Buying The Virgin Part 1-3

Chapter 131: The Girl Who Was Hunted - Chapter Forty-Seven

BETH

We return again a couple of hours later with Ross’ meal. Miracle-wise, in the short time, he’s put together a hot casserole, salad, fruit and cheese, juice and coffee; all in picnic-style containers, for easy eating in difficult conditions.

We hover at the room door. Michael isn’t there, but Charlotte is sitting on the edge of the bed, her back to us, holding the unconscious James’ hand, kissing his fingers.

She’s talking to him, and even though I can’t see her face, I hear the tears in her words.

“…. I know you always worried about being older than I am…. But I still thought we were going to have years and years together…. Now…. What am I supposed to do? With you like this? I love Michael too, but it’s supposed to be the three of us. Don’t leave me, Master. Please don’t leave me….”

She starts sobbing. It’s a gut-rending, heart-broken sound. Richard and I exchange glances. Even his eyes are filling.

We sit either side of her on the bed. I wrap my arms around her. Richard holds her hand.

Where’s Michael?

He appears at the door, towelling damp hair, sees us, with Charlotte, and visibly curses under his breath.

“Oh, Charlotte. I thought you were asleep….” Then to me. “Gotta use the bathroom sometime….”

“We brought food for you.”

“That’s great, thanks. Charlotte. C’mon, eat.”

“Ross cooked it. It’s his mother’s recipe chicken-casserole….” I say.

Her voice is numb. “I’m not hungry.”

“Yes, you are.” insists Michael. “You just think you’re not.”

She makes no move towards the food, which even I, accustomed as I am to Ross’ good cooking, have to admit smells wonderful.

Charlotte won’t look at it. Her face works, as though she’s suppressing the urge to vomit.

Michael pushes the casserole at her insistently. “Charlotte, eat.” Still, she doesn’t make a move. “Charlotte. James would want you to eat it.”

That finally does it. She picks up a fork and takes a small mouthful, chewing endlessly, forcing it down.

Richard catches Michael’s eye, gesturing him out into the corridor. Michael looks across at me. “I’ll stay here,” I say.

He nods, following Richard.

not returned, but Charlotte is drooping. “You should sleep.”

into bed. You’re right next to him. You can

her in like a little girl. Almost instantly, she drops off. I wait for a minute or two, to be sure

asks Richard. “Or perhaps away from here? It

the answer. Whatever happens, she’s going to have to deal with it. I think it’s better just to have the people she loves around her. As for taking her away; I don’t think you’d get her out of there with a bulldozer….

“She’s asleep.”

angry, pushing past me,

bed, lying

spots Charlotte in the bed, and for a moment, surprise, then disapproval, washes across his

get her

on the other hand, if he can feel or hear anything, I don’t know of a better way to remind a man what he has to live

*****

CHARLOTTE

sleep but can’t. Michael has his arms around me and drifts between sleeping and waking.

too much crying, I watch my Master. He’s close, all but

His eyes blink open.

focussed, his stare glazed,

But he’s waking.

to my sleeping

confused, groggy.

his eyes. He’s waking

back, and Michael sits up to see, my Master’s eyes are closed

He’s waking up…. He’s

*****

sit in the armchair by my Master’s side, reading

way a mature man does it. Give the future enough thought to be ready for it—but don’t worry about it. Live each day as if you were to die

eyes staring aimlessly at the ceiling. They close again, but

forward in my seat. “Master?” I

lips dry. Quickly I dip fingers in the water jug, pat his lips damp. I pour a little into a glass, and supporting his head, holding the glass carefully, I help him sip a little,

his eyes meet mine. “Charlotte?” His voice is so weak, but

take his hand in mine. “Yes, it’s me. I’m here,

still struggling to speak. “That’s good,

*****

you feeling?”

on his back, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, “Err.…

a good sign

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