The Lover's Children - Box Set One

Chapter Twelve - Michael

Chapter Twelve - Michael

“Damn!”

The breeze rises again, threatening to squall, classic Spring weather. One moment the sunshine is blistering. The next, clouds pile up, to sling down the kind of rain that only falls sideways.

The timber-panelled frame balanced against my left shoulder remains upright, but as the air gusts again, the one to my right, precariously propped against me and its partner, flexes, teeters, then in graceful slow-motion, falls…

“Ah, f*****g hell!”

…Still gripping the left-hand panel, I snatch out, but too late. The breeze makes another playful flick, tugs the remaining panel from my grip, and it too collapses, the two lying flat as a pair of Friday night drunks on the grass.

The gust dies and the air falls still. Suddenly, it’s clammy. Swirls of gnats rise. Hands clasped behind my head, staring up, I vent.

Fuck... f**k…

“f**k!”

Then I realise I’m not alone. Silently, Klempner watches from the side-line.

"Um, sorry. Didn't see you there."

He sucks away a smile. “I didn't mean to disturb you. Just wanted to see what the racket was.”

“The racket is that I'm f*****g busy.”

He mutters to his boots. “And vice versa...”

“What was that?”

Klempner’s face pops up. “Nothing. Would an extra pair of hands help?”

“Absolutely. If you can lift that section…” I aim a finger at one collapsed sidewall… “Keep it upright long enough for me to position the other and get a couple of clamps fixed…”

“No problem. Where do you want them?”

*****

Two walls upright, clamped, then bolted together, my ire fades. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. The other walls next?”

From the stables, an excited yipping… I laugh. "Sounds like Scruffy's rat hunting in the stables."

“I suppose he has his uses.” Klempner looks underwhelmed but glances around. “You’ve not seen Bear, I suppose?"

"Down the field last I saw of him, his nose pushed down a rabbit hole…" The yipping is partnered by a deeper baying, suggestive of Beethoven’s ‘Overture for T-Rex On The Hunt’. “… although it sounds as though he might have found better sport with Scruffy.”

Klempner Aaahhhs, still looking unimpressed. He surveys our handiwork. “What's it going to be?”

“Chicken shed.”

“Chickens?” His brows arch. “Dogs, horses, and now chickens? I always had you down as a city boy.”

“Yeah, born and bred. But Charlotte enjoys it. And she knows how to look after them from those years she spent on the farm. She says it’s pretty straightforward. Besides…” I toe into the dirt… “… I promised her a real home and she's going to get it.”

"And a real home includes chickens?"

"Yeah…” I want something to do with my hands, and for lack of anything else, shove them into my pockets. “I've got this kind of image in my head. Me, strolling round the pen with Cara and Adam. Vicky too and..." A silly grin steals my face. "… the next one... with a basket. Collecting eggs. It seemed the sort of thing you should do with kids." Abruptly, I'm hot. "That sounds ridiculous, doesn't it.”

Klempner shuffles his feet. "In fact, no. Now you put it that way, I’d like that for Vicky." He gazes outward, looking… lost…

Where is he…?

Lost in time?

"Do you ever think about your own boyhood? "He stiffens, the gaze sharpening again, fixing on me. "No." Barriers slam up behind his eyes.

I pretend not to notice. "Of course, I tell everyone it'll keep the restaurant in eggs. You too, since you've developed a fetish for the things…” Klempner relaxes, eyes softening. “… Ah, speaking of which, thank you, Sally."

My hotel chef beams. "I heard you working, Michael. I thought you'd have built up an appetite by now.” She proffers a tray. “I brought a flask of soup too, with the weather being unreliable." Her face falls and she nods an apology at Klempner. "I'm afraid I only brought enough for one."

Relieving her of the tray, "One? Sally, if they’d served one of your sandwiches, there’d have been no need for loaves and fishes. We’ll share it." She dimples, bobs and heads back toward the hotel.

Sally's creation is her usual cartwheel-sized roll, spilling bacon, sausages, mushrooms, tomatoes and eggs. Yolk trickles over the plate. Fortunately, she's cut the monster in two. I’d have needed a chainsaw otherwise.

Klempner eyes it. "Are you planning to eat that, or incorporate it into the foundations?"

"Help yourself. Neither of us will starve."

He Hmmphs appreciation takes one half in both hands and bites in.

Magically, we have company. Bear appears, a small molehill perched on his snout. Scruffy shoves in front of him, dropping a limp rat at my feet.

I scratch an ear… "Good boy." … then toss him a rasher of bacon. It vanishes in mid-air with a Snap!

Bear rumbles until Klempner donates half a sausage. Chewing on the other half, he regards the dead rodent. Lip curled, "Does that mongrel of yours think the bacon’s a reward for catching the thing? Or does he believe you buy bacon using rats as currency?"

