Her Lovers' Touch

Richard I sit in the conference room, wading through brochures, catalogues and websites, trying to find something…. …. suitable…. …. and just the tiniest bit original…. And something she doesn’t already have…. *sigh* There’s movement in my office beyond. Elizabeth? She’s early…. Quickly, I whisk a plan of the City Project site over my work area, but when I look up, it’s not Elizabeth but Michael standing in the doorway. “Hi, Richard… Hope you don’t mind. Francis let me in. Thought I’d spend half an hour on some more of that lot while I was twiddling my thumbs.” He gestures towards the stack of tattered and dusty boxes housing forty years of junk paperwork from Elizabeth’s recently deceased Uncle Albert. “Not at all. It’s very good of you to keep at this on Elizabeth’s behalf.” “It’s no problem at all. I’m waiting for James and Charlotte so it’s not as if I have anything better to do ‘til they turn up. And as I mentioned, I’m actually finding it quite interesting….” Each to their own…. He picks up a box, already half-empty, so I assume he’s been working on it before, and flicks out a sheet, examines it briefly then tosses it in another box being used for waste. I return to my own thankless task, flicking through web pages looking at more and more useless crap. Useless expensive crap…. Not that I can't afford it, but Elizabeth already has everything. What else can I give her? A lot of what I see is simply bling, usually with a designer name attached, so folks with pretensions and more money than sense buy it. Sighing, I try a change of tack. A theatre performance perhaps…. A movie? The Opera? She hates Opera Ballet perhaps? Michael’s head pops up. “Something wrong?” “It’s Elizabeth’s birthday in a couple of weeks.” He chuckles. “Yes, I can see that would give you a problem. Settled on anything?” “No. It's all the same-old-same-old. She has a wardrobe full of clothes and more in boxes in the attics plus all the bags and shoes and jewellery that might go with them. She has two cars....” “Something for the cars then? Accessories for those?” “The fact is, she never drives. It's always Ross or me. Her cars sit in the garage. About the only time they move is when Ross brings them out to turn the engine over and give them a polish.” “Books maybe? That always a hit with Charlotte.” “She's not very bookish. The odd light novel, but she's not um....” I don't like to talk down my own wife but.… “.... academically inclined as Charlotte is.” “I can see you do have a problem.” “If you have any ideas, let me know.” He touches his forehead in a mock salute. “Will do.” I eye the stack of mouldering papers on the tabletop in front of him without pleasure. “You’re working through a lot of junk there.” “Yes….” He drops a handful of what looks like receipts, faded into illegibility, into the waste box…. “But I keep finding the odd pearl.” “Really? Such as?” “Oh, nothing major, just clues to a life gone by.” “You mentioned you’d found he was a bankrupt….” “Yes.” He points. “The documents are over there on that stack.” I pick up a manila file, crisp with age, flicking disinterestedly at the contents. “Did you find out who his creditors were?” “Um... It’s there somewhere.…” He stands, glances at the file in my hand then rummages through the stack it came from. “There were a few, but the main one was some company called um…. VLD Entertainment….” He passes me the sheet. “Mean anything to you?” I suck at my teeth. “Yes, VLD was a holding company for a string of casinos and gambling dens in the area. They went out of business years ago…. Or perhaps they were bought out…. I can’t really remember. It’s got to be thirty years back.” Michael sniffs, reflectively I think, “Casinos eh…. If he had a gambling problem, that would explain a lot.” “It would indeed.” “Explain what?” It’s Elizabeth, standing in the doorway. “Did you know your Uncle Albert had gambling debts? It drove him to bankruptcy.” “Did he?” She stares into space, twiddling with the top button of her blouse. “That makes sense of a few things.” “Like what?” “I was just a little girl, but Uncle Albert never had any kinds of games in the house, no board games, no quiz books, no playing cards, not even the sorts for children. You know, Snap or Happy Families… that kind of thing. And now I think about it….” Her voice turns distant…. “Whenever we children were playing anything, if he tried to join in, Aunt Delia would find some way to call him away.” “Aunt Delia was his wife?” “His second wife. The first one left him.” “Do you know why?” She shakes her head. “I was just a baby when it was happening.” She sucks at her lower lip. “If he went bankrupt, perhaps that broke up their marriage.” “Perhaps.” Michael works through a handful of yellowed papers, glancing at each one before screwing it up and tossing it to the waste. “What are you planning on doing with the house?” he asks. “If you don’t mind my asking.” “I don’t mind at all. But the house isn’t mine. It came to the family through Aunt Delia. It goes back to her daughter.” “Oh!” he sounds surprised. “Sorry, I assumed….” “No…. The house goes to Monica. The bit of cash there is going to Albert’s sons, David and Stephen.” Michael scratches at a temple. “So…. Albert’s sons and Delia’s daughter are inheriting everything of value, but Albert appointed you as executor to the will?” Elizabeth holds up her hands, gesturing around the office. “What do I need with more money?” She laughs. “I’m hardly scraping around the bottom of my purse for the last few coppers to put in the meter.” “No, of course not, but….” Michael bites down on whatever he was about to say. Elizabeth surveys the expanse of paper. “Perhaps he just wanted someone impartial to administer the will?” Michael gazes at the heap, and the other boxes, tugging at his chin with thumb and forefinger. “Perhaps.” I can’t, or at least don’t want to continue my search for a birthday gift for Elizabeth with her sitting there, so I make my way next door to my office instead. ***** An