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.

*****

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

Order…?

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

I need the

awaits the bonfire, vibrating in the slight breeze. So early in the year, the light wind

do noses go red

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

is. Sally knows her

hacked down to a few inches clear of the ground. His patchwork of a mongrel terrier, Scruffy, digs with

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

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

she was happy there. I thought she might like to

a single hinge, then twists to look up. “Stonework’s sound, but the roof timbers have had it. And

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

in wait to rob apples from his orchard, you

that day

could I forget it? It was me he

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 I

you that got the seat

out and I was supposed to bring you back in one piece and without dripping paint all over the

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

is falling apart. The old man died. The kids had moved on and none of them wanted to take it on

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

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

Shame…

you

soup. I do likewise. Then, “And…

What’s going on?

shower of mud, pebbles and

tail

“Rats maybe. Could easily be a

Mmmm….

we should have a dog

wiffling at the breeze. He trots

*sigh*

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

good, just sharing time with my bother. Nothing really

Family…

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

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

“She's my wife, Ben.”

Change the subject…

it going with

for...” Despite the words, his tone is gloomy. “… at least I thought so.” And there’s an edge to his

Now what…?

it too far, too fast,

his empty mug. “I won't, and I'm

Here it comes…

She's a bit boring. Needy. Always wants to

another failed ‘Ben

wanted the kind of girl

I thought too,

you thought you

doesn’t reply. The mug revolves between his

Am I being dense?

Missing the sub-text…?

“So, what’s going wrong?”

... this time...

tightens, lips pressed