Читать книгу The Windmill Café - Poppy Blake - Страница 19

As they drove to the other side of the village, Rosie rolled down the window of Mia’s little Fiat to marvel at the beauty of its landscaped gardens. All the lawns had been meticulously trimmed, rectangles of green velvet rippling in the breeze like liquid luck, some strewn with the tiny white dots of daisies, some as perfect as bowling greens. In every garden, the herbaceous borders burst with geraniums, hollyhocks and delphinium, vivid with summer bounty. A parade of pansies and petunias, marigolds and alyssum skirted the flower beds, flanked by sturdy rhododendron bushes, magnolias and wooden arches clad in clematis, all in full flower. Birdsong echoed through the tangled branches of the oak and horse chestnut trees to the accompaniment of the languid drone of a solitary lawn mower.

A waft of fragrance floated through the open car window. For Rosie, the sweet aroma of crushed rose petals was the scent of summer more than any other floral bouquet. She wished with all her heart that she could retreat to a shady bench amongst the blooms, with one of her favourite glossy cookery books, and lose herself in another world.

‘It’s really pretty, isn’t it?’ said Mia, sending a smile in Rosie’s direction. ‘Willerby has won best village in the Britain in Bloom competition quite a few times. Hey, Rosie, your flower arrangements at the garden party were amazing, have you ever thought of entering any competitions? You’d get my vote!’

‘Thanks, Mia. Actually, I’ve won quite a few prizes already.’

‘You have? Why’ve you kept that a secret? Is it because Carole might co-opt you onto the church rota?’

Rosie laughed, but the familiar feeling of discomfort started to rotate around her abdomen. Looking back, she knew that entering her floral art into competitions had been the beginning of the end for her and Harry’s relationship. Things had never quite been the same after she had won a prestigious gold medal at a floristry competition for which Harry had spent weeks creating his own submission, sourcing exotic flowers from the far side of the globe and declaring his design to be a shoo-in. Especially as he had spent the days leading up to the judging disparaging every aspect of her arrangement and advising her on how to bring it up to a more professional standard.

‘Of course not. I’m proud of my achievements, it’s just that… well… Harry was jealous of the accolades so I just got used to not singing about them from the rooftops, that’s all.’

‘That man has a lot to answer for!’

‘True. You know, I’ll never forget the look of complete incredulity on his face the very first time I entered a flower arranging contest and my name was announced as the winner in the “most innovative bridal bouquet” category. We had our first big row on the way home, but from that day onwards, I got a taste for entering my work into competitions.’

‘So what kind of things did you win?’ laughed Mia. ‘A lorryload of manure?’

‘Not quite, but you’re not too far off. I’ve won a few garden forks, a lawn mower – very useful when you live in a tiny flat in inner London. Oh, and let’s not forget the year’s supply of slug pellets. But my favourite prize was a VIP trip for two to the spa at The Langham for a design I presented in an oversized cocktail glass. Of course, Harry was in a sulk because he didn’t win with his magnolias, and he refused to come with me, so I took my sister, Georgie. When I got back all scrubbed and fragrant, Harry was surprisingly contrite and like a fool I thought it was because he had missed me. I should have known better because it was the following week that I found him with Heidi.’

‘Rosie, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.’

The image of Harry and Heidi together floated across her vision, but the memory was too painful to dwell on and she was grateful when they crunched into the car park of the outward-bound activity centre.

Matt answered the door of the huge wooden cabin that housed Ultimate Adventures’ reception and office with an apple clenched between his teeth and surprise etched on his face. The tang of fried bacon drifted to Rosie’s nostrils reminding her stomach that in the early morning baking frenzy she had foregone breakfast and lunch.

‘Come in. Want a coffee?’

Perceptive as usual, thought Rosie. A small smile tugged at her lips as she and Mia followed Matt into the tiny kitchen at the back of the lodge.

‘So, to what do I owe the honour? Why aren’t you at the café?’

Whilst Mia explained the reasons for their visit to Matt, Rosie glanced around the room and the desperation to create order that always lurked just beneath the surface was almost overwhelming. The whole room was a maelstrom of chaos. It was probably larger than the kitchen she worked in at the café, but because of the jumble of discarded cartons, packaging and plastic bottles on every available surface, it looked a lot smaller. The only space on the workbenches was an area next to the coffee machine where Matt was preparing their drinks. Every wall held either a noticeboard pinned with numerous flyers, or a whiteboard scrawled with instructions and schedules. If this was what the kitchen looked like, she would hate to see the state of Ultimate Adventures’ office.