hour later, ploughing through whingeing arguments against the redevelopment of an old factory site I bought recently and I’m getting irritated. There is no good reason for not redeveloping the site. It’s long outlived its original usage and it’s in the perfect spot for the new library I want to be included in the City Project, just on the edge of the residential areas with a sweep down to the river and what will be, one day, lovely views. The only disagreement is coming from Hatheringtons who wanted the site for themselves. My pockets are deeper than theirs, but they can still afford lawyers good enough to make my life difficult on the redevelopment. I’m ready for a break. I tap on my intercom. “Francis, could you please bring in coffee all round.” “Of course, Mr Haswell.” The sound of laughter carries through from the conference room, drawing me back through. My sweet Elizabeth…. Both Elizabeth and Michael are still working their way, almost mechanically through paper, glancing at then disposing of sheet after sheet. But all the while, Michael is telling her some story that has her in stitches, wiping the tears from her eyes. “What's so funny?” “Oh, my Love. Michael was telling me about this awful woman at that club they go to.... What's she called again, Michael?” “Marcie.” His smile is easy and relaxed. She's comfortable with him…. “What about Marcie?” “Oh, she made a play for me a few years ago and....” There's a tap at the door and James steps in, Charlotte right behind him. “Ah, there you are,” he says. “I thought I heard voices.” Michael stands immediately, his smile for Charlotte very bright. “Hi, Babe, how's it going?” He kisses her on the mouth, a hand on her waist and then leans in close, whispering something quiet to her. She giggles and punches him on the shoulder. Lover’s words…. Her new husband, but still her Lover…. James watches all this with a play of satisfaction around his lips. But then Michael sniffs, standing back and waving a hand in front of his face. “Charlotte, you smell like a firework. Where on Earth has James had you?” Then his eyes roll…. Realising how his words came out? James suppresses a smile. “I've had her at the proofing yards down by the docks. Some useful add-on training in failure testing on metals and other materials.” I scratch my chin. “How did you pull that off, James? We don't have connections with any of the firms down there do we?” “City NDT would like to tender for the contract on the bridge, for the testing and maintenance program.” He flashes brows. “I took the opportunity to take a favour.” “Does blowing something to bits in a proofing yard qualify as non-destructive testing?” I ask. “Nooo….” he concedes, “but their director mentioned that they were running a series of tests on rocket motors for a new government contract, so I, um, eased a lever into the crack. It’s all useful experience for a trainee engineer, especially as….” He nods towards Charlotte…. “…. It’s going to be all knuckling down academically for a while now, with exams coming up.” He turns back to Michael and Elizabeth. “What was all the laughter as we came in?” “Michael was telling me about his Nemesis from your club...” “Marcie!” James and Charlotte both speak at once, then burst out laughing together, along with Michael. “Seriously, Beth,” says James, nodding towards his friend. “You should have seen him. It's the only time I saw him ready to head for the hills....” I find myself tuning out, almost watching the scene from afar, like a movie with the sound turned down.... The Threesome, laughing and joking. Elizabeth, watching them, her eyes passing between the three, lingering on Michael.... His easy good humour…. His natural good manners…. His relaxed attitude to life.… But I know myself, that when the chips are down, he's a good man to have on your side. Charlotte loves him…. And he loves her.... And I see my Elizabeth's shining eyes as she watches him, illustrating some anecdote of Marcie the Menacing with smiles and air gestures. I tune in again. James is watching me, with that calculating dark-eyed gaze of his. Wheels are turning behind those eyes.... What's he thinking? He's wondering what I'm thinking. What am I thinking? ***** Later, as everyone is leaving, I want to catch Michael alone making some excuse to send Elizabeth off with Ross to the car. James and Charlotte are heading out, but hover in the doorway as I snag the blond man by the elbow. “What's your other thought, Michael? Earlier, when you were talking about Albert’s will, you obviously didn’t like to say what you were thinking back there.” He looks me in the eye. “You don’t think that will is a bit odd? I was thinking that the executor to the will is the one that gets to see all the paperwork… That lot.” He waves back at the conference room. Perhaps Albert wanted Beth to see all this stuff?” James says, “Forty years’ worth of parking tickets and supermarket receipts?” He looks unimpressed. “Or perhaps,” says Michael, “there’s something among it all that he didn't want easily found? Something best lost among a lot of other paperwork.” Is he on to something? Or is it just an over-active imagination? “Needle in a haystack tactics?” I say. “Why would he do that?” Michael rubs at the back of his neck. “What springs to mind is that Beth has already said that her family closed ranks when she tried to find out who Charlotte’s mother might be.” Family secrets? “There was a thought it might be her Uncle…um…. Uncle George. He had a reputation if you get my drift.” “Yes, she did, But Uncle George has been conveniently dead for some years I gather. He can’t comment on whether that might be true.” “And you think there might be something else that everyone in the family, except Albert, wanted covered over?” Michael c***s his head. “It’s a possibility don’t you think? It fits the facts we know.” “There’s only one way to find out isn’t there…. You happy to keep looking through this stuff?” “Oh, yes,” he nods. “It’s got me hooked.” *****