I drive. James stretches out his bad leg in the passenger seat. “Well, that was weird,” I comment.
James grunts.
In the rear mirror, Charlotte stares out of the window. “You okay?”
She keeps staring. Tonelessly, “The same thing happened to him as to me. He was scared. He stabbed
someone. He ran.”
James swivels in his seat, stabbing a finger towards her. “It is not the same, Charlotte. All aside from
the detail that he was responsible for you being in that position, however bad a start to life you both
had, you both had choices afterwards. You made choices that turned you into a strong admirable
woman. He made choices that took him down the path of slaver and multiple murderer. He could have
turned from it at any point and he chose not to do so.”
*****
Michael
I tap on her office door. “Hi, it’s only me.”
Charlotte looks up from her desk. “Is it that time already?”
“Yup. Ready for home?”
“Sure. Let me just…”
My mobile buzzes. It’s Beth.
Not like her to call me out of the blue…
“Hi, Beth. What can I do for you?”
“Hi Michael. Um, could you spare me some time?”
Oh, God…
Not more bloody papers…
“Of course, Beth. When did you have in mind? I'm free tomorrow afternoon if that...”
“No, I mean right now, Michael. Right now. Can you come? I’m upstairs with James.” She pauses and
her voice lowers. “Are you with Charlotte?”
Something in Beth’s tone penetrates. I slip a glance, but Charlotte’s occupied with something on her
laptop, not listening. “Ah-ha.”
“Don’t say anything to her. Just come up yourself.”
“Sure. I'm on my way.” I tap off my phone then, “Um, Beth’s got something she wants me to look at. I
think it might be more of those damn papers from her uncle. Can you keep yourself busy for a few
minutes?”
She flashes teeth at me, eyes dancing. “What, more of them? Course I can. Give me a buzz when
you’re done, and I’ll come up.”
“Thanks.” I kiss her forehead, squeeze her arm, then head for the elevator.
*****
James and Richard are both there, wearing identical expressions. Arms folded, eyes narrowed, silent.
And there, sitting by Beth, is David, the younger of Mitch’s two brothers…
Charlotte’s uncle…
And they wouldn’t acknowledge her…
Barely even registered her existence…
Because of her mother…
When I left their house that time, I could have cheerfully punched the pair of them, and it must show on
my face.
David stands awkwardly. “Mr Summerford… Michael… May I call you Michael?”
“That depends on why you’re here.”
He nods, equally awkwardly, and seats himself again. “First,” he says, “please don't tell anyone else in
the family I'm here. Especially Stephen. My life wouldn't be worth living.”
I don’t sit. I see no reason to welcome this man who rejected my wife for events that had nothing to do
with her. So, still standing, “As you wish. Why are you here? Is there something you would like to tell
me?”
He doesn’t meet my eye. “Yes, I couldn’t speak with Stephen there that time and…”
“You could have phoned me any time since then. I left my contact details.”
“You don’t understand… Stephen… He’s inflexible. Always has been. And he’s gotten more so with
age… He wants to control everything. The first thing he did was pocket your card. And…”
“Mr Kimberley, what have you come to say?”
“Shelley called me.”
“Shelley? Charlotte’s mother…” I look around the room. Beth and Richard sit in rigid silence. James’
eyes, all but black, bore into David. “… When?”
“Several times over the years. At first when she wanted to come back home. She said she was
frightened by something. Stephen wouldn’t even consider her returning. But she still rang from time to
time. Stephen always hung up on her and she called less as time went on. Eventually, she stopped
altogether.”
“And the last time?”
“About five years ago.”
“Five years? She was alive and well five years ago?”
“She was alive, yes.” David scrapes a hand through his hair. “As for well… I don’t know. She never
talked for long, and she… she never sounded happy. Look… I'm sorry about Stephen. He means well,
he really does, but he's stubborn. And he always believes he knows best.” He draws a deep lungful.
“You know how it is with brothers…”
I huff. “Tell me about it. Maybe your brother and mine should move in together. They’d live happily ever
after.” James snorts.
Richard stands, fetches a bottle from a cupboard and pours an amber finger into each of four glasses,
then with a questioning eye, tilts the bottle to Beth.
“Yes, I think I will.”
He passes the glasses around then, with a meaningful look to me, says, “So, David, tell us what
happened.”
David holds his glass but doesn’t drink. “When Mom left, Stephen took over as head of the family. As a
kid, he always meant well by Shelley. But he was over-protective. Wouldn't let her do the things
teenage girls do. Wouldn't let her go out. Wanted to pick and choose her friends. Controlled what she
was allowed to wear. Always kept her on a short leash.” He knocks back half his drink in one gulp.
James leans back in his seat. “It sounds stifling.”
“It was. In the end, she simply up and left.”
“How old was she then?”
“Fifteen.” James sucks in a whistle.
I butt in. “And that’s Stephen’s gripe with her? That she left? Went her own way?”
David’s face slackens. He finishes his drink. Richard tips more into the glass. “Partly,” he says at
length. “It was also the way she left. She stole from us. Took money. She repaid it afterwards but by
then Stephen had already made up his mind. And then later…” He falters.
“David,” says James quietly. “We know how Shelley earned her living. It doesn’t matter to us. She is
Charlotte’s mother and that’s the only thing we care about.”
David nods, letting out a sigh. “Yes… But Stephen didn’t see it that way. When he found out… It was
Dad’s wedding. Stephen saw her with some man and that finished her chances with him.”
He scrubs a hand over his face. “She was a young girl at the time, and everyone makes mistakes. But
it was her choice to do it and that’s all Stephen could see. Said she wasn't his sister anymore and
forbade her name to be mentioned. And later, Delia… um… Dad’s second wife… backed him up.” He
grimaces. “Personally, I think the bitch didn't want any competition out there for her own daughter.”
He stares into the distance, looking morose, then abruptly, he meets my eye. “As I said, the last I heard
from her was five years ago.” He thrusts a piece of paper at me. “This is the address she gave me. If
she’s there, give her my love and tell her she’s not forgotten. But for pity’s sake, please don’t let
Stephen know I’ve done this.”
*****
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