Chapter Five
That evening, Steven stayed for supper. It was Frances’s idea; she had heard that he was a great cook and if she was staying for dinner, just for a change, she would like something edible.
Steven stood by the sink, his body still throbbing a little. He itched for his Mr. Muscle spray; the kitchen had that slightly greasy look from constant fry-ups and minimal cleaning. He thought about polishing the surfaces, but took one look at Beatrice’s idea of a cleaning cloth and gave up on the idea. Instead, he arranged the food on to four plates and put the kettle on.
He whistled a little to himself, looked down at Sam and handed him a small piece of cheese. Thanks to Sam, Steven had spent half an hour under the administering hands of Sheryl. She dabbed his cuts and nettle stings wi
