Michael

It’s an ordinary house, as average as they come; one small property in a block of near-identical brick-built terraces. The paint is fresh, but not too fresh. And the door, fronting directly to the road, looks well-used. But the windows are clean; no litter fouls the frontage…

And there is a light on inside…

Charlotte sits in the car, inert. Her face is a pale sheen and, as I take her fingers in mine, her hand is cold.

I lift the fingers, press them to my lips. “This is it, then.”

She nods but doesn’t move. “Suppose she doesn’t want to see me?” She’s gasping for air…

Panic attack?

“… She abandoned me all those years ago. Suppose she just didn’t want me?”

“Why would she not want you?”

“Because I’m his.”

James speaks. “There are plenty of mothers whose children have unworthy fathers, but they still love them.”

“You don’t have to do this, Charlotte,” I say, “but if you don’t, you’ll never be happy. Whatever happens, good or bad, at least you’ll know. Your life can move on.”

A figure moves past the window. Partially silhouetted against the light inside, nonetheless, there is the impression of a pale face, a red tint to the hair.

Charlotte straightens up, muttering. “Right… I’m okay. Let’s do this.” Without looking back, she steps out of the car and crosses the road.

I wind the window down. “Got any tissues in the car?” murmurs James.

“Course I have.”

*****

Charlotte

I stand in front of the door, suddenly timid again. My heart pounds so hard there’re touches of black at the edge of my vision.

Chill out…

Calm down…

*Deep breath*

*Roll neck and shoulders*

My chest loosens and my breath flows a little more easily.

Good to go…

My finger hovers over the brass-button bell, then presses. A Bing-Bong echoes from somewhere beyond.

immediately, there is a hollow rumble of movement, the bang of a door, the

The door opens.

She’s there.

mouth is down-turned at the corners. Silver threads

I can't. Sucking for saliva,

she stares at me, her eyes running up and down me. Reaching out, she touches my face, her eyes widening, her mouth opening. She’s trying to speak, her lips making words that

The words turn into a shriek. “Jenny!” And she flings herself at me, throwing her arms around me.

I. And she holds me tight, then stands back to look

*****

James

of tissues, then a rucksack, slinging it over his shoulder. “Why d’you reckon women cry when

“Beats me.”

lean against it. Eyes creasing, Michael is holding in a

want ‘em

her mother are flooding tears, babbling incoherently at each other. Up

Jade…

My Jade…

Finally finding your dreams…

hand under her

Green…

So familiar…

him, then

this is Michael… my husband… Mom…” Charlotte whispers the final word and

“You’d better come inside.” She motions across to me. “Your friend

“James Alexanders. I’m a family friend. And I am delighted to meet

*****

in the tiny lounge. Shabby with age, but immaculate; dingy but dust-free, it looks like cheap rentals everywhere. The same tired furniture. The same dismal wallpaper. I’ve stayed in a few like it myself in my

It’s cheap supermarket instant, tasting mainly of chicory and it rattles down my throat kicking and punching as it goes. But

Get it over with…

“Would

something better.

albeit eyes shining red

kisses her cheek. “Congratulations.

Mitch’s eyes follow him…

a

But a son-in-law…

I was a

Meeting my new son…

And it was Michael…

plastic flutes, handing them around, then sits back, an ankle resting up on one knee. Mitch accepts the flute with

Tall…

Handsome…

Devastatingly charming…

be pretty pleased

my

others follow suit.

I both know how much this means to Char… to Jenny. She’s been searching for you for years…” I’m set to ramble on,

a

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