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.

*****

gloves, Ben and I seat ourselves on a couple of old tree-stumps.

Order…?

my own agreement, that Ben not be permitted to visit our home any more after charging in and ruining Charlotte’s birthday, since he

need

pile of brush, scrub, weeds and brambles awaits the bonfire, vibrating in the slight breeze. So early in the year, the light wind bites

do noses go red and fingers

meal for the weather. Ben sniffs at steam fragrant with sage, thyme and who-knows-what-else, gulps down

it is. Sally

tongue. “I’ll give you that one.” He nods out over the area we just cleared, now hacked down to a few inches clear of the ground. His patchwork of

the far side…” I wave across the stubbled earth… “… Some need demolishing. Some I want to fix up. Now I can get

sheds, shacks and ramshackle stables by eye. “Any thoughts on

I know she was happy there. I thought she might like

look up. “Stonework’s sound, but the roof

again, casting around at the hotchpotch of buildings. “It reminds me of that old place at McAlister’s. You know, where

wait to rob apples from his orchard, you

did, didn’t we. Hey… you remember that day when he spotted us and

It was me he threw

brought you home covered

never sure why it was you

and I was supposed to bring you back in one piece and without dripping paint all over

apples,” I chuckle. Cold air gusts over me and I

Even the house is falling

a hotel maybe? Like this place. Convert the outbuilding

he’d left it in the will that it can’t be sold out of the family. So it’s just standing there, falling to pieces

Shame…

you

Scruffy.” He sucks down more soup. I do

What’s going on?

shower of mud, pebbles and old roots

up, his stub of a tail wags furiously as earth scatters

cheeks. “Rats maybe. Could easily be a burrow coming out

Mmmm….

we should have a

the breeze. He

*sigh*

He turns soft eyes on his junk-heap mutt, squatting down to offer his mug, with its last inch of soup in the bottom. Scruffy, snout pressing deep, laps it out, his

sharing time with my bother. Nothing really to be

Family…

thank you for apologising to Charlotte and James. It means a lot. She’s… she’s going through a tough time right now. I appreciate what

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

“She's my wife, Ben.”

Change the subject…

it going with

nice girl. Everything I ever looked for...” Despite the words, his tone is gloomy. “… at

Now what…?

push it too far, too

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

Here it comes…

She's a bit boring. Needy. Always wants

another failed ‘Ben

of

I thought

kind of woman you thought you wanted, suddenly you don't want her anymore?

mug

Am I being dense?

Missing the sub-text…?

“So, what’s going wrong?”

... this time...

face tightens,

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