Michael kisses her forehead. “No hurry, Babe. Not until you’re ready. And that's not yet.”

James, forehead puckered, brandishes the CD. “Scheherazade? Will someone please tell me what the hell that’s all about? You used the word as some kind of code when Baxter and Finchby had you prisoner.”

Charlotte flushes, looking up at her father.

But Klempner’s voice is soft with regret. “It didn’t take much to work out who the Wicked King was. But I’ll admit, I’d like to know too what the story is behind it.”

Charlotte’s mouth works. She starts to speak, then grinds to a halt. “Michael, you tell them.”

And now he flushes. “It’s kind of embarrassing, Babe.”

“Is it?” Her gaze turns cloudy. “Alright…” She shrugs. “Fair enough.”

“No, it isn’t,” says James. “I want to know.”

Michael turns his face away, but I see him swear silently to himself. Then, “Alright, it’s like this. When James and I first got to know Charlotte…” He stops, rubbing fingers at his forehead, then starts again… “Charlotte fell for James first. I… I didn’t handle that well. I was jealous…” He nods to James. “You remember? That New Year’s Eve?”

James’ voice is dry. “How could I forget? I thought you were going to punch my lights out.”

Charlotte’s jaw drops. “You’ve never told me any of this. Either of you.”

Michael stares up at the ceiling. “It wasn’t one of my greater moments. Anyway, when we were alone, I asked Charlotte to tell me something personal. Something that no-one else knew. That would be just mine. She told me…” He hesitates, looking between Charlotte and her father…

“It’s alright,” she says. “You can say it.”

He takes in air, then, “Charlotte told me that when she was a little girl, she read the stories of the Thousand and One Nights. She fantasised about being Scheherazade, who told the tales. About being in the power of the wicked king...”

Klempner’s face drops…

“… And about being brave enough and clever enough to escape and be free. At the time I didn’t know what to make of it. It was only much later that I came to understand…” His words die away and he grinds to a halt.

sounds trite to say you can hear a pin drop, but the silence could

Klempner speaks first. “Jenny…”

him short. “So, you asked for something personal. That’s about as personal as it gets. But…” He looks between man and daughter. “… can we

to Michael. “You

Scarlet-faced, he nods.

“You never told me.”

shrugs, seeming lost

“But I married you.”

hand, pulling her up from her seat into his arms. “That came some time later.” He

to kiss. “You were jealous. Awww… that’s so sweet.” Then she pulls back again, thumbing

“But he didn’t. Now, can we agree, whatever is in the past, it is behind us? I made mistakes too. We have all made mistakes with each other. From

nods, presses his lips to Charlotte’s, then turns

repeats, a touch of steel in his voice. “All

hesitates, looking down, then up again. Then she breaks into a smile and sucking her lips, nods. Taking two steps towards Klempner, she says, “Happy Christmas, Father…” She swallows. “… Dad. Thank you for the

of a heartbeat…

kisses

at his chest. “But you have to wear the sweater today.” She turns

planning

wear that new shirt and pants. The ones you said you liked in the

that trouble to knit them. They’re presents. You have to wear them.”

despair flits over Klempner’s face. “All

havers. “Well… For Christmas dinner at

*****

smells are drifting in from the kitchen. James refuses any more assistance from me, instead pouring me an egg-nog, and another for Ryan, then ambling through to the lounge with me

are playing a board game. Ryan sits behind Michael, apparently in the role

Larry on the couch, has the bundled Cara in her arms. Eyes closed, the baby sucks contently

by

the bottle. “It's Jenny’s milk, expressed. I told her early she'll have an

dice

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