The Cheesemaker's House by Jane Cable Read Free Book Online

– no!”
    Richard pulls away slightly. “Who’s Charles?”
    I grab my chance and use the space between us to knee him firmly in the groin before taking myself off down the road as fast as my wedges will carry me.
    I don’t get very far. I am too drunk to run and soon my chest is bursting with every step. I sit on the parapet of the little bridge over the beck to take stock. I’m alright really; OK, my ribs feel a bit tender but I tell myself there’s no real harm done.
    I hear footsteps coming down the road. My first instinct is to run, but what if the footsteps started running too? It has to be Richard – the tread is definitely male, and I can feel my teeth chattering. Perhaps if I duck down by the stream he’ll walk on past and I can hide until he’s gone. But what if he’s waiting for me when I get home?
    I decide my only option is to face him off. Fuelled by Dutch courage I call out “Who’s there?”
    â€œIt’s me, Owen.”
    I am so relieved I almost wet myself. Literally.
    â€œWhat the hell are you doing creeping around after me?”
    He has now come close enough for me to see him. “I’m not creeping around,” he says, with some exasperation “I’m just making sure you get home alright, because Richard’s obviously not gentleman enough to do it.”
    My anger with Richard, Owen, and men in general bursts out. “Why should you care, when you’ve been avoiding me all week?”
    â€œAvoiding you? I don’t know what you mean.”
    He sounds so sanctimonious I could scream. And I do (almost). “Of course you do – you hid in the kitchen when I came to collect my cake, for a start.”
    â€œI did not. I had a meeting.”
    â€œYou didn’t. You were clearing tables just moments before I came in.”
    â€œThen I went straight into the office, put on my jacket, and went out of the back door.”
    â€œTo avoid me.”
    â€œTo go and see the bank manager, not that it’s any of your business.”
    â€œLike it’s none of your business how I get home.”
    He draws a sharp breath. “No, I don’t suppose it is. However, as we are both walking in the same direction, are we going to stand here arguing all night or are we going to get a move on?”
    Stubborn as I feel, I can’t stand here for much longer – I need to go to the toilet for one thing, and my head’s swimming for another. Besides, I won’t really feel safe until I’m in my own house with the door firmly locked behind me. Without another word I start walking and Owen falls into step beside me. I say beside me, but that’s not so easy for him because I’m swaying all over the place. A little way further on my foot catches on something and I almost trip up, but his hand is there to steady my elbow.
    â€œWoops-a-daisy,” he says.
    â€œWoops-a-daisy? No-one in the real world says woops-a-daisy anymore.”
    â€œNow you’re misquoting one of my favourite films.”
    â€œNotting Hill?”
    â€œThat’s right...” and somehow we chat about it all the way to my back door.
    Inside, William is scratching and whining. “Somebody’s missed you,” Owen comments.
    â€œHe’s been on his own too much today,” I say, fishing in my bag for my key.
    Once the door is open William leaps up to welcome me. I am surprised he doesn’t race straight to his favourite drainpipe but when I flick on the light I can see why; he’s messed all over the floor.
    I turn to Owen. “Poor dog – he never asked for any of this, he never asked to come here.” A maudlin tear runs down my cheek.
    Owen places a warm hand on each of my shoulders. “Alice, I’ll clean up. You go to bed and sleep off that beer. No argument. OK?”
    I don’t even thank Owen. I rush upstairs to have a pee but never get back down again because I start to