Masters And Lovers 1-4 novel Chapter 54

The aromas drifting from the kitchen are sumptuous. “We’re ready to serve,” announces James. “If you would all like to come through. Do bring your wine, but there’s plenty more on the table.”

The dining room is the image of Christmas. It could have come straight from some Dickensian film-maker’s set.

The scent as we step inside is a delicious assault; pine, beeswax, oranges and cinnamon. A huge fireplace glows to the side, spitting and popping as Michael adds another couple of logs. Candles on the mantel glimmer against the mirror which sits above the hearth, and everywhere, the room is bright with berried holly which drapes over shelves and is swagged across beams.

Beautiful room…

Beautiful renovation work….

And Michael did a lot of this himself?

Useful man to have around….

The table is dressed in red and gold and green, laid out with napkins in Sydney Opera House arrangements, crackers, and more candles mounted on a log….

…. More homemade?

Looks like it….

And another Christmas tree….

More from the woods?

…. sits in a corner, again beautifully decorated in gold and red ribboning.

…. The cake and petit-fours and other tit-bits Elizabeth and I brought are set out on a sideboard with the liqueurs, cheese-board and candied fruit.

“Beth, why don’t you sit there, next to Michael,” says James.

Points of colour rise on my beautiful wife’s pale cheeks. She knows what's coming and as Michael holds out her chair to sit, I see her taking his measure when she thinks he's not looking, her eye roaming his body….

Keeping my face straight, I try to see James’ handsome blond friend with a woman's eye….

Michael has avoided the curse of the jolly reindeer sweater and is simply turned out in a plain white linen shirt, and black pants, but the pants are well cut….

I look under hooded lids…

… Very well cut…

He didn’t know Elizabeth was going to be here….

…. So, he dressed to please Charlotte….

James and Michael between them serve the meal: turkey and all the trimmings, ferrying plates and trays and steaming tureens from the kitchen.

“Richard….” James, from his place at the head of the table, nods toward the collection of wine bottles at the end of the table. “…. would you like to open the wine while I carve?”

“Of course.” Turning to where Charlotte sits between me and James, “Red or white? Or cava perhaps?”

“Um, red please.” But she doesn’t meet my eye….

Something I said…?

James waves expansively over the table. “Help yourselves, everyone.” Michael takes up Elizabeth’s plate, serving her with a little of everything.

The meal is excellent but Charlotte picks at her food, moving it around her plate, poking at it. I’ve seen Charlotte’s eating habits often enough to know this isn’t normal.

“So, what are your plans for Christmas and the New Year, Charlotte?” I say. “Anything special coming up?”

“Um, not sure, really.”

Hmmm….

I try again. “What have James and Michael given you for Christmas? I know James was racking his brains.”

“Don’t know yet.” She stirs a sprout around in a pool of gravy.

Nervous?

Of me?

Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea…

Since James’ invitation, I’ve been anticipating with relish the idea of ‘playing’ with Charlotte. I’d thought after Elizabeth’s birthday that Charlotte would want to too, perhaps even be enthusiastic about the idea…

Once more….

“Any favourite films you like to watch? Elizabeth always loves watching Christmas movies…” I talk across the table. “What’s that one you like…?”

Elizabeth covers her mouth, swallowing down a mouthful of something, gulps, then, “The Snowman. I don’t know how many times I watched it, but I still always cry at the end. What about you?”

“Yes, it’s a good film. I like it too.” But her words are lacklustre. There’s no enthusiasm there.

And I know for a fact that Charlotte enjoys old movies….

“…. but when I see all those old movies, you know, ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ and ‘Christmas Carol’ and all the rest, I’ve never had a Christmas like that….”

Yes…. It’s me

She doesn’t want…

…. doesn’t want me touching her?

The food sits uneasily in my stomach and my erection, which I’ve been beating down with a stick all morning, subsides.

From the corner of my eye I see James, brow creased, also surreptitiously watching his sub.

Elizabeth is happily chatting with Michael as he spoons extra cranberry sauce on to her plate. She won’t meet his eye, but there’s a curve to her lips and a flush to her cheeks.

She’s happy….

I look sidelong again, to where a roasted parsnip is being diced into smaller and smaller pieces.

Not happy….

If she cuts it any smaller, it's going to disappear entirely….

Ah, well….

I can watch Elizabeth with Michael….

…. then let off steam when I give my beautiful wife another good fucking back home….

I reach for the wine bottle. At the same moment, James takes Charlotte’s hand, lifting it to his lips. He kisses the fingers, then pushes her hand into mine, pressing to close my fingers around hers….

His gaze meets with mine and he eye-points down to my and Charlotte’s joined hands.

Ahhh….

Got it….

I lift her hand to my own lips, holding them there for a moment in a soft kiss. She looks up to me, then back at James and breaks into a bright smile.

Then she falls on her food like a starveling, snagging some extra slices of turkey and reaching over the table to where Michael is offering across a dish of roasted potatoes.

James watches the performance, his eyes creasing at the corners. As our eyes meet once more, he flashes brows at me, taking a sip of wine.

Furtively, I loosen my belt a notch. And now it’s not just the meal making my pants a tight fit.

I’d picked up from somewhere or other that James enjoys cooking and is good at it….

Where from?

Oh, yes, he helped out the chef on the hotel opening day….

But that was just a buffet…

It’s the first time I’ve sat at his table, and the food is top mark. The turkey is succulent, the stuffing fragrant and appetising, the vegetables not overcooked. And the gravy is thick, rich with wine and herbs. I chew thoughtfully at a roast potato: crunchy outside, soft inside and flavoured with….

Rosemary?

“This meal is excellent,” I say. “Where did you learn to cook, James?”

Charlotte nods vigorously, looking between us, fork in hand as she engulfs a ball of chestnut stuffing followed by a pig-in-blanket.

James tips his glass to me, looking pleased. “When I was a student, I worked in a hotel kitchen to help make ends meet. The chef there rather took me under his wing, taught me some valuable life skills….”

Charlotte swallows hard. Her face drops and the fork which is half-way to her mouth freezes in transit. James mutters a silent but visible curse and looks away.