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

feel sick. And to be sick. And finally to fall asleep (I prefer that to the thought I pass out) on the bathroom floor, cuddling a towel.
    I have no idea how long I am there but it is still dark when I wake. I haul myself up against the chill of the radiator. Am I going to throw up again? I don’t think so, but I feel lousy and I want my bed. I manage to stand and stumble back to my bedroom. The beam from a full moon slices my pillows and I make my way across the room to shut the curtains.
    A movement in the garden catches my eye and I try to focus better to peer out. To my absolute amazement, Owen is coming out of the small door at the side of the barn. He closes it behind him and then he hesitates, his head bent. He passes his hand over his face and looks briefly to the heavens, the wetness of his tears glistening in the moonlight. Then, very slowly, he trudges away.

Chapter Ten
    Not one single fibre in my body wants to move. I roll over slowly and my stomach lurches, but I can hear William whining and I can’t let him down again, poor dog. My feet find the floor and that makes my head thud even more. With a superhuman effort I finally stand up.
    At the bottom of the stairs I spy my spare keys on the mat. Owen must have locked the back door and put them through the letterbox. I leave them where they are. My own keys are nestling on top of my handbag which I’d slung on the garden room shelf. I grope for them as William capers around and finally I’m able to let him out into the sunshine.
    I lean on the door frame and watch him sniff his way up the border, praying he doesn’t find any decomposing wildlife to roll in. Last night is pretty hazy but I can’t fathom Richard’s behaviour – I wouldn’t have thought he had an aggressive streak in a million years. And then there’s Owen – kindness itself, but why was he sneaking around my barn in the middle of the night? Perhaps neither of them are quite what they seem; or maybe I’m just a really bad judge of character.
    William might be enjoying the sunshine but every ray is finding its way behind my eyes and sending needles into my skull. I know the only way to clear the poison from my body is to drink loads of water but it’s too hard to face. I shut William back into the garden room and fall asleep on the sofa.
    I feel a tiny bit more human when I wake again but it’s early afternoon before I manage to stir myself properly, eat some toast, wash and dress. My priority has to be to thank Owen for his kindness – and try to find out what he was doing creeping around my barn. But that’s a tough one because in the sober light of day I can’t be completely sure I didn’t imagine it.
    I know where Owen lives from the evening we took the dogs to the pond; one of a terrace of Victorian red brick villas next to the church. There’s every chance he won’t be in but I’m still strangely nervous as I walk up the short path to the door. Partly because I’m no longer certain I have the right house; the front window is swathed in a frilly lace curtain and there is a flock of Lladro geese on the windowsill.
    But it is Owen who opens the door and when he sees me his smile reaches right to his eyes.
    â€œAlice! How are you feeling?”
    â€œA lot better than I did this morning thanks – still a bit like I’ve been poisoned though.” I laugh a bit louder than I mean to.
    â€œI expect you do.”
    â€œI don’t want to disturb your Sunday; I just wanted to thank you for being so kind last night.”
    â€œIt’s no problem, really.” He hesitates for a moment. “Do you have time for a cup of tea?”
    â€œThat would be lovely if it’s not too much trouble.”
    â€œOf course it’s not. Ads has fallen asleep listening to the cricket on the radio and it would be nice to have some company. You make yourself comfy in the front room and I’ll pop the