Free The Beast of Bracksley Woods by Doreen Hayward

tablets.
    “How are you liking this neck of the woods?” he asked as he seated himself on the sofa. “You certainly seemed to have made a conquest with my old friend Greg. He was telling me that you have agreed to look after him.” “yes, up to a point,” Debbie answered, “We’ll just have to see how it works out. I have plans of my own, you see,” Debbie said looking straight at him. “I picked up my first client today,” she said cheerfully.
    “What is it you do?” Paul asked sipping his wine.
    “I have always loved cooking and I taught domestic science in the early days of my marriage. I gave it up when my husband was travelling around so much. If I hadn’t, we would have seen very little of each other. He was a sportsman and played matches and tournaments all over the world. I used to go with him, you see,” she paused and then went on to say “I am just starting out on my own. We will just have to see how things work out with Greg. I sort of feel a bit responsible for him as I was the one who found him when he got knocked off his bike. That doesn’t mean that I wish to make him my main purpose In life although I wouldn’t leave him stranded. I will be a one-man-band for a start. I shall be organising private dinner parties. I will have to do everything myself including the cooking. it is going to be really hard work for a start. Apart from that, I intend to bake Christmas and celebratory cakes to order,” so I could get quite busy at this time of year. I really wanted to start a cookery school but with no premises and not enough finance I haven’t been able to organise anything so ambitious,” she said in case Paul was under the impression that she would be at Greg’s beck and call.
    “However, I have made a start,” she told him feeling a tiniest bit proud of herself, “ At least, I feel that I am standing on my own two feet.”
    Debbie amazed herself at the way she was opening up to Paul. She felt so at ease with him it was as though she could talk about anything to him. Here she was practically telling him her life story. She gave a little smile and let a silence drop between then as she watched as Paul’s eyes swept round the room before lighting on Mike’s photograph.
    “You seemed to be well organised,” Paul remarked, “I thought that you have practically agreed to housekeep for Greg. Isn’t that going to take up most of your time?” He asked.
    “Not quite. I cannot allow Greg to stop me doing my own thing. Greg is a dear old man but I get the impression that he would really like someone to depend on. I have only agreed to help him where necessary. I don’t intend to become a fixture,” she said firmly.
    They sat chatting about Greg for a minute or two then Paul spotted the photograph of Mike in his tennis kit. His eyes rested on the young athletic figure in the frame. “Who’s this?” he asked as he studied the photograph fixedly.
    “My husband,” she answered simply. “He died in July from a brain tumour. He was quite well-known as a tennis player. Perhaps you have heard of Mike Richards,” she answered quietly.
    Just then there was a tremendous crash coming from the direction of the kitchen. Debbie sprang to her feet.
    “What’s happened now!” she said as she ran in search of the disturbance. Trigger had knocked over a chair which had banged up against a cupboard. “No harm done,” she said joining Paul again carrying the bottle of wine and a couple of glasses. “I’ll let you do the honours.”
    Paul took the bottle and opener, he lifted the wine to scrutinise the label. “Oh yes,” he approved. “A very good choice.”
    She sat down beside him on the sofa as he poured the wine. Debbie found herself talking easily as she sipped her wine. She answered Paul’s questions as he asked about her husband. It had been such a long time since she had talked about Mike. The love that she had felt for him seemed to well up within her and she suddenly felt she could no