Книга - The Windmill Café: Autumn Leaves
The Windmill Café: Autumn Leaves
Poppy Blake
‘I relished every moment of this story … definitely not one to be missed’ Emma, Shaz’s Book BlogSummer days drifting away…As the last rays of summer sunshine fade away, Rosie Barnes swaps serving ice-cold fizz and strawberries for warm, spiced pumpkin latte and chocolate brownies. Her love for the Windmill Café remains as strong as its peppermint green sails.So, with time on her hands, Rosie agrees to help gorgeous Matt Wilson on one of his outdoor expeditions – camping under the stars with rugged Matt the perfect chance to wind down.As the Autumn mist rolls in, the change in weather brings with it a sense of danger when one of the camping group is shot with a bow and arrow! An unfortunate accident, or a killer on the loose in picture-perfect Willerby?If news escapes, Rosie knows dreams of building a life at Windmill Café will be over for good. Unless she and Matt can solve the mystery before it’s too late!
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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 (http://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.
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Ebook Edition © March 2018 ISBN: 9780008285135
Version: 2018-04-20
Table of Contents
Cover (#uf9850078-0880-5d87-88c3-59b5472f1a13)
Title Page (#u5a7e4b7e-0a33-50a4-91e1-a60601feff99)
Copyright (#u261012f9-517f-5060-830c-de0df5c18455)
Dedication (#u9627c097-36ee-5b5f-bd1f-31e1dcde632f)
Chapter 1 (#uc17ace20-a000-5065-907e-bcad49f90bae)
Chapter 2 (#ubdef4db2-01ce-50cd-b6bb-ca3726ad08f1)
Chapter 3 (#u2117a061-c417-5b7a-839c-0486e45499ce)
Chapter 4 (#ud6d6902a-ad1e-5875-955d-cd2707e19433)
Chapter 5 (#uadfef20b-69a8-5861-8de0-64845a42453f)
Chapter 6 (#u2c6380a8-5acb-5307-8e19-3dc48329c203)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)
Also in This Series (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading… (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
About HarperImpulse (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
To Mum and Dad; I know you would be so proud to see my name on the cover of a novel
Chapter 1 (#u16df9274-79d1-5a20-87e1-fa6b78b18cfa)
Rosie surveyed the Windmill Café whilst she waited for her chocolate and pecan brownies to bake. Even without the burble of her customers’ cheerful chatter, the room still resonated with warmth, comfort and contentment. However, Rosie felt far from contented and comfortable because she knew she needed to broach the thorny subject of that night’s approaching escapades with Mia before she exploded from an overdose of anxiety.
‘So, what do you think of the blackberry and apple roulades?’
‘I think they’re amazing! They’re definitely going on the menu for the Autumn Leaves Hallowe’en party on Saturday,’ declared Mia, cramming a third mini Swiss roll into her mouth and rolling her eyes in confectionery ecstasy before crumbling into a fit of giggles.
‘And the pumpkin and treacle tartlets? Do they make it onto your list?’
‘Absolutely, and the apricot and cranberry brownies, and the gingerbread with lemon icing, and the red velvet cupcakes with the raspberry coulis that looks just like blood! You know, I really wish you’d reconsider my fabulous idea to hide eyeball gobstoppers inside the Boston Scream pie.’
‘Health and safety, Mia. Don’t you think we’ve had enough contact with the food inspectors to last us a lifetime? Okay, so that just leaves us with the punch to finalize.’
Rosie leaned over the huge copper jam pan she had been adding spices to all day. She inhaled a deep breath, savouring the heady fragrance of warm red wine, cinnamon sticks and cloves that sent her taste buds tingling. She gave the dark crimson liquor a stir before sampling it, gasping as the alcohol hit the back of her throat. Maybe if she downed a couple of glasses of the lethal brew she would find the courage to confess her swirling trepidation to Mia.
‘Well, if it tastes as good as it smells, we’re onto a winner,’ said Mia. ‘And we’re definitely having the hot chocolate with marshmallow ghosts and the green slime smoothies for the kids. I take it, then, that you’ve also vetoed my idea to float plastic spiders in the pomegranate cocktails?’
‘Yes! Of course I have!’
Rosie rolled her eyes in mock chastisement, but after what had happened at their Summer Breeze party in August, she was even more nervous than usual about hosting this celebration of all things scary – she didn’t think she could cope with a second drama. It hadn’t been her fault that one of their guests had been poisoned, but she’d still insisted on triple-testing every recipe for their Autumn Leaves party before it was granted a place on the menu, stipulating that only the most delicious, mouth-watering creations would be allowed to feature.
The celebration was also billed as a farewell bash for Mia, her friend and fellow baking fanatic, before she embarked on her foray into the field of outdoor sports. She was going to train as a zip wire instructor at the outward-bound centre, Ultimate Adventures, over the winter season when the café was only open at the weekends. Rosie knew she would miss Mia’s daily dose of chirpy banter, but she consoled herself with the fact that Mia was following one of her dreams. And anyway, they would still be able to meet up in the local pub, the Drunken Duck, whenever they wanted to partake in that trio of female solace; cocktails, cake and gossip.
She slid the last batch of cupcakes onto a wire rack to cool and plunged the baking sheet into a sink of hot soapy water, relishing the loud sizzle. She scrubbed the tray clean, dried it, and returned it to its allocated place in the drawer below the oven, before reaching for the antibacterial spray to wipe down the marble countertops one last time.
Rosie saw Mia smirk and shake her head in exasperation but choose to say nothing, and her heart ballooned with gratitude. Her friend understood the reasons behind her constant battle with the cleanliness demons, and the way she was unable to relax until every surface of her beloved café was spotless and sparkled under the overhead lights. She returned the spray to her box of deodorizing goodies, shoved her copper curls behind her ears where they burgeoned like inflated candy floss, and untied her apron strings, watching in amusement as Mia did the same.
‘I’m loving the autumnal theme you’ve got going on today, Mia! Black cats and witches’ hats are a perfect choice for our Hallowe’en bake-a-thon,’ she said, referring to her friend’s very loud apron.
‘And what did you think of the pumpkin one I wore yesterday?’
Rosie thought back to the previous day when she had struggled to keep a straight face as Mia – Queen of Quirky Culinary Attire – had produced an apron bedecked with pairs of pumpkins divided by what looked like courgettes, giving the unsuspecting onlooker pause for thought. She had politely declined Mia’s offer to make one for her so they could present a united front, insisting she preferred to stick with the Windmill Café’s signature aprons made from plain peppermint-coloured linen and embroidered with a very tasteful white windmill.
As Rosie performed her final check of the electric plugs and switches, the pirouette of unease that had curled through her veins all day tightened and she knew she couldn’t ignore her mounting apprehension any longer. She needed to just come straight out and say what was on her mind.
‘Do you think there is any way at all we can get out of going wild camping tonight? I’ve still got a long list of things to organize for the Autumn Leaves party, not to mention having to be around in case the remaining guests in the lodges and the shepherd’s hut need me for anything.’
Mia grinned, a glint of mischief appearing in her dark mahogany eyes.
‘You’ll need to come up with a much better excuse than that, Rosie! Matt and Freddie have been looking forward to this expedition for weeks. Anyway, how can you possibly consider giving up the chance to spend a night under the stars with Norfolk’s very own version of Bear Grylls? It’s the perfect opportunity for you to cement your relationship.’
‘Mia, I keep telling you, Matt and I are just friends!’
‘Friends who worked together to save the Windmill Café from certain disaster. If you and Matt hadn’t turned super-sleuth and uncovered who was responsible for poisoning Suki, then we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. Did Matt complain when he came to our aid in our time of need?’
‘No, of course he didn’t, but…’
‘So, now we’re repaying the favour. Matt needs us to go with him and Freddie to balance out the numbers. Only four of our lodge guests have signed up for the Wild Camping and Medieval Myths expedition; that’s all three of the guys, and Brad’s girlfriend Emma is coming too. Without us tagging along, it would mean Emma would be the only woman, so this way it’s a good mix with Matt and Freddie as our extremely hunky guides. Perfect!’
Mia removed her apron, shoved it into her handbag and slotted her arms into her white denim jacket which she had hand-embroidered with a garland of custard-yellow buttercups. More hippie than yuppie, Mia had definitely been born in the wrong era, with her love of all things flower-power, from the daisies in her hair to her gem-encrusted sandshoes.
Rosie adored her best friend and partner in culinary creation. She was well aware that the only reason she had been able to progress from forlorn florist to contented café manager was down to the eternally optimistic support of Mia Williams. It had been weeks since she had tortured herself with the memory of discovering her ex-boyfriend Harry rolling around amongst the chrysanthemums in their little flower shop in Pimlico with one of their bride-to-be clients. Her new home in the white-washed windmill with the peppermint green sails had turned out to be the perfect place to put her life back on track. She had moved on.
