiming the perfect spot in front of the Aga. Clearly Coco had been there before. However, her owner wasn’t so comfortable to be met by a room full of visitors and visibly blanched when she saw the five women sat around the table hugging their matching Portmeirion mugs, all eyes resting on the new arrival. “Oh, hi. I didn’t realise everyone would be congregating here?”

“Hi, Corinne,” smiled Mia, getting up to fetch an extra mug and an empty plate when she saw Corinne was carrying a white confectionery box emblazoned with the Adriano’s Deli logo. “Thanks for coming over. Tea or coffee?”

“Erm, coffee please, black,” said Corinne, nervously flicking the sides of her short bob, the colour of liquid coal, behind her ears as she slipped into the seat next to Rosie and raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrows in enquiry.

Rosie shrugged her shoulders. It was clear that Mia had asked Corinne to come over, but she had no idea why. She had only met the waitress from Adriano’s Deli once before when she and Matt had popped in to sample a selection of their delicious Italian confectionary. She felt the corners of her lips twist upwards when she recalled their brief conversation. It had turned out that Adriano had chosen to employ a waitress who was not only a committed vegetarian, but was also gluten-intolerant and therefore couldn’t eat anything that was on offer at his deli. However, that didn’t prevent her from enthusing over the myriad of pastries that were on offer, a selection of which Mia was decanting onto a platter adorned with a profusion of the ubiquitous Portmeirion flowers.

“Thanks, Mia. So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

Corinne took a tentative sip of the coffee Mia had made for her, leaving a perfect imprint of scarlet lipstick on the rim of her mug. A waft of her signature jasmine perfume filled the air and her ruby nose stud glinted under the kitchen’s overhead lights as she glanced around the gathering.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve heard about the cycle accident in the woodland next to Ultimate Adventures?”

“Yes, Adriano told me. Awful, just awful. Wasn’t the victim one of your wedding guests, Grace?”

“Yes, and Theo also supplied our wedding cars. He and his girlfriend, Penny, came down to Norfolk a couple of days early so he could take part in the stag party celebrations. They’re staying at the Windmill lodges – with Sam and Zara, and Abbi and Dylan.”

“What’s the news from the hospital?”

“He’s going to be okay, thank God,” said Rosie, experiencing a sharp kick of discomfort to her abdomen as she contemplated how the outcome could have been so different. “Apparently, if Theo hadn’t been such an accomplished cyclist, he could have been seriously injured. His wound’s been stitched and he’s been advised to stay in hospital for a couple of days, but Matt says he’s adamant about not missing the Christmas Carousel competition – apparently he’s intent on producing a tree worthy of the Rockefeller Plaza!”

“Well, it’s a relief he’s in such good spirits,” sighed Carole, her kindly face relaxing as she selected one of Adriano’s home-baked cannoli stuffed with cream cheese and coated in crushed pistachios. “And that he’s not suggesting the competition is cancelled!”

“Only because he wants his name engraved on the inaugural trophy!” muttered Grace, rolling her eyes.

“But we still need to find out who did this, and why, as soon as possible,” said Mia, leaning forward on her elbows to press her point more forcefully. “Most of the wedding guests have either arrived or are on their way, so whatever you say, Grace, it’s too late to even think about cancelling the wedding.”

“Cancel the wedding? No way!” gasped Corinne, her soft Welsh accent thickening with astonishment at the suggestion.

“Mia, we can’t expect our friends to celebrate such a joyous occasion when there’s a crazy person running amok in the Willerby woods, can we? Right next to where the reception is being held! What if something else happens? And what if it’s Josh who’s being targeted? Oh my God, what if it was Josh who was meant to fall off his bike? What if someone wants us to cancel the wedding?”

Grace’s eyes widened with alarm and Carole gave her daughter’s slender shoulder a squeeze. “Darling, you mustn’t say things like that. I’m sure this whole unfortunate debacle will turn out to be a freak accident, and if not, then I’m sure the police will have the culprit under lock and key before the week is out. Your guests are perfectly safe and you and Josh are certainly not being targeted.”

