The Lover's Children novel Chapter 47

MICHAEL

Logs chopped, I follow my nose and the scent of coffee to the kitchen to find James puttering about, scraping something chopped green into a pot on the hob. On the next ring, the coffee pot hisses and spits.

"What're we having?"

"Lamb Rogan Josh." He rinses off the chopping board and stacks it into the drainer. "Good timing." He nods to the pot. "Want one?"

"Mmmm, please."

Five minutes later, legs stretched out by the hearth, coffee in hand and the promise of James' creation drifting by my nose, life's looking pretty good, when the door swings wide and Charlotte enters...

... and life's looking even better.

She looks great. Long hair swinging loose by her waist, her eyes are made-up, lips tinted. It's subtle and lovely and suits her fine complexion perfectly. The skirt and blouse she's wearing cling and billow in all the right places, and she moves with grace and a bloom about her that says…

My stomach clutches…

James, stooping as he slides a tray into the oven, straightens up, measuring her with his eyes.

She bobs him a nod and he goes to the fridge, takes out a bottle of bubbly.

Charlotte's smile creases dimples into her cheeks. Sitting up straight, I pat my knee and she sits on my lap, one arm crooked around my neck.

James offers a flute, filled golden, bubbles shooting sparkling lines upward before popping into mist at the surface. But she shakes her head. "No, Master. Thank you, but not wine."

His mouth and eyes lift as he pushes the glass into her hand. "Not wine. It’s elderflower cordial."

My stomach clutches again, then flips. "You're off wine?"

"Yes." She kisses my cheek, looks me in the face. "I'm off wine for about the next eight months."

"Oh, God… You're pregnant? You're sure?"

"I'm pregnant. And yes, I'm sure."

Flinging my arms around her, I squeeze tight and James darts in, snatching the glass from her.

"Oh, God… Oh, God… Oh, God… That's marvellous. That's brilliant!" Standing, taking Charlotte up with me, I spin, spinning her with me.

I'm laughing out loud and Charlotte's laughing with me. "That's absolutely fucking amazing." Pulling her in, an arm around her waist, another cupping her head, I squeeze, then plant a kiss on her mouth. "Isn't that amazing, James?"

"Yes, it is." He prises her from me, kisses her forehead. "Congratulations. Both of you. And I'm sure Cara will enjoy having a younger brother or sister."

"What's happening?" Klempner stands in the doorway, perplexity creasing his forehead. Mitch is close behind him but looks merely expectant.

I prise our wife away from her other husband, turning her to face her parents. "Your daughter has just told us she is expecting her second child."

Mitch pushes past and I have to surrender Charlotte again, this time as her mother embraces her. "I'm so pleased for you. I know it's what you wanted."

"Yes..." Klempner's voice is quiet. "Congratulations, Jenny and..." His gaze lingers on me. “… Michael, James. All of you."

James produces another bottle from the fridge... "Champagne all round, except..." and he nods Charlotte to her flute of cordial.

"What's the occasion?" Richard and Beth now stand framed by the doorway, but Beth's eyes are bright as they drop to Charlotte's still flat stomach. "Yes?"

Charlotte grins. "Yes."

"Yay!” Beth charges forward, arms flung wide, engulfing Charlotte and Mitch together. Then, she pauses, looking to me, to James, to me again. "Yes?"

"Yes," I say.

The arms fling again, this time around me. "Congratulations! You did it, the two of you."

Klempner's eyes roll. Richard slaps him on the arm. "Take it in your stride, man. It works for them. That's what's important."

"It's what I promised to do," says Charlotte. "I'm keeping my promise."

*****

KLEMPNER

They don’t need me. With celebrations all round, it’s as good a time as any to make myself scarce. Shrugging a jacket from the hook by the door, I head out.

Breathe…

Driving down the mountain, with no clear idea of where I’m going, I steer on autopilot.

Mitch is right. Fuck knows I've spent enough of my life alone. And I know that I don’t want that life again. But somehow, with Mitch’s blessing, I can admit to myself that what I’m feeling is the Call of the Wild.

In the City, I park up.

What to do?

I’ve no idea. Aimless, I wander the streets, enjoying the feel of having the swarm around me but not being a part of it. Roaming at random, I follow my feet, seeing what’s to be seen…

It feels good. Walking. Just walking. Just me. Watching the crowds.

Crowd-watching is always revealing. I'm hardly the sociable type, but you can learn a lot by simply strolling, taking in the mood.

The mood's ugly. The A-board by a newsstand is headlined: Slasher strikes again. City Police Baffled.

Police Commissioner William Stanton pressured to explain…

Stanton Out – Demands increase for resignation…

Generally, I read James’ and Haswell’s papers. I seldom bother to buy my own. This time, I make an exception.

Without really thinking about it, I find myself gravitating back to the square. Both cordon and enclosure are still in place by the park entrance, but the square itself has recovered some air of normality.

It’s a thoroughly agreeable spot. When I first knew this area, it was as good an example of urban decay as you could ask for: factories and warehouses either run-down or abandoned. The old docks, not far away, were deserted and decaying, a place of rotting masonry and ironwork, the haunt of junkies, crackheads and the long-lost.