The Windmill Café: Summer Breeze. Poppy Blake
were changed every day irrespective of whether the occupants had used them.
She sighed. How wonderful it would be to live in one of those wooden cabins, to be able to relax in the outdoor spa after a long, hard day slaving away in the café, gazing up at the stars with a glass of prosecco in one hand and a cookery book in the other.
But she couldn’t complain; she loved the tiny, perfectly circular studio that came with the job of café manager, baker, waitress, and reluctant washer-upper because Graham steadfastly refused to install a dishwasher. From her kitchen sink, she had an uninterrupted view of a patchwork of fields and woodland, stitched together with emerald hedgerows, and if she spun around one-hundred-and-eighty degrees, she could feast her eyes on an endless stretch of silver-blue sea sparkling with a sheen of iridescent pearls.
When she had walked out of her life in London, she had never in her wildest dreams thought she would be fortunate enough to live in a converted windmill. The flat was the ideal retreat for a heartbroken ex-florist who had left behind all the hurt and recriminations and, against the odds, managed to get her life back on track in a tiny village in the Norfolk countryside. She still sent up regular missives of effusive thanks to her guardian angel for returning to duty in the nick of time.
‘So, Mia,’ giggled Rosie, ‘which of old Mrs Faversham’s suggestions for a sun-filled afternoon did you try out in the end? Did you dance naked under a silver moon with marigolds in your hair? Or maybe you decided to go with rustling up one of her herbal recipes as a peace offering to the “rain nymphs”? Both are ridiculous, if you ask me.’
‘Well, whatever your opinion of the dark arts, her magic seems to have worked! Come on, let’s grab Matt and Freddie before they disappear. Maybe we can persuade them to help us with the tidying up and then we can all go for a celebratory drink in the Drunken Duck afterwards. I’ve noticed how well you and Matt have been getting on recently,’ Mia added, an impish glint in her eye. ‘Just say if the two of you would rather be alone.’
Rosie rolled her eyes at her friend and shook her head. Whilst she was grateful for Mia’s easy acceptance of a new arrival in her friendship group, if she thought she was setting her up with the local Action Man, she would be sorely disappointed.
She’d had it with love.
‘Hey, Rosie, great party!’ declared Freddie, hoovering up the leftover desserts like he was on a gastronomic safari. ‘Did I ever tell you that you make the most amazing cakes?’
‘Oh, but Rosie is a woman of many talents, Freddie,’ said Mia, casting a surreptitious glance in Matt’s direction to make sure he was listening whilst she listed her friend’s numerous attributes. ‘Not only is she a brilliant baker, she’s a fabulous café manager, a demon organizer, and don’t forget she used to be a super-talented florist in London. She was even commissioned to design the bouquets and bridesmaids’ posies for the weddings of several TV stars.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to…’
Rosie paused, uncertain about what to say. She didn’t want to embarrass Mia by correcting her in front of an audience – and anyway, maybe Mia counted a radio weathergirl and a Sky Sports cameraman in her definition of ‘stars’. But she was saved from having to decide by the arrival of the real-life celebrity in their midst who was clutching a bottle of champagne as if her life depended on it.
‘Hi, everyone! Rosie, this is the best garden party I’ve been to in years. It’s really kind of you to invite us all. I’m sorry I got side-tracked and wasn’t around to cut the ribbon. I really must start honing my rapid extraction skills as well as my networking skills!’
‘Thanks, Suki, that’s very kind of you. I had a lot of help though, from Mia, from the vicar’s wife Carole, and the ladies from the Willerby WI did help with the sandwiches. Can I introduce you to Matt and Freddie? They run Ultimate Adventures, the outward-bound centre in the village.’
‘Hi there!’
Suki tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder and held out her slender fingers to an awestruck Freddie, before turning her attention to Matt, her gold-flecked manicure glistening in the sunshine, her pink lips parted to reveal a perfect Californian smile.
‘I hope you and your friends are enjoying yourselves in Willerby,’ said Matt.
‘Oh, we are! It’s a fantastic start to a week away from my frazzled work schedule. When my boyfriend Felix suggested a luxury countryside break before the onslaught of all the hard work of a record contract, well, let me tell you, I leapt at the chance. The lodges are absolutely gorgeous, but next time I’m going to insist on staying in that little shepherd’s hut. It’s so cute! Anyway, excuse me, got to circulate!’
Rosie watched Suki make her way to the terrace in front of the café where her friends lounged on the peppermint-and-white painted benches, drinking champagne straight from the bottle, laughing raucously, and generally enjoying the sunshine and relaxation.
‘So, Rosie, I notice we still haven’t seen you over at Ultimate Adventures yet. What’s the matter? Allergic to mud?’ Matt laughed, cute dimples appearing in his cheeks.
With muscular shoulders and toned biceps from his daily involvement in the activities on offer at his outward-bound centre, Matt possessed that healthy outdoors kind of charm that attracted admirers and Rosie understood why Mia considered him to be perfect dating material. His spiky blond hair, the colour of honey, had been teased into surfer-dude tufts with a smidgeon of gel, but, when she took the time to look more closely, she could see a shadow of sadness lurking behind his dark blue eyes and she wondered briefly what had caused it. She had meant to ask Mia about Matt’s relationship history but hadn’t had the courage for fear her friend would interpret her questions as romantic interest. However, there was no way she was going to let him believe the reason she hadn’t visited Ultimate Adventures was because she was some kind of pristine princess, even if it was true.
‘Actually, I’m quite capable of getting down and dirty with the best of them.’
Rosie cringed when she realized what she had said and heat whooshed into her cheeks at the amusement she saw flicker across Matt’s expression.
‘So, you’re a florist, are you?’ said Freddie, oblivious to Rosie’s discomfort. ‘Did you design all these fabulous table decorations for the garden party?’
‘I did.’
‘And all the planters,’ added Mia, proudly. ‘Rosie’s a floral maestro!’
A curl of pleasure meandered through her veins at receiving a second accolade in ten minutes. She had loved flowers and plants since she was a child, learning their Latin names from her father. Their demands for regular attention had become her therapy at the most difficult time of her life, then it had turned into her passion, and eventually it had become her livelihood. She had adored the little flower shop she used to run in Pimlico with her ex, Harry Fellows, especially creating the intricate bridal bouquets and bridesmaids’ posies.
Sadly, her long-held ambition to become a celebrity wedding florist had morphed into a nightmare, and Love Lies Bleeding had become her flower of choice until she arrived in Willerby with only a suitcase to her name. The little Windmill Café had gently unwrapped the mantle of misery from her shoulders, and the warmth of the friends she’d made here had helped to plaster over the cracks in her heart so that now she greeted every day with a smile on her face. She was so grateful to have her life back on track at last and she would never do anything that would jeopardize that.
‘Ah, now I understand your ‘getting down and dirty’ comment!’ grinned Matt, a flicker of mischief appearing in his eyes. ‘If you’re interested, perhaps you can let Freddie take you on a guided walk through the grounds of Ultimate Adventures. There’s lots of flora and fauna, but I don’t think you’ll find anything suitable for your table decorations, though.’