Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

The Shadow of Obsession

Klempner - Twenty-Six Years Ago

Our final night. Tomorrow it’s back to the airport and the return home. We sit together in what passes for a tea-room in Helsinki, looking out of the window over the square. Mitch flips through a tourist guide.

I kiss the hollow of her collarbone where, around her neck, are the emeralds I gave her. “Thank you for wearing them.”

She turns those eyes on me, deep, deep green; lambent. “They're beautiful. Thank you for giving them to me.”

“Not as beautiful as you.”

She sucks at her lip then nods out to the snow-covered square. "It’s a lovely statue. It says here…" She holds up the tourist guide… "… that she’s called ‘The Mermaid’ but she looks like a woman to me."

“She has a lot of names. ‘Merenneito’, the Mermaid is what the artist called her. But she’s usually called ‘Havis Amanda’.”

She looks briefly at the guide again. “It says too, that students put a cap on her during some festival called ‘Vappu’. It must be quite a climb for them.”

I huff a laugh. “That’s not all they do. Vappu is the first of May; Labour Day here and a celebration. The local students take turns each year, college by college, to clean her down. They have trucks and cherry-pickers and God-knows-what to get up there. And for some reason, her breasts always seem to get more washing that the rest of her.”

And now she laughs too. “Some things never change.” Then her smile fades and her fingers touch mine. "Larry it's been amazing I've loved every minute of it. I feel I could spend the rest of my life doing this…"

… My heart pounds….

“… Just walking together, being together, sitting by the harbour… Thank you so much. I never dreamed anyone would do something like this for me.”

My throat tightens. “It doesn't have to stop, Mitch.”

She holds my hand in hers, stroking the back with a thumb. After a moment, she looks down. “Where did you get that? It looks nasty.” She traces over with a fingertip; a cold white scar against the tan on my hand. Several inches long. Ragged.

Where did I get it?

“No idea. I’ve always had it that I can remember… Probably a souvenir from my father.”

Her fingers tighten around mine.

“Mitch?”

She looks away again, slipping her hand away. “Give me time, Larry. I'm not ready.”

“But you're not saying no.”

“No, I'm not, but don't bulldoze me. It’s… not an easy thing you’re asking.”

I reach, reclaiming her hand. “I don’t understand why it’s so hard for you. I… Mitch, I think you know how I feel about you. I hope you feel something for me… don’t you?”

Her eyes flick to mine and away. She tries to pull away her hand but I tighten my fingers around hers. “Mitch?”

she says. “You

“Yes,

Don’t let it go…

I'm in love

Those eyes again, but…

What is it?

Fear?

Fear of me?

done to earn

of something

cakes. In good but accented English, “Can

glass of wine,”

a

frowns and nods then trundles off with her

is it you’re afraid of?

“No, Larry. It’s not you. It’s me.” Her voice shudders. “Look, understand, when I was a

for dry red wine. How is this possible?

both

*****

James

you planning on giving that photo to Charlotte? The one of her mother,

parents, but I don’t think she’d be happy about Klempner in it. I did consider trimming him

another

the photo from his wallet and, looking at it before passing it to me. “Her mother was certainly

The photo is a copy of the much older original, the

think?

say yes. We don’t help Charlotte by hiding the truth from her. She’ll not like it, but she’s tough enough to handle it. However, why don’t you let me scan it and clean it up a bit? The colours

“Good idea.”

*****

the walls and sleet slices against the windows. It’s a good night for the comfort of friends and family around a warm fire. And with the three of us together, I have

my bad leg raised on a foot-stool, the heat of the flames eases the abominable ache in my leg that damp weather always

inch of brandy around the glass, enjoying the heady scent and nuances of amber and gold against the flickering light.

Charlotte are both reading. He’s not a heavy reader and his book looks like his usual sort; something with a scantily clad

looks up from his

Suppressing a smile…

realise that all unconsciously, I have been ‘conducting the orchestra’

on the hearth is half-empty. Michael and I agreed that it would be better to have at least one glass of wine inside her before

by her on the couch, he

you reading, Charlotte?” he

looks up, raising her book, displaying