In fact – and she didn’t intend to admit this to Mia any time soon – she had even started to toy with the possibility of dating again. Just because she’d had her fingers burnt once didn’t mean she should avoid every encounter with a cosy log-burning fire for the rest of her life, did it?
However, there was still one thing she needed to work on and that was her attachment to her good old friend and enemy – bleach. No matter how hard she tried to contain her ever-present urge to clean, she just couldn’t relax until she was satisfied that not a single germ lingered anywhere in the café waiting for its chance to pounce on the gullible. She suspected that her obsession with hygiene required the attention that only a professional therapist could provide – especially after the heightened anxieties her recent brush with a potential food-poisoning scare had caused.
‘Right. I’ll let you go upstairs and get packed and I’ll see you over at Ultimate Adventures at seven o’clock. I know I don’t have to say this to you, Rosie, but I will anyway. Don’t be late! It’s a good hour and a half hike to where Matt and Freddie want us to set up camp for the night. And don’t forget to bring a torch … and maybe a few of those brownies too! Bye-ee.’
Rosie waved Mia off in her cute little cream Fiat 500 then locked the Windmill Café’s French doors behind her. Mia was right. They did have to return the favour for the kindness and support – not to mention the Poirot-esque tenacity – with which Matt had helped her hunt down the person responsible for the poisoning scandal that had almost brought her idyllic Norfolk countryside sojourn to an end. If she had lost her job at the café, then she would also have lost her home.
So, it was thanks to Matt Wilson, the handsome and intrepid owner of Ultimate Adventures, that she was still in Willerby, baking scones, roulades and tartlets for the hungry hordes who were about to attend the inaugural Autumn Leaves party on Saturday night.
Rosie made her way up the spiral staircase that led to her studio flat above the Windmill Café. She had only made a lacklustre start on packing for her night under the stars. More like nightmare under the stars, she thought as she groaned out loud. How on earth had she got herself into this? She really wasn’t an outdoorsy kind of a girl, the sort who relished the chance to commune with nature. She was more Countess of Cupcakes than Connoisseur of Camping.
Oh well, all she had to do was tip her hesitation over the parapet and launch herself into the unknown – again!
Chapter 2 (#u16df9274-79d1-5a20-87e1-fa6b78b18cfa)
Rosie parked her car alongside Mia’s Fiat in the gravel car park next to Ultimate Adventures’ reception lodge. Set against a dense arboreal backdrop, and sporting a wide sun-bleached veranda, the outward-bound centre’s office looked more like a wooden ship floating on an emerald ocean. It had taken Matt months to persuade her to participate in one of the various activities on offer there and finally, in order to avoid the very scary looking zip wire ride, she had succumbed to his powers of persuasion and joined him on a field archery shoot, which she had to admit she’d enjoyed. However, she had no doubts whatsoever that the same thing could not be said for the treat he had in store for them that evening.
Twilight was tickling the canopy of trees overhead and the woodland had taken on an eerie feel that sent goose bumps scooting across her forearms. She grabbed her borrowed rucksack from the boot of her car and made her way towards the group of people gathered underneath a pool of amber light next to the store room waiting for instructions.
‘Hey, Rosie, great to see you!’ exclaimed Freddie, stepping forward to greet her with a fist bump before seeking out Matt and handing over a crisp ten-pound note.
Rosie rolled her eyes, but was gratified that the gesture at least meant Matt had retained his faith in her. She had no intention of letting him in on the details of her earlier conversation with Mia, or the fact that she was only there because Graham, the Windmill Café’s owner, had asked Matt to arrange the personalized expedition for the guests currently staying in the luxury lodges on the site next to the café as part of a themed week of activities.
Four members of the group, two men, Rick and Phil, and a couple, Brad and Emma, were self-confessed obsessives when it came to local legends and folklore; they were members of a club back in Manchester called the Myth Seekers Society, dedicated to the pursuit of all things mysterious and spooky. The mere mention of ghost-spotting was another one of the reasons Rosie had baulked at joining them. No wonder only one of the women in the party had decided to accompany them on their trek, and judging by the way Emma was hanging onto Brad’s every word, that was probably because she couldn’t bear to be apart from him for even one night.
Rosie envied Helen and Steph, their remaining lodge guests, whom she suspected would at that very moment be wallowing in their heated outdoor spas with a glass of something fizzy. In fact, she had seen the glee on Helen’s immaculately made-up face as she waved off her husband, Rick, and his friends, before rushing over to Steph’s lodge for a session with the local beautician who had just arrived with her case full of treasures. Oh, how she wished she was with them. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a manicure.
‘Ready for one of the most exhilarating nights of your life?’ asked Matt, his familiar mischievous grin going some way to improve her flagging spirits.
Dressed in his Ultimate Adventures uniform of black jeans and bicep-hugging black T-shirt with purple logo, he looked every inch the ruggedly handsome Action Man. His dark blond hair had been teased into surfer-dude tufts, and his determined jawline sported an attractive smattering of stubble. Maybe a night in the great outdoors chasing mythological creatures wasn’t going to be such a terrible experience after all, thought Rosie, as a ripple of attraction sped through her veins.
‘Absolutely!’
‘Now why don’t I believe you?’ Matt laughed. ‘We’re lucky – it’s forecast to be a mild night with no rain expected, but the three most important rules of any wild camping expedition are preparation, preparation, preparation. So, here, put this on, it’ll keep the chill off.’
‘Thanks, Matt.’
Rosie accepted the black waterproof jacket, emblazoned with the Ultimate Adventures logo and lined with a thick purple fleece, and she instantly felt protected from whatever the meteorological gods might decide to throw at her.
‘Hi, Rosie. I have to confess, I wasn’t sure whether you’d turn up!’ giggled Mia as she huddled deeper into her Siberian goose down jacket and pulled a thick Inca-inspired woolly hat over her ears.
Rosie mock-glared at her friend who had been so keen on joining one of Matt’s expeditions. Why, oh why had she listened to Mia and agreed to hunker down for a night under the stars in a bivouac in the East Anglian wilderness?
She thought of all the things she could be doing at that very moment, like delving into the any of her numerous glossy cookery books, reading about each recipe’s origins, its ingredients and its method of preparation. In troubled times, these tomes of culinary marvel had been her best friends and she’d often wondered why someone hadn’t thought of bottling the inky smell of freshly printed cookery books and offered it for sale to all fanatical bookaholics.
Alternatively, she could be soaking in a hot bath filled with the luxury bubbles her sister Georgina had given her for her birthday, anticipating the delicious delights she and Mia were planning for the Autumn Leaves party on Saturday night, only six days away.
But no, here she was, freezing her butt off on the edge of a pine-fragranced forest, preparing for a night under canvas – all for the dubious pleasure of watching dawn break over the horizon through an ancient stone archway at the centre of a crumbling old priory! So what if the medieval building was supposed to possess certain healing qualities? She didn’t have rheumatism or rickets! And was she really expected to believe that if a chunk of the stone was ground up and heated in milk it would cure a migraine in an instant? How did that golden nugget marry with the equally extolled myth that ‘disaster shall strike any man who removes a stone from its resting place’?
Was she crazy? Had she completely lost control of her senses?
Rosie glanced round at her fellow extreme campers – eight of them all together – in various stages of excitement for what lay ahead. Unlike her and Mia, every one of them had opted in advance for the full ‘Bear Grylls’ experience and would have no canvas screen between them and the great beyond. Obviously, Matt and Freddie were veterans of wild camping, having led several expeditions for Ultimate Adventures, but even they hadn’t enjoyed the experience with a side-order of mythical exploits.
‘Hey, Rosie! Hey, Mia!’ Emma smiled as she came over to join them, her jade-green eyes bright with anticipation for the approaching adventure. ‘I’m so glad you decided to swell the numbers in the girls’ team! Which part are you looking forward to the most? The hike to where we’re camping tonight, or the actual sleeping under the stars part? Or, could it be the bit where we get to experience the mystical aura of the medieval stones?’
‘None of the above,’ muttered Rosie, wondering if Emma was winding her up.
It was all well and good for her to wax lyrical about the approaching experience – she was the only one who got to snuggle up in the muscular arms of her hunky boyfriend so, in Rosie’s book, that didn’t count as enduring physical hardship. Emma had already declared that the gruelling three-mile trek across the countryside, through woodland and brook, field and beck, was going to be one of her and Brad’s most romantic experiences. In fact, now that Rosie was able to scrutinize the couple’s attire more closely, the love birds even looked like they were about to embark on a marathon, dressed from top to toe in matching figure-hugging Lycra and hi-tech breathable Gore-Tex.