“Couldn’t say.” I swipe away a smear of escaping yolk and ketchup from my chin. “When he’s cadged what he can off my brunch, he’ll be off with it. Dunno if he buries them or eats what’s left. I suppose from his point of view, rats make good eating.”

Klempner shudders, his eyes briefly closing. “No.”

Scruffy groans, eyes and nose triangulated on my sandwich.

“You’ve had yours. This is mine.”

Whining despair at my heartlessness, he shuffle-bottoms across, raising beady eyes to Klempner.

“Forget it.”

Scruffy whines, his stub of a tail disturbing a little dust, then with a detritus-scattering shake, he trots off in the direction of the stables. Bear heaves a sigh that would be envied by any Romantic poet, then follows.

Klempner polishes off a sausage. “That was half a sandwich? I don’t think I’ll eat again today.”

“There’s soup left.”

“I prefer to live ‘til suppertime.”

I swipe the yolk off the plate with the last of my bread. “Food for body and soul.” Then, nodding toward my remaining wall and roof panels. “If you’re at a loose end, I could use some help for an hour or so.”

His voice is dry. “I have nothing but loose ends.”

*****

Two hours later, all the walls are up, roughly bolted together, the roof is in place and I’m busy with my drill and screwdriver. “Thanks. It would have taken me all day by myself.”

“My pleasure.” Klempner gestures toward where the door stands hinged but unattached. “Want me to get that fixed into place?”

My reply is cut short by the arrival of Mitch, Vicky bundled in her arms. “Ah, there you are.” She smiles brightly at Klempner, and I almost see the light switch on in the man. “Am I interrupting? Larry, I’ve made lunch...”

“Lunch?” Klempner glazes over. “I don’t think…”

Mitch shivers then, pulling the wrap tighter around Vicky, tosses her head at the lowering clouds. “I thought something solid inside would be a good idea. You’d be welcome to join us, Michael if you’d like to. I’ve made plenty. Chicken casserole. Dumplings too.”

“Dumplings?” Something like despair flits across Klempner’s features, but he injects a ghost of enthusiasm into his tone. “Sounds good.”

My excuses are easier. “Thanks, Mitch, but no. Charlotte’s expecting me. And we’d not have gotten much more done today. We’ve had the best of the morning. The weather’s on the turn again.” The clouds pile up, threatening to swallow the sunshine.

“Come inside, Larry. You don’t want it to get cold.”

I wave them off. “Enjoy your meal.”

*****

Klempner leaves with Mitch.

The overhead sunshine is brilliant, but from the horizon, dark clouds are racing in, heavy with rain and threatening a soaking if I don’t get under cover fast. Even from here, the blur of falling rain is visible, moving my way. In under a minute, the heat of the sun cuts off and the breeze, previously fresh on my face, bites in.

March is living up to its In Like A Lion reputation.

What’s the rest of it?

Oh, yes…

In like a lion…

… Out like a lamb...

Maybe it will pass…

From the doorway of the chicken-shed-to-be, nursing the back end of Sally’s soup, I watch rain that falls like liquid diamonds. Still recovering from the elephantine lunch, it’s only the heat I want, and I taste sparingly.

Briefly, the clouds clear from around the sun, the sky turns a brilliant blue, and sunlight slants down in that breath-taking effect photographers call ‘The Fingers of God’. The light sparkles through individual raindrops, giving everything the kind of intense, saturated colour you only get with sunshine and rain together. Or maybe sometimes when the morning is clear and dewy.

The clouds return. The day darkens and the landscape greys out. From under my makeshift cover, I watch the falling rain.

And as happens when a man is doing nothing particular, my mind drifts to other things…

Well… s*x…

Not that I’m uninterested to begin with, but knowing that Charlotte wants another baby, by me, has set my libido raging.

Wonder what she’s doing?

The rain falls harder, splashing onto the ground, bouncing back.

It’s not as though I can work in this…

The clouds pile up, growing darker all the time. Scruffy whines. “Want to make a dash for it?”

His stumpy tail wags. I knock back the last of my soup, then tugging my jacket over my head, sprint to the house.

I make it to the door dripping. I might as well not have bothered with the jacket. Apparently, the local rain can fall upwards. But a wave of heat floods out, the scent of coffee flooding with it. Following my nose, I find the source in the kitchen, Charlotte lifting the pot from the hob.

Coming up from behind, I slide a hand around her waist, rest the other just under a breast. “Smells good.” I nuzzle into her neck. “You doing anything important?”

My delectable wife Mmmms. “I was just bringing this out to you.” She turns into my embrace, then pulls back, patting at my clothes, “Michael, you’re soaked. For God’s sake, get those clothes off before you go down with something.”

“Get my clothes off and go down? Pretty much what I had in mind.”

She chuckles. “Fine, but first…”

“Ah, my apologies. Didn’t mean to interrupt…”

*****