After clearing up the breakfast dishes, I go looking for Klempner. I find him outside, on the terrace. The fog is clearing and leaning with both hands on the wall, he stares out over the valley, watching wreaths of silver mist twine over the lake.

I take a place beside him. “You okay?”

He turns. “Yes,” he smiles, “I'm extraordinarily okay.”

He looks away, then looks back, meeting my eye. “But we both know I fit in there like a giraffe in a wet suit. However, my thanks for the invitation. I appreciate it. I really do...” He picks at a bit of lichen growing on the stonework.

“But you're not ready to settle down with the carpet slippers and the chocolate Labrador by the hearth?”

“No. And as you said, there are things I need to do, dealing with Baxter being the priority.” He blows air. “Do you think Mitch will handle that? For some fairly obvious reasons, I can't stay here long. But even if I could stay, it wouldn’t work. Not long term.”

“I think you should ask her yourself…”

“But…”

“… But… I suspect that for both of you, simply knowing that the other is there will count for a lot. And besides, if you're careful, you can visit from time to time. See your daughter, your grand-daughter.”

He looks at his feet, scuffing at the ground. “I suppose.”

“Does it occur to you that for Mitch, a… um… part-time relationship, might appeal?”

His forehead furrows. “Run that by me again.”

“Mitch has had men controlling her all her life. Or trying to. She’s enjoying her freedom, especially now she’s earning money… Real money… in her own right. Living a life of her own but having a partner… you… there occasionally might just work, for both of you. The two of you would simply spend quality time together.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Would that work?”

“It might. It wouldn’t be for everyone. But for Mitch… And for you… Who knows? Wouldn’t it be worth a try?”

His head sways, slowly, up and down. “Do you think Jenny will want to see me?”

“I think so, yes. It might be a bit of a rocky road for a while, but it will be good for her.”

“And you? Will I be welcome here?”

“For me, yes, you’ll be welcome. But for now, will you stay for Christmas? I’m sure Mitch would like that.”

“Yes…” He scuffs at the ground. “I think I will. In any case, there are things I need to do here too.”

“And after that? Back to Thailand?”

He flashes me a startled glance, then his smile twists into humour. “Um... Nooo… Not Thailand. It's not a very healthy environment for me just now. No, it’s South America for me next.”

“Will you keep me informed on that? Anything you learn.”

“Of course. I’ll set something up so we can stay in contact this time… without you having to rig up my old wiretap again.”

*****

Klempner

At the door, standing ajar, I hesitate, my stomach suddenly dropping away.

Have I done enough?

With muscles oddly reluctant to move, I tap on the door, very quietly.

“It’s open.”

I push, and too slowly, the door swings wider.

Jenny’s sitting in a rocking chair by the window. Her hair, so like her mother’s spills over a thick shawl pulled around her shoulders. A warm blanket covers her lap. And her face, while pale, has lost that sheen she had when Michael and I found her.

And held in her arms, wrapped in layers of knitted woollens…

Cara…

Your daughter.

My granddaughter.

I want to say something. Something appropriate, but I’m not sure what it should be.

I abused you…

Mistreated you…

Took my revenge on you…

you had no involvement

rises to

to see you smile

“May I come in?”

“Of course you can.”

with the layers of blankets and then, in a

Oh, God…

She’s feeding her…

where to look. “My apologies. I didn’t intend to interrupt

Jenny giving birth to the baby in her arms was

Breast-feeding?

Too personal…

the neck, I spin,

Anywhere else…

for my eyes to

multicoloured herd accompanied by a kind of rainbowed Pegasus above them. A mermaid and frog

myself easing one way then the other, trying to get perspective

It moves…

mother loose with a paintbrush

recognise it? Her

touch, yes. She's still using that

smile I’ve ever seen. “You've seen

yes.” I shift again watching the thing nod in agreement with the mermaid. “It was a butterfly the first

know how she does

something about cave paintings; how they were intended to be seen by firelight, to give the illusion of

little. “Will

“Like what?”

and Mom. How you met. How you got to know

me. “You’re

“I think so, yes.”

I’ve run out of things to say. Small talk has never been my strong suit, and now, here;

room. She watches

could change what’s past. I

has happened. But you can change the future…” She tilts

still, I don’t know what to say. Inside I’m tight, cold, but heat

Long seconds pass.

that the chair also has received the ‘Mitch treatment’, painted cream, ferns twine up and around the posts

stands, takes a step or two towards me, the baby still in

inside me jolts. “Hold

She’s your granddaughter. Don’t you want

and the heat in my chest disperses to

me the

eyes slide past me and I turn to see James, Michael

to James. He raises brows, lips twitching. “She’s the mother. It’s her

a little as she moves, but Michael steps

closer, offering her baby to

My granddaughter…

though protesting the indignity of the world. The features are soft and

what do

What’s expected?

extend a finger

than the end of my thumb,

Such tiny fingernails.

presses her to me. “You want to. I can see that. Take

never done this before, but

sake don’t drop

I cradle her in my

my hand, slipping it under the head. “Her neck

Then she steps away.

I think not quite

Dark-haired like her father?

a touch of red in

What to say?

“Hello, Cara.”

says, “It’s

Crap…

times can I fucking fuck

get the name

“It’s not? I thought…”

arm “Charlotte? I thought…” There’s hurt in his voice. And confusion. “I thought it

Even James is frowning.

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