Chapter 6: Chapter 6

“Did you do it?”

“Yes, Mr Klempner. Just as you asked.”

“Perfect. I’ll not forget this, Sutcliffe.”

“Thank you, sir. Is there anything else?”

“No, not right now.”

He leaves, the door clanging shut behind him. The lock grinds as the key turns but the sound no longer bothers me.

Two photos sit on my locker. One old. One new. I pick up the older one….

Happier days….

The photo is faded, the colours no longer true, the corners frayed and yellowing….

…. Mitch, smiling, bright-eyed, beautiful, wearing green as she often did, her arm around my waist.

The other photo….

Jennifer….

…. Mitch’s daughter….

Grown up just like her mother.

Mine.

*****

The car crunches onto the drive, pulling up by the front porch. Ross jumps out then walks around the car to open my door. “Will there be anything else, Mrs Haswell?”

“No, that’s fine thank you, Ross. You go home. It’s been a long day.”

Inside, Richard is waiting. “Elizabeth, it’s good to see you.” He kisses my cheek, takes my coat and offers me the armchair near the fire. “How did it go?”

I feel sad. Not upset, but sad. The old uncle I knew as a girl had long since vanished into a haze of confusion and bitterness. His time had come….

No, not upset, but yes, sad.

“Oh, you know funerals. Everyone was there, whether they really knew him or not. All exchanging family chit-chat and nonsense over canapés. No-one was really close to him anymore, not even David and Stephen.”

“David and Stephen?”

“Uncle Albert’s two sons. He’d pretty much stopped talking to them over the years. I think they were just going through the motions today.”

Richard perches on the chair arm next to me. He strokes my face, kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry, my Love. I know you were fond of the old fellow.” Tilting up my face with a finger under my chin, “Can I get you anything? A glass of wine? Something stronger?”

“A gin and tonic would be nice.”

“Coming up. I’ll just get some ice.”

He reappears a couple of minutes later with two G&Ts clinking with ice and lemon. “Thought I’d keep you company,” he smiles. “Come on. Sit with me by the fire.” He gestures me down, winding an arm around me as we sit together on the rug, staring into the flames.

After a while I say, “Since the whole family was there, I tried asking about Charlotte again. Not the details obviously. Just that I had a friend who looks a lot like me and we think her mother was called Kimberly.”

“And?”

“And, nothing. Blank stares from the younger ones and the older generation found something else to talk about.”

“You think the topic was being cold-shouldered?”

“Mmm, yes. By the oldsters at least. I don’t think the younger ones know anything.”

“So, maybe it was your Uncle George after all? Climbing through bedroom windows and making a scandal.”

“Well, if it was, it's too late to ask him. He died five years ago. That generation has gone now. Uncle Albert as the last of them.”

Richard watches me for a minute, then leans in, brushing his lips over mine. “I don’t think you should dwell on it. It’s obvious that you and Charlotte are something to each other. Why don’t we just call the pair of you cousins and leave it at that?”

“Because Charlotte wants to find her mother.”

*****

“Is something bothering you, Charlotte?”

“Um, it’s a bit embarrassing actually.”

“Can I help?”

She hangs her head.

“Charlotte, we’re friends, aren’t we? Is it something I can help with?”

She watches her own feet, toeing at the ground. “I’ve been looking at the menus for the wedding reception. Michael and my Mast… James, seem to be planning something quite…. complicated.”

“Don’t you like what they’re planning? It’s your wedding too, remember. The bride gets first call. If you don’t like something, you’re entitled to say.”

“Oh, no. It’s great. All of it. It really is... It’s just…. For the meal… There’s all these courses. And I don’t know what most of the food is….”

“Like what?”

“Well, what’s sad-zee-kee?”

Sahdzeekee?

?

?

I try to move my head to Planet Charlotte….

Ah…. Tzatziki….

“It’s yoghurt and mint. It’s a popular dressing on spicy food.”

“Oh….” Her face brightens. “That doesn’t sound so bad. What about Wellington? It sounds like a boot and I…. I didn’t like to ask.” Her head droops again.

“Charlotte, you shouldn’t worry over asking about something you don’t know. How else will you learn?

And wellington is beef baked inside pastry. Or sometimes a vegetarian version will be served, with say, a cheese, herb and nut filling.”

“Oh! Well…. That sounds okay as well, I suppose. But then there’s a lot of knives and forks and things…. And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with them all.” Her face is tragic. “Michael and James… I know they’re both looking forward to it so much. I… I don’t want to look a fool and spoil it for them.”

“Charlotte, it’s easily dealt with. Elizabeth can show you your way around the dinner table. And then, James and I have to attend one of those infernal charity dinners next week. I rather not, but I’m expected to be seen at these events. However, in this case, I think you should be there too. It will give you some practice at, um, formal eating.”

“Thank you.” Her voice is small, subdued.

Poor kid….

All the things she seen and done and gone through, and it’s her own wedding meal that scares her….

Most women would kill for the invitation I just gave her.

“Come on, Charlotte. It’s your wedding. It’s is your day. Learn to enjoy it. Michael and James maybe as happy as sandboys organising it all, but no-one cares about them. You’re the bride. On the day, all the eyes will be on you.”

“That’s what I’m nervous of.”

*****