Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

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.

*****

I seat ourselves on a couple of old tree-stumps.

Order…?

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

need

bonfire, vibrating in the slight breeze. So early in the year, the light wind bites at ears

red

ever, the soup is excellent. My chef really knows how to turn out the right meal for the weather. Ben sniffs at steam fragrant with sage, thyme and who-knows-what-else, gulps down a mouthful and smacks his lips.

is. Sally knows her

clear of the ground. His patchwork

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

wandering over, measuring the collection of dilapidated sheds, shacks and

she was younger. I know she was

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

hotchpotch of buildings. “It reminds me of that old place at McAlister’s. You know, where we use

to rob apples from

did, didn’t we. Hey… you remember that day when

It was me

had to explain to Mom why I’d brought you home covered in white-wash.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Jeez, but the whupping I

was you that got the seat

to bring you back in one piece and without dripping paint

over me and I down another mouthful of soup. “Wonder what that place is

day a few months ago. Even the house is falling apart. The old man died. The kids had moved

place. Convert the outbuilding to holiday

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

Shame…

you go

new to walk Scruffy.” He sucks down more soup. I do likewise. Then, “And… I just wanted to take

What’s going on?

and a shower of mud, pebbles and old

progress. His head down, ass up, his stub of a tail wags furiously as earth scatters behind him. “What d’you reckon he’s after?”

his cheeks. “Rats maybe. Could easily be a

Mmmm….

a dog or

head suddenly pops up, nose wiffling at the breeze. He trots over, sits by

*sigh*

Ben’s mug. 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

my

Family…

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

to hang

“She's my wife, Ben.”

Change the subject…

it going with

is gloomy. “… at least I

Now what…?

it too

won't, and I'm not sure I want

Here it comes…

boring. Needy. Always wants to ask me what

failed

the kind of girl who’d

I thought

you thought you wanted, suddenly you don't want her

reply. The mug revolves between his

Am I being dense?

Missing the sub-text…?

“So, what’s going wrong?”

... this time...

tightens, lips