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‘Is there any news yet on anyone else getting sick?’
‘Not yet. I’ll give Reverend Coulson another call,’ said Matt and strode outside onto the café terrace.
Rosie had the strangest sensation that she’d been cast as an extra in a film; disconnected from reality, her movements those of an automaton as she forced herself to perform the tasks assigned to her by the director, of rinsing the teapot, tossing in fresh teabags and sloshing the milk into a jug. She located the sugar bowl and poured three mugs of strong tea, setting everything down on the coffee table in front of Mia.
Rosie tried to swallow down the hot tea, craving its reassuring warmth, but her throat felt like it had contracted around a miniature pineapple. Thoughts ricocheted around her brain about Matt’s suggestion that they investigate the cause of Suki’s illness themselves. Little did he know that one of her childhood obsessions had been detective novels and that she had spent many a happy afternoon with her father racing through the pages until the culprit was unveiled - usually whilst in a drawing room of a Georgian manor house. But this wasn’t fiction, it was real life!
‘I can’t just sit here drinking tea. I need to know what’s going on. I’m going to find Matt.’
She left the café with Mia, now fully recovered from her fainting spell, hot on her heels. They found Matt striding backwards and forwards outside Suki and Felix’s lodge winding up his telephone conversation with Carole.
‘Carole and the Rev have managed to contact a few more people who were at the party this afternoon and so far none of them have experienced any of the symptoms of food poisoning. In fact, everyone, without exception, has praised the smooth organization and the delicious food. Carole told me to tell you that two people have even made enquiries about outside catering for a wedding and an upcoming christening at the church next month.’
‘Told you,’ smiled Mia, squeezing Rosie’s hand and rolling her eyes at Matt’s expression of disgust when he mentioned the word ‘wedding’. Rosie noticed Matt’s strange reaction and filed it away for future exploration when the current crisis was over. She had no idea when that would be, or indeed whether she would even get the chance.
‘It’s not all good news, though. Felix has insisted on Suki being checked over because she’s still experiencing stomach cramps, so Dr Bairstow is on his way over.’
‘Do you think…’ Mia paused, flashing a quick look at the windows of the lodge where the blinds had been drawn. ‘I’m probably way out of line here, but do you think Suki could have taken something to… erm… well… to give her confidence a bit of a boost for the show she was going to put on for us tonight, and maybe she just accidentally took a bit too much?’
‘Actually, Suki doesn’t do drugs,’ came a small, tremulous voice from the veranda above their heads.
Mia’s face flooded with heat. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean… I wasn’t implying…’
‘It’s okay,’ said Jess, moving out of her hiding place on the veranda and slumping down on the bottom step like a lost waif, her eyes bloodshot from shedding copious tears over her sister’s suffering. ‘Lots of people in the music industry use some form of performance enhancement, I know that, but not Suke. She’s totally clean.’
‘But maybe she just …’ persisted Mia, as Rosie took a seat next to Jess.
‘No, she wouldn’t. She just wouldn’t. I know her. Suki doesn’t do any drugs. Not even paracetamol.’
‘Well, hopefully the doctor will be able to throw more light on what’s caused her illness,’ said Matt, pointing to Dr Bairstow’s black Range Rover pulling into the Windmill Café’s car park.
Rosie watched the popular village doctor jump out of the driver’s seat and rush round to the passenger side to collect his bag of tricks. He had clearly been disturbed whilst indulging in his favourite past-time because he was still wearing his rugby strip, tracksuit bottoms, and trainers.
‘Have you contacted your parents to let them know what’s happened?’ asked Matt.
‘Our parents passed away in a helicopter crash when I was ten. We’ve only got each other – and our uncle and aunt. They’re on their yacht in Sardinia at the moment. Oh God, Auntie Martha’s going to be so worried,’ Jess squeaked, crumpling into Rosie’s arms, her delicate shoulders heaving, her long wavy hair falling over her face.
The doctor’s arrival had forced everyone but Felix to vacate the lodge so Suki could be examined in private. Lucas, William and Nadia joined them outside on the veranda, their eyes fixed on an indeterminate point in the distance rather than looking at Rosie and Mia, who they clearly still thought had poisoned their friend.
Rosie swallowed down hard on her distress about her uncertain future to concentrate on the misery Suki was suffering, sending up a prayer for a speedy diagnosis and recovery. Matt caught her eye, gestured for her and Mia to follow him, and they made their way back to the café terrace. Rosie headed for one of the wooden benches, which in the daytime was usually crammed with ravenous customers, and sat down. Mia slid into a seat opposite her and Matt perched on the table, a faint whiff of his lemony cologne floating on the warm evening air.