‘What could be more exhilarating than curling up with another human being, sharing bodily warmth, with nothing between you and the stars?’ asked Brad, hitching his rucksack further up his broad, muscular shoulders so he could snake his arm around his girlfriend and drop a kiss on the top of her elfin-style haircut. At six foot three, he towered above everyone, but he wore his impressive bulk lightly. ‘Maybe you should try it sometime, Rosie? Matt’s just told me that you and Mia have decided to sleep in a tent. You don’t know what you’re missing. Emma and I have camped in the open air all over Europe. Oh, and remember that night we spent on a rooftop in Marrakesh, babe?’
‘That was amazing! The best night ever! The stars were so bright it felt like you could actually reach out and touch them. Just perfect! You’ve got to go to Morocco, Rosie.’
‘At least it’s warm there,’ she mumbled before she could stop herself.
Rosie pulled the hood of her jacket tightener round her chin and resisted the urge to rub her palms together and stamp her feet for fear of looking like a petulant toddler being forced to partake in a dreaded activity. This trek was the reason the guests were staying at the Windmill Café lodges and Graham would be expecting her to promote the experience so she plastered a smile on her face.
‘Tell Rosie and Mia about our trip to Athens in May, Brad,’ said Phil, stepping into their conversation, his ever-present Pentax bouncing against his multi-pocketed camouflage jacket in his enthusiasm to enthral the group with the details. A first glance, Rosie thought he carried a few extra pounds, but on closer inspection she realized that every pocket had been stuffed with a myriad of orienteering and camera paraphernalia. She managed to quash a smile as Phil continued. ‘You’d love the Acropolis, Mia. It’s got this unique mystical power I’ve never felt anywhere else. I’m hoping to go back there with Steph so I can show her what I mean.’
‘I think Steph might have other destinations on her list before Athens,’ laughed Rick, the chairman of the Myth Seekers Society and the person who had organized the trip to Norfolk. ‘Especially if you’re going to drone on and on at her like you did with us about the type of scaffolding the ancient Greeks are supposed to have invented. Oh, and you might like to avoid all topics relating to the Greek waste management system, the poor air quality in Greece’s largest city, and where to buy the cheapest film for your camera, if you don’t want Steph to slit her wrists from boredom.’
Rosie stared at Rick, taken aback by his rudeness and the jeering tone he had used to speak to one of his friends and fellow enthusiasts. What shocked her the most, however, was that no one challenged his boorish behaviour.
Nevertheless, when she chanced a quick glance from beneath her eyelashes at Phil, she could see his cheeks had reddened and his shoulders drooped a few inches. He detached himself from the group, lined up a few photographs, and then took out his notebook to record some notes with the stub of a pencil he kept behind his ear. Rosie’s heart gave a nip of sympathy and she resolved to have a chat with Phil about his hobbies and, if she got the chance, to ask him about Rick’s offensive attitude.
‘Right, is everyone ready for an Ultimate Adventure?’ asked Matt, coming to stand in front of the assembled crowd like Bear Grylls’ younger brother with a beaming Freddie as his right-hand man.
‘Yes,’ chorused the group, minus one voice – Rosie’s.
‘Let’s go, then!’ declared Matt before leading the way along a well-trodden footpath through the woodland that encircled the outward-bound centre.
Rosie took up the rear, just behind a chattering Mia and Freddie, with the enthusiasts up front with Matt so they could get the most from his running commentary on the variety of flora and fauna that could be found in the local area.
Once she got into her stride, Rosie realized she was actually quite enjoying herself. She had never even considered taking a walk through the trees at night – for obvious reasons – and this was one way of being able to do that safely. And October was a good month to experience everything that the Willerby countryside had to offer because all around her the autumnal woodland architecture excelled itself. Ancient oaks stood tall next to sturdy sycamores dressed in leaves of russet brown, burnt orange and dark gold. Vibrant red berries dangled from the branches of the rowan trees like fairy lights and tiny toadstools poked their heads through the carpet of mulch adding their pretty faces to the visual medley.
When the group eventually left the woodland behind them and started their hike across the fields to where they would be camping that night, Rosie sighed with pleasure. The vista laid out before them, bathed in the silvery light of the moon, was enough to impress even the most jaded of sceptics. She had to accept that, once again, Matt had been right about challenging herself to try new things. She experienced a sudden surge of energy and picked up her walking speed to a trot to join him at the head of the group.
Maybe this wild camping expedition was going to be fun after all, she thought. Until she stubbed the toe of her unfamiliar hiking boot on a large stone protruding from the path and was catapulted to the ground with a loud umph.
Chapter 3 (#u16df9274-79d1-5a20-87e1-fa6b78b18cfa)
‘Enjoying yourself?’ asked Matt, a cheeky glint of amusement dancing in his bright blue eyes as he stuck out his hand to help her back up.
‘I was.’
Rosie grimaced as she tried to untangle a sprig of dried-out grass from her bushy hair – glamorous, it wasn’t! Now that they were out in the open, the calm night air of the forest had morphed into an insistent breeze sending a helix of leaves and twigs into their path. Her fall had knocked the stuffing out of her and sent her spirits southwards; her shoulders ached where the straps of her rucksack dug into her skin, her nose and eyes watered from the constant slap of cold air, and there was a blister forming on her big toe – and they still had another mile to go until they reached the clearing where they would set up camp for the night.
She met Matt’s eyes, recognizing the gleam of an outdoors fanatic. Clearly, he was in his element, enjoying whatever nature decided to throw at him, the more challenging the better. If she could have turned around and trudged back to the cosy warmth of the Ultimate Adventures office she would have done so without any hesitation. The only thing stopping her was the fact that everyone else in the party was having the time of their lives, not to mention the enthusiastic chatter about what kind of ghosts they were likely to come across before they arrived at their destination, Garside Priory, the most haunted place of all.
‘What in God’s name possessed me to listen to you and Freddie and agree to this torture?’ Rosie rolled her eyes and tried to laugh, but her voice sounded more like a hysterical hyena.
‘What’s the matter with you? It’s character-building!’
‘That’s complete marketing drivel spouted by masochistic morons from the comfort of their air-conditioned desks. It’s soul-destroying, that’s what it is! How can spending the night in a cold, damp, miserable environment with a bunch of outward-bound fanatics and dedicated ghost hunters possibly change my personality for the better? Now, on the other hand, if we had found ourselves lounging in a Jacuzzi, sipping iced cocktails and listening to the faint drift of jazz music then I could see how that might persuade me to build better relationships with my fellow sufferers.’
‘They’re a strange bunch, aren’t they?’ said Matt, lowering his voice as he fell into stride next to Rosie to allow Freddie and Mia to take the lead.
‘I’m so glad you said that. Did you hear the way Rick spoke to Phil earlier?’
‘Seems like our chairman of the Myth Seekers Society has let some of the power go to his head. Before you arrived, he had a real go at Brad and Emma for not studying, and committing to memory, the detailed file of notes he’d prepared for everyone on the local folklore of Norfolk, and more specifically, the many myths surrounding Garside Priory. In fact, he was so annoyed at them he even threatened to introduce an exam before allowing members to put their names down for future Myth Seekers trips. Brad apologized, but I thought Emma was going to launch an attack for his jugular. He’s not an easy man to like, I have to say.’
‘I agree. Would you believe he asked me what the annual turnover was of the café? When I told him that Graham was the owner, not me, he accused me of lacking ambition, saying I should make it my business to know everything about the organization I work for, no matter how small and “insignificant”. It was the first time I’ve seen Mia lost for words and she’s avoided him ever since for fear of being unable to resist the urge to spike his coffee with a generous dose of rat poison.’
‘What’s his wife like?’
‘Oh, Helen’s lovely! She visibly cringed when Rick was interrogating me about the café’s finances and five-year plan. You should have seen the relief on her face when she waved everyone off tonight. If you ask me, I think she was really looking forward to some alone time. Rick doesn’t speak to her in that arrogant tone he reserves for everyone else, but he does tend to talk over the top of her, mainly to contradict what she has to say. It’s embarrassing, but I guess she’s just become used to it.’
‘And Phil’s wife?’
‘Steph. I like her, she’s like a mother hen protecting her mate. She’s the only one I’ve seen challenge Rick when his comments become overtly obnoxious. In fact, she took him to task only this morning when he called Phil a wimp for wearing thermals and telling him that real men brace the elements! I thought they were going to come to blows! I’m not sure why Phil is so often in the firing line because he seems like a decent guy, if a little obsessed with his camera. I swear he sleeps with that thing around his neck!’
‘Rick wants to be careful,’ joked Matt as he helped Rosie over a style into a field filled with golden corn swaying languidly in the breeze. ‘Hasn’t he ever heard the story about the worm who turned? Or, perhaps in his case, the worm’s wife! All this boorish behaviour might one day come back to bite him. I’m glad at least someone is prepared to stand up to him.’