Rosie’s heart filled with sympathy for Grace and Carole. The Coulson family had endured their fair share of tragedy over the years and certainly did not deserve to find themselves in such a predicament. She knew the absence of Grace’s younger sister, Harriet, who had died of meningitis at the age of seven, would be keenly felt during the celebrations and they could do without the added stress this incident had caused.

“So,” continued Mia, meeting Corinne’s wary silver eyes – she clearly suspected Mia had an ulterior motive for inviting her over for coffee at the vicarage apart from the chance to sample a selection of delicious Italian cream cakes. “Rosie and Matt have kindly agreed to put on their metaphorical deerstalkers again and attempt to unravel the mystery of who in their right mind would stretch a length of twine between two trees that straddle a cycle path! And you, Corinne, could be just the answer to our prayers.”

“Me? Really? How?”

If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Rosie would have giggled at the almost comedic look of horror on Corinne’s face.

“Well, there’s just so much to do, what with organising the first Christmas tree decorating competition and preparing all the festive food for the party afterwards,” began Mia, running the back of her hand theatrically across her forehead, keeping her mahogany eyes trained on Corinne like a puppy desperate for a chocolate treat. “Not to mention looking after the guests in the lodges. Add to that the investigation of the cycling accident and it all adds up to a lot of work for Rosie. Now, if we could find her a little bit of extra help, it would free up some time for her to resume her role as Matt’s intrepid partner. Oh, I mean crime-fighting partner, of course.”

Rosie missed Mia’s mischievous smirk because she was in the process of demolishing one of Adriano’s Cavallucci pastries, so preoccupied with relishing the flavours of anise, honey, almonds and candied fruit that her reaction to Mia’s suggestion was somewhat delayed.

“Mia, I’m—”

“So, I’ve had an idea.”

Mia ignored Rosie’s frantic gesturing and continued to address Corinne who was busy feeding the final crumbs of one of Carole’s mince pies to Coco. When she realised Mia had paused in her soliloquy, and that all eyes were trained on her, her forehead creased in confusion.

“What?”

“If Adriano can spare you from the deli for a few hours, would you be able to help me and Rosie out with the baking for the Christmas Carousel party? Just until the police have arrested the perpetrator, which could even be as soon as tomorrow? And I’m sure Graham wouldn’t mind you using one of the luxury lodges – complete with heated outdoor spa and Moulton Brown toiletries. Much more sumptuous than your room above the deli,” added Mia, her eyebrows raised encouragingly as she nodded her head in anticipation of Corinne’s agreement. “It’s three days at the most.”

“Well, I’m not sure I—” began Corinne, nervously stroking Coco’s soft fur as she cast around for an excuse to turn down Mia’s offer without appearing to be the curmudgeon who single-handedly prevented the Willerby Wedding of the Year from taking place.

“It’s the perfect solution,” added Grace, her tears dried, her face suffused with renewed enthusiasm. “With Rosie and Matt on the case, this whole thing will be solved in no time and Josh and I can concentrate on having the wedding day we’ve always dreamed of.”

“No pressure there, then,” muttered Rosie.

She glanced across the table at Corinne, intending to offer her a sympathetic smile; after all, she had often been on the receiving end of Mia’s ‘good ideas’ herself. Under the neon glare of the kitchen lights, she noticed for the first time that their visitor’s eyes were red-rimmed.

“Are you okay, Corinne?”

“I suppose so. It’s just well you know, this is all very shocking, isn’t it? Nothing like this ever happened where I used to live. I have to admit that I’m a bit scared. What if they’re still out there, the person who did this—lurking in the trees—watching us all? I usually walk Coco in those woods. Is it even safe to go there now?”

Rosie smiled. “Don’t worry. You’ll be okay up at the Windmill lodges. Abbi and Dylan are staying in the shepherd’s hut, and there’s Sam and Zara in the lodges. Penny will be there by herself too until Theo is discharged from the hospital which probably won’t be until the end of the week, and I’ll be in my flat above the café. We’ll be fine if we stick together. Anyway, we’re not even sure that Theo was the intended target.”

“What do you mean?”

