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.

*****

ourselves on a couple of old tree-stumps. Despite James’

Order…?

home any more after charging in and ruining Charlotte’s birthday, since he chose to apologise, I’ve stretched

need

another huge pile of brush, scrub, weeds and brambles awaits the bonfire, vibrating in the slight breeze. So early in the year, the

red and fingers go

hands around his mug. As 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

is. Sally knows her

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 a mongrel terrier, Scruffy, digs with industrial-grade ferocity in one corner. “What’s next? That

across the stubbled earth… “… Some need demolishing. Some I want to fix up. Now I can get at them without needing a

and ramshackle stables

she was younger. I know she was

through an opening, the rotted remains of the top half of a stable-door hanging by a 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

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

rob apples from his

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

It was me he

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

was you that

was the older one. I’d taken you out and I was supposed to bring you back in one piece and without

of the apples,” I chuckle. Cold air gusts over me and I down another mouthful of

a thumb at the sheds. “I went back there one day a few months ago. Even the house is falling apart. The old

a hotel maybe? Like this place. Convert the outbuilding to holiday chalets

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

Shame…

you

sniffs. “Somewhere new to walk Scruffy.” He sucks down more soup. I do likewise. Then, “And… I

What’s going on?

as Scruffy’s earth-moving changes direction and a shower

stub of a tail wags furiously as earth scatters behind him. “What d’you reckon he’s after?” I

sucks in his cheeks. “Rats maybe. Could easily be

Mmmm….

should have a

the breeze. He trots over, sits by me

*sigh*

feet. Scruffy laps it up then moves to Ben, pointing snout, and the mole-hill now attached to the top, at 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,

with my bother. Nothing really to be said…

Family…

James. It means a lot. She’s… she’s going

crooked, turning sour. “How else was I going to hang on to my brother? Since it

“She's my wife, Ben.”

Change the subject…

going with

for...” Despite the words, his tone is gloomy. “… at least I thought

Now what…?

don't push it too far, too fast,

his empty mug. “I won't, and I'm

Here it comes…

a bit boring. Needy. Always wants to ask me what she

failed ‘Ben

feeling you wanted the kind of girl who’d put

what I

you thought you wanted,

The mug revolves

Am I being dense?

Missing the sub-text…?

“So, what’s going wrong?”

... this time...

tightens, lips