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…

had no

as your gaze rises to me, you smile…

did I ever think to see you

“May I come in?”

“Of course you can.”

her position, fiddles with the layers of blankets and then, in a cheek-scalding moment, I

Oh, God…

She’s feeding her…

to look. “My apologies. I didn’t intend to interrupt my granddaughter's

flesh isn’t exactly new to me. Even seeing Jenny giving birth to the baby in her arms was just…

Breast-feeding?

Too personal…

spin, trying to find somewhere

Anywhere else…

my

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

then the other, trying to get perspective on the

It moves…

mother loose with

recognise it? Her

can spot her touch, yes. She's still using

smiles. It’s almost the loveliest smile I’ve

agreement with the

know how

she’d seen something about cave paintings; how they were intended to be seen by firelight, to give the

“Will you tell

“Like what?”

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

at me. “You’re sure you want

“I think so, yes.”

talk has never been

the room. She watches me,

I could change what’s past. I

happened, has happened. But you can

know what to say. Inside I’m

Long seconds pass.

clothes as the rocker moves slightly, to and fro. Absently, I notice that the chair also has received the ‘Mitch treatment’, painted cream, ferns twine up and around the posts

two towards me, the baby still in her arms. “Would you like

inside me jolts. “Hold

your granddaughter. Don’t you want to say

dry and the heat in

simply stands there, offering me the cooing, gurgling blanket-wrapped

turn to see James, Michael and Mitch, all gathered

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

steps forward, a hand under her arm. “Take it

steps closer, offering her baby

My granddaughter…

and wrinkled, as though protesting the indignity of the world. The features are soft and unformed. A drop of milk dribbles from her

do

What’s expected?

a finger

the end of my thumb,

Such tiny fingernails.

“You want to. I can see that.

never done this before,

fuck’s sake don’t drop

cradle her in

“Like this.” She takes my hand, slipping it under the head. “Her neck muscles aren’t developed yet.

Then she steps away.

eyes are dark, hazy and, I think not quite focussed on

Dark-haired like her father?

there a touch of red in

What to say?

“Hello, Cara.”

says, “It’s not

Crap…

times can I fucking

even get the name

“It’s not? I thought…”

I thought…” There’s hurt in his voice. And confusion. “I thought it was decided? She was going to be named

Even James is frowning.

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255