Rosie wished she’d kept her mouth shut when she saw the look of horror on Corinne’s face. A spasm of guilt sliced through her chest as Mia sent her a withering look.

“All I meant was that the police’s investigation is at such an early stage we don’t know anything for certain. It could have been an attempt at poaching gone wrong.”

“Okay. I’m happy to help you out with the baking, but I think I’ll just stay in the village and come over to the Windmill Café when I’ve finished my shift at the deli, if that’s okay.”

“That would be great, Corinne. Thank you,” smiled Rosie, an upward tick of enthusiasm bursting into her chest. Now that was sorted all she wanted to do was find Matt and get on with the search for the truth.

“Is that a yes, then, Rosie?” asked Grace, the desperation on her face sealing Rosie’s determination. “You and Matt will do it?”

“Hey, what am I getting volunteered for now?” asked the man himself from the doorway.

“Hi, Matt,” smiled Grace. “Is Josh with you?”

“No, he’s volunteered to help Freddie, Sam and Dylan. They’re doing a final sweep of the Ultimate Adventures woodland to make sure there are no more obstacles for the unwary to walk or ride into.”

Matt slumped down at the table, shoving the sleeves of his logoed Ultimate Adventures fleece up his forearms in a gesture of irritation at the selfishness of the person responsible for Theo’s injuries. Exhaling a long, ragged sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair so that it stood up into spiky blond tufts and made him look like he’d just left his surfboard at the back door. Rosie caught a stray whiff of his signature lemony cologne and was rewarded by the pleasurable twist she always experienced whenever she was in Matt’s company, accompanied by the delicious pull of attraction – something that she had missed since he had been avoiding her.

“Any tea left in the pot, Carole? Not had a decent cuppa since six o’clock this morning.”

“Of course. And Matt, now you’re here, would you please reassure Grace that it’s totally unnecessary to talk about cancelling the wedding. I take it the police already have a list of suspects they want to interview? Do they think this was a random attack or was someone in your cycling group targeted?”

“They’re working on the theory that we were targeted. I can categorically state that the wire was not there yesterday. Freddie and I inspected every route through the Ultimate Adventures woodland, including the shortcuts, in preparation for the final sprint of the cycle ride and every one of them was clear, which means whoever did this had to have installed the trap after dark in the full knowledge that the stag party would be passing through the next day. The police have confirmed that if Theo hadn’t been such an experienced cyclist, well—he could have been decapitated!”

Gasps of shock ricocheted around the cosy kitchen.

“Oh, my God!”

“Who would do such a thing?”

A curl of nausea twisted through Rosie’s stomach as she realised that once again they were dealing with a situation that could have been extremely serious. She had thought that when she escaped the London suburbs to make her home in a cute little windmill in the Norfolk countryside she was headed for a calmer, more relaxed way of life where nothing frightening ever happened. How wrong she had been, because since arriving in Willerby she had been involved in investigating a potentially lethal poisoning, an almost fatal shooting and now what? A potential garrotting? Ergh!

“Do the police have any suspects?” asked Mia, her eyes trained on Matt’s as she stroked Alfie’s ears.

“They’ve asked for details of everyone who took part in the cycle ride, and their partners.”

“What? Are they seriously suggesting that one of us had something to do with this?” demanded Abbi, spluttering her tea across the table, and, seeing the look of dismay on Rosie’s face, reaching for the kitchen towel to wipe up the mess. Unfortunately, this gesture wasn’t enough for Rosie and she left the table to go in search of the anti-bacterial spray.

“Well, if Theo was the intended victim, it’s a sensible assumption.”

“Oh my God, how awful!” moaned Grace, shaking her head in distress. “How can Josh and I even contemplate getting married when our guests are being interrogated by the police? It’s not what I had in mind when I said I wanted a quiet country wedding! This is all my fault!”

“It’s okay, love. Come on, haven’t we got a plan to sort out this whole unpleasant business quickly?”

Rosie caught Carole’s eye and saw her nod her head in the direction of Matt, her expression making her intention plain. However, before she could formulate the words to inform him of what Mia had cooked up for them, her friend had leapt into the breach, her enthusiasm sending Alfie from her lap to join Coco next to the Aga.

