After some while of quite simply wallowing in the mood, “Want to eat?” I ask.
“Sure,” says Michael. “Charlotte?”
“Ah-ha,” she stretches, arching her spine, wriggling her fingers. “Sounds good.”
“Fine. You two shower off. I’ll go order. Any preferences?”
Michael waves a couldn’t-give-a-damn hand at me. “Whatever you’re having.”
“Me too.”
I slip on a robe and go order steak and steamed vegetables for three, then as an afterthought….
…. We’re celebrating….
…. go for the full works with a spiced chowder starter and a chocolate and bitter orange pudding I saw being served a few nights ago. It looked as you could eat it, but having done so, Satan would be entitled to your soul….
Just the thing….
Food ordered I head for the shower myself. There’s no sound of running water. Instead, the two of them, dripping and naked except for towels are locked in a tight embrace. He rocks her in circles as he holds her close.
I step back, not wanting to interrupt the moment….
No harm in listening though….
And with a slight pull of guilt, watching through the crack of an open door, I eavesdrop….
“I'm sorry I upset you,” she’s saying. “It won't happen again.”
His voice is dry, but there’s laughter in there. “Don't make promises you might not keep.”
She sounds indignant, giving him a playful tap on the chest. “Why wouldn't I keep it?”
Standing back, he finger-combs her wet hair. “Because…. you wouldn't be you if you didn't do what you saw as necessary. It wouldn't stop me being mad with terror for you, but I'll know it's definitely you.”
Her face falls and she pulls away. “I don't know how you can cope with me, why you want me.”
“Perhaps your calmness, your obedience and your catering to my every whim?” She flashes him a quick amused grin. “Ah, sorry. My mistake. I’m confusing you with someone else.”
*****
The meal is excellent, not just the food, but the whole experience. To my huge satisfaction, Charlotte and Michael sit together, thighs and shoulders brushing and going through the whole ‘lovers thing’ of trying food from each other’s plates.
They start off perhaps a little shyly, then progress through the rest laughing and joking together.
As we work through coffee and brick-thick mints, Michael’s demeanour changes. Seemingly attacked by a bout of nerves, he starts speaking, stutters to a halt, then starts again….
And I see the whole delicate edifice crumbling again….
Ah, Christ. Now what?
…. but he keeps speaking. “Charlotte, er…. with everything that’s happened, Christmas has kind of been and gone without us.” Her lips pinch together as she listens. “I wanted to give you a home for Christmas, and I’ve not been able to do that. And I didn’t want to get you clothes or jewellery or perfume, because I know that things like that don’t mean anything to you. But I did want to give you something special, something that counts for you.”
He takes an envelope from his pocket, passing it to her. “For you.”
She looks at the envelope. Then she looks at me. Palms raised, I shrug. It’s his gift. Not mine.
But I am intrigued….
Blinking she take the envelope, opens it and slides out a couple of sheets of paper, photocopies of something by the looks of it.
Brows knitted she reads them, one at a time, then stares. Her mouth opens and her eyes flood.
Michael looks as though he’s about to panic. “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought you’d be pleased….”
“Oh, I am, I am.” She’s gabbling. “How…. Where?”
What the fuck?
Is this a private party?
“Am I permitted to see what all this is about?” She offers me the papers and I scan them quickly.
The first: ‘This is to certify that on this day of 14th April 1992, Frank Conners did join in lawful wedlock with Michelle Kimberley.... by mutual consent before witnesses….”
The second: “This is to certify the following record of birth…. Name: Jennifer Conners. Sex: Female. Name of Father: Frank Conners. Maiden Name of Mother: Michelle Kimberley….”
Sheesh….
Could he given her anything better?
That’s where he kept vanishing to….
…. Searching the records….
A stellar performance there I would say….
Michael’s voice is soft. “I know that it matters to you, finding out where you come from,” he says. “And after what Klempner said to you about your mother, I thought it was even more important.”
Her chest heaving, tears running freely, I don’t think she’s upset. But she is very, very emotional.
Michael continues. “I had trouble tracking down the records because of course, all that area has been levelled, and I didn’t know where old documents were being stored. And so old as that, they’d not been digitised either. But with Klempner dragging your mother’s name into things, and his obvious interest in you, Will Stanton had good cause to, um, assign resources, to track down the information.”
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