The Lover's Children novel Chapter 40

KLEMPNER

Georgie leans forward on her elbows. "But you're trying though. Trying to fit. To make Charlotte happy. And Mitch. And your new daughter."

"Oh, yes." I breathe out glowing fumes. "It's not easy, but I'm trying."

She mirrors me, blowing out her cheeks, staring at the tabletop. "Is it worth it? Are you happy? At least, is it making you happy?"

"A wife. My daughters. Old and new. I have never been so happy as I am now." I empty my glass again. Refill it again. "I'll keep working at it."

Her smile dawns. "I suppose that's alright then." She reaches out, chinks her glass against mine. "If you can do it, so can I."

“You never mentioned who your date was with. Is it someone I should know?”

“Borje.”

Ahhh…

It occurs to me that I’d intended to get Georgie talking. Instead…

I chink my glass back. "Good luck."

*****

I saw them together at Kirstie and Ryan’s wedding, Georgie and Borje. He's a striking-looking man, with the silver-blond of the Scandinavian. It's easy to see why a woman would be attracted to him. Certainly, Georgie seems taken by his charms.

James appears undisturbed by Borje’s interest in his daughter.

Would he say anything?

Michael too, seems to think well of him…

Even if he did admit that Borje fucked Jenny…

Something about Borje set my antennae twitching.

I'm not sure what it is.

And Georgie is overly naive.

*****

“You’re looking very smart, Richard,” says Mitch.

I follow the line of my wife’s attention. Haswell is dressed in full regalia: shirt and tie, pants, jacket and waistcoat, clearly tailor-made, grey with an understated check. The wristwatch is Cartier and I imagine not the variety of Cartier bought from a street trader at a ‘bargain price’.

“Thank you, Mitch.” He straightens the jacket. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should get a waistcoat, Larry,” says Mitch.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“It would suit you. You have the build to carry one well.” She comes close, slides a palm down my chest. “I’d like it,” she purrs.

My cock twitches…

Christ…

Not here…

Haswell checks his cuff links. “I’d be happy to recommend you my tailor.”

Mitch casts around. “Where is she? I told Jenny to be ready. Larry, go find her would you. And make sure she’s decently dressed.”

*****

I locate my older daughter lurking in her book-lined office clicking around something on her laptop screen. Cara sits on the rug by her feet, trying to decapitate a six-inch, pink elephant. Michael clatters with a hammer, installing another bookshelf where you’d not think there was the space for one.

“Charlotte, your mother’s waiting for you.”

Her eyes don’t leave the screen. “Waiting? Why?”

“She’s going shopping. Richard and Beth are ready to go.”

She’s still scrolling and clicking. “I told her I didn’t want to come.” … I edge around to see what’s holding her attention.

The Fellowship of the Ring… First Edition…

“I think she expects you to.”

Jenny’s eyes lift, green as a snake. “You mean, you’ve been sent to issue a summons?”

“That’s about the size of it, yes.”

Michael keeps a straight face, more or less, but Jenny’s expression is sullen. “What kind of shopping?”

“Knowing your mother, probably clothes.”

“Shoes maybe,” says Michael. His cheek jumps under the effort of containing a grin. “Bags. Hats. Jewellery.”

Jenny withers him with a look. Or tries to. “I'd rather spend the morning gnawing my foot off. Anyway, I'm working.”

“Doing what?” I ask.

She flounders. “The keep-fit class.”

“Nope, no need today, Babe.” Michael’s not bothering to hide the grin anymore. “Chad’s back. We’re fully manned.”

“Oh.” She deflates.

“Ah, Jenny…” Mitch sails in. “… There you are.” Her face falls as she casts a gimlet eye over our daughter's jeans, sneakers and tee shirt. “What were you planning on wearing to go out? You can't go into a department store dressed like that.”

What’s missing?

The balconies look good…

More detail for the roof garden?

“I notice you’ve escaped shopping.” Charlotte stands in the doorway to my office, chin jutting, her face rebellious.

“You can lose that tone of voice when you speak to me,” I snap. “Unless you want to be sitting on a cushion this evening…” She shrinks in on herself… “It won’t hurt you to do something to please your mother once in a while. Besides, I’ll be catching up with you later.”

She subsides, shifting her expression to something more polite. “You're sure Michael's alright with all three of the Littlies? I know he’s being helpful, but…”

I huff a laugh. “Michael loves being with Cara and the others. He's not being helpful. He wants to do it. This has given him the excuse he was looking for.” Mutiny inches over her face again. “Come on up. See for yourself.”

I make my way upstairs and Charlotte stomps up behind me. In the nursery, Michael sits inside the playpen, on the carpet. Legs stretched out to take his laptop, Vicky is propped into the crook of one arm, her fuzz of red hair doing a passable imitation of an exploding chrysanthemum. Cara, sandwiched between Michael and the laptop, babbles enthusiasm as he guides her hand over the mouse. Adam gurgles protest, grabbing for the mouse with chubby fingers.

“That's doing your book-keeping, is it?” says Charlotte.

Michael steers Cara’s hand, his expression intense. “This is the part of the accountancy process known as ‘colouring in dinosaurs’.”

I amble behind him to see. The sketched outlines of Flintstone-style dinosaurs fill the screen, with a palette of eye-popping colours to choose from. Cara jams a chubby fist down on the mouse and a T-Rex abruptly bursts into an unlikely shade of green. Michael pumps the air with his free arm. “Yay! You did it!”

“Yay!” Cara’s arms fly up with his. Adam squeals his disapproval, crawling close and trying to muscle in on the action.

Michael beams. “Ain’t they great.”

“Yes, they are. I’ll be in my office. Just yell if you have your hands full.”

“We’ll be fine. Enjoy your shopping trip, Charlotte.”

She doesn’t quite snarl at him, but something like a growl rumbles in her chest as she exits. Michael, silent, poker-faced, watches her go. As soon as she’s out of earshot, he cracks up laughing. “I almost wish I was going too. Do you see Klempner twiddling his thumbs in the waiting area of some department store?”

*****

KLEMPNER

On the too-low seating of the waiting area, I sit, rotating one thumb around the other. The store is expensively fitted out, furnished and stocked with over-priced bling, frequented by customers intent on spending, with the object of being seen to spend.

Haswell came prepared, a pink newspaper tucked under one arm. Within moments of Mitch and Beth setting sail for the lingerie department, towing a reluctant Jenny with them, he shook the paper open and now sits, one ankle propped on a knee, reading the financial pages. With each movement of the dressing-room curtains, he glances over the top of his spectacles, then inhales as he returns to his paper.

“Are we expected to do much of this?” I mutter.

His lips twitch. “Not too much, but in your role as husband, yes, it’s expected.”

“Oh...” I wind my left thumb clockwise around the right. After a few circuits, by way of a break in the boredom, I reverse to anti-clockwise.

Haswell’s eyes don’t leave his paper as he murmurs, "Make it easy on yourself. Next time, bring something to read."

"Next time? I'm supposed to do this again?"