“We thought you and Rosie could join forces – like you did last time – to get to the bottom of what happened to Theo? Please say yes, Matt. Please say you’ll do this for Grace and Josh.”

Rosie stared at Matt, anxiety gnawing at her nerve endings as he took his time to respond to Mia’s suggestion. For a few seconds she thought he was going to refuse until his lips curled into his habitual grin with a side-order of mischief. In that instance she knew their previous closeness had not been eliminated by Harry’s reappearance in her life, and she knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Another Willerby Whodunnit!” Matt shook his head and Rosie loved the sparkle that had appeared in his eyes. “At least this time I can’t lay the blame at the door of the Windmill Café and its intrepid manager! I’m so sorry this has happened, Grace, and of course I’ll do everything I can to find out who’s responsible. In fact, I’ve already had a preliminary chat with Josh before I came over here.”

“Matt! You can’t honestly be suggesting that my future son-in-law…” began Carole, her jaw sagging at what she perceived to be a slur on Josh’s character.

“Of course not, but he’s the only one who knows all his stag party guests. So, apart from Freddie, Josh and myself, there was Archie from the Drunken Duck, whom I’m also inclined to discount, and then Sam, Dylan and Theo.”

“Well, I really can’t believe Dylan had anything to do with it!” declared Grace, swinging her gaze apologetically to Abbi who was staring at Matt askance. “Or Sam, and I don’t know much about Theo because I only met him for the first time this week, but you can’t seriously be suggesting that he did this to himself!”

“Of course not, and it turns out Josh doesn’t know Theo as well as the others, either. He only invited him to take part in the cycle ride because Theo’d offered his vintage Rolls for the wedding as a favour. Apart from Penny, it’s Sam and Zara who know Theo the best – apparently he’s their sons’ godfather.”

Matt pushed back his chair, picked up his plate and mug and carried them over to the sink where he tossed them into the soapy water and left them. Rosie suppressed an eyeroll and, out of habit, she rose from the table, collect everyone’s plates and mugs together, rinsed and then dried them with a flower-sprigged tea towel and returned each one to its allotted space on the Welsh dresser. Matt could bring chaos to an empty room if left to his own devices, but she was self-aware enough to realise that her perception could simply be the result of her own addiction to order and extreme cleanliness, a trait that had reared its ugly head more often since Harry’s reappearance on the scene.

Despite Harry’s disloyalty, she had adored working in their little florist’s shop in Pimlico, experimenting with ever-increasing creativity in the sphere of bridal floristry. On the other hand, she also enjoyed her gastronomic adventures in the Windmill Café and relished being given a free-rein to showcase the very best that British confectionary had to offer. She loved baking up a storm with Mia at her side, not to mention the possible resumption of what she had thought was a long-forgotten dream – to return to college so she could follow in her father’s footsteps and one day, maybe, qualify as a solicitor. She wondered briefly what her sister Georgina would say when she told her she was considering studying A’ level law at the local High School where Mia’s mother was a food technology teacher.

So, if she accepted Harry’s business proposition, it would mean relocating back to London and the chance of resuming her education would be, if not extinguished, put on the back burner. The stress of her prevarication had reawakened her cleanliness demons from their former slumber, so the sooner she made her decision, the better. However, now was not the time for a spot of soul-searching but for gathering facts. Her brain whirred into action and questions bounced around thick and fast.

“What possible reason could anyone have for wanting to harm Theo?”

“I have no idea but we should make a start on finding out.”

“Who are you going to interview first? Penny?” asked Mia, enthusiasm lighting up her face.

“No, I think we should give her some space to come to terms with what’s happened, don’t you?”

“Well, if Sam knows Theo the best, then maybe we should start with him,” suggested Rosie.

“I agree. Grace, do you mind filling us in on how Josh knows Sam and Zara?”

