Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

Chapter 26

Klempner - Twenty-Six Years Ago

The air is glacial, but although the breeze whips through my hair, I’m not cold. Instead, invigorated, I feel strong and ready for anything.

Standing by the frozen sea, I watch the wind drawing snow across the ice in a whirling dervish of frozen granules that lash around my feet. And I think of the last time I did this, here, with her.

Valentine’s Day coming up… I’ll be back in time.

Get her a present…

What would she like?

Something regional? She loved Helsinki…

Some of the local food?

Then I remember her bending over the porcelain, throwing up gravlax and vodka in equal measure…

Maybe not…

Jewellery?

Still persuading her to wear the emeralds I gave her…

A piece of art?

?

?

Perfect.

I head for the town centre, searching for galleries and craft shops, not knowing just what I’m looking for.

But I’ll know it when I see it…

Most are full of the kind of useless knick-knacks that are met with an ‘Oh, how lovely. You shouldn’t have.” greeting, then get pushed to the back of the cupboard: I-Heart-Helsinki fridge-magnets, overpriced chocolates and tee-shirts, dolls in fake Laplander costumes.

Weirdly, some of the gift shops are stocked with mementoes which seem to me completely out of place. Who comes to Helsinki to buy posters of London buses or ‘New York They named it twice’ tee-shirts?

Am I missing something?

Nope…

And then, there it is.

Beautifully painted by some local artist with more Js and Ks in the name than English allows: a scene of the frozen sea, painted from almost where I stood only a couple of hours ago with ice grit-blasting my clothes. A couple stand hand-in-hand looking out over a glinting scene of white and blue, and in the distance, a lone figure sits fishing.

The price, like everything in Helsinki, is horrendous, but who cares? Money is nothing. Mitch is…

… Mitch.

Padded and carefully gift-wrapped, I tuck the package under my arm and head back for the ferry port.

Time to go home…

Home?

When did I ever think of home before?

She’s waiting.

*****

 

Michael

“How is she?”

knuckled on the kitchen table, head bowed. “The same. Not good. I’d say she’s gotten past denial,

mourning the loss

panicking over gaining

Both bereft…

…

What a fucking mess.

has a psychopath for a parent. It’s going to take time and support to

of the problem is that not

perfect father who

it turns out, yes.” He rubs at the back of his

the only thing that deals with it. We simply wait for her to come out of her funk. However…” I raise a forefinger… “… What we might try is

“Like?”

when did she last have a bath? Or a

can get down her, but first, we have to get her attention.” He jerks his chin towards the lounge. “You want to get in there again? Give it another try? I think

pull up a seat, rock the chair back, cross my ankles up on the table. “No, I don't think so. Not

to mine. “You

reality.” James straightens up, plucks at a lip. “You might like to know,” I add, “that

right.” He stares into nothing for a long second, then,

Charlotte sits on the couch, hugging her knees, gazing slack-faced into the fire. She doesn’t

What’s she thinking...?

… Feeling….?

Fear?

Loss?

?

?

Humiliation?

There’s no softness

doesn’t turn, maintaining her vigil of

expect you to look at me when

hunches, then turns to

“Come here.”

“Yes, Master?” But she doesn’t meet

Yes… humiliation…

rat-tails and her face is sallow. Clothes are creased, spotted with what look like tomato stains, and she’s still carrying traces of makeup she put on days ago; mascara

Doesn’t smell great either…

squares up to her. “Charlotte, I am your Master. You will behave appropriately when we speak. Your face lowered in submission is acceptable.

Her voice chokes. “Master…”

to me, Charlotte. Nothing has changed. Nothing. You are exactly the same person you were a few days

at him. “But I’m not. I…” The words choke into a

Finally crying?

Good…

sake

Charlotte, the woman who reinvented herself, who knew what she wanted and took on all comers to get it. The woman who took the world by the throat and shook

you where you wanted to go.

say father… that does not mean

is whether or not she lets something that is part of her past control her

her sobs subsiding a

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