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.”

at me. “You

healer. Georgie turning up like that might not have been pleasant for him, but it is a kind of closure.” But doubt

“I'm not so sure.”

dregs of my milk around in the mug, “You might be right. It was a low blow on her part. But I'm not sure what we can do about

There’s a tremor in her voice. I wait, but she’s stalled and as I look down, a lock of hair

never make

disentangles the knot of hair then folds her hands around

Charlotte. What

anything.” She’s gulping, stuttering her words. “I don't want you

?

Tread carefully…

I be

“He wants his daughter.”

You can’t give her

have

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

life to do the things I want. You too, nearly as much. But he... he doesn't have so much time and... And I want him to have the chance

so quietly, her head low. Her fingers

in mine, I kiss cold fingers

say. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you trowelling on the makeup, trying

would be between the two of you. Fifty-fifty if it was you or him. And

do I feel

the 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 mean

my hands something to do. As they growl and judder into

always loved

Is that true?

No…

always loved him

she

asked her, she’d have

her to

have kept her for

funded the

… Helluva wedding present…

ever

?

This would do it…

sure of

?

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