The Village King Read Online Free

protective of her younger
charge, he thought, and he had just cursed the room out. “Sorry.”
    “I swore first,” said Alana.
“It’s just having something hot to eat makes it seem, dunno, normal.” She’d
searched for the last word. Stephen knew what she meant. Their life was tough,
had been since the virus, and it had made them tough. Domesticity showed how
coarse they had become.
    Through her eyes again, he saw
himself. He was filthy. His hair was knotted and his beard was unkempt.
Tomorrow, he would sort himself out. There was a great big porcelain sink in
here after all. The water system still worked.
    The kettle boiled and Stephen
used a tea bag for the three of them. He had some chipped mugs. Karen was
fascinated by the process but she pulled a face when she tasted some of it.
    “It’s better with some milk and
sugar,” Stephen laughed. He handed Alana her mug and she breathed in the steam.
She sipped gratefully.
    “Where did you find tea bags?”
    “Trade secret.” He sipped at his.
It was hot. He’d found them in an old B&B outside Jedburgh and had been
hanging onto them ever since, doling them out to himself and Gary.
    Karen crawled over to the
mattress and slid in between the covers. Alana went to stop her, but Stephen
said, “It’s okay. You can use that too if it’s not too disgusting. I’ll kip
here.”
    Alana sipped her tea and sighed
in approval. When she’d finished, she slid in beside Karen, but not before
she’d artfully positioned the loaded shotgun within reaching distance. She
quickly dropped off to sleep.

7
     
    S tephen
woke up as the door
closed. Alana had closed it gently but it lifted him out of sleep all the same.
He was sore from having slept on the hard floor. It was just getting light. The
bed was empty. Alana and Karen, and the shotgun, had gone but they had left
their coats.
    He managed to stand up and sucked
in cold air and blew it out again. He leaned into the fire. It was still warm.
He’d thrown a log on in the middle of the night to keep it going. He reached
for a few sticks he kept in a wood basket and hoped they would catch. He
grabbed the kettle and filled it in the sink, pulling the curtains back.
Outside, he could see Alana, looking around with the shotgun crooked over her
arm. Stephen scratched his head and felt grateful she hadn’t shot him during
the night. Karen looked like she was bursting and bounced up and down on the
path.
    Stephen rapped his knuckles on
the window and caught Alana’s attention. When she turned, he pointed towards
her left and crooked his finger round like he meant for her to go round the
corner. She looked at where he was gesturing. When she saw what he was pointing
to, she turned back and gave him the thumbs up and a surprised look. He had
sent her to the public toilets, originally built for the tourists.
    Chuckling, he filled the kettle.
It made him need to visit the toilets too, conveniently sited at the end of the
wash-house. Placing the kettle back on the hob, Stephen saw the sticks were
starting to catch. He poked around with another stick then built it up a bit,
placing wood carefully to keep air flowing through. It started to spark and
catch.
    The door opened again. Alana
breezed in, followed by Karen who looked more at peace, and quite subdued.
“Toilets? You’ve got everything here.”
    Karen skulked over to the
mattress and plonked herself down on it. Alana placed the shotgun down on the
floor, well away from Stephen.
    Stephen gestured to the shotgun.
“You won’t need that walking about the village.”
    Alana looked at the gun, then up
at him blankly. He added, “Not unless you step on their grass, though.”
    She burst out laughing. Karen
looked at Alana with a puzzled expression. Stephen excused himself and stepped
outside. Gary’s billet was still quiet. It was still early, but he thought he
better check if everything was okay. He banged on the door and nipped to the
toilet.
    When he came back, he banged on
the