The Cheesemaker's House Page 9

  “I expect he was.”

  Owen looks a little surprised at my comment.

  “Adam told me how you met. The full, unexpurgated version with no punches pulled.”

  “Wow – he must trust you.”

  “I hope he does, but I think he had an ulterior motive. He wanted to make sure I knew what a great guy you are.” If anyone is going to push the conversation in this direction I know it has to be me.

  “Adam’s horribly biased,” Owen laughs. “I hope you didn’t fall for his pack of lies.”

  Hidden beneath his joking I half sense a hollow ring of truth. But I’m not going to be put off.

  “Hook, line and sinker,” I reply, trying to hold his gaze. “After all, it was you who told me that he’s a man of his word.”

  Owen looks away and fiddles with his knife. “I thought…I thought you were seeing Richard and...”

  “I was never ‘seeing Richard’ in the way he made you think. I overheard what he said to you that Sunday when you came to see how I was. I was so mad at him; I was cooking him supper and I spoiled it quite deliberately I was so cross. I haven’t a clue why he said it.”

  “Well I have and she’s called Maria. It was a long time ago but I guess it still rankles.” He sighs and runs his hand over the top of his head before carrying quickly on. “Basically I’d been out of college a year or two and I’d just come back here to live. I worked for Boots and they moved me to the Bedale branch. I met Maria on the bus; she lived in Leeming Bar and worked in Bedale too, and we’d have a chat every day – she was really friendly.

  “In the end I plucked up the courage to ask her out. I’ve never been much good at that sort of thing, as you might have noticed, but I made myself do it. She told me she had a boyfriend and had to finish with him first. I didn’t have a clue that boyfriend was Richard until about a month later when we walked into The Black Horse and there he was. It was awful – a real scene – I’d never been in a fight before and I didn’t come off too well. But I thought it was worth it because I was madly in love with Maria. As was Richard.

  “Of course, eventually she went back to him and they married. It didn’t last – I think they both had roving eyes, to be honest. Richard and I rub along OK nowadays, he even invited me to the wedding but at the time I was too cut up to go. So I suppose Richard thought he’d be getting one over on me if he said he was going out with you.”

  “Wow – he’s got some memory – that’s one long-time grudge to hold.”

  “Oh, I don’t think it’s a grudge, exactly.” Owen looks a bit uncomfortable for a moment but then our food arrives and he skilfully changes the topic to safer, more general ground.

  Although I’m nervous I am determined not to drink too much and disgrace myself again. However I’ve still had enough to make me feel just a little bit brave by the time Owen drops me home.

  “Why don’t you go and park the car and then come back for a nightcap?” I ask him. When he agrees I tell him he’ll find me by the pond.

  It is late dusk, so as well as the brandy bottle and a couple of glasses I carry out an old glass oil lamp I bought on some forgotten holiday to Spain and rest it on the edge of the decking. It is hard to light with William capering around my legs, but I manage it by the time Owen crosses the lawn. William, rather rudely, stiffens and growls.

  “Cut it out, you stupid dog,” I murmur, ruffling his ears. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

  Owen laughs, “I don’t think he’s ever going to forgive me, you know.”

  “Give him time.” I pick up the bottle, “Is brandy OK?”

  “Lovely – a real treat.”

  I pour us both a generous measure. “Tonight was a real treat for me too; thank you so much for dinner, Owen.”

  “My pleasure.” He wanders over to the edge of the decking and looks out towards the Moors, a distant wall of bleakness fading into the last of the dusk. “They look even more dramatic in this light.”

  “I was saying to Margaret that I’d like to explore them.”

  “If you like, I’ll take you. There are some wonderful walks – so good that William might even call a truce.”

  We are standing very close, so close I can feel his warmth, and I look up at him. I can see that he is weighing up whether or not to kiss me and I so want him to. The light has faded fast and the oil lamp is so dim that I can barely see his features, yet I know what is in his eyes; and they are saying that it is all too complicated.

  “Why is it too complicated, Owen?”

  He jumps out of his skin and stares at me in amazement. His voice is hoarse. “How did you know what I was thinking? Did I say it out loud?”

  I shake my head. “I…I can’t explain. I just knew. It’s not the first time…sometimes I feel I can see what’s written in your eyes.” I turn away from him. “Oh my God, that sounds so naff.”

  He touches my shoulder very gently. “What would you say if I told you that ever since I was a small boy every time I’ve walked past this house I felt it would be important to me, and that right from the first time I saw you, I felt like I’ve known you forever? And if that doesn’t sound naff, I don’t know what does.”

  I fiddle with my brandy glass. “It’s funny you should say that about the house. The first time I walked up the drive – when Neil and I were just looking, really – it was like I was coming home. Maybe that’s why it was a good place to lick my wounds.”

  “Are you still licking them?”

  “Is that why you think it’s too complicated? I’ve got too much baggage?”

  Owen shakes his head. “Not you, Alice. I don’t know – it feels so right, but all the same it’s…I don’t know...”

  He tails off and I seize the advantage, wrapping my arms around his waist and stretching up to kiss him, but to my amazement he twists his face away. I am amazed not only because of his words, but because I can feel the beginnings of an erection filling against me.