‘Helen and Rick don’t have children, but Steph and Phil have three, ranging from five to eleven, so she seems to treat Rick like a naughty schoolboy, or more precisely, the playground bully. Sadly, the bully is not yet ready to learn about the consequences of his taunting. Steph was telling me earlier that she intended to make the most of the trip down here because it was the first time she and Phil had been away without the children. She and Helen have got an evening of prosecco and pampering planned,’ she added wistfully.
Matt laughed. ‘Okay, Little Miss Intrepid, I’m pleased to announce that your torment is almost over. Look, there’s our campsite for the night! Come on, last one there makes the coffee!’
Rosie shook her head and took off in Matt’s wake towards a clearing at the edge of the woodland they had been hiking around. Of course, she was no match for Matt, and by the time she arrived her heart hammered its objection to the sudden exertion and her breath came out in ragged spurts. Maybe if she survived the night out in the cold she should really think about joining a gym.
‘Okay, this is the best area for the sleeping bags, and over here is where we’ll build a fire,’ said Freddie, unpacking the essential items for a night under the stars from his rucksack.
‘Brad, Emma, would you like to collect the water for our coffee from the stream at the other side of those sycamore trees? Rick, Phil, can you scavenge for some firewood? Rosie, Mia are you okay to erect the tent?’
A tickle of guilt meandered into Rosie’s chest, but was swiftly eradicated when she thought of the alternative. The one concession Matt had agreed to was that she and Mia, and Emma if she changed her mind about sleeping outdoors when she knew what it entailed, would be afforded the privilege of sharing the only tent for the night. At least it would provide them with shelter from the unpredictable weather that could descend on the Norfolk countryside without warning.
Feeling like she was the star turn in a comedy sketch, Rosie spent a humiliating thirty minutes helping Mia to put the tent up and by the time they had finished – to a smattering of applause from a smirking Matt and Freddie – she wished she’d opted for the open-air version! With her cheeks burning, she scanned the darkening horizon for any sign of Brad and Emma making their way back with the water so they could prepare their evening’s rations and a welcome tin mug of freeze-dried coffee. It wouldn’t be the Jamaican coffee they served at the Windmill Café, but she had to thank God for small mercies!
As Rosie took a seat next to Mia in front of the fire that Freddie had coaxed from a few twigs without any difficulty, waiting in thirsty anticipation for the scorch of hot coffee to course through her veins, she allowed her thoughts to twist over the last two months. After the poisoning incident had been cleared up, the café had gone from strength to strength and Graham had reduced his references to the unfortunate matter from daily to weekly. October was the end of the tourist season, so the opening times had been reduced to take into account the decrease in custom.
Mia was excited about her new position as trainee zip wire instructor. It meant she could stay at home and still work on her popular travel blog which was increasing its traffic every week. After her gap year, Mia had returned home with a bucket list of dreams she wanted to fulfil and was working her way through them at a rate of knots – baking maestro, zip wire expert, travel writer, camping aficionado, loyal friend. Rosie would miss her cheerful presence at the café, not to mention the daily dose of laughter and the strong bond of friendship they had formed. She knew she had Mia to thank for introducing her to Matt and Freddie and bestowing her with a second chance at happiness after the debacle with Harry.
But, as she smiled a ‘welcome back’ to Brad and Emma who were giggling at some private joke, she wondered if she was being premature in her assessment of her new-found contentment. There was now, she was sure, a higher-than-average risk that the new Windmill Café manager – herself, Rosie Catherine Barnes – was about to die of hypothermia, or be mauled by the spirits protecting the Garside Priory, or be eaten for breakfast by a shaggy dog called Black Shuck.
‘Coffee?’
‘Thanks, Emma,’ said Rosie, accepting the metal mug of hot coffee. She took a tentative sip, allowing the warmth to seep into her veins, watching the tendrils of steam wind skywards in a languid spiral against the ink-black sky.
‘Anyone want to try one of the Windmill Café’s signature apple and caramel muffins?’ asked Mia, producing a large Tupperware box from her rucksack.
The group devoured every morsel as though they’d been hiking through the fields and woodlands for days on end instead of for just over an hour and a half. Abiding by the rules of wild camping, Mia collected the paper cases and stored them back in her rucksack to dispose of later.
‘Hey, Phil, are you going to put your pinny on and do the washing up?’ called Rick, a smirk playing around the corners of his lips as Rosie cleared away the mugs. ‘I have to say, I’m surprised you didn’t elect to stay with the ladies back at the lodges. Weren’t they planning to whip up a few chocolate cupcakes before adjourning to the hot tub for a sweet sherry and an early night between the soft cotton sheets. Tell me, do you prefer cotton or silk?’
‘Rick, give it a rest, will you?’ said Brad, unable to meet their designated leader’s eyes but compelled to intervene after seeing the mortification on Phil’s puce-infused face.
Rosie saw a flash of mischief float across Rick’s expression as he slotted his legs into his sleeping bag and smiled at Phil who visibly shrank from the laser beam of malice concentrated in his direction. Phil’s shoulders were hunched into his khaki jacket and his fingers fiddled nervously with the strap of his camera which he hadn’t removed since they’d left Ultimate Adventures. He reminded Rosie of a shy meerkat – one who preferred not to poke his head too far above the parapet before returning to his hiding place out of the spotlight. With his straggly beard, his thinning hair and his pale beady eyes, his pasty appearance spoke to the excessive amount of time he spent in front of a computer screen practising his photographic hobby.
‘Hey, why don’t you read one of your bedtime stories for us, Phil? Lull us all to sleep with an onslaught of ennui? You really should think about pursuing a new ambition. How long have you been writing that new book of yours now? You do know that no one’s going to publish it, don’t you? I started to read your last one a few months ago and Helen said I was asleep within five minutes – comatose more like.’
Matt cleared his throat before interrupting the one-way conversation. ‘Okay, everyone, if we want to be up before dawn for the trek to the Garside Priory, we need to bed down and get some rest.’
He took some time to scrutinize the area where they had made camp, making sure every utensil they had used was wrapped up and stored securely in his rucksack, then he checked to ensure everyone else had followed his example.
‘Nothing is to be left behind. This is private land and the landowner has only granted us permission to camp here on the strict proviso that we take everything away with us and camp as unobtrusively as possible.’
Rick stretched out in his sleeping bag, his fingers laced behind his head.
‘I’ve been wanting to see the Garside Priory for years. I must admit, there’s something very mystical about being able to watch the sunrise through the eastern arch. Maybe we’ll all be endowed with special, magical powers. What do you think, Brad?’
‘Wouldn’t say no to a few magical powers,’ sniggered Brad, snuggling against Emma’s spine to share her bodily warmth as the temperature began to drop steeply.
‘What’s so intriguing about a crumbled old ruin?’ asked Rosie. ‘I’m not sure I can be bothered to hike over the fields just to watch dawn break through a stone archway. I might just stay here and wait for you to return.’
‘Well, I’m definitely going,’ laughed Mia. ‘I love all this folklore stuff.’
‘Sorry, Rosie, I’m afraid that’s not an option. We have to stick together, mainly for safety reasons, and I had to promise Giles, the landowner, that none of us would go off-piste and explore on our own.’ Matt cast a suspicious glance in Rick’s direction as he wriggled into his sleeping bag. ‘It was one of his stipulations before granting his consent for us to camp here. The hike will only take about twenty minutes, maybe thirty, depending on the weather in the morning.’
‘You don’t want to miss it, Rosie!’ interjected Phil, dragging out a guidebook from one of the many zipper pockets in his canvas jacket. ‘To watch a new day break over the horizon through a medieval church arch is a spiritual experience you’ll never forget.’
‘Oh no, here we go. A recital of the various myths surrounding the priory according to our resident humdrum author, Philip G. Brown,’ groaned Rick, rolling his eyes theatrically.
‘I was just going to…’
‘What myths?’ asked Mia, sitting up a little straighter, her kohl-ringed eyes swinging between Phil and Rick.
‘One of the most fascinating aspects of Garside Priory, in my view, is the reference to the possibility that there’s a concealed stone circle in its grounds, hewn from local material and buried over the centuries,’ enthused Phil, flicking through the pages of his guidebook until he reached the photograph he wanted to show to Mia.
‘And why do you think it’s there?’ asked Rosie, still unconvinced that the possible presence of a circle of stones was worth getting up before dawn for.
‘Well…’
‘It’s only a theory,’ interrupted Rick, who, despite his eagerness to prevent a lengthy academic lecture from Phil, was quite happy to give one of his own. ‘If there was one there, it could have been a religious or ceremonial meeting place, an astronomical observatory, or maybe a pagan ritual site. But, Mia, the legend you do need to be aware of is this – there’s a possibility that the priory was built from stones that are cursed.’
‘Cursed?’ whispered Mia, her eyes widening as she twisted a lock of her dark glossy hair around her index finger, the silver from her numerous rings glinting in the moonlight.
Rosie saw that despite his earlier criticism of Phil, Rick was clearly enjoying himself in the role of raconteur and was accustomed to holding the floor.
