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…?

and my own agreement, that Ben 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 not

need the

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

do noses go red and fingers go

the right meal for the weather. Ben

it 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

to be grass, so it just needs mowing. But the old out-buildings on 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 machete every time, we can give them the once-over and decide what’s

He stands, wandering over, measuring the collection of dilapidated sheds, shacks and ramshackle stables by eye. “Any thoughts

was younger. I know she

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 most

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

rob apples from his orchard, you

that day

it? It was me he threw

I’d brought you home covered in white-wash.”

I was never sure why it was you that got the seat of your pants

taken you out and I was supposed to

even get any of the apples,” I chuckle. Cold air gusts over me and I down another mouthful of soup. “Wonder what

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

maybe? Like this place. Convert the outbuilding

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

Shame…

did you

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 roots splatters

good 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?”

cheeks. “Rats maybe. Could easily be a burrow

Mmmm….

we should have a dog or

He

*sigh*

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

good, just sharing time with my bother.

Family…

It means a lot. She’s… she’s going through a tough time right now. I appreciate what you

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

“She's my wife, Ben.”

Change the subject…

going with

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

Now what…?

it too

mug. “I won't, and I'm not sure I

Here it comes…

Always wants to ask me

failed

the kind of girl who’d put you in

what I thought too,

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

reply. The mug revolves between

Am I being dense?

Missing the sub-text…?

“So, what’s going wrong?”

... this time...

tightens,