Richard

Michael’s bar of choice turns out to be more of a club, humming with activity. A singer croons from the stage; soft jazz which can barely be heard over the vibe of the crowd. A glitter ball spills multi-coloured light across a dance floor and here and there, a strobe splatters occasional black-light.

The two women take stools at the bar, whilst Michael, James and I find a table in a quieter corner.

Girl time…

Charlotte, so far as I usually see, normally drinks wine, but Michael has bought cocktails for both her and Elizabeth. The technicolour extravaganzas arrive draped with umbrellas, fruit, butterflies on sticks and a sparkler fizzing out of the top. The women watch them arrive and both burst into helpless laughter. Then, heads close, they start talking.

“How is she now?” I nod towards James’ and Michael’s communal wife.

“Getting over it, I think,” says James. “Without a doubt, it shocked her, learning that Klempner is her father.”

Michael grunts agreement.

“Of course…” I say, “… it was always known to be a possibility, surely? Had she simply closed herself off to the idea?”

James palms the back of his neck. “My guess is it was Klempner’s own certainty that Conners was her father that convinced her. But equally, I’d say that she wanted to be convinced.” He glances at Michael, the question in his eye, but the blond man isn’t paying attention.

Instead, he’s looking across the floor to where the women are involved in animated conversation. He sucks at his cheeks; gives me a nudge. “What do you think they're talking about?”

“How should I know?”

“Look at them,” he says. “Look.”

As one, James and I spin.

Charlotte is holding her palms open, perhaps two handspans apart. Elizabeth responds by opening her thumb and forefinger a couple of inches. They both dissolve into laughter.

Michael pulls a face. “You think we should be worried?” But a smile quirks at the corners of his mouth.

and down as though weighing something. Charlotte responds by making a fist of her hand then sliding

this the rest and relaxation you had in mind? Something about that conversation

expression of mock austerity. “My ego can cope. They’re fine. If they’re

are nearly done. I’ll order them a top-up in a minute.” He strolls

watch my beautiful wife, laughter lighting her face as she talks with her

drink. “A lot in common; family, intelligence, inclinations; but such contrasting personalities.

think Charlotte will get

world down to get what she wants. I’ve never known anyone with such a terrifying version of courage. She can handle it.” Then, he nudges me with an elbow. “Who's the young

Elizabeth, looking nervous, catches my eye. Sitting

for drink and he’s trying to talk to her. She’s turning away, not meeting his eye. Arms pulled in, legs crossed at the knee, she couldn’t be more obviously

But she looks upset…

She's vulnerable.

Where’s Charlotte vanished to?

the room, I see her heading for the powder

moment, James.”

mass of bodies… as I am about to make my way across the floor, from

his words, but he stands beside Elizabeth, who leans towards him, saying something to the man,

his face reddening, chin jutting at Michael. The blond man steps forward, oh-so-slightly. Although he’s

seen Michael punch right through a

then away. Michael stares after the stranger as he vanishes into the crowd then turns back to Elizabeth, offering his arm and nodding across to me and James. He waves a forefinger at the barman, a circular motion, then pointing to

“Saw that one off

is bland. “Would you

don’t think I would,

Elizabeth moving to join us then pulls up a seat at the table. Looking between James and me, “Have I

defending Beth’s honour…” says James, mouth quirking. “… in the

rather well done,” I say. “Thank you, Michael. I was heading across myself, but you beat me to

“My pleasure. Anytime.”

lip. Michael rubs a knuckle over her cheekbone, then lifts her hand and kisses the

Will that upset Charlotte?

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