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?”

Not good. I’d say she’s gotten past denial, but I almost wish she’d

mourning the loss

panicking over gaining a

Both bereft…

…

What a fucking mess.

a psychopath for a parent. It’s going

closed for a moment. “I think,” he says, “part of the

perfect father who never

it turns out, yes.” He rubs at the back of his head. “How the hell

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

“Like?”

she last have a bath? Or a

we 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?

on the table. “No, I don't think so. Not this time. On this occasion, I think she needs what you

shift to mine. “You

She needs knocking back into reality.” James straightens up, plucks at a lip. “You

into nothing for a long second, then, “Come on then. You’d better be there too

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

What’s she thinking...?

… Feeling….?

Fear?

Loss?

?

?

Humiliation?

speaks. “Charlotte?” There’s no softness

her vigil

you to look at me

to

“Come here.”

“Yes, Master?” But she doesn’t meet his eyes. Head low,

Yes… humiliation…

with what look like tomato stains, and she’s still carrying traces of makeup she

Doesn’t smell great either…

we speak. Your face lowered in submission is acceptable. Your head hanging in shame is

Her voice chokes. “Master…”

shoulders, pinning her, almost shaking her. “Listen to me, Charlotte. Nothing has changed. Nothing. You are exactly the same person you were a few

won’t look at him. “But I’m not. I…” The words choke into

Finally crying?

Good…

sake

is inside your head. You are not Jenny, the child victim. You are Charlotte, the woman who reinvented herself, who knew what she wanted and took on all comers

bidder; to me; because doing so would take you where you wanted to go. Even though you knew it was dangerous. Even though your memories must have made that an appalling decision for you to take.” He’s still

face down the man who terrorised your childhood and who threatened you with assault and gang-rape. And just because that man might be, genetically, your sire… I don’t say father… that does not

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

her sobs subsiding

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