  “Owen?”

  “But it is too complicated. There’s so much I haven’t told you, so much...”

  I have never seduced a man before but then I have never wanted one the way I want Owen. It is uncharted territory, my mouth is dry and my hands are trembling, but all of a sudden it is as though a previously undiscovered part of me is guiding me home. Very gently I stroke his cheek.

  “Then you can tell me now – we’ve got all night.”

  My fingers move down his neck and under the collar of his shirt. He is motionless, holding his breath. I trace the line of buttons slowly towards his navel, lingering on the softness of his skin between each one.

  “Oh, God, Alice – don’t make it any harder...” he whispers, but I smother his protest with another attempt at a kiss, and this time he does respond, his lips cool and firm on mine, his tongue sliding along the edges of my teeth. My hands slip under his shirt and his back is smooth and warm beneath them. He kisses me again, with more purpose. He’s not resisting any more.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It is beyond the grey of dawn and the first weak rays of sunlight slant across the window. Owen’s breath is light and steady next to me, and I luxuriate in the moment of not waking alone. I turn my head towards him; in sleep he looks almost boyish, the worry lines gone and his hair sticking up in crazy spikes.

  I lie on my back and close my eyes but I don’t want to sleep; I am enjoying having him close to me, and thinking about the night before. That was a bit of a revelation, to be honest. After our uncertain start in the garden, after our first explosive quickie on the sofa in the snug, when we actually made it into bed Owen turned out to be the most generous lover I could possibly imagine. After years of Neil’s wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am approach to lovemaking it was pure bliss.

  I am so lost in my reverie I almost jump when Owen’s fingers brush my face.

  “Alice – you are so beautiful,” he murmurs.

  I turn so that I can feel every inch of him against me; my cheek against his stubble, my breasts
and the curve of my stomach touching the soft hairs on his body, his prick gloriously hard against my thigh. Already it is as though I have known the shape and feel of him for years.

  When we wake again it is because the church bell is tolling. We look at each other guiltily.

  “I hope you’re not down to read the lesson,” I say.

  He smiles, “Thankfully not. But it mightn’t escape half the village’s notice that neither of us is there.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “You can’t avoid it in a place like this anyway. I just feel...” He bites his lip.

  “Go on.”

  I hold his gaze and eventually he says, “Last night was wonderful, and I wouldn’t change it for the world, but there are things I would have wanted you to understand first.”

  “Such as?”

  He shakes his head. “Things that need time to explain. And although missing church isn’t the end of the world I do need to get up because it’s lunch at Adam’s mum’s today.”

  As he speaks he pushes me lightly away and swings his legs over the side of the bed. I sit up and tuck the duvet around me; it’s not cold, but I suddenly feel naked and exposed. Owen retrieves his boxer shorts and pulls them on, then his chinos.

  “I think your shirt’s downstairs,” I say, trying not to sound sulky and failing miserably.

  He sits back down on the bed. “Have I messed up already?” He’s not joking, and I realise with a jolt just how fragile his confidence is.

  “Of course you haven’t, you idiot. I’m just feeling a bit empty after all that closeness. Give me a hug, tell me when I’ll see you again, and I’ll be fine.”

  He is smiling and hugging me for all he is worth, and I promise I’ll cook him supper on Tuesday. Tuesday – it seems nearly forever away. He kisses me and walks out of the room. I listen to his footsteps go along the landing and half way down the stairs, then stop and come back.

  He pokes his head around the door. “You don’t fancy taking the dogs for a quick walk this evening, do you?”

  I nod, trying not to look as though he has just made my day.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I wake alone for the first time in days and immediately miss Owen’s warmth next to me. I roll over and pick up my watch – ten past eight – only eleven hours until I see him again.

  I burrow under the duvet and catch a hint of his deodorant. I am reluctant to get up; I want to wallow in it for as long as possible, but it quickly fades and below me in the garden room William starts to whine. Still lost in dreams of making love with Owen I pull on my dressing gown and stumble downstairs.

  I let William out and turn on the radio in the kitchen. In America the anti-abortionists are at it again. As I start to run the tap an uncomfortable realisation worms its way up from the recesses of my mind – contraception – or rather the lack of it. As the water splashes into the sink I curse out loud. What a stupid risk to take.

  I need to do something – and fast. I do a quick calculation – it’s borderline as to whether the morning after pill will work after five days, but Owen was a pharmacist so he will certainly know.

  As I push the café door open Owen looks up from putting some sandwiches into the refrigerated display case and his face breaks into an enormous smile.

  “Alice,” he says, “what a lovely surprise.”

  We meet behind the counter and he gives me a hug and the lightest of kisses on the lips. There are a few customers dotted around the place so it is a surprising demonstration of affection.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, but we need to talk.”

  He pulls away and there is anxiety in his eyes. I ruffle his hair.

  “It’s OK, you idiot, I only need your advice.”

  “Wait in the office. I’ll get Adam to mind the shop.”

