Michael

James rolls the razor over the line of jaw to neck, angling in the mirror to see the result.

“You’ve got it all,” I say. “Bloody nuisance for you having to shave as often as you do.”

He harrumphs, then, “Maybe I should grow a beard.” He looks himself left then right in the mirror. “What do you think?”

“It’s not my opinion you should ask.” I cock my head towards the door.

“Mmmm.” He runs a finger from chin to ear, sucking in his cheeks. “How is she?”

“Pretty hyper. I’m beginning to wish I’d not told her about the address; checked it out first myself. I could easily have found a different Christmas gift if I tried… If we get there and don’t find anything. If her mother’s moved or died…”

“Worst scenario…” says James, “No-one’s heard of her at all. No-one knows anything. Anything else is at least a step forward.”

“Yes, but that’s really why I wanted you to come along too. If it’s bad news, I can’t drive and hold her hand too…”

Charlotte bounces into the room. “I’m ready when you are.”

I look her up and down. “Have you just changed your clothes?”

“Er… yes. First, I thought I should go dressed in my best. Then I thought it might look a bit odd, wandering around a strange neighbourhood like that. So I changed into jeans, then I thought, if we find my mother, I should look nice and then…”

I step forward, tug her to me by the waist. “Charlotte, you would look ‘nice’ if you dressed in an old carpet. If we find your mother, how you’re dressed is the least of what will be happening.”

Her eyes fall. “If…”

“Yes, it’s still ‘if’. The address was old. Even the police file made it clear that they didn’t know what had happened or where she might have gone from there.”

“I know.” Her words are tight, constricted. “But I’m just hoping that…”

I tilt up her chin. “I know what you’re hoping, but with the best will in the world, this is almost certainly just a fact-finding mission. I did a lot of searching through old files just to get as far as I did.”

She nods against the pressure of my finger then, “Michael?”

“Mmmm?”

“Whatever happens, whatever we find, thank you.”

I press my lips to hers. “My pleasure.”

*****

“My car?”

“If that’s alright with you.” James pats his thigh. “Given the distance, it would be easier if you were driving.”

“Fine.” I turn to check Charlotte’s not in earshot. “The pair of you sit in the back seat. I don’t need a navigator and I’d rather her be close by you.”

They sit together, he with an arm wrapped around her while she just stares out of the window. Occasionally our eyes meet in the mirror.

*****

“This is it?” Charlotte stands, staring around, looking lost.

To one side; a car park, huge, able to take hundreds, perhaps thousands of cars. To the other; a hypermarket, DIY and white goods stores, acres of sheet glass displaying computers, TVs, household goods, clothes…

The acreage is vast. The retail park perhaps ten years old. No trace remains of what it replaced.

James stands beside her, a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Charlotte,” I say. “But we won’t give up. We’ll keep looking.”

She nods, her face screwing up with suppressed tears, then she gets back in the car.

*****

seat ourselves on a

Order…?

more after charging in and ruining Charlotte’s birthday, since he chose to apologise, I’ve stretched a point by letting him back while James and Charlotte

need

weeds and brambles awaits the bonfire, vibrating in the slight breeze. So early in the year, the light wind bites at ears and nose, gnaws at

noses go red

his mug. As ever, the soup is excellent. My chef really knows how to turn out the right meal for the weather.

it is. Sally knows her

a few inches clear of the ground. His patchwork of a mongrel terrier, Scruffy, digs with industrial-grade

just needs mowing. But the old out-buildings on the far side…” I wave across the stubbled earth… “… Some need demolishing. Some I want to fix up. Now I can get at them without needing a machete every time, we can give them the once-over

collection of dilapidated sheds, shacks and ramshackle stables by eye. “Any

I know she was happy

single hinge, then twists to look up. “Stonework’s sound, but the roof timbers have had it. And the shingles.” He digs a thumbnail into the door-frame.

of buildings. “It reminds me of that old

rob apples from his orchard, you

we. Hey… you remember that day

forget it? It was me he

was me that had to explain to Mom why I’d brought you home covered in white-wash.”

you that got the

I was the older one. I’d taken you out and I was supposed to bring you

didn’t even get any of the apples,” I chuckle. Cold air gusts over me and I down another mouthful

sheds. “I went back there one day a few months ago. Even the house is falling apart. The old man died. The kids had moved on and none of them

place. Convert

it can’t be sold out of the family. So it’s just standing there, falling to pieces a brick

Shame…

you go

more soup. I do likewise.

What’s going on?

a shower of mud, pebbles and old

good progress. His head down, ass up, his stub of a tail wags

in his cheeks. “Rats maybe. Could easily be a burrow coming

Mmmm….

we should have a

at the breeze. He trots over, sits by me and

*sigh*

to Ben, pointing snout, and the mole-hill now attached to the top, at Ben’s mug. He turns soft

time with my

Family…

you for apologising to Charlotte and James. It means a lot. She’s… she’s going through a tough time

was I going to hang on to my brother? Since it was clear you

“She's my wife, Ben.”

Change the subject…

it going

tone is gloomy. “… at least I thought so.” And there’s an edge to

Now what…?

it too

his empty mug. “I won't, and I'm not sure I

Here it comes…

Needy. Always wants to ask me what she should do

another failed ‘Ben

of girl who’d

I

when you find the kind of woman you thought you wanted, suddenly you

The mug

Am I being dense?

Missing the sub-text…?

“So, what’s going wrong?”

... this time...

tightens,

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