Masters And Lovers 1-4

Chapter 73

 

Thirty-One Years Ago

She's tall and slim, although still filling out, and she's beautiful, in the way of young girls. Not sophisticated. Not worldly. But beautiful.

Her features are still half-formed. Not those of a child, but without the definition of a mature woman. Her face is still a little round. Cheek-bones which will one day be high have yet to fulfil their promise. The freckles on her cheeks may one day vanish, but now they sit scattered over pale skin.

But the eyes….

Sea-green….

Jade-green….

In sun or shadow, their shade changes; depthless emeralds, flecked by spring leaves or grass, rimmed with a dark circle and framed by lashes which oddly, are much darker than her hair.

Once orange-red, her long tresses have matured to a burnished copper-gold with the sun glinting in the highlights, and lowlights of deep bronze.

Shelley stands, gazing at her brother's frames, running her fingers over the glass which protects its bejewelled occupants….

Captives?

Prisoners?

A tomb….

She reads the labels: Hesperiidae…. Lycaenidae…. Riodinidae….

Gossamer wings, some in metallic blues and golds, other copper or burnished orange, some almost transparent, others in a green which rivals the glorious eyes of the watcher. All rest there, neatly pinned, displayed, categorised and named.

the frames, Shelley. You'll get fingerprints on the glass,

fingers away. “Sorry, Stevie.” And she

some air will you.”

not to make a mess of my exhibits. What's wrong with

*****

have you

has a test in her

her room. She’s

If she’s around the back of the school again with that boy she’s

went to the school to see if she was there. I

she, then?” A red tide

else I

“What?”

“My wallet.”

was

a bit. I was going to pay the rent

a dozen long strides he reaches the hall cupboard, grabbing for his jacket hanging there. He rummages for

*****

 

Charlotte

Master’s phone rings. He pulls it from a pocket glancing at the screen and raises brows,

Fiona,

moment, then frowns. “I thought I’d paid all those…. What’s the reference?” Flipping open his laptop, he taps at the keyboard then peers at the screen. “Ummm…. No, I don’t seem to have that one. What was it for? Oh, right, yes, no problem. Can you e-mail it across. That’s right, yes. No,

my wallet.” He points over

out his card, holding it up for a second for

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