  The office is no more than a windowless cupboard off the passageway that runs along the back of the café. An old piece of kitchen unit has been fitted across the far end of it to form a desk, and on it is Owen’s laptop, flanked by neat piles of paperwork. On top of one pile is a bank statement and I can’t stop myself looking. I wish I hadn’t; the business is overdrawn by a scarily large amount. Things obviously haven’t improved that much, and what I am about to say will only add to Owen’s worries. I curse my carelessness.

  Owen slips into the office and closes the door behind him. “What’s up?”

  “Owen, you were a pharmacist – what do you know about the morning after pill?”

  He only looks taken aback for about half a second, then he nods. “We have been a bit irresponsible, haven’t we?”

  “It’s my fault, I...”

  He grabs both my hands. “It’s our responsibility, not just yours. Takes two, remember?”

  He winks at me and I blush.

  “Well there won’t be much point in the morning after pill I’m afraid. Not at this late stage of the game.” He pauses. “But if you’ll trust me, then I can sort this out.”

  “Trust you? Of course I trust you.”

  “OK then, just promise me you won’t spend all day worrying, and come around to see me at about half eight tonight.”

  “Thank you.” I give him a lingering kiss and wander off to the chemist to buy about a gross of condoms.

  Before I leave for Owen’s I take William for a long walk around the garden then slip my toothbrush, some of the condoms and my moisturiser into my handbag. The thought of spending the night with Owen is taking my mind off puzzling over what his plans could be to deal with my potential unwanted pregnancy. Maybe he has access to some very early warning testing kit or something.

  When I reach the house Owen answers the door almost before I knock and ushers me into the dining room.

  “It’s OK, we won’t be disturbed – Adam’s gone out.”

  “Tactful absence?”

  “No. He’s gone to Middlesborough. You know he always does on a Thursday.” Before I can even sit down Owen ploughs on. “I can understand that an unwanted pregnancy isn’t on your agenda and even though it’s too late for a conventional morning after pill to work, there are alternatives.” Despite garbling the words his voice sounds formal and stiff.

  “What sort of alternatives?” I ask, smiling in what I hope is an encouraging manner.

  “Herbs.”

  “Herbs? Like the ones in your garden?”

  “Including some of the ones in my garden.” He sounds terse. “Is that a problem?”

  “No...” I find myself stammering, “It’s just something I’ve never thought about before.”

  “You don’t think they’ll work?”

  I remember him taking umbrage when he thought I was doubting his grandmother’s skills so I am quick to pour oil on troubled waters. “Not at all – you asked me to trust you and I do.” But somehow this isn’t my boyfriend I’m talking to; it is a complete and utter stranger.

  “Good. But the herbs I’m thinking about are pretty powerful, so before deciding whether it’s safe to use them I need to find out about your general health.”

  His face is strained and his fingers are wrapped tightly around each other, flexing in and out. I try to break the atmosphere. “So do you want me to take off all my clothes and lie down on your couch, Dr Owen?”

  He does at least try to smile. “Nothing like that, no. But please, do sit down.”

  On the table is a large wooden box, lovingly polished but wearing the chips and scars of prolonged use. I expect Owen to open it, but instead he reaches into a rucksack on the chair next to him and pulls out a notepad and a state of the art blood pressure monitor. He is very serious about all this and as he asks me questions, looks at my tongue and at my eyes, I begin to understand that this is something he is very accustomed to doing.

  Eventually he opens the box. It is lined with green velvet and inside are dozens of brown glass bottles, all neatly labelled. To the left is a section for empty vials. He pulls one out and turns to me.

  “I’m going to mix three tinctures; th
ey’re all uterine stimulants and they’re all completely natural so they work with your body.”

  “So basically they irritate the hell out of my womb so that a baby can’t grow.”

  He looks away. “It’s not so different to the way the morning after pill works. It’s what you want to happen, after all.” He sounds decidedly huffy and I regret being so blunt.

  “I’m sorry, Owen,” I say, “I didn’t mean it in a bad way – I was just trying to understand.”

  He nods. “No, no, that’s fine,” but his hand is shaking as he measures the liquids, so much so that he spills a great deal of the last one on the table.

  “Owen, are you sure...”

  “That it’ll work? Of course it’ll work.”

  “That wasn’t what I was going to say. I was going to say – are you sure you want to do this?”

  His eyes are momentarily wide with astonishment, but then he turns away, stoppers the vial firmly and hands it to me. “You take it in three equal doses, four hours apart. It won’t taste great, so my gran would have said to disguise it in a glass of gin.”

  “What would you say?”

  “Hold your nose and get it down you.” He pauses, biting his lip. “Alice – these herbs are strong and they could give you some nasty stomach cramps. I...I’d rather be with you if they do. Would you mind waiting until tomorrow lunchtime to take the first dose, then if I could come around after work...” he trails off. He looks really miserable and I reach my hand across the table to touch his fingers.

  “I’d like you there. It’s a little scary, to be honest.”

  “No – you mustn’t be scared.” He is trying to sound reassuring but his voice is shaking again. He takes a deep breath. “Come on,” he says, “I’ll walk you home. Kylie can come too and stretch her legs.” So he isn’t planning to stay the night. Although that doesn’t surprise me after the way he’s been, it does make me feel completely and utterly alone.