‘I know it’s too early to speculate, but I really don’t think this is food poisoning. We all ate at the garden party, and no one else in Suki’s party or in the village has reported similar symptoms.’
‘So you think Suki’s suffering from some kind of sickness bug?’ asked Mia.
‘Mmm, maybe, but there could be another explanation too.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Rosie, her stomach performing a swift flip-flop.
Matt’s forehead creased into parallel lines as he worked through his new theory. ‘Why don’t you tell me what you know about Suki Richards? Who she is, why she’s here, everything.’
‘I don’t know much more than you, really.’
Rosie felt flustered, her mind suddenly washed clean under the intensity of Matt’s questions. Obviously, he had meant what he said when he’d suggested they investigate the suspected food-poisoning incident themselves. She selected a strand of hair, twisting it rhythmically between her fingers, as she scoured her sluggish brain for a place to start.
‘She’s here with her sister and a group of friends to celebrate the signing of her recording contract. She’s been singing in bars in Majorca and Ibiza since she left music school and this is her big break. Oh my God, what if this affects her voice?’
‘I think it would be unusual if there were any lasting side-effects from a bout of vomiting. What else do you know? Who booked the lodges?’
‘That was Suki’s boyfriend, Felix – apparently one of his friends came here last summer and loved it. Felix persuaded Suki to come as it would be her last chance to relax before the music business stole her life – his words not mine. He even asked us to order in a certain brand of champagne because it’s Suki’s favourite.’
‘And did Felix pay for the lodges too?’
‘No. Suki paid for everything. She wanted to treat her friends to celebrate landing her recording contract.’
‘So, if it’s not drugs or a reaction to overindulgence of alcohol, what else could it be?’ asked Mia. ‘Some sort of allergy to an ingredient in the food? Or… no…’
‘What?’
‘Maybe someone put something in her food? A deranged fan or a jealous love rival?’
‘Mia, don’t be so dramatic!’
‘Look, there’s Felix,’ said Matt, jumping up from the bench and striding towards Suki’s boyfriend who had left the lodge and was sauntering towards the car park, taking the opportunity to snatch a quick cigarette.
‘What did the doctor say?’
‘Exactly what I thought he would say. Some kind of poisoning. I’m calling in the environmental health inspectors and there’s nothing you can do to stop me,’ Felix said, reaching into his back pocket for his mobile phone.
‘Well, that’s entirely up to you, Mr Dawson,’ said Dr Bairstow, as he opened the door of his Range Rover to deposit his medical bag on the back seat. ‘But as you’ve just heard me tell Miss Richards, at this stage I’m unable to pinpoint exactly what she’s been poisoned with. I’ll get the blood samples over to the lab immediately, and in the meantime, you should make sure your girlfriend gets some rest and drinks plenty of fluids – and I don’t mean alcohol – and that she avoids exertion until she feels stronger. She’s been very lucky not to have had an allergic reaction to whatever it was she ingested. We could have been looking at a much more serious scenario.’
‘What? You mean, like, she could have died?’ Felix paused in his search of the internet for the phone number of the local council to stare at the doctor.
‘I can’t comment any further until I know more.’
‘But it’s definitely something Suki ate or drank?’
‘Yes, either intentionally or accidentally. I’m sorry,’ added the doctor sending a sympathetic glance in Rosie’s direction.
‘Are you saying that someone could have poisoned Sukie on purpose?’
‘I’m not ruling out any possibility.’
‘Have you heard whether anyone else in the village has experienced similar symptoms, Dr Bairstow?’ asked Rosie, her voice wavering and not sounding like her own.
‘No, there’s been nothing as yet.’
Rosie spotted the large plastic bag the doctor was holding, containing the champagne bottle Suki had taken back to her lodge with her, two used glasses and a variety of other bottles. She experienced a mule’s kick to her solar plexus when she saw the throat spray bottle was amongst them, followed by a wave of nausea as she realized the implications. What if the cause of Suki’s illness had been the honey she had given her from the café kitchen?
‘Hello? Is that the environmental health department? No? Well, put me through to them. Why not? Yes, my name is Felix Dawson and I want to report a severe case of food poisoning. Am I speaking to the right person? I don’t want to have to repeat myself.’
