The Windmill Café: Christmas Trees. Poppy Blake

       Chapter 4

      “Hello, it’s just me! The door was open. Coco! Coco! Come here!” came a sing-song voice from the vicarage’s hallway before the kitchen door was shoved open by the nose of a honey-haired Lhasa Apso who rushed in to greet them vociferously before claiming the perfect spot in front of the Aga. Clearly Coco had been there before. However, her owner wasn’t so comfortable to be met by a room full of visitors and visibly blanched when she saw the five women sat around the table hugging their matching Portmeirion mugs, all eyes resting on the new arrival. “Oh, hi. I didn’t realise everyone would be congregating here?”

      “Hi, Corinne,” smiled Mia, getting up to fetch an extra mug and an empty plate when she saw Corinne was carrying a white confectionery box emblazoned with the Adriano’s Deli logo. “Thanks for coming over. Tea or coffee?”

      “Erm, coffee please, black,” said Corinne, nervously flicking the sides of her short bob, the colour of liquid coal, behind her ears as she slipped into the seat next to Rosie and raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrows in enquiry.

      Rosie shrugged her shoulders. It was clear that Mia had asked Corinne to come over, but she had no idea why. She had only met the waitress from Adriano’s Deli once before when she and Matt had popped in to sample a selection of their delicious Italian confectionary. She felt the corners of her lips twist upwards when she recalled their brief conversation. It had turned out that Adriano had chosen to employ a waitress who was not only a committed vegetarian, but was also gluten-intolerant and therefore couldn’t eat anything that was on offer at his deli. However, that didn’t prevent her from enthusing over the myriad of pastries that were on offer, a selection of which Mia was decanting onto a platter adorned with a profusion of the ubiquitous Portmeirion flowers.

      “Thanks, Mia. So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

      Corinne took a tentative sip of the coffee Mia had made for her, leaving a perfect imprint of scarlet lipstick on the rim of her mug. A waft of her signature jasmine perfume filled the air and her ruby nose stud glinted under the kitchen’s overhead lights as she glanced around the gathering.

      “Well, I’m sure you’ve heard about the cycle accident in the woodland next to Ultimate Adventures?”

      “Yes, Adriano told me. Awful, just awful. Wasn’t the victim one of your wedding guests, Grace?”

      “Yes, and Theo also supplied our wedding cars. He and his girlfriend, Penny, came down to Norfolk a couple of days early so he could take part in the stag party celebrations. They’re staying at the Windmill lodges – with Sam and Zara, and Abbi and Dylan.”

      “What’s the news from the hospital?”

      “He’s going to be okay, thank God,” said Rosie, experiencing a sharp kick of discomfort to her abdomen as she contemplated how the outcome could have been so different. “Apparently, if Theo hadn’t been such an accomplished cyclist, he could have been seriously injured. His wound’s been stitched and he’s been advised to stay in hospital for a couple of days, but Matt says he’s adamant about not missing the Christmas Carousel competition – apparently he’s intent on producing a tree worthy of the Rockefeller Plaza!”

      “Well, it’s a relief he’s in such good spirits,” sighed Carole, her kindly face relaxing as she selected one of Adriano’s home-baked cannoli stuffed with cream cheese and coated in crushed pistachios. “And that he’s not suggesting the competition is cancelled!”

      “Only because he wants his name engraved on the inaugural trophy!” muttered Grace, rolling her eyes.

      “But we still need to find out who did this, and why, as soon as possible,” said Mia, leaning forward on her elbows to press her point more forcefully. “Most of the wedding guests have either arrived or are on their way, so whatever you say, Grace, it’s too late to even think about cancelling the wedding.”

      “Cancel the wedding? No way!” gasped Corinne, her soft Welsh accent thickening with astonishment at the suggestion.

      “Mia, we can’t expect our friends to celebrate such a joyous occasion when there’s a crazy person running amok in the Willerby woods, can we? Right next to where the reception is being held! What if something else happens? And what if it’s Josh who’s being targeted? Oh my God, what if it was Josh who was meant to fall off his bike? What if someone wants us to cancel the wedding?”

      Grace’s eyes widened with alarm and Carole gave her daughter’s slender shoulder a squeeze. “Darling, you mustn’t say things like that. I’m sure this whole unfortunate debacle will turn out to be a freak accident, and if not, then I’m sure the police will have the culprit under lock and key before the week is out. Your guests are perfectly safe and you and Josh are certainly not being targeted.”

      Rosie’s heart filled with sympathy for Grace and Carole. The Coulson family had endured their fair share of tragedy over the years and certainly did not deserve to find themselves in such a predicament. She knew the absence of Grace’s younger sister, Harriet, who had died of meningitis at the age of seven, would be keenly felt during the celebrations and they could do without the added stress this incident had caused.

      “So,” continued Mia, meeting Corinne’s wary silver eyes – she clearly suspected Mia had an ulterior motive for inviting her over for coffee at the vicarage apart from the chance to sample a selection of delicious Italian cream cakes. “Rosie and Matt have kindly agreed to put on their metaphorical deerstalkers again and attempt to unravel the mystery of who in their right mind would stretch a length of twine between two trees that straddle a cycle path! And you, Corinne, could be just the answer to our prayers.”

      “Me? Really? How?”

      If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Rosie would have giggled at the almost comedic look of horror on Corinne’s face.

      “Well, there’s just so much to do, what with organising the first Christmas tree decorating competition and preparing all the festive food for the party afterwards,” began Mia, running the back of her hand theatrically across her forehead, keeping her mahogany eyes trained on Corinne like a puppy desperate for a chocolate treat. “Not to mention looking after the guests in the lodges. Add to that the investigation of the cycling accident and it all adds up to a lot of work for Rosie. Now, if we could find her a little bit of extra help, it would free up some time for her to resume her role as Matt’s intrepid partner. Oh, I mean crime-fighting partner, of course.”

      Rosie missed Mia’s mischievous smirk because she was in the process of demolishing one of Adriano’s Cavallucci pastries, so preoccupied with relishing the flavours of anise, honey, almonds and candied fruit that her reaction to Mia’s suggestion was somewhat delayed.

      “Mia, I’m—”

      “So, I’ve had an idea.”

      Mia ignored Rosie’s frantic gesturing and continued to address Corinne who was busy feeding the final crumbs of one of Carole’s mince pies to Coco. When she realised Mia had paused in her soliloquy, and that all eyes were trained on her, her forehead creased in confusion.

      “What?”

      “If Adriano can spare you from the deli for a few hours, would you be able to help me and Rosie out with the baking for the Christmas Carousel party? Just until the police have arrested the perpetrator, which could even be as soon as tomorrow? And I’m sure Graham wouldn’t mind you using one of the luxury lodges – complete with heated outdoor spa and Moulton Brown toiletries. Much more sumptuous than your room above the deli,” added Mia, her eyebrows raised encouragingly as she nodded her head in anticipation of Corinne’s agreement. “It’s three days at the most.”

      “Well,