Masters And Lovers 1-4

Chapter 84

James

My mobile vibes in my pocket: a message coming in. I check the screen: Michael

U alone?

Puzzled….

Yes why?

Got something 2 show u. cum 2 rchrds office. Dont tell C

On my way

My stomach lurches. When I left Michael this morning, he had plans to spend a couple of hours sifting through old papers again.

What the fuck has he found now?

As luck would have it, excluding Charlotte is not a problem. She’s working as an assistant/extra pair of hands/student observer in the NDT laboratories at a local foundry. She’ll be happily occupied and not going anywhere until Michael or I picks her up.

*****

Francis gives me the nod as I enter reception. “He said to go straight in, James.”

I find Richard and Michael together in the conference room, talking quietly together.

“What’s up?” I ask.

Michael gestures to two items on the table-top. “All but the last of Albert’s papers. Hidden in the bottom of a box under piles of absolute rubbish and tucked inside a twenty-year-old telephone directory.”

I fumble spectacles onto my nose and look closer.

A photo, burned and browned at the edges, one corner missing which cuts off the upper part of a woman’s body. Only her legs and the lower part of her dress remains. The remainder of the image is visible, but badly faded and yellowed: a family photo. Beside the truncated body of the woman, an adult man with two boys and a little red-headed girl. The boys are late teens, almost young men and the little girl is being held in the arms of the man, her own arms around his neck. In the background is a table laid out with sandwiches and a cake with candles.

I flip it over, looking at the back; a neat handwritten note, easily legible despite fading and again, being partly cut off at the missing corner.

…. ephen, David, Shelley

Al and Eve.

Shelley’s 5th birthday.

As I look at the other item, I draw in my breath. Also singed at the edges, but clearly readable: “This is to certify the following record of birth…. Name: Michelle Kimberley. Sex: Female. Name of Father: Albert Kimberley: Maiden Name of Mother: Eve Wright….”

Holding photo and certificate in either hand, my mind turns.

“Rescued from a fire, wouldn’t you say?” says Richard.

“It certainly looks that way,” I agree. “This explains the lack of photos, I suppose. If the rest were burned….”

“Except that someone retrieved just these items,” finishes Michael.

“I see why you didn’t want me to bring Charlotte.”

“No,” he says. “I think this would upset her. I thought you should see them first and we should agree on what to do before we tell her about them.”

I glance up at Richard. “Does Beth know?”

“No. I’ve not told her. She might feel honour bound to tell Charlotte, and I agree with Michael. To see these, in the condition they are, would hurt her deeply.”

where these came

it. It’s sheer luck I noticed them at all because

can assume that was by

“I’d say so, yes.

the table, arms folded. “So, what

visited Stephen and David,” says Richard, “they cut her dead. Refused to admit Michelle ever even existed. They accused me of

“So….”

them again, and this time, I

“Too easily intimidated?”

thinking that she perhaps would find it difficult confronting her older uncles, her own family,

“I'll go,” I say.

and Michael exchange

imagine they’re

James,” says Richard. “I don’t but…. How to put this? You're a fine man and I admire you enormously. You have many skills and virtues, but let's be honest. Tact and diplomacy are not among them. I think both

is suspiciously

should be flattered or insulted,”

be flattered. Come on. Let's all

punch the grin from his face,

her husband. It’s none of my business. But Michael is an unknown quantity to them. And he is

says Michael. “I’ll

*****

 

Michael

she doesn’t think too hard about me not being

course. What have

going to be at a trade fair for a

call you

in a

*****

up, check the address

seemed the best time to reliably catch whoever was at home. Sure enough, windows

I intended then take a

Here goes….

a few moments, a light

my height, although much more lightly built and perhaps in his

Which one are you?

“Hello, Mr Kimberley?”

David Kimberley, yes. Is it me you want? Or

offer my hand. He looks at it doubtfully, then takes it,

do

complicated. Could I come in for a few

frowns, but steps back, gesturing through to another doorway. “Please, come

of armchairs, a coffee table and another small table that looks as though it serves for dining. The styling is a little old-fashioned; a sense of taste that got stuck somewhere in the 80s. The walls carry decorative plates, cheap

settee reading a newspaper. He is enough like David for it to be obvious that they are brothers. The faces have the same stamp but

“Stephen Kimberley, I assume?”

to one side,

“Summerford. Michael Summerford.”

Mr Summerford. How can we

seem relaxed but a

you today to ask for your help.

both faces. Stephen stiffens. “Your

in one pocket, passing it across to them. “This is her. I thought you

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