‘One legend recounts that disaster shall strike if any person removes even a chipping from one of the stones.’ Rick flashed a stern warning glare around the gathering. ‘And one of my favourite stories is that anyone who falls asleep inside the priory walls “will die a heinous death or go mad or become a poet” – let’s face it, none of us want to morph into Phil, do we?’
A smatter of giggling erupted from the direction of Emma and Brad.
‘What time do we have to be up in the morning for the final push, Matt?’ asked Phil, when his facial colouring had returned to its usual pale and wan. ‘We can’t risk being late.’
‘We’ll need to leave here at about six o’clock. It’s an easy thirty-minute hike which should get us there in good time for sunrise. I’ve set my alarm so no one needs to worry. Get some sleep and I’ll wake you with a brew,’ said Matt, Norfolk’s answer to Action Man himself.
Chapter 4 (#u16df9274-79d1-5a20-87e1-fa6b78b18cfa)
‘What time is it?’ croaked Rosie as she peeled back her eyelids and realized the dawn chorus was already well into its second verse. She rubbed her eyes and, despite her head feeling like a bulbous watermelon, she marvelled at the fact that she had slept at all.
‘Mmm?’ groaned Mia, rolling over to face Rosie, her hair more bird’s nest than Sunday best. ‘God, my head aches. I feel like I spent last night indulging in a boatload of the Windmill Café’s autumn punch!’
Rosie groped for her watch, shaking her head to clear the lingering fuzziness, and her stomach gave an unexpected lurch. ‘Hey! It’s seven o’clock! Mia, we’ve missed the trek to the priory. They’ve left us behind!’
‘What? No way!’ cried Mia.
Rosie crawled out of her sleeping bag, grateful that she’d chosen to sleep fully clothed. She unzipped the flap of their tent, irritation at being ditched gnawing at her gut. She had no doubt whose idea it would have been to leave the two silly girls behind. As she peered out, Mia joined her, resting her chin on her shoulder and causing a whiff of her favourite floral perfume to infuse the air.
‘Oh, it’s okay! Everyone’s still here. Look, there’s Freddie and Matt.’
Rosie swung her gaze around the makeshift camp where everyone was still asleep in exactly the same places they’d chosen to bed down for the night. But her smile of relief quickly disappeared as she realized what that meant.
‘Wait a minute - that means we’ve all missed the show! How could Matt have allowed that to happen? Quick!’
With Mia close behind, she scampered out from the tent and shook Matt’s shoulder. ‘Matt! Matt! Wake up!’
‘Ergh?’
‘We’ve missed sunrise!’
‘What?’ Matt dragged his body into a sitting position, rubbing his broad palm over his chin as he struggled to focus his eyes on Rosie. ‘What time is it?’
‘Ten past seven. We’ve missed sunrise but we can still hike up to the priory.’
Everyone in the camp was beginning to stir, woken by the noise.
‘What’s going on?’ called Phil, shaking his head and screwing up his eyes. ‘Oh my God, have we slept in? How on earth did that happen?’
‘I’m not sure,’ replied Matt, his forehead creased into lines of concern. ‘My watch alarm definitely isn’t broken and there is no way I would have slept through it.’
‘Don’t worry, Matt. It can happen to the best of us. So, what’s the plan?’ asked Phil, pointing his camera at the horizon to take a few snaps of the rising sun as it sent fissures of apricot light over the surrounding countryside. ‘I’d still like to visit the priory and get some photographs for the book.’
A giggle rippled through the air causing everyone to turn their heads to where Brad and Emma were engaged in what Rosie could only describe as a vigorous tickle fight. She averted her eyes, embarrassed at the intimate scene.
‘Hey, you two. You need to get ready. We leave in five minutes!’ Matt’s voice held a note of steel as he strode away from the gathering, his jaw set and eyes narrowed as he started to dismantle the tent. Freddie collected the rest of the equipment together, stuffed it in his rucksack and took a slug from his water bottle, confusion written across his face.
‘Hey, wait a minute! Where’s Rick?’ called Phil, switching his eyes from left to right as he scoured the camp for his tormentor. ‘He’s missing.’
‘What?’ exclaimed Matt, Freddie and Mia in unison.
Rosie scoured the camp site and it was true. There was no sign of Rick or his possessions, just an indentation in the grass where he’d presumably rested for the night. She, and the rest of the expedition members, immediately understood what had happened.
‘He’s sneaked off without us!’ cried Phil, his voice all a-bluster. ‘He wanted to be the only one to witness the sunrise through the arch so he could crow about it at our Myth Seekers meetings for all eternity. Oh God, Brad, we should have realized he’d plan something like this. Selfish to the core is our Mr Richard Forster. Right! He’s not going to get away with it this time. I’ve had enough of his…’
Phil patted the pockets of his utility jacket, searching for his mobile phone. Pushing his glasses up onto his forehead, he squinted at the screen and selected Rick’s number, then waited for his adversary to answer.
‘Either he’s ignoring us or there’s no signal over by the priory. Wait until I get my hands on…’
‘Okay, okay,’ announced Matt, clearly struggling to keep his temper under wraps. ‘We stick together, all right? No one goes ahead and no one lags behind.’
Matt and Freddie strode away from the campsite leaving the rest of the group to scamper after them. Rosie could feel the anger radiating from Matt’s pores and she didn’t blame him in the slightest. He had taken personal responsibility for their expedition, given the landowner his word they would stick together and keep to the previously authorized route. She just hoped that Rick hadn’t done anything else to jeopardize the reputation of Ultimate Adventures. Willerby was a tight-knit community built on trust and mutual respect and she knew Matt and Freddie would be fuming at Rick’s selfish behaviour.
Rosie slipped her arm through Mia’s and together they stumbled along the flint-strewn pathway, their bafflement as to the reasons behind Rick’s solo excursion keeping their tongues still and their brains occupied.
Why would Rick do such a thing?
It wasn’t difficult to come up with the answer. Since he and Helen had checked into their luxury lodges the previous day, Rick Forster had certainly not gone out of his way to endear himself to anyone, wearing his competitive streak like a badge of honour on his chest for all to see. Leaving everyone behind was typical behaviour that perhaps either Phil or Brad, or even Emma, should have anticipated; they were in the Myth Seekers Society with him, after all.
However, what Rosie couldn’t understand was how they had all slept beyond Matt’s alarm call, except for Rick. Her head was clear now but she couldn’t ignore the woolly feeling she’d experienced when she had woken up, and wondered fleetingly if Rick could have put something in their night-time coffee. The thought sent a donkey’s kick of shock reverberating through her chest. Yes! That was exactly what had happened! How dare he! She had to talk to Matt immediately.
Rosie jogged to where Matt was leading the group, his head bent low, his eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the task in hand to prevent himself from exploding with exasperation at Rick’s selfish tactics in a bout of one-upmanship. Freddie offered her a weak smile and, with a look of relief, dropped back to continue the trek with Mia.
‘Matt?’
‘Mmm?’
Rosie swallowed down on the anger that had started to bubble in her stomach. If what she suspected was right, the ramifications went far beyond a harmless caper to ensure a personal ring-side seat at a mystical sunrise – spiking someone’s drink with a sleeping drug was nothing short of criminal behaviour! It was outrageous!
‘I don’t know about you, but when I woke up this morning my head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool. Mia said she thought she had a hangover, but not a drop of alcohol passed our lips last night, I promise you. I think, well … I think Rick might have put something in our coffee last night just so he could experience the sunrise alone.’
‘That’s exactly the conclusion I’ve come to. It’s simply not possible that both Freddie and I slept through the alarm without some sort of chemical assistance, and you’re right, the most likely culprit is Rick. It’s exactly the sort of juvenile prank he would find hilarious and another way of belittling the other members of the group. I want to say that we should wait until we speak to him, to give him the benefit of the doubt before making accusations, but I’m so angry that I’m looking at my common sense in the rear-view window!’
‘Do you think we should call the police?’
‘I do, but not before I’ve had the chance to give him a piece of my mind. I think we should keep our suspicions to ourselves for the time being though, because when Freddie finds out what Rick’s done, it’ll be a bit more than a piece of his mind he’ll be sending his way. This sort of reckless behaviour is what ruins businesses like Ultimate Adventures. If any of our clients hear even a whiff of the word “drugs” they’ll steer well clear. I could strangle him!’
Rosie saw the corners of Matt’s mouth tighten as he reigned in his fury, and after a few seconds it was replaced with a glint of his habitual mischief.
‘There’s one positive though.’
‘What’s that?’ she asked, her stomach performing a back-flip at the way Matt was looking at her from beneath his long, spidery eyelashes. She knew they were both wary of embarking on new relationships because of their recent histories, but she enjoyed the familiar pull of attraction that was often close to the surface whenever she was in his company, breathing in the delicious lemony cologne he favoured. Some people just seemed to occupy the same wavelength, and so it seemed to be with her and Matt.
