Masters And Lovers 1-4

Chapter 46

Michael

I don’t much feel like breakfast, but for the sake of form, I join Mitch, James and Charlotte in the

kitchen, downing a coffee, then pouring another.

James is on his usual ‘toast and coffee only’ breakfast. Mitch works her way through yoghurt and

muesli, eating tidily and sipping at a cup of peppermint tea.

Charlotte’s standing on tip-toe, rummaging at the top shelf of the store cupboard. James stands, walks

across. “What are you looking for?”

“Pickled onions.”

“You don’t like pickled onions.”

“I felt like one sliced up on my sandwich.”

I’ve already seen the other items laid out on the worktop for Charlotte’s ‘sandwich’, along with the

expression flitting across James’ face as he saw them too.

Hmmm…

But he snakes up a long arm to the top shelf and takes down a jar.

In some fascination we sit, watching Charlotte assemble a peanut butter, avocado and pickled onion

sandwich, on crusty bread cut thick enough to use as a draught excluder. In a final flourish, she

scrapes brown sauce over one hefty slice then joins us at the table with her creation.

James passes her a carving knife. “That’s breakfast is it?”

“Ah-ha. I felt like a change.” She raises a hand to her mouth, then pauses, looking between me and

James. “Oh, sorry. Did you want one too?”

“No, thanks.”

“Not for me.”

Mitch reaches, lifts the lid of the sandwich, inspects the contents, then lays it down again. “It was ice

cream on toast with me.” She finishes her tea.

James shudders. Charlotte’s eyes widen. “Hey, that sounds good.” She turns to him. “Do we have any

ice cream?”

I refill Mitch's cup. “I’ll fetch you some across from the hotel.”

“Great! Thanks.” She bites into her monstrous creation.

I turn to Mitch. “How long can we expect this to last?”

“For me it was about the first three months. It faded after that.”

I watch the consumption of the Sandwich of the Baskervilles. “No morning sickness at all?” I ask.

Charlotte chews and swallows. “Nah… Everything’s fine…” She takes another bite, chews… and

pauses. “Um, actually…” She’s looking a bit pasty.

She stands, gulping… “’Scuse me…”… and heads out of the kitchen at speed. A minute or so later, the

sound of a toilet flush drifts in from the hall.

“Yes, that was me too,” comments Mitch.

*****

Richard NôvelDrama.Org owns this.

James spreads fingers over a swathe of land marked out on the City Project plans. “So that’s the

permissions all in place now on F-site.”

“When can we start work on the area?”

“As soon as the contractors complete the groundwork on E-site. I’m expecting next week for that. Then

we can roll them on to the next phase.”

“Sounds good.” I look at my watch. “I think I’m calling it a day. Always good to end on a high note.”

James shifts mugs, paperweights and a stapler off the plan, rolling it into a tube. “Care to join me for a

drink before you head home?”

He takes a breath. “I would, yes.”

I pour two brandies, keeping them small; we both have to drive; then wave him to a seat by the window,

the City spread out below us. “You know, I never get tired of this view.”

James cradles the balloon in his fingers, swirling the glass. He doesn’t drink, just inhales the aroma. “Is

that just for the sheer art of it all? It is a spectacular view.”

“Partly, yes. But mainly it’s because it’s The City. I grew up here. My father helped to build it. I’m

carrying on the work and now…”

“You love this place, don’t you?”

“Love’s as good a word as any.”

Don’t get carried away…

Time to change the subject…

“How’s Michael now? Any improvement?”

“No…” He inhales again, sips. “Some days are better than others, but if anything, I’d say he’s getting

worse.” He takes a swill, tipping his head back.

“Is he sleeping?”

“Not really. He works himself to death during the day. Knocks himself out with whiskey in the evening,

sleeps an hour or so, then he’s up again. And when he does sleep, he’s doing it by himself in one of

the other bedrooms. I tried to send Charlotte through to him. I thought she might work her magic…” He

flashes brows with a touch of suggestion… “But he sent her back.”

He stares down at the carpet. “Taking the trip to Charlotte’s old home helped. He came alive again for

that, but once we got back here, he slumped back into depression. He needs something to kick him out

of it permanently and I don’t know what I can offer.”

Is this the time?

I shift in my seat, considering.

James looks, measuring me. “What?”

“I’m not sure if…”

“If you have a suggestion that might pull Michael out of his depression, I want to hear it.”

“Very well. I’ve been thinking about this for some time. I had intended to leave any discussion for a

while longer, but given Michael’s state of mind, I think now might be appropriate.”

He sits forward, elbows on knees, cupping the glass in both palms. “I’m all ears.”

"You have told me several times that the reason, or part of the reason at least, you brought Michael into

your relationship with Charlotte… the reason you engineered her marriage to him… was because of

the age difference between you. Your being so much older than she."

James frowns. “That’s right. It meant that as I grew older, there would be a younger man to keep

Charlotte happy and satisfied. And after I die, she’ll not be left alone.”

“Yes, and I understand all that… Would you like a refill?”

“Thank you. Yes.” He offers his glass and I give it, then my own, a top-up, rather larger than the first.

“Where was I?”

“Procrastinating. Spit it out, Richard.”

I meet his eye. “Does it occur to you that I am in just the same situation with Elizabeth?”

*****

Later, at home with my beautiful wife. “Elizabeth, my Love. There is something I would like to discuss

with you.”

“Master?”

“Do you recall a conversation we once had? It was in the early days of our relationship. I had just asked

you to marry me and I was beginning to think about the consequences of my involvement with you. I

am much older than you…”

“It doesn’t matter. Master. It works for James and Charlotte and they are even more…”

"Yes, it does work for them. Nonetheless, I must face the reality that, for all the happiness you give me,

I can spend the rest of my life with you, but you can’t spend the rest of your life with me."

Her eyes gloss. “Master, what are you saying?” Her breath catches. “You’re not ill, are you?”

“Oh, lord, no. Nothing like that. I’m in perfect health so far as I know. No, it’s something entirely

different. I have a question for you. And I want your truthful answer. Not the one you think will please

me…”

*****