The Lover's Children novel Chapter 28

MICHAEL

Klempner’s brow a little furrowed, he watches. I try to follow his line-of-sight, but across the dancing crowd, can’t make out where his interest lies.

I shift along the bar…

James dancing with Mitch?

Not something he’s going to worry about…

Ryan with Charlotte?

Hardly…

Curiosity wars with good manners. Curiosity wins. Making my way along to stand next to him, I raise a finger to the barman. “A beer here, please.” Then with a nod to the empty glass. “What can I get you, Larry?”

“I’ll have a scotch on the rocks, thanks.”

Drink in hand, and now with Klempner’s view over the room, “Something bothering you?”

Whisky glass in one hand, he raises it to his mouth, eyes and forefinger aiming to a table in the far corner. “I was wondering who the blond wolf is, stalking Georgie.”

And now, although still dancing with Mitch, I see James’ attention too, is fixed on the table.

Would he object?

Why should he?

He was happy enough to let Borje fuck Charlotte…

“Borje is no wolf,” I say. “He's a decent man.” I watch the pair for a moment… Heads close over the table, her hands, although holding a glass, stretch across to him. And his to hers. And though seating on opposite sides of the small table, they’re as close as space will allow… “They're looking cosy together, aren't they.”

Klempner’s brows draw together. He sips his drink. “That they are. A decent man you say?”

Concerned about Georgie?

“That's right. He is. Although... If Georgie hooked up with him, she'd be in for a few surprises.”

The glass halts en route, hovering mid-air. “What does that mean?”

“It means that Borje is a long-time friend. James and I… Kirstie too for that matter… know him because he uses the clubs. I imagine that’s why he’s on the guest list. Kirstie knows him of old.”

“Clubs? Oh... Those clubs?”

“Yes, those clubs.”

Klempner turns to hold my face, very still, wheels turning behind his eyes, gears clicking. Then, I see the shutters open. His gaze swings to Charlotte…

… still dancing with Ryan; chatting, laughing at some joke...

… then back to me.

“Yes,” I say.

“Yes?” His eyes narrow.

“Yes. Borje and Charlotte have… known … each other. In the past.”

“Known? We’re speaking Biblically?”

“That’s right.”

“And Jenny was happy with him?”

“I’d say she enjoyed his company very much.”

Klempner doesn’t reply, simply sucking in his cheeks, then gulping his malt. His attention returns to Borje and Georgie.

“I wouldn't worry about Georgie,” I say. “She knows how to look after herself.”

He gives a side-glance. “You think?”

Not just concerned…

Protective towards her?

Klempner?

Where the hell’s that coming from?

Perhaps he divines something of my thoughts. “James has done his level best to protect my daughter,” he says calmly. “It’s the least I can do to return the favour. So, you don’t think he’s any threat to her?”

I consider.

“Might be good for her.”

A figure materialises by us, Kirstie, her face flushed and smiling. “I wanted to say thank you to you both.” James approaches from behind her, accompanied by Mitch. Richard and Beth join us.

Ryan appears, Charlotte by his side. He lays his arm over Kirstie’s shoulder. She hooks hers around his waist. “Yes,” he says. “What else can we say? To all of you. The day could have been disastrous. Instead, it’s been amazing. From the depths of my heart, thank you, all of you.”

There’s a silence, the kind where everyone has something to say, but no one wants to push forward.

Kirstie breaks it. “We’ve had Christmas. And New Year’s not quite here. But it’s our New Year. Mine and Ryan’s. Our new life. And it’s been made possible for us with so much help from our friends. New friends… “She smiles to Mitch and Klempner… “And old ones…” She nods to Richard, me and James… “You helped us buy the mill. You looked after us. You made today possible. And… it’s a bit early… But I gave the band a special request, because I don’t know anything more appropriate.”

She lifts a hand, waves. The singer is watching her, clearly waiting for the signal. At her gesture, the music strikes up.

The hubbub dies down. Gathered family and friends pause, then smile and link hands, voices rising…

Should auld acquaintance be forgot..

Mixed ages…