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. Despite James’ stated

Order…?

not be permitted to visit our home any 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 are

need the

the slight breeze. So early in

red and fingers

excellent. My chef really knows how to turn out the right meal

Sally

we just cleared, now hacked down to a few inches clear of the ground. His patchwork of a mongrel terrier,

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

collection of dilapidated sheds, shacks and ramshackle stables by eye. “Any thoughts on what you’ll

know she was happy there. I thought she might like

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 door-frame. “Woodworm have had

around at the hotchpotch of buildings. “It reminds me of that old place at McAlister’s.

to rob apples from his

remember that day when he

was me he threw the

that had to explain to Mom why I’d brought you home covered in

sure why it was you that got the seat

I 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

is falling

this place. Convert the

he’d left it in the will that it can’t be sold out of the family. So it’s just

Shame…

you

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

What’s going on?

earth-moving changes direction and a shower

tail wags furiously as earth scatters behind him. “What d’you reckon

maybe. Could easily be a

Mmmm….

we should have a dog or

pops up, nose wiffling at the breeze. He trots over, sits by me and directs lasers at my

*sigh*

I pour beef broth onto a flattish rock by my 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

good, just sharing time with my bother. Nothing really to be said…

Family…

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

to hang on to my brother? Since

“She's my wife, Ben.”

Change the subject…

going with

Despite the words, his tone is gloomy. “…

Now what…?

push it too far,

won't, and I'm not sure I

Here it comes…

bit boring. Needy. Always wants to

another failed ‘Ben

the feeling you wanted the kind of girl who’d put you in charge?”

I thought

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

reply. The mug revolves between his

Am I being dense?

Missing the sub-text…?

“So, what’s going wrong?”

... this time...

face tightens, lips pressed

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