The Windmill Café. Poppy Blake. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Poppy Blake
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Современная зарубежная литература
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780008285159
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interrupted her explanation to rush back down the steps to talk to him through the driver’s window. Rosie wanted to follow her, but the expression on Matt’s face caused her to hesitate. He was obviously undergoing some kind of internal emotional struggle, shaking his head and making regretful gestures to Mia. Whatever had happened at the church, or maybe at the vicarage, to prevent him from rushing inside to talk to his friend must have been traumatic.

      Rosie suddenly wanted to know the details, wanted to offer her support just as Matt had done for her when she had unburdened her own pain at the café whilst Mia slept. That dark haunted look she had seen earlier was now clearly etched in his eyes so she knew she hadn’t imagined it. Had he lost someone close to him and the church held distressing memories? If so, she wondered who.

      Mia continued with her persuasion, but Matt refused to budge, slamming the gearstick into reverse and zooming back down the driveway, leaving Mia staring after him in concern.

      ‘Matt’s asked us to meet him at the Drunken Duck.’

      ‘But, why? I don’t understand…’

      However, Mia had pressed the doorbell and Reverend Coulson answered their summons immediately. He smiled in welcome and led them into the kitchen, the real heart of the home, where Freddie was huddled at the scrubbed pine table, his fingers laced through the handle of a mug containing something strong. He didn’t look up when they joined him but continued to stare morosely into the bottom of his cup as if searching for answers in its depths.

      ‘Freddie?’

      ‘I didn’t do anything, Mia! Nothing! Nothing at all. We just chatted about music for less than five minutes and then I left.’

      ‘I know, I know,’ Mia soothed.

      Rosie loitered at the kitchen door, unsure whether Freddie would prefer to talk to Mia without her listening in. Just as with Matt, she and Freddie had hit it off immediately and she loved his quirky sense of humour and tendency towards comedic exuberance when he’d had a couple of beers. However, she also knew he was a softy at heart who would do anything for his friends and she knew that the shock of hearing about Suki would have upset him tremendously.

      ‘Unless I can assist, I’ll leave you in peace,’ said Reverend Coulson. ‘Carole and I will be in the drawing room if you need anything.’

      ‘Thank you, Reverend, but Matt’s waiting for us at the Drunken Duck,’ sighed Mia, giving Roger Coulson a meaningful glance that conveyed everything to the vicar and Freddie and nothing to Rosie. ‘Freddie? Are you up to joining us?’

      Freddie raised his eyes to Mia’s and nodded. He grabbed his denim jacket and followed them along the passageway to the front door, his whole body slumped like a puppet clipped of its strings. They bade goodnight to the sympathetic vicar and made their way down the gravel drive back to the entrance gate.

      ‘What’s going on, Mia? Why wouldn’t Matt…’

      ‘Later, Rosie.’

      ‘Oh, okay.’

      Rosie fell back a couple of paces behind Mia and Freddie, a little startled at the way her enquiry had been closed down. Mia’s reaction reminded her that despite her deepening connection with Willerby, she was still a newcomer and after all, she had been probing for details about Matt’s personal life which perhaps he would want to keep to himself. She understood that, but it made her feel like she was back in the school playground, excluded from the whispered gossip that she had always thought was about her after her self-confidence had dipped when she’d lost her father. But this definitely wasn’t about her, so she ignored the nip of hurt Mia’s words had inadvertently caused and strode forward to rejoin her.

      The Drunken Duck was on the opposite side of the village green to the vicarage. Its whitewashed façade glowed with golden light from two large iron lanterns which also illuminated the large letters proclaiming its name. Mia pushed open the heavy oak door and guided them towards the back room. Immediately, Rosie was enveloped in a warm, welcoming hug of buzzing chatter, interspersed with the occasional burst of laughter, rippling against the background tune of a classic Beatles track. A faint aroma of yeasty beer, mingled with baked dough from the huge pizza the customers next to the fireplace were in the process of devouring, met her nostrils and she relaxed.

      When they arrived in the snug, Rosie was surprised to see Matt looking almost as morose as Freddie. She ached to ask what was going on, but the priority was to talk to Freddie who had slumped down on the banquette next to his friend.

      ‘Hey, Matt. Sorry about holing up at the vicarage…’

      ‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Matt, visibly dragging his mood out of the doldrums to concentrate on the task in hand. He flicked a glance in Rosie’s direction and she was gratified to see that the earlier sadness had been replaced by a hint of seriousness in his deep blue eyes.

      ‘Listen, Freddie. Suki’s boyfriend has arrived and he’s got it into his head that Rosie’s responsible for making Suki sick. Felix has called in the authorities and is demanding the café is shut down. If that happens, Rosie could lose her job and with it her home. Now, as anyone who’s been in the Windmill Café’s kitchen knows, there’s no way Suki’s illness could be down to careless food preparation and I thought we could help her by investigating the real cause. So that means you have to tell us exactly what happened between you and Suki when you went back to her lodge. No matter how intimate or embarrassing. If you would rather Mia and Rosie left…’

      ‘No! Honestly, Matt, there’s no need. Nothing happened. Is Suki okay? I swear to you, she was absolutely fine when I left her. Is it true what Carole told me? That someone may have tried to poison her?’

      ‘It’s a possibility, but Dr Bairstow says we should wait for the results of her blood test before we start speculating.’

      ‘But how? Why?’

      ‘All we know is that Suki must have become unwell at some point after you left. We don’t know how or why. But,’ Matt softened his voice and held his friend’s eyes for a beat, ‘it does seem you were the last person to have been in her company. You have to help us understand what happened after you left the party together.’

      As Rosie waited for Freddie to explain, her heart hammered out a concerto of sympathy. Matt and Freddie should have been enjoying a well-deserved pint after a long week at the outward-bound centre and a stint volunteering at the Windmill Café garden party. She suspected they would be the first to put their names on the list when she was looking for help with her Autumn Leaves Hallowe’en party at the end of October – if indeed she was still around to organize it.

      ‘Really, Matt, I promise you, there’s nothing to tell. You saw what Suki was like. She must have downed at least two bottles of prosecco before we were even introduced. She was drunk, or so I thought. I was as surprised as everyone else when she dragged me off to the lodge like that. She’s gorgeous, and it was great to meet someone who loves music just as much as I do. Believe me, I had no idea she had a boyfriend. I’m not sure what I expected to happen when we got back to her lodge. I’m not even sure anything would have happened. I’d only had a cup of tea and a couple of warm beers so I was in full command of my senses, and, call me old-fashioned, but I prefer my date to know what she’s doing.’

      ‘What do you mean “she was drunk, or so I thought”?’ Matt pressed.

      ‘When we arrived at her lodge, Suki disappeared into the bathroom. I stood at the window in the lounge. I just couldn’t get my head around what was going on. I was struggling with my conscience as to what to do next when she emerged, fully-clothed and as sober as my Aunt Marjory.’

      ‘What? But we all watched her swallow the entire contents of a bottle of prosecco,’ Rosie said. ‘How could she have been sober?’

      ‘I don’t know how, she just was. She offered to open a bottle of Moët she had brought with her, but I declined. Hate the stuff. I’m a beer and whiskey man, you know I am.’ His eyes sought Matt’s, silently pleading for his support. ‘Anyway,