Read Online The Sweetest Thing by Cathy Woodman - Free Book Online

you are, Malcolm,’ Mum says as my father strolls into the kitchen, with his glasses in one hand and handkerchief in the other. ‘This is Guy from the farm. He’s brought Jennie some scrumpy.’ She glances around the table. ‘Now, where’s Granddad’s piece of cake?’
    ‘Um, I’ve eaten it,’ Adam says, his cheeks pink. ‘I thought it was going spare.’
    ‘Adam!’ I say.
    ‘It’s all right. There’s some left,’ Mum says, pouring scrumpy into glasses.
    I try some of the rich golden liquid, coughing as it catches the back of my throat.
    ‘That’s lethal,’ I gasp.
    ‘It’s pretty strong stuff. I should have warned you,’ Guy observes, but I suspect from his expression that he’s pleased that he didn’t, that he’s revelling in my discomfort.
    I try a smaller sip, sieving the bits through my teeth. It’s sharp and desert dry with an apple tang. Do I like it? I believe it might be an acquired taste.
    ‘Can I try some, Mum?’ Adam asks.
    ‘No, definitely not.’
    Everyone falls silent for a moment, savouring the cake. I don’t know what to say to Guy, this man who seems completely at home in my kitchen. It is as I expected. We have absolutely nothing in common.
    ‘I hope you’ll let me have your apples in the autumn,’ he begins. ‘I need them for next year’s cider.That’s where this came from.’ He points to the container.
    ‘I didn’t realise they were cider apples,’ I say, looking in the direction of the orchard.
    ‘You’ve got one Bramley – that’s a cooker.’
    ‘I know what a Bramley is.’
    ‘You’ve also got some of the good old cider varieties – Hangy Down, Slack Ma Girdle and Tremlett’s Bitter.’
    ‘Hangy Down?’ says Sophie. ‘That sounds rude, doesn’t it, Mummy?’
    Georgia giggles.
    ‘Slack Ma what?’ says Adam.
    ‘Girdle,’ says Guy, straight-faced. ‘Of course, I’ll understand if you want to make your own cider …’
    ‘No, I can’t imagine I’ll have the time,’ I say. ‘You’re welcome to them.’
    ‘I’ll pay you in kind. I’ll give you a proportion of what I make. You can sell it on, or drink it yourself.’
    It sounds like a good deal to me, I muse, cider from our own apples.
    Sophie breaks the silence which descends over the kitchen.
    ‘Do you have any children, Guy?’ she pipes up. ‘Only I’d like someone to play with who isn’t my sister because all she wants to do is play ponies, which is really boring.’
    ‘I don’t, I’m afraid,’ he says.
    ‘Do you live on your own then?’
    ‘Sophie, why don’t you …’ I begin, but Sophie’s in full flood when Guy affirms that does indeed live alone.
    ‘Do you have a girlfriend?’ she says. ‘A boyfriend then?’ she runs on, not giving Guy a chance to respond. ‘You might have a boyfriend if you’re gay.’
    ‘I don’t have a boyfriend, and I’m not that way inclined,’ Guy says stiffly.
    I cringe. I wish Sophie and Georgia weren’t so fascinated by other people’s domestic arrangements.
    ‘Our daddy lives with Alice who’s his girlfriend. Daddy isn’t gay,’ Sophie twitters on, and I observe how Guy concentrates on his tea and sincerely hope he doesn’t think that I put them up to it.
    When we’ve finished eating and drinking, and I’m feeling a little lightheaded, Guy offers to help move the table out of the barn so I can take a look at it. He’s a man of tremendous energy, seemingly unwilling or unable to sit down and relax, which is how we all end up in the yard as dusk is falling and the bats are beginning to flit in and out of the stables.
    ‘It would have taken us half the time if you’d been here yesterday,’ Adam says, and I see him regarding Guy’s muscles with envy. Guy has strong hands too, I notice, with lightly tanned and roughened skin, and nails blunt-cut and clean.
    My dad drags open the door at the front of the barn, revealing my lovely sofas covered with tarpaulin.
    ‘We’ll have to get these out of the way again,’ he says, but