‘At least this time no one was poisoned!’
‘Thank God! What do you think Rick put in our coffee?’
‘It had to be some kind of sleeping tablets, but we’ll leave that to the professionals to work out. Or were you thinking of undertaking the investigation yourself like last time?’
‘Well, we did make a great team … and we got results!’
‘You know, Rosie, before you arrived in Willerby, life chugged along quite nicely. The most excitement to be had in the village was a flight down the zip wire or a stint on the obstacle course after a downpour. But now you’re in our midst we’re dealing with poisoned pop stars and morons who think they can go around lacing people’s coffee!’
‘Are you saying I attract trouble?’
‘No, I…’
‘Look! There’s the Garside Priory!’ cried Phil excitedly, elbowing Rosie and Matt out of the way and increasing his speed to a canter.
‘Keep to the path,’ shouted Matt, grabbing onto the back of Phil’s jacket to prevent him from dashing ahead.
Rosie’s calf muscles screamed their objection to the vigorous early morning workout, but a curl of excitement mingled with her irritation over the potential fallout of Rick’s irresponsible stunt when the priory appeared in the next field. Even though it was almost a ruin, made up of crumbling stone stitched together by ribbons of ivy, the building still held a mysterious presence. She felt privileged to be there, despite missing the spectacle of the sun rising through the arched doorway.
They had arrived at the wooden gate blocking their access to the site and paused to allow Brad and Emma, now bringing up the rear, to catch up with them. Brad’s arm was casually slung around Emma’s slender shoulders and he was trying to kiss her. She laughed, pushed him away, and ran towards them, her short auburn hair flapping in the breeze like she was the star in a shampoo advert.
‘I can’t see Rick anywhere,’ said Mia, standing on her tiptoes to look over the yew hedge.
‘I reckon he’s hiding behind one of the walls, waiting to leap out and startle us. It’s the sort of thing he’d do,’ said Phil, curling his lip in disgust as he lined up his camera for another shot. ‘And I wouldn’t put it past him to be dressed in some sort of warlock outfit with false blood dripping from a ceremonial dagger. Rosie, Mia, you have been warned.’
‘If he has any sense he’ll be running for his life!’ retorted Freddie. ‘I could kill him.’
‘Me too,’ muttered Matt as he lifted the iron bar on the gate to allow them to enter the grounds together. He carefully refastened the gate behind them and led them along a narrow footpath towards the priory, pausing at the entrance. ‘Okay, so despite having missed the sunrise, I’m sure you’ll all still be able to enjoy the experience of being in such a fascinating place. Feel free to explore and we’ll meet back here in an hour.’
‘Thanks, Matt,’ smiled Emma, fluttering her eyelashes ever so slightly at him before disappearing off to explore with Brad in tow.
Rosie chose to join Matt and Phil as they strode purposefully toward the centre of the fabled stone archway so she could make a wish. Mia had already confided in her that she intended to send up a prayer to the medieval gods that the Windmill Café’s autumn party went without a hitch so that Graham would give them more freedom and more cash to spend on their Christmas festivities for which Mia had planned an ambitious tree-decoration competition.
‘What are you going to do about Rick?’ asked Freddie, whilst they all stood watching Mia caress the stones as she listened intently to Phil’s running commentary before disappearing off with him to look at another pile of ancient architecture.
‘I’m going to wait until I’ve calmed down a bit before I decide. What he’s done is way out of order, Fred. This isn’t some children’s adventure quest or treasure hunt. It wasn’t easy getting Giles Barringer to agree to a group of myth seeking enthusiasts invading his land for a session of wild camping.’
‘Well, there’s no lasting harm done, I suppose,’ mused Freddie, clearly oblivious to Matt and Rosie’s suspicions. ‘Except to his relationship with Phil and Brad who are devastated to have missed the main event – I don’t think Emma minds all that much, though. I don’t know how they put up with his obnoxious arrogance and ridiculous pursuit of one-upmanship, or why. He’s a total moron, if you ask me!’
‘Well, it’s probably because he paid for everyone’s trip to Willerby, including this wild camping jaunt with Ultimate Adventures, out of his own pocket,’ said Rosie, making her way down to the arch. No point coming all this way and not taking advantage of the wish-granting facilities. Goodness knew she could do with a bit of help!
‘Pardon?’
Matt stared at Rosie, his proximity sending tiny shivers down her spine. Memories of the kiss they’d shared on a deserted Norfolk beach flickered across her mind and caused her to run the tip of her tongue along her lower lip before continuing. ‘Rick paid for the lodges; for him and Helen, for Phil and Steph, and for Brad and Emma.’
‘But I thought the trip was arranged through the Myth Seekers Society that they all belong to? Like a sort of school trip?’
‘It was. But the lodges are expensive, Matt. Graham told me that Rick was so keen to come here to see the Garside Priory that he paid for the majority of the cost without running the real amount past the committee in case they kicked up a fuss about his choice of accommodation. Surprisingly enough, the members are sticklers for the rules. The Society could never have afforded the rental, and neither could Phil or Brad, I suspect. Rick asked Graham not to divulge the fact he’d paid for everything, or how much the lodges actually cost – the others just think the fees were cheap enough that the Society’s funds could cover it all.’
‘It’s certainly a generous gesture, I suppose. But if you want my opinion it’s yet another example of his controlling personality. Why couldn’t he have come down to Norfolk by himself, or with his wife? Why does he have to have the others with him? Do you think it’s just so that he can bounce his superiority and rudeness around unchecked?’
‘Probably,’ laughed Rosie.
‘Arrrrrrrrrrrr!’
A high-pitched scream sliced through the air and Rosie knew at once it was Mia. Her first thought was that she had fallen from a wall, or tumbled into a hollow filled with spiders. She dashed into the middle of the priory’s internal courtyard with Matt and Freddie hot on her heels, but what she saw was so unexpected that she drew up short causing Matt to run into the back of her.
She had been right, it was Mia who had screamed – but it wasn’t Mia who was injured. Her friend was staring, her hands covering her mouth in horror, at a body slumped on the ground with an arrow protruding from its ankle and blood oozing from the wound.
‘Oh my God! It’s Rick!’
Chapter 5 (#u16df9274-79d1-5a20-87e1-fa6b78b18cfa)
Rosie’s heart raced in a futile attempt to escape its cage and its thunderous beat rang in her ears. A surge of nausea ambushed her as she turned away from the scene and arched her back to the sky, her palms on her thighs, inhaling ragged gasps of oxygen. She waited for the dizziness to pass. The urge to collapse to her knees was almost too overwhelming to resist but she knew she needed to stay strong for Mia’s sake. She swallowed down on the acidic tang radiating over her tongue and with great difficulty managed to drag her senses into some sort of order, hoping for comprehension to dawn.
‘Is he … is he dead?’ whimpered Mia.
Phil was next to join them, and the shock of seeing Rick collapsed on the ground in the cloister with Matt kneeling over him and clearly checking for a pulse, rendered him motionless. His jaw gaped, his face bleached chalk white, as he struggled to understand what his eyes were telling him.
‘He’s not dead, Mia, he’s just passed out,’ said Matt, grabbing his first aid kit from his rucksack and signalling for Freddie to help him to remove the arrow protruding from Rick’s ankle.
‘I feel awful saying this, but are you sure he’s unconscious?’ said Phil, a catch in his throat as he spoke for the first time. ‘You’ve seen what he’s like. This could be just another one of his pranks – a joke arrow, fake blood, you know. Sorry, no, forget I said that, sorry.’
Phil took a quick step back and bumped into Brad, who had just arrived on the scene with a breathless Emma in his wake.
‘What’s going on? Mia, why were you screaming? Oh, my God, what’s happened to Rick?’
Shock spread across Emma’s face. She folded her arms across her abdomen and huddled against Brad. Her eyes, the colour of Irish shamrock, were as wide as saucers, their whites almost popping from her skull.
Before anyone could answer Emma’s questions, Rick started to groan. Rosie had never heard such a welcome complaint. Like Mia, she too had been convinced Rick was dead. Relief flooded her veins and the high-pitched drumming in her ears began to subside. She took a few steadying breaths and as the initial shock eased, her heartbeat returned to something approaching normal. She moved forward to hook her arm around her friend’s waist, distressed to feel her uncontrollable trembling.
‘Ergh! Careful!’
Beads of perspiration appeared on Rick’s forehead and his face displayed a strange waxy pallor. Matt worked quickly to clean Rick’s wound and wrap his ankle tightly in a bandage, causing his patient to grimace as spasms of pain shot through his calf with each twist.
‘Can you remember anything about what happened?’ asked Matt, sitting back on his heels, satisfied he had done the best he could in the circumstances.
