Chapter Nine – Cheese, Chutney, and Champions
After the glitter storms and roaring crowds of the Nationals, the Cheese Family returned to Cheddar-on-the-Crumb as heroes. Word of their victory had travelled faster than butter on hot toast, and the village had prepared a welcome like no other.
The cobbled square was packed from rind to rind. Bunting stretched from cracker to cracker, looped high across the wedge-roofed cottages. A giant fondue fountain bubbled proudly in the centre, its golden cheese cascading in shining streams. Stalls offered celebratory toasties, pickle platters, and mountains of cheese straws stacked like hay bales.
Mini Mozzarella and Babybel led the parade, marching with gusto, each waving a tiny flag stitched from toasted bread. Their little feet pattered in perfect rhythm to the beat of a biscuit-drum troupe who had turned out for the occasion.
Behind them trotted Wensley the Wensleydoodle, his wedge-shaped body gleaming under ribbons of gold. Around his neck hung the Golden Biscuit award, polished so brightly it sparkled even in the afternoon sun. Every few steps he puffed with pride, pausing only to accept gentle pats and crumbs of cheddar offered by delighted villagers.
Just behind strode Monterey Jack Flash and Halloumi Belle, their sequinned outfits still glittering from the stage. They waved and twirled as they walked, tossing in a cheeky spin or two to the crowd’s delight. The villagers cheered loudest for them — the champions whose disco steps had carried Cheddar-on-the-Crumb to glory.
The rest of the family followed, waving at familiar faces in the crowd.
Sir Blue Vein leaned on his cane, nodding regally to neighbours who bowed or tipped their caps.
Lady Brie accepted baskets of congratulatory brie wheels from well-wishers, balancing them with steady grace.
Clarabelle and Eddie carried the Nationals trophy carefully between them, its glittering surface catching every flicker of light.
By the time they reached their cottage, the air was humming with joy.
Sir Blue Vein set his cane by the door with a sigh of relief, while Lady Brie deposited her gifts on the sideboard. Clarabelle and Eddie placed the trophy on the mantelpiece. It shone there like a second sun, casting little sparkles across the crumb-patterned wallpaper.
Babybel’s voice piped up, her cheese rattle clutched in one hand.
“Do you think the Stiltons will come back?”
A hush fell over the room.
“Oh, undoubtedly,” Sir Blue Vein said at last, adjusting his monocle. His voice was calm, though his eyes were serious. “But for now, the rind is quiet.”
The family seemed to breathe easier. The battle was over — for now.
That evening, the village still buzzing outside, the Cheese Family gathered in their snug lounge. The fondue fire crackled cheerfully, filling the room with the smell of melted cheddar and toasted bread.
Monterey Jack strummed a cheesy guitar riff, his golden bell-bottoms twinkling even in the low firelight.
Halloumi Belle twirled Babybel around in a playful dance, the little one giggling so hard she nearly dropped her rattle.
Mini Mozzarella curled up against Clarabelle’s side, already half-asleep, his eyelids heavy from the long day.
Wensley stretched in his cheese-box bed, the Golden Biscuit propped proudly against the rim. His big melty eyes fluttered closed as his soft snore began, a steady rhythm that filled the quiet between laughter and music.
Lady Brie raised her teacup, her wobbling edges steady with emotion.
“To family,” she said.
“To dancing,” Eddie added, raising a mug of warm grape juice.
“To chutney,” Clarabelle grinned, glancing at the scroll safely tucked away once more.
“And to Wensley,” finished Sir Blue Vein, voice strong and proud.
The room filled with laughter, warm and melty, carrying out into the Biscuitshire night.
And so, Volume One of the Cheese Family Chronicles closes — with trophies won, secrets safe, and a promise of more adventures (and rivalries) yet to come.
Blind Man Makes 