Solstice

Chapter One - James In the bedroom, Michael holds Charlotte, stroking her hair, talking quietly. “Shhh… It’s alright, Babe. It’s just one of those things.” Gently, he rocks her as she weeps into his chest. We leave them to themselves; give them the privacy they need for a while. On the scale of things, ranged against wars and famines, terrorism or natural disasters, their tragedy is a small one; Charlotte’s miscarriage of Michael’s child. But it’s not small for them. The house is quiet. Too quiet. Downstairs, in the lounge, Klempner stands, hands clasped behind, his back to the fire, swaying from the balls of his feet to his heels and back again. Cara napping by her side, Mitch knits: tiny blue gloves, now no longer needed by their intended owner. Periodically she puts the work down on her lap to draw a finger under her eyes, then takes it up again, the needles clicking rhythmically. Klempner watches her sidelong, frowning. His mouth opens as though to speak, but then snaps shut as I give a quick shake of the head. Beth, on the settee, feeds a contently gurgling Adam. Richard, seated next to her, makes a show of reading his paper. But he’s been reading the same page, the same quarter of a page, for twenty minutes now. Eventually, sighing, he folds it away and simply sits, staring into the fire. Even the dogs are subdued, picking up the vibes from the rest of us I suppose. Bear pads across to sit by Mitch, groans, then drops his head onto her lap. Scruffy circles on the hearthrug by Klempner’s feet, circles again, then drops down, his nose tucked under his tail. The clock ticks. Forty-five minutes… An hour… Time to check them out… Back upstairs, I push the bedroom door open, quietly, just in case, and wait, framed by the doorway. They’re still sitting together on the bed, part-turned away from me. Charlotte nods at something he says, swiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I know. It happens all the time. Like you say, it was probably for the best…” Then she shudders and sobs again… Michael’s grip on her tightens… But she straightens up, resting her palm against his chest. “I’m fine. Really, I’m fine…” She sniffles… “It was… just a shock. You’re right. It happens all the time. And it’s not as though it was far along. Too small to be a proper baby yet.” Michael says little. Kisses her hair. Holds her. Strokes her. Murmurs something quiet. Am I intruding? Too soon yet? Uncertain, I shift and the floorboards creak under my feet. Michael half-turns, looking over his shoulder. “James? It’s alright. Come in.” Charlotte draws in breath, wipes palms over her cheeks, obviously trying to make herself presentable. “Master?” Tears still swim in her voice. *****