‘What does it look like? Someone shot me with an arrow! Their first attempt went flying past my ear and got stuck in that bench over there. I tried to run, but they got me with their second shot. I reckon if I hadn’t collapsed behind that gravestone, they would have finished the job, or maybe they just chickened out, I don’t know. Anyway, I must have passed out from the pain, because the next thing I know you’re yanking the bloody thing from my ankle. Is it broken?’
‘I think it’s just a flesh wound, in which case there’ll be no lasting damage, but it’s probably best to get your ankle checked out at hospital. I’ll call an ambulance…’
‘There’s no mobile signal,’ interrupted Freddie, his freckled face suffused in anxiety. ‘It’s half a mile to the nearest village. I’ll run over there and call the paramedics and then wait for them at the end of the track to guide them up here to the priory.’
‘Thanks, Freddie.’
‘I don’t need an ambulance, I want the police!’
‘So you don’t think it was an accident?’ gasped Mia, her tone raised an octave in alarm.
‘Of course not! Who accidentally fires off two arrows in the same direction? And do you see anyone hanging around to apologize for their seriously substandard archery skills? No, you don’t. Which can only mean one thing – I was targeted by a lunatic intent on dispatching me to my maker in broad daylight.’
‘But who would…? Oh my God! Do you think the person who did this is still … is still…?’
Rosie’s voice trailed off into the enveloping silence as everyone, apart from Rick, turned in unison to scan the crumbling eaves of the priory, then the copse of trees to their left, then finally to watch Freddie’s retreating figure as he made his way across the field towards civilization, all of them expecting him to collapse under a barrage of arrows at any moment.
‘Did anyone see anything on the hike over here? Anything at all?’ asked Matt.
‘Well, I didn’t see anything, or anyone escaping over the fields in green tights carrying a quiver full of arrows,’ said Brad, the only one seemingly unmoved by Rick’s suffering and subsequent hypothesis of being a victim in a pre-meditated shooting.
‘Well, it’s obvious who the culprit is, isn’t it?’ seethed Rick.
‘Who?’ demanded Rosie.
‘Well, no one else knew we were going to be here, did they? It’s highly unlikely that a passer-by, who just happened to be carrying a bow and arrow in their back pocket, decided to take aim and shoot a random stranger who was innocently exploring an ancient priory at dawn.’
‘Does that mean…’
‘Rick, you can’t seriously be suggesting that one of us is responsible for shooting you.’
‘No other explanation.’
‘You are unbelievable!’ muttered Brad, his eyes reflecting his contempt for Rick’s theory. ‘Someone correct me if I’m wrong, but haven’t we all been together from the moment we left camp until Mia discovered Rick slumped here in the cloisters? How could any one of us have shot you with a bow and arrow?’
‘Brad does have a point,’ said Phil, his hands shaking so violently on his camera that he was forced to shove them into the pockets of his combat trousers, but his elbows continued to flap nervously at his sides like a caged seagull.
‘Okay,’ interrupted Matt, keen to diffuse the mounting tension. ‘This is neither the time, nor the place, to be making unfounded accusations. Phil, would you mind taking Emma and Mia back to the reception lodge at Ultimate Adventures? Brad, I need you to stay to help carry Rick’s stretcher to the ambulance. Rosie, I take it you’ve got first aid training, so can you stay here too, until Freddie gets back with the paramedics?’
‘And the police! I think everyone should stay where they are, not go wandering off! We need to find out who tried to kill me, and why, as soon as possible so they can feel the full strength of the law!’
‘But why would any one of us want to kill you, Rick? And why here in Norfolk? We’ve all had ample opportunity to bump you off back home in Manchester,’ reasoned Brad, glancing around the gathering to make sure everyone was agreeing with him.
‘Hey, maybe it was one of the ghosts or spirits who inhabit the ruin?’ suggested Emma, speaking for the first time since they had found Rick collapsed in a pool of blood.
‘You know, I’ve changed my mind. Matt’s right, you should head back. I don’t want to sit here, forced to listen to such ridiculous hypotheses for the next hour. All I ask is that when you eventually manage get back to civilization, one of you informs Helen so she can drive over to the hospital to collect me – if she isn’t too busy spending my money in the shops of Norwich. Think you can manage that, Phil?’
‘Of course. Come on, ladies, let’s get going.’
‘And make sure you stick to the path,’ advised Matt, repacking the Ultimate Adventures first aid box and returning it to his rucksack.
‘Yeah, and try not to get an arrow between your eyes,’ warned Rick, with more than a soupçon of malice in his expression.
‘What if Rick’s right and there is someone lurking out there?’ said Emma, her anguish plain for all to see. ‘A poison-tipped arrow could be trained on any one of us at this very moment. I could be the next victim! Oh God!’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Phil, patting Emma’s arm awkwardly. ‘I think whoever did this will be long gone by now, and once we get under cover of those trees over there, I reckon we’ll be safe. Best we do as Matt says and stay close, though.’
Emma nodded mutely, reached up to deposit a quick kiss on Brad’s lips and then linked Mia’s arm with hers. Together, the threesome made their way back along the pathway across the field, at the end of which Phil took great care to refasten the wooden gate behind him. Brad stared after them, a touch of envy in his expression, his broad shoulders sunken under the weight of the ongoing trauma.
‘I’ll just go and see if there’s any sign of that ambulance,’ announced Matt, scrambling to his feet. ‘Could you sit with Rick until I get back, please, Brad?’
‘Oh, I … yes, okay.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ offered Rosie when she caught sight of the anguish and confusion on Matt’s face.
A spasm of sympathy rushed through her chest. She was sure that the very last thing he would have expected to deal with during an early morning hike to the Garside Priory was one of his charges being shot by a stray arrow. Only Rick appeared to be suggesting that it was no accident and that someone had targeted him. As she followed Matt through the mystical archway, her whole body froze when another, more sinister thought occurred to her. Did Rick’s shooting have anything to do with the fact that she and Matt suspected something had been added to their evening coffee? And if so, what did it mean? Who could…
She was prevented from chasing that terrifying scenario down blind alleyways by the sharp indignant barks of a young black-and-white Collie who had rushed up to greet them. The Collie’s owner, a man in his late fifties wearing a well-worn wax jacket straining over his well-padded stomach, issued a whistled warning and the dog returned to heel.
‘Grim business,’ the man grunted, a tight expression stretching his weathered face as he inclined his head towards the priory while holding out his hand for Matt to shake. Seeing their astonished expressions, he continued, ‘Freddie Armstrong just called to ask me to open the bottom gate so the ambulance can get through.’
‘Rosie, this is Giles Barringer, he owns the land around the priory.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Giles.’
‘So, who is the guy?’
‘Richard Forster – chairman of the Myth Seekers Society I told you about,’ explained Matt, bending down to fondle the dog’s silky ears. ‘Found him collapsed in the central cloister with an arrow through his leg. Better be careful, we’re not sure whether the perpetrator is still in the area.’
‘Right you are,’ said the farmer as though that sort of thing happened all the time. He eyed Matt for a few moments before he spoke again. ‘Well, no one came by the farm – that I can guarantee you. Our Bess here, and her sister Meggie, go mental whenever strangers breach their radar. Reckon whoever it was must have come up via your overnight camp.’
‘Thanks, Giles. I’ll keep you informed.’
They bade the farmer farewell and strolled back towards the cloister in silence, each subsumed by a swirl of unpleasant thoughts and theories as to what might have happened.
‘Are you going to confront Rick about putting a sedative in our coffee?’
‘Actually, after what’s just happened, I think I might have been a bit quick to jump to conclusions.’
‘So you think the two things are connected?’
‘Possibly. But you’re right, we do need to ask Rick about it.’
When they arrived, Brad was slumped against his rucksack, his knees drawn into his chest, keeping a close eye on Rick who had passed out again.
‘Why would anyone want to shoot Rick?’ mused Rosie, almost to herself, as she sat down next to Brad.
‘Well…’ began Brad, tossing a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Rick definitely hadn’t woken up. He fiddled nervously with the zipper of his Gore-Tex running jacket, a vein working overtime at his temple.
‘If you know something, Brad, you have to tell us,’ snapped Matt, sitting up straighter and fixing him with a stern stare. ‘This is a very serious situation; one which could have a devastating effect, not only on my business, but on Freddie and Mia’s futures, too, if we don’t get to the bottom of what happened quickly. We can’t just brush this under the carpet and file it away under a heading marked “accident”. The police are going to be involved, they will want to investigate what happened, and even if it turns out to be an organized field archery expedition that went seriously wrong, visitors to the area might think twice about booking an outward-bound activity – especially if there’s an outside chance of getting shot with a stray arrow, don’t you think? This is mine and Rosie’s livelihoods at stake!’
‘So, you really think the police will want to question us?’
