Читать книгу The Windmill Café: Christmas Trees - Poppy Blake - Страница 10

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.”