Poppy Blake - The Windmill Café - Summer Breeze

‘Ergh, what’s with the intense chlorine smell?’

Suki’s exclamation took Rosie by surprise and a surge of warmth travelled from her chest up into her neck and glowed at her cheeks. However, the last thing she wanted to do was talk to Suki about her painful past and the cause of her resumed struggle with cleanliness, how making sure that everything was so clean it squeaked was the only thing that gave her the peace of mind she craved. To cover her embarrassment, she strode quickly to the cupboard above the fridge and removed a jar of Jarrah honey.

‘Is this what you’re looking for?’

‘Perfect! Thank you, Rosie, you’re an absolute life-saver. My throat is so sore from all the talking I’ve done this afternoon. I take a lot of stick from Felix and Nadia, but I can’t even think about singing without a bottle of my spray in my pocket. It’s sort of like my good luck charm. See you later. Eight o’clock on the terrace. Don’t be late!’

Rosie watched Suki flick her hair over her shoulder and meander back towards her friends, clutching the jar of honey as if it contained the elixir of youth. For some unfathomable reason, a spasm of sympathy shot into Rosie’s heart and she took a moment to contemplate the five people who had taken over the luxury lodges at the Windmill Café’s holiday site.

Felix, Suki’s boyfriend, was still conspicuous by his absence despite being expected for the ribbon-cutting ceremony, and whilst the others were certainly all fascinating characters, she had little in common with any of them. Suki and her friend Nadia clearly had more of an affinity with the contents of a drinks cabinet than an interest in either floristry or baking and she made a mental note to hide her emergency bottle of Gordon’s just in case.

She liked Jess, Suki’s younger sister, but despite being twenty-one, she acted like an immature teenager rather than an independent adult. She seemed to float along in a world of her own, happy to follow in her boyfriend Lucas’s wake like an excitable puppy on its first walk on the beach.

Rosie had already had to fight to keep Lucas out of the café kitchen. The first thing he had told her when they’d checked in at the lodges was that one day he hoped to be the proud owner of a Michelin star. The guy seemed to have modelled his entire life, as well as his physical appearance, on becoming the next version of the Naked Chef, right down to his accent – strange, because Lucas had also told her he was from Cornwall, not Essex.

Finally, her eyes came to rest on William, Suki’s tall, dark and handsome music manager, who also happened to be Nadia’s boyfriend. He stood a little apart from the group, as if watching a bunch of toddlers enjoying an afternoon cavorting in the playground. Rosie was grateful that there was at least one sensible person in their group otherwise she suspected the whole party could quite easily descend into disarray – something she wasn’t good at coping with.

After saying her goodbyes to everyone who had attended the very first Windmill Café garden party, Rosie grabbed a roll of black bin bags, handed one each to Matt, Freddie and Mia and they began to stuff them with litter. With the extra help, the tidying up didn’t take long and by six o’clock a casual onlooker would never have known there had been a party at the Windmill Café that afternoon. She made a pitcher of homemade lemonade and slumped down next to Mia at one of the tables on the terrace for a well-deserved rest, whilst Freddie went off in search of a bucket of ice in which to store his beers.

‘So, are you pleased to be back from your trek around the world?’ Rosie asked Mia, enjoying the sensation of the cold, sharp, citrusy nectar trickling down her throat.

‘Having a gap year is an awesome experience. I’ve seen some amazing sights, but there is nothing quite like being at home. Mum and Dad are ecstatic that I made it back in one piece. Mum’s got me helping with the flowers in the church, as well as baking all this stuff for the Rev’s homeless charity, and Dad’s roped me in with the gardening and tending the greenhouse. I don’t mind, though. I’m still writing my travel blog and, of course, I’m loving working with you here in the café over the summer. Did Matt tell you he’s offered me a part-time job as a zip wire instructor when the season ends in October – can’t wait to start the training with our very own answer to Bear Grylls. And Freddie’s promised to take me windsurfing and wild camping.’

‘You can definitely count me out of those very special experiences,’ Rosie shuddered. ‘What’s so enjoyable about getting cold, wet and muddy?’

‘Oh, Rosie, wild camping is lots of fun! Actually, Freddie and I were talking about trying it out in Willerby Woods next weekend. We’ll be foraging for all our food and water and sleeping under the stars. Why don’t you come along?’

‘Gosh, I’ll take a raincheck on that if you don’t mind!’ she laughed as Matt and Freddie joined them.

‘Rosie, do you mind if I make myself a coffee? Freddie couldn’t find any ice and I don’t think I could stomach another bottle of warm beer. Want one?’

Before Rosie could offer to do it herself, Matt had marched into the café kitchen and flicked the switch on the kettle. He spooned freshly-ground coffee into a cafetière with the careless abandon of a three-year-old in a sand pit, sending a generous scattering of the granules across the marble benchtop. Where only moments before soothing orderliness had reigned supreme, there was now a plethora of culinary chaos. Rosie’s desperation to create order that always lurked just beneath the surface reared its ugly head and her fingertips tingled with the effort it took not to rush over to the sink and grab a cloth to start wiping away the mess. She chanced a quick glance at Matt, and saw him raise his eyebrows in amused enquiry.

‘You okay?’

‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she improvised. ‘Just tired. I hadn’t realized how exhausting it would be to manage the Windmill Café as well as the holiday site, but I’m enjoying every minute of it.’

‘So, too busy to come over for a flight on the zip wire, eh?’ Matt’s eyes crinkled with mischief, nudging her flagging spirits northwards. Every time she met up with Matt at the Drunken Duck, he and Freddie had tried to encourage her to spend the day with them at the outward-bound centre and she admired their persistence with a lost cause.

‘I’d rather stick my hand in a meat grinder,’ she laughed, trying her hardest not to let her eyes drift back to the spilled coffee.

‘Not a lover of heights, then?’

Matt was right, indoor pursuits had always been more her thing, like flower arranging and baking up a storm. But, now she was settling into her new life in the country, far away from the city life and urban sprawl she had left behind in London, there was no reason why she shouldn’t introduce a few changes, and start enjoying a more rural lifestyle. Wasn’t life all about trying new things? Should she give the zip wire a go? A shiver of trepidation shot down her spine just thinking about it. Maybe she could begin with something a little closer to the ground.

‘What else do you have at Ultimate Adventures apart from the zip wire?’

‘Lots of things. We’ve got the climbing wall, there’s the quad bike safaris, you could try paintballing, field archery, hover-carting, wild camping, and there’s my personal favourite – the woodland obstacle course – although that’s best enjoyed after we’ve had some rain. Which one floats your boat then?’

Rosie gulped. Each one sounded worse than the last, and the thought of having to choose between them caused her head to spin. What on earth was hover-carting? There was only one way to find out and with all-action-hero Matt at her side whilst she gave them a go, she suspected she’d be able to conquer all of those things – except the zip wire.