‘Thank you for coming, Doctor,’ murmured Rosie, her emotions swirling through her body so fast that she felt lightheaded and disorientated. ‘You will ring me if anyone else gets sick, won’t you?’
‘I promise to keep you informed. If it is food poisoning, then I think I’m going to be in for a very busy evening. Weren’t most of the residents of Willerby guests at the garden party this afternoon?’
‘Probably.’
‘Well, whatever Miss Richards ingested to make her so ill, it was exceptionally fast-acting. The garden party guests would already be dropping like flies. I take it no one else in your party has experienced similar symptoms?’
‘No.’
‘Please try not to worry, Rosie. It’s by no means a foregone conclusion that Suki’s illness is connected to the food you and Mia, and, if I understand it correctly, the members of the local Women’s Institute, prepared.’
‘I really don’t understand why you can’t send someone down here immediately. We could have an epidemic on our hands! How will it look when it’s reported in the local press that a concerned resident reported the matter and the council did nothing? Of course I know what time it is. How is that relevant? I demand that you… hello? hello? Imbecile!’ Felix pressed the ‘end call’ button in a rage.
‘Mr Dawson, rest assured I will be in touch should there be any further reports of food poisoning from the garden party guests. I will most certainly ascertain from them full details of what they ate and drank so we can narrow down the possible cause. Until then, I suggest you utilize your energy by ensuring Miss Richards is well-hydrated and continues to rest.’
Rosie saw a flash of irritation sweep across Felix’s expression and she thought he was going to launch into an argument with the doctor, but at the last moment he thought better of it.
‘Yes, of course, Doctor. All I want is for Suki to get well so we can leave this germ-ridden place as quickly as possible.’ Felix stowed his phone in his pocket and marched off towards the luxury lodge he shared with Suki.
‘You know,’ muttered Mia, her eyes narrowed as she followed his retreating figure. ‘I wouldn’t put it past him to have poisoned Suki himself!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, apart from his totally impersonal reaction to Suki’s suffering – preferring to concentrate on calling in the authorities rather than consoling his girlfriend – what if he arrived earlier than we thought at the garden party and saw Suki disappearing with Freddie in tow?’
‘Mia, you really do have an over-active imagination…’
‘No, Matt, hang on a minute. Mia might have a point. Except, I don’t think it would be Suki that Felix would poison – it would be Freddie. Oh my God!’ Rosie’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Freddie! Where is he? He was the last person with her before she was found clutching her stomach in agony! Has anyone told him what’s going on?’
The three friends exchanged glances and shook their heads.
‘We’ve got to find him. Come on! Hurry!’
Chapter 8 (#ulink_f6d03f42-797e-5957-b8d5-a877ca73812b)
‘We can’t just go haring off. We have no idea where to start looking.’
‘Well, I’m calling him right now!’
Mia scrambled around in her bag for her phone and selected Freddie’s number. Rosie stared at her, fingers crossed in her pockets, praying for Freddie to answer with his usual chirpy greeting. But her personal deliverer of good news was off-duty, sadly not a rarity these days, and Mia’s call went to voicemail.
‘Freddie, it’s Mia. Call me back as soon as you get this message. It’s urgent!’
‘We should at least go round to his house. What if he’s lying in agony, just like Suki, unable to reach for the phone to call the doctor?’
The very thought caused a spasm of pain to slice through Rosie’s abdomen. Just because Suki hadn’t been allergic to whatever had caused her to become so ill, didn’t mean Freddie, or anyone else for that matter, wouldn’t be. Was the reason he wasn’t answering his phone because… because it was too late?
‘Come on. Let’s try his flat first.’
They all jumped into the mud-caked SUV sporting the purple logo of Ultimate Adventures and Matt skidded away from the Windmill Café car park, sending a scattering of gravel and dust in their wake like confetti at a wedding. No one spoke during the five minutes it took to drive to the Willerby village post office above which Freddie rented a studio apartment. Rosie spent the whole time fighting her runaway thoughts that insisted on racing down myriad disturbing avenues of possibility.
When they arrived at the post office, Matt was the first to leap from his seat and together they ran to the front gate. The density of the summer foliage on either side of the pathway leading to his door drowned out all ambient noise, even the birds seemed to have taken a break from their nightly choir practice. Peace prevailed and the warm August breeze caressed Rosie’s skin like a lover’s whisper. For a few blissful seconds she felt as though there was no stomach-churning conundrum to unravel and they were just paying a friendly visit to Freddie to chat about his day at Ultimate Adventures. Sadly, her pleasant reverie was rudely interrupted when Matt began hammering on Freddie’s front door.
