The Master's Child - Complete Series

Target-2

“What kind of hotel is this?” spouts one. His voice echoes through the intercom, tinny and reedy. I’m not sure how much of the tone is his own voice and how much the connection, but…

“Obviously sirs, even here, we have to be discreet. You understand that technically this is illegal, regardless of the realities and the consent of the children involved.”

“They have consented, have they?” It’s the runt who was pushing the baggage trolley when I met them.

“Or their parents have consented. Often, the children are supporting older members of their families through the work.”

One of them discovers the drinks cabinet, starts splashing gin and tonic, malt and whatever else. It doesn’t matter which they choose. There’s enough Zolpidem in any of the bottles to incapacitate the drinkers.

As they clink glasses and exchange brags, I knock down the security lock. None of them notices.

*****

Michael - Eleven Weeks

In the kitchen, I find James extending the breakfast table. “Six for breakfast.” His face is suspiciously straight. “We need more space.”

Mitch joins us, heading for the jar containing her peppermint tea. She’s wearing an expression which hovers between a twinkle and a question. She turns her gaze on Charlotte. “Yes?”

“Yes, Michael accepted.”

Mitch nods, her expression thoughtful, then turns to help James set out the table. “I’ll do that.”

“Thanks.” He collects eggs from the fridge... “A good breakfast all round, I think.” Then brandishing a bottle, “And perhaps some bucks fizz by way of celebration.”

“Sounds good to me.” In truth, I feel a little awkward, pinned under Mitch’s gaze. She’s barely arrived with us, learning that her long lost daughter has two ‘husbands’, and now one of them has…

What?

… an arrangement that he has a second ‘wife’.

But she doesn’t look annoyed. Her mouth is twitching as she smooths the tablecloth. “You lead an adventurous life, don’t you,” she comments, taking cutlery from the drawer and laying out six sets.

“Are you alright with it? You obviously knew about it. And before I did too.”

“I’m happy if Jenny is happy.”

We’re interrupted by the arrival of Beth and Richard, both casual in jeans and tee-shirts.

Richard, one hand in the small of Beth’s back, gestures her to a chair. “Good morning, James, Michael. Good morning, Mitch.”

Ignoring the heat on my cheeks, I take my place at the table, a seat between Charlotte and Beth. Beth meets my eye, then looks away, a flush rising up her neck.

At least it's not just me...

I give Charlotte a peck on the cheek as, bland-faced, she butters a stack of toast then pushes the rack to Beth, who sits, eyes downcast, face pinking.

Charlotte speaks through a mouthful of crunch. “Aren't you going to kiss your new wife, ‘Good morning’?” Beth’s eyes roll to her, and back to me again.

“Morning, Beth.” I give her a peck on the cheek too. The flush deepens, but she returns the kiss with a muttered ‘Morning’.

Richard says nothing, simply cradling a steaming mug, but the devil dances in his eyes.

James bustles around the kitchen area. “What would you like for breakfast, Beth?”

“What Mitch is having looks nice.”

“Coming up.” James deposits cereal, a bowl of chopped fruit and yoghurt by her. Then he hovers over the table with the jug. “More coffee, Richard?”

Richard winces, then rises, heading for the hob. “No, thanks, James. I’ll make another pot.”

“No need. There’s plenty.”

Richard clicks his tongue. “I’ve tasted your coffee, James. And I value my stomach lining. I’ll make my own.”

The six of us around the table makes for a very convivial breakfast. Half an hour and about ten thousand calories later, we all settle back drinking tea, peppermint and coffee.

“Ah…” James tops up his horrendous brew. “So… where do we go from here?”

Where indeed?

Richard pours for himself from a second jug, then offers it to Beth. “I’d say, let’s take things gradually. There’s no need to force any kind of pace. However, our group relationship develops, there’s no hurry. And we all have different lives.” Putting his cup down, he steeples fingers. “Whatever’s going to happen between us, we should let it happen organically…”

Thank God for that…

Charlotte, wiping crumbs from her lips, mumbles agreement through a mouthful of egg. Beth follows. Mitch simply watches with a cool gaze.

Richard continues, “Just now we are two separate families, in two separate homes. Perhaps as a start, we should spend the occasional weekend with each other?”

“A good idea.” James waves his coffee cup, punctuating his words, putting it down again as it slops over. “And I have another suggestion. How about a couple of weeks at the beach house? We’re in June now. We could make arrangements, organize our workloads for some time off in July or August.”

Richard arches his brows. “Sounds good to me. Elizabeth?”

She looks down, dimpling. “It sounds lovely.” Her hand slips into mine, squeezing my fingers. I squeeze back.

“They do say,” comments Mitch, “that the way to really find out if you get along with someone is to spend a holiday with them.”

Richard nods into his coffee. “There’s a lot of truth in that. And with what we are proposing with our ‘family’ of five, plus extras…” He nods down to first Beth’s belly, then Charlotte’s… “We’d better be sure we have something workable.”

He pauses. “You’re very quiet, Michael, considering your role in all this.”

“Richard, I’m still reeling. But I'd say a vacation at the beach house is an excellent idea.”

“Good. Mitch, will you join us?”

A porcelain cup poised between her fingers, she hesitates. “I don’t think so, no. This is about the five of you. Whatever Jenny’s life-choices are, it is for her to make them work. My being there would simply be interference.”

