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?”

bowed. “The same. Not good. I’d say she’s gotten past denial, but I almost wish she’d cry… Get it out of her system. Instead, she behaves as though she’s in

the loss of

over gaining a

Both bereft…

…

What a fucking mess.

Discovering she has a psychopath for a parent. It’s going

rubs the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing closed for a moment. “I think,” he says, “part of the problem is that not knowing much about

father who never

He rubs at the back of his head. “How the hell do

her to come out of

“Like?”

when did she last have a bath? Or a proper

we got back. Just sits there wallowing in pizza boxes and boil-in-a-minute noodles. I’m happy to cook anything we can get down her, but first, we have to get her attention.” He jerks his chin towards the

back, cross my ankles up on the table. “No, I don't think so. Not this time. On this occasion, I think

shift to mine. “You

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

nothing for a long second, then, “Come on

follow him through to the lounge. Charlotte sits on the couch, hugging her knees, gazing slack-faced into the fire.

What’s she thinking...?

… Feeling….?

Fear?

Loss?

?

?

Humiliation?

no softness

doesn’t turn, maintaining her vigil of

you to look

to face him. “Sorry,

“Come here.”

stand, then shuffles across the room to stand before him. “Yes, Master?” But she doesn’t meet his eyes. Head

Yes… humiliation…

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 gone

Doesn’t smell great either…

Master. You will behave appropriately when we speak. Your face

Her voice chokes. “Master…”

Charlotte. Nothing has changed. Nothing. You are exactly

him. “But I’m not. I…”

Finally crying?

Good…

sake let it

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

auction yourself to the highest bidder; to me; because doing so would take you where you wanted to go. Even though you knew

be, genetically, your sire… I don’t say father… that does not mean he has any power over you. Klempner has no hold

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

her sobs subsiding a

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