She slid into a chair at the pine table opposite Matt and gave him a smile, but she knew it didn’t meet her eyes. Uncontrolled emotions churned through her body causing her to feel woozy as her mind wandered from the anxiety of the inspectors’ imminent visit to the irresistible urge to start tidying up and scrubbing down the countertops. She surreptitiously pushed her hands under her bottom and started counting backwards from one hundred, matching each number with a long exhalation of breath.

She knew Matt was watching her discomfort and she had never been more relieved when she heard the crunch of tyres on gravel outside the kitchen window signalling that Freddie had arrived for his shift.

‘I think I’ll go and say hi to Freddie.’

Rosie couldn’t get out of her seat fast enough and almost sprinted to the car park to wait for Freddie to unload the boot of his ancient air-force blue Land Rover and transport a huge box of ropes and crampons into the storage hut next to the reception.

‘Hi, Rosie! Didn’t expect to see you down here? Have you come to take a flight on the zip wire?’

‘God, no thank you!’

A shiver flashed up her spine at the thought of climbing up the rickety rope ladder she could see dangling in the trees to her right. She squinted into the canopy of leaves overhead and could just about make out the wooden platform from where Ultimate Adventures’ clients hurtled themselves into oblivion - willingly. She would rather spend an hour in Matt’s kitchen!

‘Perhaps something else, then? What about rock-climbing?’ smiled Freddie, his open, friendly face nudging her spirits northwards. He had been through a nightmare over the last couple of days, but his sweet temperament was as upbeat as it had always been.

Rosie resolved to learn from Freddie’s example so she pushed her shoulders back and inhaled a deep confidence-inducing breath. Maybe now was the time to learn something new? She cast another glance at the zip wire and cringed. She had been so focused on the sky-high obstacle course that she hadn’t realized that Matt and Mia had joined them.

‘Mia’s brought me up to speed with her suspicions and I totally agree with her. We’ve got to investigate what’s going on at the windmill’s lodges ourselves. And you’re spot on, Rosie, we need to find out more about Suki’s friends’ backgrounds. However, while I’ve got you here, you might as well check out one of our activities. It’ll take your mind off what’s going on at the café,’ said Matt.

‘What’s going on at the café?’ asked Freddie, his eyes suddenly taking on a hunted look.

Mia quickly filled Freddie in about the results of Suki’s blood tests and the visit of the environmental health inspectors. ‘We were wondering if you could tell us anything about monkshood?’

Freddie’s mouth gaped. ‘How could Suki have got something like that in her throat spray? I’m almost certain monkshood, or aconitum napellus, doesn’t even grow in the woodlands around here. I’ve heard of it in other parts of the country but never here. It does have beautiful, deep blue-purple petals that resemble a monk’s hood, hence the name, but it’s also known as Devil’s Helmet because it’s so toxic.’ Freddie ran his palms over his forearms; the copper-coloured hairs had risen into goose bumps. ‘Are you absolutely sure that’s what Dr Bairstow said?’

‘Yes, sure.’

‘Well, I think that’s put me off suggesting wild flower tours alongside the clay-pigeon shooting.’

‘Are there any other poisonous plants scattered around the woodland?’ Rosie asked, keen to delay the moment when Matt handed her a safety helmet and hi-vis vest. ‘There must be a few?’

‘Oh, yes, there are several. There are the ones everyone’s familiar with – laburnum, yew, foxgloves, even convallaria majalis, more commonly known as lily-of-the-valley. We have all those in Norfolk. Got to be careful with flowering plants – they’re not just innocuous baubles to brighten up your garden. Rhubarb leaves are toxic and used to make rat poison and don’t forget the daffodils, ubiquitous around here in the spring. The flowers are harmless but the bulbs and stems can cause severe stomach upsets. However, the most common plant that everyone knows is toxic is the Deadly Nightshade – atropa belladonna – the whole plant is lethal.’

‘What about other rare species?’

Rosie knew all about the flowers she used to make wedding bouquets, wreaths and table decorations, but she realized that her knowledge of more toxic plants was not as detailed as Freddie’s. He seemed to be an enthusiast and she tried not to think about what his interest in horticulture might mean as he warmed to his subject.