Rosie heard the catch in Brad’s voice when he said the word ‘police’. However, she stored it away for future dissection when she saw the familiar gleam in Matt’s eyes as he gave her a surreptitious nod. She knew exactly what he was thinking. If they could persuade Brad to open up about the Myth Seekers Society, maybe they could work together to uncover the truth surrounding Rick’s injury – just as they had in August with Suki Richards’ poisoning – before the consequences destroyed their respective businesses.
What if Rick’s injury meant they had to cancel the Autumn Leaves party at the end of the week? Mia would be devastated, not to mention everyone in Willerby who had helped to organize the celebrations and whipped up homemade contributions. After the debacle with Harry in London, she had a lot to be thankful to the community for, and she was prepared to do whatever it took, not only to maintain her happy home in the little circular studio above the Windmill Café, but also to ensure that what had happened to Rick did not reflect badly on the reputation of Ultimate Adventures and that the Willerby residents had a fabulous Hallowe’en party.
‘Please, Brad, Matt and I just want to help.’
The thought of teaming up with Matt again to unravel a mystery sent a frisson of excitement cascading through her veins and sparkling out to her fingertips. However, she recognized that the cauldron of emotions whipping through her stomach were not solely connected with the chance to investigate another mystery, but also to do with the way Matt was holding her gaze and the fragrance of his citrusy cologne that tickled at her nostrils.
‘Brad?’
‘Okay, okay, sorry,’ said Brad, running his fingers nervously through his hair. ‘Well, I could be way out of line, but here goes. I’m sure you’ve both noticed that none of us like Rick very much – he’s an obnoxious bully and a complete pain in the backside. If someone had given me a quiver full of sharpened arrows, I might have taken a pop at him myself. But, if it wasn’t some random stranger, then out of all of us I reckon Phil has the strongest motive for wanting him to suffer.’
‘What do you mean?’ demanded Rosie, tipping her head back so she could look Brad in the eye, her natural inquisitiveness reasserting its dominance. She could almost feel her father, who had adored mysteries just as much as she did, sending down vibes of encouragement to seek out the truth and slot each new discovery into the overall jigsaw to form a picture of exactly what had happened.
‘Well, you saw how Rick went on with Phil last night. He’s exactly the same at our meetings. Rick only joined the Myth Seekers Society ten months ago but he made sure he stamped his personality on our little club straight away. We’d plodded along in our own sweet way for years. Phil was our chairman, our treasurer and our secretary. No one else wanted the responsibility, or the hassle and paperwork that went with it, but Phil likes that sort of thing. We managed one expedition a year and a couple of local jaunts. It was fun, everyone was a real enthusiast. It was a break from the daily grind to five o’clock, if you know what I mean.’
Brad paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he gathered his courage to continue. It was obvious to Rosie that Brad was missing Emma’s more forceful presence; his girlfriend might be petite in stature but she made up for it in strength of personality. Nevertheless, he inhaled a deep breath and continued with his story.
‘Then Rick arrived on the scene. He organized a formidable schedule of guest speakers – himself included – and sourced videos made by myth seekers from all over the world. He even set up a blog for us all to post our research on. In the beginning, we loved it. We got to learn loads more about myth-seeking, and the trips he arranged were excellent. We went to the Isle of Man in the summer to visit the famous Fairy Bridge and it was Rick’s idea to come here to Norfolk so he could continue his research into the local legends, including the one about the Black Shuck. His theory is…’
‘Brad, is this relevant?’ interrupted Matt, trying hard not to roll his eyes at Rosie.
‘Sorry, sorry. What I mean is, the club changed. All of a sudden Phil found himself side-lined. Rick took over as chairman, appointed one of the newer members as secretary and Phil was left in the thankless role of treasurer. Every meeting was an opportunity for Rick to lord it over everyone else – he even gave himself the title of King Myth Seeker. He had polo shirts embroidered with the society’s emblem and demanded we all wear them to the meetings. He was a true enthusiast, though. He researched every detail and shared all his findings with us. I loved it, but I’ve never seen anyone so obsessed with the research and after a while it all started to get too technical.
‘In the end I just stuck it out for the subsidized trips. As well as the trip over to the Isle of Man, the group have been to Rome, Marrakesh and Athens in the last twelve months. I’d never be able to afford any of that on my salary. Emma and I are extreme sports enthusiasts too – wild climbing, fell-running, orienteering and we try to run as many marathons as we can – so it all adds up.’
‘So, you’re saying Phil had his nose pushed out by Rick?’ asked Rosie, totally engrossed in the story of the Myth Seekers Society.
‘More than that. Rick seemed to have Phil marked as his personal punch bag – verbal, not physical. For some reason, Rick takes great pleasure in tormenting him every chance he gets. It’s embarrassing for all of us when he starts on one of his campaigns of ridicule and derision. I’m ashamed to confess that we don’t challenge him as much as we should. We’re all just grateful it isn’t us, and anyway Rick was paying for the hire of the hall from his own funds as well as other extras. I have tried to call him out a few times, but he’d switch his focus if you weren’t careful.’
‘A bit cowardly, don’t you think?’ said Matt, glancing over his shoulder at Rick, an expression of dislike written across his handsome features.
‘Yes, I realize that now,’ agreed Brad. ‘We should have made a stand and voted him off the committee months ago. Rick’s scary though, like a big fish in a little pond, or more like a vicious shark who uses his financial muscle to take over and advance his own agenda. Phil might have a really good reason to shoot Rick with an arrow, but he’s actually an honest, trustworthy, and thoroughly decent guy who’s been treated disgracefully by all of us for not standing up to Rick’s intimidation.’
Before either Rosie or Matt could respond to Brad’s theory on the identity of Rick’s attacker, the man himself had started to groan again and a series of flashing blue lights signalled the arrival of the paramedics. Rosie did what she could to assist in the transportation of Rick’s prostate, complaining body on a stretcher across the uneven field before they were all told in no uncertain terms that he did not require a chaperone for the journey to hospital.
With an elongated sigh, she jumped into the back of a Jeep belonging to one of Freddie’s bandmates and spent the journey back to Ultimate Adventures with random thoughts ricocheting around her brain as she tried to make sense of what had happened. She was relieved when the jutting roof of the outward-bound centre’s reception lodge came into view, but the respite from anxiety lasted only a few seconds.
‘Thank God you’re back!’ said Emma, throwing herself into Brad’s arms as they all gathered on the veranda. ‘Now, who’s going to ring Helen?’
Chapter 6 (#u16df9274-79d1-5a20-87e1-fa6b78b18cfa)
Rosie drew into the Windmill Café car park, the tyres of her Mini Cooper making a satisfying crunch on the gravel. Every time she heard that sound she sent up a missive to the director of her destiny, sending thanks for guiding her to Willerby. The heartbreak she had endured in the Pimlico flower shop was so firmly in the past now that she felt as though it had happened to someone else.
‘Do you think they made the right decision?’ asked Mia.
‘I think so. I’m sure Helen would much rather hear the news about her husband’s accident face-to-face than over the phone. And it’s only taken us ten minutes to drive from Ultimate Adventures to the lodges, so there hasn’t been much of a delay.’
Rosie leapt out of the passenger’s seat and with Mia by her side, jogged to catch up with Phil, Brad and Emma as they made their way towards the field next to the café where the four luxury lodges were situated. Her heart bounced around her chest like an escaped yo-yo as the full force of what had happened hit her – once again misfortune had befallen one of their guests.
Thankfully, this time the cause could not be connected to the Windmill Café, but she wasn’t in the slightest tempted to wash her hands of the whole affair. Knowing Rick, he would make as much fuss as possible about the lax security provided by Ultimate Adventures, irrespective of the fact that even the most thorough of risk assessments could not have foreseen the possibility of a client being shot by a stray arrow! Matt and Freddie had been steadfast in their support of her and the café when she’d had to deal with Suki Richards’ poisoning during Graham’s absence in Barbados, and she was absolutely committed to returning the favour.
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- Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
- Язык: Книги на английском языке
- Объём: 220 стр. 9 иллюстраций
- ISBN: 9780008285135
- Дата выхода книги: 17 мая 2019
- Версия: 📚 Электронная книга
‘I relished every moment of this story … definitely not one to be missed’ Emma, Shaz’s Book BlogSummer days drifting away…As the last rays of summer sunshine fade away, Rosie Barnes swaps serving ice-cold fizz and strawberries for warm, spiced pumpkin latte and chocolate brownies. Her love for the Windmill Café remains as strong as its peppermint green sails.So, with time on her hands, Rosie agrees to help gorgeous Matt Wilson on one of his outdoor expeditions – camping under the stars with rugged Matt the perfect chance to wind down.As the Autumn mist rolls in, the change in weather brings with it a sense of danger when one of the camping group is shot with a bow and arrow! An unfortunate accident, or a killer on the loose in picture-perfect Willerby?If news escapes, Rosie knows dreams of building a life at Windmill Café will be over for good. Unless she and Matt can solve the mystery before it’s too late!
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