“Sure. Josh has known Sam since school and they went to the same university; different degree courses, but they shared a flat together. When Josh decided to set up Extreme Cycling Excursions, Sam helped him out with some marketing and promo via the golf club where he works as a pro. Sam met Zara in his last year at uni. They have twin boys, Barnie and Oscar who are having the time of their lives with Zara’s parents on their farm in the Lake District. They’re a lovely couple. I’m sure Sam will be able to fill you in with anything you need to know about Theo. Come to think of it, perhaps you should ask Zara instead – I get the feeling she doesn’t particularly like the guy very much.”

“Why?” asked Matt.

Grace’s eyes widened as she realised what she had just said. “Oh, no, no, I didn’t mean that she—”

“Come on, Rosie. Let’s get over to the café and make a start on our sleuthing. I can’t wait to hear your individual take on what happened in the woods. I have to admit, I’ve missed listening to your outlandish theories. Though from what I’ve heard so far, maybe this time you’ll be right!”

Chapter 5

Every time Rosie drove through the gates guarding the entrance to the Windmill Café, she experienced a pleasant twinge of homecoming. Christmas had truly arrived, mainly courtesy of Mia, with an exuberant medley of festive decorations. Hand-crafted wreaths hung proudly on the front of every lodge door and plain white fairy-lights twinkled around the windows and on the peppermint sails of the windmill. She had even been persuaded to drape necklaces of holly-sprigged bunting that Mia and her mother had created around the wooden veranda. However, she’d put her foot down at the suggestion they invest in a menagerie of inflatable snowmen to welcome the competitors to the Christmas Carousel contest.

Dusk was in the process of exhaling its last gasp, sending ribbons of indigo and amber across the sky along with a rather menacing cloud of chirping skylarks, their destination controlled by a higher force. An icy dampness hung in the air, and whilst the earlier rain had long-since ceased, clouds hung like bulbous balloons evidencing only a temporary reprieve. Maybe Grace and Mia would get their wish for a winter wonderland at the weekend, after all.

To her right, in the field at the rear of the windmill, crouched the borrowed marquee, its fabric sides flapping in the breeze like a pair of bellows. Her heart gave a sharp nip of gratitude when she saw one of the Ultimate Adventures SUVs parked in front of the entrance and Freddie and Josh helping to unload a consignment of Christmas trees whilst Archie attached each trunk to a huge circular wooden turntable, just like an over-sized Lazy Susan, inside the tent. Once again, Rosie was reminded what being part of a tightly knit community was all about. Every good deed was returned two-fold, and she vowed never to forget that.

Matt’s SUV crunched to a halt in the gravelled car park and Rosie drew up alongside him, dragging on the handbrake of her Mini Cooper and scampering in his wake as he made his way to the French doors leading into the café. From the look of determination on his face, he had clearly downloaded his Amateur Detective app already.

She unlocked the doors and stepped inside, flicking on the light and taking a moment to inhale a deep, replenishing lungful of air that contained her favourite aroma – a symphony of disinfectant, freshly baked scones and a light top-note of bleach.

Heaven!

The nervousness that had been brewing about being alone with Matt for the first time since he’d witnessed Harry go down on one knee and propose to her seeped away. She set the kettle to boil, grabbed a selection of the Windmill Café’s signature mugs and a plate of the mince pies she had baked the previous day, and turned to face him.

“Matt, I—”

“Rosie, I—”

“Hi? Is it okay to come in? I could murder one of your gingerbread lattes, Rosie. Sam’s gone over to the marquee to see if the guys need any help with organising the Christmas trees and, well, I know it sounds stupid but I didn’t want to stay in the lodge by myself. Abbi’s not in her little shepherd’s hut, and Penny isn’t back from the hospital yet so when I saw the lights go on in here I thought I pop in for a chat. I hope I’m not interrupting anything? Oh, are these home-made mince pies?”

“Help yourself, Zara,” said Rosie, turning on the coffee machine and catching the smirk on Matt’s lips. The fates seem to be enjoying sending distractions their way – maybe it was too early to have the necessary heart-to-heart. “Why don’t you and Matt grab a seat on the sofa over there and I’ll bring the coffee across when it’s ready?”

“Thanks, Rosie. You’re a lifesaver.”

Zara wriggled out of her bright orange padded jacket and tossed her matching satchel, which Rosie recognised as one of Abbi’s designs, onto the overstuffed white settee next to the French doors which in summer months were concertinaed back so that visitors could enjoy a meal on the veranda.

