The Lover's Children novel Chapter 14

MICHAEL

“Where do you want this, Sally?” I hover in the door, a cardboard crate in my arms.

She peers over the top, poking at the contents, muttering to herself. “Flour… Cooking brandy… Dried fruit… Thanks, Michael. Just put it on the counter over there. Want a coffee while you’re passing through?”

“I will, yes. Everything under control?”

She gives me a brisk smile. “No problems at all. We’re fully staffed for the holiday period and my daughter’s on standby to help out if anyone comes down with that flu that’s going around.”

“Great. Is there…?”

The double serving doors bang open and Klempner strides in. “Ah, Michael. They told me I’d find you here. A favour to ask. I wonder if I could borrow that truck of yours?”

Sally pushes a mug into my hand, cocks a brow at Klempner, who nods. “Please, yes.”

I take a swig of the coffee. “Sure.” Fishing keys from my pocket, I toss them to him. “It’s in the barn. What's it for?”

His eyes flick to Sally, then back again. She tuts and hands him a mug.

“Just an idea.” He gulps, then blows over the mug before gulping again.

“You need help with something? If it’s big enough to need the truck, another pair of hands could be useful.”

He eyes me, sucking in his cheeks…

Weighed… Measured…

“Perhaps you could. Do you have any plans for the afternoon?”

… and found adequate…

“Nothing I can't put off. Are we going for a ride?”

“If you're volunteering, yes.”

“Should I get changed?”

He looks me up and down again. “No, come as you are.”

“In my work clothes and boots? You're wearing a suit.”

Klempner’s face is straight, but a wolf smile prowls behind his eyes. “I don't intend to get my hands dirty.”

“But I will?”

He tosses back the last of the coffee, then hands back the mug. “Thank you. Much appreciated, Mrs…?”

“Sally.”

“Thank you, Sally.”

*****

Strolling through reception side-by-side with Klempner, I call across. “I’m out for the rest of the day, Pauline. If anyone’s asking for me, take a message .”

“Sure thing, Michael.”

Klempner pauses by a mirror, checks himself over. Taking a comb from his jacket, he swipes it through his hair and beard a couple of times, replaces it, then straightens his jacket. The performance looks to have nothing to do with vanity.

And now that I think about it, the creases in his trousers would slice bread, his shirt and tie are fresh-pressed and the jacket has been brushed down.

I consider my own dress, chosen for a morning of lugging crates and cartons from truck to storeroom. “You’re sure I’m dressed okay?”

“Jeans, boots and a pullover are perfect.”

“So, where are we going? What do you want me to do?”

“Stay close and… um… loom.”

“Loom? You’re better at looming than me. What d’you need me for?”

“Think of it as an opportunity to practice your technique.” He pauses, looking me up and down, then shakes his head slightly. “It would help if you didn't look so much like an ad for fresh-mint mouthwash.”

*****

I drive. Next to me, in the passenger seat, Klempner checks a mapping app. Pointing ahead, “Take that next left, then park up wherever you can.”

Easing the truck around the corner, I pull in. We’re in the parking lot of some industrial complex. It’s not one I know, but it seems a popular venue. People mill and push. Vans serve fries, burgers and dogs, hot drinks and cans. An oily smell and a thrumming in the air says that a generator is running somewhere close by.