I took a draught of my beer, set it down in front of me and leaned back in my seat, discreetly wiping the condensation from my hand in a trouser pocket before letting it rest lightly on my thigh, and cursing Delilah for insisting men who drink bottled beer didn’t need a glass. I was alone at my table. Delilah had taken up her sentry by the fireplace and Alf had shambled outside. I sensed Cynthia behind me, Rebekah and David in the nook. Joshua, Ed, Nathan and Hannah, they were all there with their eyes and their ears. I felt strangely oppressed.
The moment I’d entered The Cabin, I determined to maintain a casual air, which proved increasingly challenging given the company. I could do nothing but study Adam, his sculptural form, an Adonis of ostensible purity, until my earlier disillusionm
