Masters & Lovers Box Set Three
Chapter 22
Mitch - Twenty-Six Years Ago
Has she been hasty?
Over-reacted?
Mitch wanders the lovely apartment. Light and airy. Just what she would have chosen for herself once she’d earned the money.
He's taken notice of her tastes.
In the one bedroom, the double, clean white linen. In the other, the same but on the twin beds.
He volunteered to sleep alone…
He gave her choices…
She makes herself tea, sits on the window seat looking out over the marina…
That wonderful Christmas…
That beautiful ship…
Another harbour…
His love-making…
She sets down the teacup, placing it carefully on the saucer. A finger stroking the line of her jaw, she watches as a rowing eight makes its way between pleasure-boats, the hull slicing through the water with surprising speed. Sailing yachts and motor cruisers line this side of the harbour wall, some with proud owners waxing decks or touching up paintwork.
To the far side, fishing boats bob in their moorings beside stacks of nets, coiled ropes, hydrants and hoses.
Tall masts reach for the sky, mirrored down into shimmering water, their pennants and flags rippling. Gulls screech and as one of the small day-ferries pulls between the harbour walls, its horn blasts.
She's been foolish…
… Panicked.
This man isn’t her brother. He isn’t Stephen. He doesn’t want to cage her. He wants to set her free.
He loves her?
Really?
Really.
Can she catch him before he leaves? Talk with him?
Maybe…
Spinning, Mitch snatches up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder, and heads out.
*****
The frontage is bright with new paint and freshly cleaned brick and stonework. A small lawn area is neatly clipped, scented of fresh hay. A tall billboard stands by the entrance, painted in cheerful colours; cartoon cows and sheep frolicking in a bright green meadow under a daffodil sun. “Blessingmoors…”
Mitch stands on the doorstep, raps the well-polished brass knocker, smart against its dark green background. There is no reply. After a few moments, she knocks again.
Still no answer.
nearby window where clean white paint frames polished glass. The sashes on the inside are new, replacements probably for older
lounge or waiting area perhaps, with low settees, a coffee table and a
But no people.
back to the door and knocks again. Still with no
window on the other side. This time, she can't see in.
rear, away from the eyes of the world. Crossing tidily mown grass she comes to a concreted area ending
suggestions, racial slurs and the political comment of the unthinking and the unknowing, sits by crude images; coarse, badly drawn. At the top, sunlight glints from jagged edges that poke from moss and
is
latch, something resists from the other side.
passes through
cartons and drinks bottles compete with cigarette butts, used condoms and broken glass. An old mattress lies soaked and stinking, surrounded
inside. The only clean thing to
the outside. There is only one door, solidly constructed in steel although rusted in places.
Mitch hovers. This isn’t what she
What did she expect?
the smallest of whines, the door swings slightly ajar. A black
drumming, tentatively, she reaches, pulls the door
notice on the back of the door: Emergency Exit: Lift Bar. Stone steps lead up and forward to some brighter light, perhaps a hallway. What
forward, inside; to right and left, more steps, narrow and winding, leading both up and down; a landing
… upwards…
smells of mildew and abandonment, rats and hopelessness. Ragged holes gape through the plaster,
What's that sound?
Sobbing?
of the stairs. A voice screams, pleads and ends in
clang. The sound of metal
“Shut the fuck up or you'll know about
the metallic
Boots stamping away
… and silence.
and with the cold reek of sweat on her skin, Mitch takes a step up, then another. Her
stairway. To the other, a window; small, the glass whited over and with the silhouette of bars cast over
steel, set in heavy metal frames and with sliding peepholes. Heavy bolts at top and bottom partner a drop-bar in
of the corridor comes the sound of laughter and cursing; crude language; the kind that cheapens speaker and listener. But it comes no closer. Mitch tries to suck a little saliva into her mouth, swallowing
pushing a fist to her mouth to suppress the shriek. Eyes darting, she follows the movement, but the rat isn’t interested in her. It goes about its business, vanishing into a crevice in worm-infested
against revulsion as ancient carpet sucks at her soles. Laughter rebounds once more down the passage and she freezes, but the noise is no closer than it was. Slowly, carefully, she slides the peephole. Well-greased, it opens with barely a sound, but nonetheless, faces swing her way at the slight scrape of
not so much so. But all frame eyes wide
long narrow room. To the far end, a window, painted out and barred. Lined along either side are metal-framed beds. Even from here,
each bed, an occupant, shackled at the ankle. Some lie on the thin mattresses, others
peers into the gloom, one of the
alright. I’m
women, some barely children. All
pale and drawn. Eyes red with tears and hopelessness. Some bear bruises to limbs or face. Many stand, reaching out hands; imploring, weeping, a rising babble of words that Mitch doesn’t
let
the others, waving down with her palms and the
coming. I’ll help. But
A black hush now from beyond the door, Mitch eases the top bolt which slides smoothly and silently open. The bottom bolt too. But she struggles with the bar which grates a protest as she first lifts, then yanks it from tight sockets. She stiffens at the slight noise, air juddering from her lungs
Nothing…
a
The door opens.
Update Chapter 22 of Masters & Lovers Box Set Three by Simone Leigh
With the author's famous Masters & Lovers Box Set Three series authorName that makes readers fall in love with every word, go to chapter Chapter 22 readers Immerse yourself in love anecdotes, mixed with plot demons. Will the next chapters of the Masters & Lovers Box Set Three series are available today.
Key: Masters & Lovers Box Set Three Chapter 22