James exchanges a glance with me, frowning. “Mitch, you’re part of the family now. You’re welcome to join us.”

She sips. “Thank you, James. And I appreciate it. But no-one takes the mother-in-law on the honeymoon.”

*****

Michael - Twelve Weeks

I try the switch and the bulb flicks on, then off again.

Great. The last one.

I spot Mitch, waiting at the door for me to notice her. “I was coming across to see how you’re getting on. Sally asked me to give you this.”

She offers me a tray bearing a pint mug of tea and one of my hotel chef’s monumental ‘sandwiches’. Lifting the lid, I inspect the contents; sausage, egg and bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms and brown sauce; enough protein to feed a small family for a day. And a larger family wouldn’t be going hungry.

Mitch eyes the creation. “Will you eat all that?”

“Sally lives in eternal torment that I might waste away while her back is turned. I wouldn’t dream of rejecting her contribution to my continued well-being.”

Double-handed, I lift the thing to my mouth and bite in; a deep, delicious mouthful. “I’ve just gotten in the last of the wiring." Wiping a dribble of yolk from the corner of my mouth, I gesture around the room. "It’s ready for you anytime you want to move in.”

From ground level, Scruffy yaps, his stubby tail a dust-stirring blur. But I ignore him; I’m entitled to my breakfast.

Okay… Second breakfast…

He yaps again, experimentally, whines…

Ears drooping, he trots out.

Mitch strolls around, trailing fingertips over the polished timber of the windowsill. “It’s such a lovely space. Are you sure you don’t want it as your office? That was your intention when you started the renovation…”

“I’m fine. There’s plenty more still to work on.” I jerk thumb to the wall. “Next door for a start.”

“You’re making that your work area instead?”

“Nope. It used to be a stable. It’s going to be a stable again… Um…” I mumble a bit through a mouthful of bacon, then follow Mitch’s horrified downward gaze.

Scruffy is back again, something dangling from his mouth. As he sees he has my attention, he drops the back-half of a rat at my feet, making a small, bloody splash on the tiles.

Oh, wonderful…

A mutt that believes in free trade…

On reflex, I stoop to pick up Scruffy’s demi-rodent, then remember that I’m holding my breakfast. I can deal with a little plaster-dust in my food, but…

Sandwich still in hand, I kick the thing hard, out of the door and into some brambles. Piteous whimpering follows and I thumb a sausage downward from between the bread halves.

It’s not as though I can’t spare it.

The sausage vanishes in two chomps and Scruffy resumes his vigil.

Mitch follows the performance. “Where do you suppose the other half is?”

“I don’t wish to speculate. But at least he’s doing real terrier work and going after vermin. I suppose that qualifies as earning his keep.”

Then I sigh at Kirstie’s pack, forming a disorderly queue by the door. Meg muscles her way in first, growling at the others. It’s not as though I mind hosting the ‘Gang of Four’ while their mistress is still recovering from her injuries…

Ben…

…but my mid-morning ‘Second Breakfast’ doesn’t go nearly as far as it used to.

“Meg! Quiet!”

The barrel-bodied little madam subsides. “Outside, the lot of you.” I march them out. Archie, Mac and Emma sit, waiting expectantly. Meg grumbles as she joins them.

Taking a defiant munch of my breakfast roll, I tear off four chunks, passing them down to assorted waiting mouths then, groaning, tear off another piece as I find Scruffy has joined the end of the line, his lop-sided ears triangulating on a possible second serving. It vanishes with a Chop!

Returning inside with my much-reduced meal, I find Mitch, brow c****d in amusement, offering the mug of tea. “Want me to ask Sally to make you another?”

“No, I don’t think I’d dare tell her most of it went to the wolf-pack.”

She rolls eyes outside. “How long are you keeping them?”

“Scruffy’s here permanently. After Ben…” My throat tightens and I skid away from the thought. “Kirstie’s four are welcome as long as it’s needed. After the way she raised the alarm for you and Charlotte…”

Again, my mind veers from a subject still too painful to dwell on.

Mitch regards me for a long moment then, waving around the interior of the once-was-a-stable, “So, you’re sure about me taking this? Living here? I don’t want to oust you.”

“Absolutely. And you’re not ousting me. We’ll bring across the furniture from your room in the house for the moment. You can re-furnish to your own taste as and when it suits you.”

“Do you mind if I redecorate? Plain cream’s pleasant enough, but…”

“Mitch, do what you want with it. Everyone needs a space to call their own. A bit of privacy. It’s your home for as long as you want it. If you need anything else doing, let me know. I’m happy to do the heavy work if you’ll finish off painting and whatever else it needs.”

“Thank you. You don’t know how much I appreciate this… Michael, how long are you happy for me to stay here? I’m sure when you bought this place, you didn’t plan on having the mother-in-law move in.”

“No, I didn’t. It was intended to be a home for me, Charlotte and James… Which is why I’m offering the mother-in-law a space that is hers exclusively. And private.”

“Actually, it is a good idea.” She blushes. “It’s... It's a bit embarrassing... But last night... I could hear you.”

Cringing at this toe-curling thought, “You’re right. I’d prefer not for that to happen. Anyway…” I give her a nudge and a wink… “You might want some privacy of your own now.” Her eyes widen. “Come on Mitch, a woman like you. You’re a serious looker. If you want… someone… a man in your life… then it would be very easy…” But my words trail off at the far look in her eyes.