Siddon Rock Read Free

here grows tougher than in the city. It has to, to survive.
    Each week Sybil chose her beasts from the local herds and flocks, feeling along rib-cages for firmness without too much fat. Not that this country encouraged fat. The beasts produced here by the dry forage of stubble and saltbush were solid and sturdy animals, and Sybil knew well the shape of flesh and muscle concealed by a fine layer of tissue that tied skin to carcass. No-one in the town , she thought, no-one except myself knows what to expect when that smooth cover is broken. She was deft and quick in separating the skin from the carcass and quite liked the silky smoothness of the meat as she jointed and boned the various cuts. It was, she thought, similar to the feel of the thighs of her men as they lay along her, although not as warm.
    Sybil watched Gawain Evans pause and glance towards her shop, then turn and walk towards his home. She knew, though, that when he strolled up the street each day from the Council Offices where he worked, his real, hidden desire was not the currant bun he asked her for. She had experienced the surprising strength of this mild-lookingman with the dark, slicked-down hair, and was happy to take him into her bed occasionally, but not into her life.
    As she watched Alistair Meakins watching Macha, Sybil knew that for his meal tonight he would have two lamb cutlets, mashed potato and tinned peas. She wondered, not for the first time, why he had not visited her at night. She had suggested it once, but he had doffed his hat to her and said formally, My dear, thank you for the offer. You can be sure that, if I ever feel the urge for female companionship, it will be yourself I will seek.
    At the time Sybil had wondered why someone as obviously sophisticated as Alistair would come to a place like Siddon Rock, but pushed the thought aside.
    As for Macha Connor, Sybil Barber considered that she didn’t carry enough flesh to feed a crow, let alone a hungry man.
    Sybil set the starter for the next morning’s bread batch – ten wholemeal, fifteen white and five jubilee twist covered the regulars and a few spare – checked that the floors and pine chopping block were spotless, and then let herself out into the chill, still evening.

    Kelpie Crush stood with glasses stacked up his arm, propping open the swinging door to the street with a polished boot. He saw Alistair standing in the shadows of the entrance to Meakins’ Haberdashery and Ladies & Men’s Apparel. He saw the lights go off in Barber’s Butchery & Bakery and knew that Sybil Barber would be watching Macha.
    The patrons of the pub saw Kelpie Crush as a quiet, efficient barman who knew everyone’s drink and when they were ready for another. He slowed the rate of drinks to some as the evening went on, but did this so that it was not noticed. He heard stories and whispers across the dark wood of the public bar with its brass foot-rail on which farmers, townsmen and the occasional travelling salesman rested their dusty boots or glossy shoes. No-one knew he heard them and no-one heard them from him. The few women who sometimes sat in the Ladies’ Lounge found him courteous, but there was no flirtatious tension which was so often found in the slight risqué-ness of the place. It could be said that Kelpie Crush was the perfect barman.
    Because of his expertise at the pub some people found it curious when Kelpie pinned a notice on the town noticeboard at the Council Offices, asking if anyone was interested in forming the Siddon Rock Cub Scouts Pack. What’s a barman doing with kids? they said. Someone, possibly Doctor Allen, spoke with the headmaster, Harry Best, who then had a quiet word with Kelpie one afternoon over a beer.
    Harry reported back that he was pleased to say that Kelpie Crush appeared to have excellent credentials, having run such a pack in the city. He was, Harry said, a quiet man who some time before had a nervous breakdown from a