Rainbow for Megan Read Online Free Page B

many weeks now. Mrs. Jones was afflicted with arthritis, and in the past had depended on a neighbour's help in giving the dog the exercise he needed. Mrs. Holm was not too sprightly herself and had willingly bowed out when Megan offered to help out. Chas was a very lively boxer, and had at first proved a bit of a handful for Megan's slight five foot two to cope with; however, after a few skirmishes, Megan had come out on top and Chas, with tongue lolling and eyes rolling, acceded her authority. They had now got to the stage when he came when she called him to heel, rushing up at a great rate of knots liable to test the strongest nerve. It had also taken Megan quite a while to get it into his head that the object was to come to heel, not to knock her flying.
    As he rushed hither and thither, sniffing and snuffling in high delight at every new scent that presented itself, Megan walked ahead down the lane. She was quite proud of her prowess with him. She knew she had only to call, or indeed hide behind one of the huge old oak trees, and within minutes he would be frantically searching for her. She often
    talked to him on the way, such comments as, 'I don't know why Mrs. Jones keeps you. You couldn't guard a worn-out mat. You're an old softie if I ever saw one !'
    On this particular evening, however, she was proved wrong. A voice hailed her from across the wooded section they had just passed. It was Alain. At first, Megan decided she would carry on as if she had not heard—she was still very annoyed with him —but she sighed, and then turned towards him.
    He walked towards her, his long loping stride seemed to cover the ground twice as fast as anyone else she knew. He wore a thick navy blue polo-necked sweater and dark grey tapered slacks. His fair hair was worn in the current fashion but not too long, and Megan grudgingly had to admit it suited him. It reminded her of the medieval knights. Alain would have made a fine knight.
    She pulled herself together. She was daydreaming again—as Alain had once said, she was beginning to live in the past as her father did.
    Alain came one way and Chas the other. Chas reached her first and stood with curling lip in front of her, daring Alain to come closer.
    `What the devil are you doing with that ?' he demanded irritably. 'What's the matter with the brute ?'
    `His name is Chas,' said Megan, very much on her
    dignity. She could have hugged Chas. He was a
    watchdog, after all. `I think he's guarding me,' she confessed, and found she was quite unable to keep up her haughty front. 'Isn't he clever? she grinned. `Honestly, I've quite maligned him. I thought he was hopeless.'
    Alain did not share her enthusiasm. He made an attempt to move closer, but Chas, having decided to adopt a protective pose, was playing it for all he was worth. A low growl broke forth.
    `I'd have it muzzled if I were you,' Alain said. `Haven't you got a lead for it ?'
    `Of course I have,' retorted Megan, and produced it from her jeans pocket. She clipped it on Chas, who threw her a half-startled, indignant look. 'Good boy,' she said. 'Friend, Chas. Come and make friends with him,' she invited Alain.
    `No, thank you,' he replied caustically, 'I prefer to visit it behind bars, where it belongs. Who owns it, anyway ?'
    `Mrs. Jones,' Megan answered haughtily. 'If you remember, she suffers from arthritis, so someone has to walk him. And stop referring to him as "it". His name is Chas,' she added indignantly.
    `So Chas it is,' he replied with some amusement. `Come on, I'll see you both get safely back to the village.'
    Megan bristled. 'We've not finished our walk,' she said crossly. 'You go on. I'll not let him off the lead
    until you're out of sight,' she added with a certain amount of relish in her voice. Alain was a great one for giving orders, but those days were past.
    His grey eyes surveyed her with mixed exasperation and amusement. 'All grown up, are we ?' he teased.
    Megan flushed. He could so easily throw her off