Read Online Chloe by Freya North - Free Book Online Page A

passing her by.’
    â€˜Aren’t they just!’ chuckled Mac just within earshot. ‘You mean she’s giving
you
a hard time. Well,’ he said, ‘
I’ve
taught you everything you need to know about clay and I would hope to goodness that you don’t carry soppy guilt around about that! Though,’ he furthered, tracing a semicircle across the flagstone floor in his slippered feet, ‘a visit a little more
now
than
then
would be nice.’
    â€˜I was thinking that myself, as I walked here. Made a Not-So-New-Year’s resolution of sorts,’ William admitted apologetically.
    â€˜Dear boy, I’m jesting! Can’t you tell? Every day as I sit at my wheel I know exactly where you are, that we both have slurry on our hands and an image of the finished piece in our heads!’
    â€˜Morwenna –’ started William tangentially. And closed the sentence at just the one word. His discomfort was tangible and though Mac was tempted to jest further to lighten the load, he knew that William required more. It was the advice of a father that William sought. Or father figure. One, indeed, who knew.
    â€˜There’s the rub!’ Mac thought to himself but said out loud, unwittingly.
    â€˜Pardon?’ said William, who was miles away – he had spied a bowl he had made some years before. Glazed in Lusty Red.
    The humming girl’s freckles.
    Mac was speaking.
    â€˜I’m not one really to advise on the love element in life, never having had a wife, having only ever
had
women and never really loved any of them,’ Mac trailed off with a lascivious twink in his eye. ‘But, I do know what people in love look like, how they behave. I saw it in your father, many many years ago.’
    â€˜With
Mother
?’ said William with certain incredulity.
    â€˜No, no. Before your mother.’ Mac swept the subject away quickly. ‘Anyway, I’ve seen how a love-struck man looks and behaves. You, William, I am sorry to say, are not one of them. Therefore I prescribe an analysis of the common cliché.’ Mac was stalking the room with his fire-iron, pointing it here and there, doffing his head and playing with an eyebrow. William thought he resembled a slightly mad professor giving a lecture. Ever the attentive student, he waited. With a tilt of the head to gaze momentarily at the ceiling and yet not at the ceiling at all, Mac continued.
    â€˜The common cliché, my boy. That’s what we need to consider here. After all, clichés only evolve if their sentiment is tried, tested and true.
Cruel to be kind
.’ He let the phrase hang in the air a moment. ‘Finish the contract – the Welsh bistro can be the last. Give her forty per cent if it makes you feel easier. And then give that Saxby woman the heave-ho. There’s no contract there to be finished but there
is
a psychological tie that is fast becoming a knot. It’ll soon strangle you entirely. The deed itself may well be seen as cruel, but you can execute it kindly.’
    William accepted the advice and felt a certain resolve flow through his body. He gathered his coat with an effusive show of gratitude and genuine affection. A date was set for a morning’s throwing the next week.
    â€˜If she protests, or if she whines, sling the old If-you-love-someone-set-them-free at her. Usually works.’ Mac laid a hand on William’s shoulder-blade and gave a friendly shove. As they hovered by the door prolonging their parting, William could see that he had something else to say. When it had reached the tip of Mac’s tongue, William knew instantly what it was. And it was that instant that Mac knew he had been rumbled. And yet, though he could have made rapid excuses about the encroaching darkness, William remained. So Mac cleared his throat.
    â€˜And Dad?’
    â€˜Dad’s gone, Mac.’
    â€˜You make it sound like he’s quite dead!’
    â€˜Well, isn’t