Poppy Blake - The Windmill Café - Summer Breeze

‘I said no, Felix. I don’t want you to call an ambulance, and I don’t need a doctor. Stop fussing. It’s just an upset stomach.’

‘Food poisoning more like,’ growled Felix, shooting a venomous look in Rosie’s direction.

‘We don’t know that,’ said Matt, the voice of calm amid all the hysteria. ‘Look, Suki, we should leave you to rest. Perhaps you could have a think about what you’ve eaten today and give Rosie a call? I’ll go over to the village to check if any of the other garden party guests have reported similar symptoms.’

‘Well, if you ask me, it’s obvious what’s happened. I want the Windmill Café closed down immediately. I’m calling in the environmental health guys. Suki can’t afford to get sick! She starts recording next week. Some relaxing experience this has turned out to be!’

‘Felix, will you let these people leave so they can check on the other guests?’

Felix reluctantly stepped away from the door allowing Rosie and Matt to lead a still-shaky Mia onto the veranda and down the steps towards Rosie’s studio apartment above the café.

As soon as they had settled Mia on one of the overstuffed sofas in the café, she fell asleep, curled into a tight ball like a newborn kitten. Matt called Carole, explained as succinctly as he could what had happened and asked her to activate the Willerby grapevine to see if anyone else had fallen victim to a potential food poisoning bug.

The final gasps of the evening sun streaked through the windmill’s windows sending a kaleidoscope of pretty colour through Rosie’s dreamcatcher. She felt as though it was a slap in the face after the way the day has ended. All the hard work she and Mia had put into making the first Windmill Café garden party a success had backfired spectacularly. Not only was there a distinct possibility that she had poisoned their first celebrity guest with her baking, there was also the chance that Felix would follow through with his threat and call in the food inspectors which could lead to the closure of the café, if not permanently, then certainly temporarily.

Rosie couldn’t hold her emotions in check any longer and an avalanche of distress flowed through her veins. Could she have been responsible for giving the whole of the village food poisoning? If so, it would not only be the end of her career in the catering business, but there was a distinct possibility that the Windmill Café would never recover from the negative publicity. And even if the café wasn’t closed, it was hardly an encouraging advertisement for a friendly village café where just eating a scone or indulging in a toasted teacake could mean you’d be taking your life in your hands.

What would she do if she was fired? Where would she go to next? Was she destined to be a nomad, lurching from one trauma to the next? Had she been a fool to think that she had at last found a place amongst friends where she could be happy? Why did life always have to drop grenades in her path? First her beloved dad, then the debacle with Harry, and now the Windmill Café. What was Graham going to say when he found out? If he had to close the holiday site down as well, he would be facing possible bankruptcy because of her.

Hot tears gathered along Rosie’s lashes and she would have succumbed to a bout of weeping if she had been alone, or with just Mia to share her distress, but she didn’t want to crumble in front of Matt who always seemed to exude an air of practicality in the face of adversity. She didn’t want him to think she was some kind of helpless female. She turned her back and, for want of anything else to do, set the kettle to boil. She grabbed the huge brown teapot from its designated resting place in the cupboard and three mugs, hand-painted with a windmill design.

‘You know, Rosie, this kitchen is so clean it could be pressed into service by the local heart surgeon. If you ask me, there’s no way any of the food you made for the garden party could have been contaminated with even a microscopic germ. You saw how much Suki had to drink, it was probably something to do with that.’

‘I hope so. I couldn’t bear to think that my food has poisoned everyone at the garden party,’ she said, handing Matt a mug of steaming tea.

‘It’s far too early to be making any assumptions, Rosie. Anyway, where’s your self-belief?’

She tried to smile, grateful for Matt’s support, but she knew it didn’t meet her eyes. Uncontrolled emotions continued to churn through her body causing her to feel lightheaded. She was ashamed to admit that she craved the indulgence of a session with the bleach, an almost overwhelming urge to grab a cloth and start scrubbing the already immaculate benches to wash away the non-existent bacteria that could have been responsible for Suki’s illness.

She took a seat on the sofa opposite a gently snoring Mia, surreptitiously pushing her hands underneath her bottom and starting the counting exercises that her sister Georgina had taught her when her compulsion to clean was at its peak after her breakup with Harry. She knew Matt was aware of her discomfort, but he said nothing for which she was grateful.

One of the reasons she felt so contented in Willerby was because of her attachment to Mia, Matt and Freddie. But was everything she had achieved in overcoming her heartache after leaving London about to be extinguished with a flick of fate, forcing her to move on to somewhere new? If that was the case, she realized with a spasm of guilt, she hadn’t fulfilled her promise to join Matt and Freddie for a day of high-octane shenanigans at Ultimate Adventures, despite their constant cajoling and encouragement. She met Matt’s vivid blue eyes and saw a gentleness that melted her reserve. She suddenly felt as though she could say anything to him and he wouldn’t judge her, especially now that she seemed to have been pulled into another drama that was destined to ruin her life.

All her energy seeped from her veins as uninvited memories of her relationship with Harry began to crowd her thoughts. She saw Matt watching her closely as she chased her indecision down blind alleyways, and suddenly she wanted to open up to him about the reasons why her self-esteem had been at rock bottom when she’d arrived in Willerby.

‘The reason my confidence is battered is because Harry, my ex, told me repeatedly that the only thing I was good at was keeping the little flower shop we ran together in Pimlico organized and spotless. Of course, in a way he was right. I don’t have any formal training in floristry, my educational background is in catering. It took me months of persuasion before he allowed me to design a wedding bouquet for one of our clients and he was so dismissive of my initial attempts that I nearly gave up.’

‘I take it you didn’t?’

Rosie saw Matt’s jaw tighten and was grateful he was on her side. She could have done with a friend like him around when the worst happened. However, simply meandering the memory maze caused the familiar emotions of worthlessness to rear their obnoxious heads, and the muscles in her stomach contracted painfully. Yet, her time at the Windmill Café with Mia’s constant cheerleading ringing in her ears had enabled her to understand that the problems she had experienced had been instigated by Harry’s dismissive behaviour towards her and she was able to look upon the termination of their relationship from a totally different perspective. As her sister Georgina had repeatedly told her, what Harry had done was reprehensible whichever way you looked at it, and this gave her the courage to continue with her story.

‘One of the first flower shop clients I was “let loose” on was a magazine journalist who wanted to renew her wedding vows. I spent hours researching her favourite flowers, peonies, and I managed to find one called “Bride’s Dream” – a gorgeous, frilly white flower that I paired with baby’s-breath and wrapped in glossy dark green foliage. Even if I say so myself, her bouquet was stunning. Harry begrudgingly said it was acceptable.’