Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

Chapter 49

Klempner - Twenty-Six Years Ago

She’s gone.

What now?

I stare out of the window of the apartment I bought for her, overlooking the harbour with its yachts and pleasure boats, ice-cream kiosks and artsy-craftsy shops. Sunshine glints outside on the water, gleams on fresh paint, blue and white, and on polished timber decks, then spills into the room. But there’s no warmth in it. Tugging my jacket around me, I hiss as pain stabs through my hand. Gashed flesh swollen and heated, seeps blood.

I should dress it…

…

Later…

I thought I had it.

I thought I had her.

I really did.

…

…

It’s so cold.

Walking through to the kitchen, I limp a little where my ankle twisted as I fell…

Would he really have run me down?

… then clumsily, working with one hand, I make coffee, splashing in a hefty measure of whiskey, then more until the cup teeters on overflowing.

You had me fooled, Larry. You really had me going. When you left, I was coming to see you… and then I saw them…

Returning with the drink to stand in the scant heat of the sunshine, I watch holidaymakers and tourists going about their moronic activities. Hot alcohol and caffeine sear a trail down my throat but still, there’s no warmth inside me.

She was coming to see me…

Coming to say she’d be with me…

Shivering, I drain the dregs.

Bitter as bile, churning and toxic, regret wells up inside me…

Enfolds me in its harsh embrace…

Overwhelms me…

There’s not enough air. Pain draws a band around my chest, tighter; ever tighter.

Dropping to my knees, I cover my face.

Hide from the world…

Is this all there is?

Hide from myself…

She ran to him…

and

Conners...

fanning up to burn hot and bright

… Lighting the darkness.

and I can breathe again. Inhaling, I draw one deep lungful after another, sucking at the air until my head clears and I'm able to stand. Using the window ledge to support myself, I pull myself upright again, plunging hands white

something brushes against them; small,

?

and swollen, I pull out the strange object. A butterfly dangles from its

How…?

?

?

snagging on something which strains and pops to dangle from

sliced fingers and palm. Digging

She was wearing it.

His gift…

inside me. Fists clenching, the pain lances

Conners.

*****

 

James

of paper in his hand. Richard and

what do we tell Charlotte?” I

looks like. I don’t want a repeat of last time;

not planning on

right. But I want to check at least that there’s

“Fair enough.”

*****

 

Michael

A classic city edge…

check the address. Written in a careful hand, printed capitals, it is quite clear. This is the

sign of movement, but paintwork is fresh and clean; floral

I can bring

*****

 

Charlotte

car with me. Michael leans back against the vehicle, arms folded, legs crossed at

a downstairs window;

will to move. My feet drag. My heart flutters and my lungs

Enough already…

in one hand, I rap smartly on the door. It rat-tats, echoing through the

What if she answers?

Will I recognise her?

she know who

turning lock, the clunk of a bolt being drawn back, then

to a man’s face. A young man, perhaps thirty. He’s good-looking in

for Michelle?

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