‘Freddie? Freddie?’
Rosie stepped back to look at the upstairs window, but there was no sign of life.
‘Freddie?’ called Mia through the letterbox, her face almost translucent in the amber light from the streetlamps that illuminated the garden.
Rosie hadn’t known Freddie for long, but, just as with Matt, she had connected with him straight away. She would never forgive herself if anything had happened to him. But the uncertainty was tearing at her mind so much that if they didn’t find him alive and well in the next few minutes she would be looking at her sanity in the rear-view mirror. All she felt like doing was opening her mouth and screaming, screaming until her voice cracked, but she knew she had to be brave and hang onto her emotions until they had the answer to the cause of Suki’s poisoning – then she could indulge in a falling-to-pieces scenario.
Matt gave up pounding on the door and sprinted round to the back of the property, leaping over the white picket fence like an Olympic hurdler. Rosie and Mia followed him, managing to negotiate the fence in a much clumsier fashion.
‘Do you think he’s…’ began Mia, hugging her arms to her chest.
Rosie slid her arm around her friend’s shoulders as Matt searched beneath the flower pots for a key.
‘Got it!’
Rosie followed Matt up the steep staircase to Freddie’s flat, but a cursory glance told her straight away that Freddie wasn’t home. It wasn’t the typical bachelor pad – practical, functional, devoid of any real personality – but filled with gem-coloured cushions, throws and vibrant watercolours. She itched to adjust the furnishings, to straighten the picture above the mantelpiece that had been knocked off-centre, to wipe the dribbles of ash from the hearth, to clear the benches of the detritus of Freddie’s breakfast, but she managed to rein in her errant impulses.
‘What are we going to do?’ whimpered Mia.
It was suddenly all too much for her and she burst into tears. Rosie dragged her into a hug, and with relief allowed the tears to fall down her own cheeks. Over Mia’s shoulder she watched as Matt rubbed his palm across his jawline, his eyes sombre, his brain working overtime.
‘I’m going to ring a couple of Freddie’s friends from the band. Maybe he’s with them, boasting about his dalliance with a famous rock musician.’ And he ran down the stairs into the back garden to make the calls.
‘Where do you think he is, Rosie?’
‘I have no idea, but I’m sure he’ll be okay wherever he is. Look, I’m going to ring Dr Bairstow to see if he’s had any more callouts.’
Rosie tried to extricate her mobile from her handbag, but her fingers were shaking so much that she lost her grip and the phone tumbled to floor. She bent down to retrieve it and again, the feeling of light-headedness almost engulfed her, forcing her to slump onto Freddie’s surprisingly chintzy sofa and wait for the moment to pass.
She needed to staunch the anxiety gnawing at her stomach for the time being, and ignore the fact that if she lost her job at the Windmill Café she would also lose her home. She thought she had moved on from the distressing events that had taken place in London, had even started to see an improvement in her compulsion to clean, but it seemed that dark grey raincloud had caught up with her again.
‘Hello, Dr Bairstow, it’s Rosie Barnes here. I just wondered whether there’s any news on new cases of food poisoning?’
‘None. I’ve called a couple of pals who were with you this afternoon and they all told me that not only are they fit and well, but they thoroughly enjoyed the garden party and are hoping that you will organize something similar at Christmas. I’ve also spoken to my colleague in Hamsterly, Doctor Mullins, and he’s having a very quiet evening, too – no callouts. I’m cautiously optimistic that the cause of Suki’s illness did not originate in the Windmill Café’s food. I promise to press the lab technicians for a swift result on the blood tests so I can completely put your mind at rest.’
‘Thank you, Doctor, that’s very kind of you. Could I ask you one final question? Have you heard anything from Freddie Armstrong at all? It’s just, erm, well, he left the garden party with Suki and we saw them go back to her lodge. He wasn’t there when Felix found Suki so we’re worried about him. He could have eaten or drank whatever Suki did – we’re having trouble contacting him and he’s not at home.’
‘I’m sorry. I haven’t had any calls about Freddie. Suki didn’t mention the fact she had a visitor in her lodge when I examined her. Of course, I understand her reticence. Have you asked Suki what happened to your friend?’
‘No.’
‘Then, I think that’s your next conversation. If I can help any further, please let me know.’