Rosie took the opportunity to survey Josh’s best man’s wife from her vantage point behind the kitchen counter. Her dark brown curls looked slightly more dishevelled than usual and there were smudges of exhaustion beneath her eyes. Rosie supposed that tiredness went with territory of being a mum to twin boys! Her makeup had been perfectly applied though – a triple coat of mascara, a slick of apricot lipstick and there was a delicious aroma of rich oriental perfume fighting for supremacy with the ground coffee.

However, as Rosie deposited the tray of drinks on the coffee table, she could see Zara’s copper-coloured nail polish was chipped and the skin around her nails had been so avidly scratched that blood had been drawn. Her heart performed a flip-flop of sympathy. She knew this was the first time Sam and Zara had managed a weekend away as a couple since their children had burst onto the scene and they should really be relaxing in the spa, enjoying each other’s company over a glass of wine instead of waiting for the police to arrive to interview them.

“Mmm, thanks Rosie, this coffee smells amazing.”

Zara gave Rosie a weak smile as she lifted her mug to her lips and took a sip, but it didn’t reach her hazel eyes, and before she lowered her drink, a necklace of tears had gathered along her lower lashes.

“Are you okay?” asked Rosie.

“Not really. After what’s happened to Theo, all I want to do is go home to see my boys.” Zara’s lower lip trembled as she fought to reign in her emotions. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, they love spending time with my parents on their farm. Barnie adores helping my dad with the sheep, and my mum’s teaching Oscar how to bake bread. It’s just, well, what if the person who did this to Theo is still out there, in the woods, watching us, waiting for their chance to—Oh, God! I can’t bear the thought of my children being orphans!”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” said Matt soothingly.

“Does that mean you think Theo was targeted?”

“I do. And by someone who knew him well.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Theo was the only one of us who took the short-cut through the woodland. If he’d stuck to the path like everyone else, none of this would have happened. The person responsible has to have known that Theo is super-competitive and would have taken the opportunity to pre-plan his route to give himself the best chance of winning.”

“Well, that gives the police an extensive pool of suspects. Everyone who’s ever met Theo knows what he’s like; always boasting about his last great adventure, or how many trophies he’s got in his specially built cabinet, or his impressive handicap at golf, not to mention his amazing achievement of scoring five hole-in-ones. Oh my God! You think it’s one of us, don’t you? One of the wedding guests?”

Zara’s eyes widened as she stared at Matt with incredulity. She returned her coffee mug to the table and dragged the edges of her dark russet cardigan around her chest as if protecting herself from Matt’s suspicions. She folded her arms around her abdomen and drew her feet underneath her bottom. Rosie sat forward in her seat and levelled her eyes with Zara’s.

“Zara, everyone is upset about what’s happened. Grace is threatening to cancel her wedding, so Matt and I have promised to try to find out who did this to Theo so she and Josh can relax and enjoy their special day without all this unpleasantness hanging over the day. But we need your help.”

“My help? Why?”

“Well, we thought we’d ask everyone who knows Theo to tell us a bit about him, just so we can get a picture of who might have wanted to do something like this. Is it okay if we ask you a few questions? Grace told us that you and Sam know Theo the best.”

Zara flicked her eyes from Rosie to Matt and back again, her fingernail-scratching going into overdrive. After a few seconds, her shoulders dropped and she collected her mug from the table, hugged it into her chest and said “Go ahead. I want to find out who did this too, for Grace’s sake.”

Rosie wondered why she hadn’t said ‘for Theo’s sake’, but decided to let it pass.

“So, how did you meet Theo?” asked Matt, getting straight to the point and earning himself a glare from Rosie.

“Through Sam. They’re both members of a local cycling club in Shrewsbury where we live, and they played golf occasionally. Sam stopped going to the club after the twins were born, and he only uses his cycle to get to work now – he’s a golf pro at our local club – so he and Theo haven’t spent as much time together recently and that suits me fine. You might think I’m awful saying this, but Theo Morris is not at the top of my list of favourite people.”