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.

*****

scarves and gloves, Ben and I seat ourselves

Order…?

ruining Charlotte’s birthday, since he chose to apologise, I’ve stretched a

need the

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

do noses go red

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

is. Sally

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 need digging over?

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

shacks and ramshackle stables by eye. “Any thoughts

time on a farm when she was younger. I know she was happy

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

again, casting around at the hotchpotch of buildings. “It reminds me of that old place at

wait to rob apples

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

could I forget it? It was

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

you that got the seat of your

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

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

one day a few months ago. Even the house is falling

hotel maybe? Like this place. Convert the

sold out of the family. So it’s just standing there, falling to pieces a

Shame…

did you

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

What’s going on?

dodge as Scruffy’s earth-moving changes direction and a shower of mud, pebbles and old

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

easily be a burrow

Mmmm….

we should have a dog or

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

*sigh*

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

with my bother. Nothing really to

Family…

Charlotte and James. It means a

his answering smile crooked, turning sour. “How else was I going to hang on to my

“She's my wife, Ben.”

Change the subject…

it going

Despite the words, his tone is gloomy. “…

Now what…?

push it too

empty mug. “I won't, and I'm not

Here it comes…

a bit boring. Needy. Always wants to ask me

another failed

the feeling you wanted the kind of

I thought too,

kind of woman you thought

doesn’t reply. The mug revolves

Am I being dense?

Missing the sub-text…?

“So, what’s going wrong?”

... this time...

face tightens, lips pressed