Free Outside Chance by Lyndon Stacey Page B

grown tired of the doorstep conversation, slipped between their legs and into the hall, where she began to sneeze violently.
    Lisa scowled at her.
    â€˜All right, all right. No need to rub it in; point made!’
    A couple of minutes later, having unearthed the replacement jacket, she had another crisis.
    â€˜Oh God, it’s all hairy! That wretched dog! I’ll turn her over to Mike the Masher one of these days!’
    â€˜You wouldn’t!’ Mike was Ben’s landlord, an ex-army man who was rumoured to have been in the Special Forces, and looked as though he had certainly represented the army in the boxing ring. A mountain of a man with a deep rumbling voice, he lived just a few yards from the farmyard development, in the tall stone building that had been the original farmhouse. Nobody knew how he’d come by his money, and no one was about to ask. He was an undemanding landlord who kept to himself and imposed few rules on his tenants, but one of those few was that no pets of any kind were allowed in the cottages.
    â€˜I would so!’ she declared. ‘Look at this. How can I put that on? It looks like she slept on it!’
    Ben, who had indeed found Mouse curled up in the washing basket one afternoon, wisely held his tongue. Instead, he fetched a clothes brush and set about remedying the situation.
    â€˜I don’t know how you’ve got away with sneaking her in and out all this time,’ Lisa said, as Ben brushed vigorously. ‘He must know.’
    â€˜Of course he knows. And what’s more, he knows that I know he knows. But as long as nothing is actually said, we can all pretend we know nothing. There, that looks okay; it’ll be dark, anyway.’
    â€˜Thanks.’ She picked up her handbag and keys and headed for the door once again, pausing to say, with a glint in her eye, ‘You know, I reckon he’s a bit sweet on you. You want to be careful.’
    â€˜Mike the Masher? Yeah, right! You’re just jealous. Now go find your rich Americans. When will I see you again?’
    â€˜Well, this lot move on on Tuesday morning but I’ve got another lot on Wednesday, so I’ll probably stop over at Mum’s. It might be the end of the week.’
    â€˜OK. Well, give me a ring, then. And sorry about the bacon.’
    â€˜That’s all right.’ Lisa leaned towards him and they kissed briefly. ‘I was going to chuck it away, anyway. It was out of date.’
    Ben was laughing as he closed the door behind her. They had a good relationship: steady but not intense; mutually noncommittal, as they’d agreed it should be when Lisa had first started to stay for the occasional night over a year ago. With both of them working irregular hours and sometimes beingaway for several days, there were times when they were like the proverbial ships in the night, but, in a way, Ben felt this kept the relationship fresh. When they did get together, it was like discovering one another all over again. The arrangement was loose and it suited them both that way; there were no promises to be broken, no tears and tantrums, in fact, very few arguments at all. The gentle reproach, imperfectly hidden, with which she’d greeted him that afternoon was about as heavy as it got. He counted himself very lucky.
    With only an hour or so to spare before his arranged meeting with Rackham, Ben decided that his time would be most usefully spent soaking in a hot bath. His back felt tender and exhibited the beginnings of some quite promising bruises, but these bothered him far less than the shame he felt at the memory of his rapid descent into panic when he’d found himself trapped. It had been a long time since he’d gone to pieces like that and he’d thought he was past it. It was disturbing to find that he wasn’t.
    Belinda Kepple’s yard was, like its owner, neat and competent, with no frills. Whitewashed walls, black painted doors and a well-swept