Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

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.

window where clean white paint frames polished glass. The sashes on the inside are new, replacements probably for older cords. The latch and sneck are

perhaps, with low settees, a coffee table and a stack of magazines and

But no people.

to the door and knocks again. Still with no reply, she tries the handle, but the

moves to the window on the other side. This time, she can't see in. A blind conceals the

of the world. Crossing tidily mown grass she comes to a concreted area ending in a tall brick wall. And she

suggestions, racial slurs and the political comment of the unthinking and the unknowing, sits

building is

from the other side. But as she tries again, pushing harder, screws suck out from

through then

condoms and broken glass. An old mattress lies soaked and stinking, surrounded by foil and hypos. In one corner, a drain blocked by rotted newspaper and plastic bags centres a fetid

enough to take vehicles, are barred on the inside. The only clean thing to be seen is

are barred on the outside. There is only one door, solidly constructed in steel although rusted in places. There is no handle, just

Mitch hovers. This isn’t what she

What did she expect?

whines, the

she

door: Emergency Exit: Lift Bar. Stone steps lead up and forward to some brighter light, perhaps a

left, more steps, narrow and winding, leading both up and down; a landing on some spiralling

… upwards…

dank. It smells of mildew and abandonment, rats and hopelessness. Ragged holes gape through the plaster, bleeding wires that

What's that sound?

Sobbing?

down the stygian well of the stairs. A voice

The sound

fuck up or you'll know about it.” Another scream. A female

metallic

Boots stamping

… and silence.

with the cold reek of sweat on her skin, Mitch takes a step up, then another. Her heels click on peeling linoleum and she pauses to slip them off. Then, shoes in hand, stepping carefully on timbers which creak and give, she

with the silhouette of bars cast over the paint.

metal frames and with sliding peepholes.

of laughter and cursing; crude language; the kind that cheapens speaker and listener. But it comes

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 floorboards while

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

not so much so. But

along either side are metal-framed

on the thin mattresses, others sit on the bed, a scanty

peers into the gloom, one of the girls opens her mouth as though

Shhh... It’s alright. I’m a

many: some barely women, some barely children. All

face. Many stand, reaching

let

the fore turns, yammering something to the others, waving down with her palms

“I’m coming. I’ll help. But you have

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

Nothing…

a

The door opens.