Michael

It’s dark, a frigid winter’s evening. James hasn’t come home from work yet and I can’t find Charlotte.

Where is she?

Having a bath maybe?

But the bathroom stands cold and empty.

Reading somewhere?

I try her study, the lounge and the dining room, still with no sign of her.

And then as I stop to flick the curtains closed in the lounge, there she is. Outside on the terrace, without so much as a jacket or a cushion, she hugs her knees as she sits on bare stone paving, staring into the dark.

She must be bloody freezing…

What’s this about?

Don’t rush it…

I make a couple of hot drinks, then venture outside.

She turns as I approach. I offer her a mug. “Hi. Mind if I join you?”

“Course not.” She sniffs. “That’s lovely. Thank you.”

“Hot nutmeg milk and dash of brandy. I thought if you were determined to freeze your butt, you’d better have something inside to help thaw it out.”

She nods then turns to stare into the dark again.

After a minute or so, I say, “Come on, spit it out. Whatever it is.”

“I was thinking about my mother.”

“What about her?”

“I might never find her.”

“Perhaps not, but we'll keep looking.”

She blows on the milk, takes a slow mouthful. “What I'm meaning is, it's about continuity, isn't it. As long as I'm here, there's a bit of her too. And my father. It's not all gone. And if...”

"If what?"

She chokes up. “He’s so unhappy. He’s usually so full of life; so full of… of take-it-in-big-bites… He’s… It’s just not him.”

“He? Who? James? I thought we were talking about you?”

“Yes… No… Yes…”

“Charlotte, you’re not making a lot of sense.”

Looking away, she drinks more of the milk, but moonlight reflects from the tears trailing down her cheeks.

I lay an arm over shoulders, kiss her face. She’s chilled, tasting salty. “You want to find your mother. He wants his daughter back.” I rub at my forehead. “I hate seeing him like this too. I wish there was something I could do to help him, but he’ll get over it.”

turns to look at me.

Georgie turning up like that might not have been pleasant for him, but it is

“I'm not so sure.”

low blow on her part. But I'm not sure what

setting it to one side. “There's one thing I can do.” There’s a tremor in her voice. I wait, but she’s stalled and as

make a poker

deliberately, she disentangles the knot of hair

Charlotte. What is

about it before I did anything.” She’s gulping, stuttering her words.

?

Tread carefully…

I be

“He wants his daughter.”

have her. You can’t give her

have another

takes a moment to penetrate. “Charlotte, are you telling me you want to

“Yes,” she whispers.

Ahhh…

want to do…?” I speak slowly, carefully. “… What with your college work

nearly as much. But he... he doesn't have so much time and...

her head low. Her fingers knot

hands apart. Taking one of them in mine, I kiss cold fingers

much crying recently,” I say. “Don’t think I haven’t

you. Fifty-fifty if it was you or him. And that would have been fine. I know it would. But this way, you’d be cut out and…. and….”

do I feel about

right thing to

will

… and last…

… and work…

drinks, but don't go away. I'm coming back. I just need to think.” I turn, heading for the kitchen, but mid-movement, I turn again, pointing a forefinger. “I

hands something to do. As they growl

always loved

Is that true?

No…

always loved

she married

he’d asked her, she’d have married

gave her to

kept her for

the

… Helluva wedding present…

ever

?

This would do it…

I sure of

?

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