‘There’s been a recent escalation in gardeners growing wild flowers. TV programmes have encouraged people to sow wild flower seeds to encourage bees and wild animals into their gardens, so there’s been a resurgence of plants we had thought were extinct. Now I come to think about it, there was a case a couple of years ago up the coast at Souter Lighthouse where the corncockle – agrostemma githago – was found. Every part of the plant is filled with glycoside githagin and agrostemmic acid, just a brush of the petals can cause severe stomach cramps, vomiting, diarrhoea, dizziness and, in extreme cases, death.’

Freddie was on a roll as his audience listened in fascination. He reminded Rosie of one of her old chemistry teachers, Mr Jarvis, who was so passionate about his subject that his cheeks used to glow when he regaled them with interesting science-related snippets.

‘With modern farming methods and excessive use of chemical pesticides it was thought the corncockle had been wiped out, but it was once very common in the nineteenth century. In the Souter case, the experts thought it was possible that a seed had blown in from a garden where someone had cultivated the plant or, my own personal opinion, that it had lain dormant in the soil until the ground was disturbed.’

‘Freddie, I really think it’s a great idea to offer tours of the woodlands around here,’ said Mia, her eyes sparkling with vicarious pride. ‘In fact, why don’t you take me for a stroll around the site now? I’d love to hear more.’

Rosie watched Mia link her arm through Freddie’s and the pair sauntered off through the trees. She turned to smile at Matt but his eyes were glinting with mischief.

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

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

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

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

‘Is that a long bow?’

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

‘Erm…’

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

‘Sorry.’

‘Here, let me demonstrate.’

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

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

‘Great first attempt.’

‘Really?’

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

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

‘Okay. Let’s move on.’

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

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

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

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

‘But where’s the target?’

Matt smiled. ‘Right there.’

‘But that’s a… oh, I get it.’

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

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

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

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

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

‘Well, not everyone.’

‘What do you mean?’

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

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

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

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

‘What happened, Matt?’

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

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

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

‘Show up?’

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

‘Matt, I’m so sorry…’

Rosie’s heart performed a summersault of anguish on Matt’s behalf as she pictured him standing next to his best man waiting for his bride to walk down the aisle, but instead seeing her father approach. She couldn’t conceive of how devastating that must have been and Matt’s experience certainly put what had happened with Harry into perspective. She had loved Harry, but they hadn’t been engaged, nor, now she came to think about it, had they even discussed marriage despite being in the wedding industry. Only now did that strike her as odd, but there would be time later to consider this new realization.

She held Matt’s gaze as he fought the returning memories of that painful episode in his life before offering her a rueful smile. Unsurprisingly his response was as pragmatic as she had expected.

‘Actually, I’ve come to terms with what happened, view it as a positive really. We were clearly not right for each other, but I just wish Victoria had had the balls to tell me before everyone had invested their hard-earned cash in their wedding outfits and taken their seats in the pews! My aunt Florence saved up for months to buy her hat, and my cousin used her precious few days’ annual leave to come down from Scotland for our wedding. However, I’m pleased to report that she’s happy. She’s engaged to a Spanish guy called Raphael who has a yacht in the Mediterranean. It was over a year ago, but I still can’t face going back to the vicarage.’

‘Matt, I’m…’

‘Right, enough of the emotional interlude. Want to continue with the shoot? I promise to steer clear of the Ultimate Adventures personalized therapy service from now on!’ Matt joked a little unconvincingly. ‘It’s good to talk, and where better than surrounded by members of the woodland community who won’t judge you for your frailties or repeat your words in gossip?’

Rosie took the hint, but something had shifted in their relationship, something intangible that caused a warm, fuzzy feeling at the base of her stomach to glow like an ember of hope, hope that when the current ordeal was over, perhaps there would be something much more pleasurable they could apply their investigation skills to.

‘Agreed. Okay, Legolas, brace yourself. I think archery could just be my new favourite pastime. Where’s the next target?’

Rosie followed Matt around the archery field course and by the time they had finished she was getting the hang of how to hold the bow and had scored two hits out of the six. Matt had regaled her with several anecdotes about previous groups who had booked the course, one of whom had insisted on having photographs of their board of directors pinned to the targets.