Masters And Lovers 1-4

Chapter 50

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.

And almost immediately, there is a hollow rumble of movement, the bang of a door, the rattle of the handle turning.

The door opens.

She’s there.

at the corners. Silver threads through amber hair. But her

but find I can't. Sucking for saliva, I try again. “Hello.

face, her eyes widening, her mouth opening. She’s

flings herself at me, throwing her arms around me. “You’re alive. Oh, God.

me

*****

James

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

“Beats me.”

it. Eyes creasing, Michael is holding in a

to want ‘em

tears, babbling incoherently at each other. Up and down the

Jade…

My Jade…

Finally finding your dreams…

two women pause, I think to grab air. Charlotte looks my way, swiping the back of her hand under her nose and Michael waves the tissues at her.

Green…

So familiar…

then

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

come inside.”

across, hand offered. “James Alexanders. I’m a family friend. And I am

*****

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 time; after my divorce, when money

down my throat kicking and punching as it goes. But I drink the dreadful brew anyway. To my side, Michael looks down at his cup, then knocks it back in

Get it over with…

says, “Would

that ‘win-‘em-over’ smile of his, holding up his rucksack. “I have something better. “Champagne. Thought I’d keep it back ‘til I

him, albeit eyes shining red and still streaming.

“Congratulations. I’m

Mitch’s eyes follow him…

just a daughter

But a son-in-law…

I was

Meeting my new son…

And it was Michael…

them around, then sits back, an ankle resting

Tall…

Handsome…

Devastatingly charming…

pretty

my glass. “To

follow suit.

call you Mitch?” She nods, blinking. “Mitch, Michael and I both know how much this means to Char… to Jenny. She’s been

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