Читать книгу The Windmill Café: Christmas Trees - Poppy Blake - Страница 8

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.