Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

Chapter 10

James

Books.

What’s new?

She’s consistent… This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

‘Principles of Geology’ by Charles Lyell - well-thumbed, ‘The Merchant of Venice’, ‘Marvels of Pond Life’ by Henry Slack - very dog-eared… The list goes on and the only thing any of the texts have in common is that they all look well-used. A second-hand bookstore would describe them as slightly foxed, but it looks as though the bears, the boars and the badgers have been at them too.

She stacks them in a neat pile, then rummages…

Some odds and ends of jewellery; cheap stuff, yellowed with age but seeming little-handled…

A rock. “Oh!” She smiles as it weighs in her hands.

Michael gives me a ‘wtf?’ look and I shrug.

Chad sees our expressions and smiles, then moves to stand close by Michael. He murmurs, “You’d better be ready. She’ll probably get pretty emotional soon.”

Michael shoots him a glance, then nods.

The rock seems to be just that; a rock, prettily striped in green and red, polished to a smooth round..

Curiosity gets the better of me. “Charlotte?”

She almost caresses the pebble and when she looks up, her eyes are full…

“Tell me later,” I say.

She separates out a book, a heavy volume, leather-bound, old looking. Her eyes lift to Michael, then me, and she chews at her lips. Sliding a finger to the pages, she lifts, and the book falls open on…

Flowers?

Yes, pressed flowers; dainty, delicate their colours faded, but recognisable as violets.

Chad leans forward, looking close. “Are those what I think they are?”

Her gaze flickers back between me and Michael. “Yes, they’re the ones you gave me, that first day.” She lifts them free from the page, sliding a fingernail under to ease them from the paper. “Chad and I were still at school. He picked them for me, from the hedgerow. Mrs Collier showed me how to keep them.”

Michael shifts by me…

Trouble brewing?

Plenty of flowers around here to pick…

You could have given them to her any time…

Chad pulls up a chair and sits beside her. “Jenny, sit down would you.”

“I’m fine. Thank you, Chad, so much, for bringing these. For keeping them so long.” She’s smiling, radiating almost, as she combs through the box.

“Really, Jenny. Please sit. Please.” Chad tilts his chin to Michael, then to me, eye-pointing chairs close by. Something in his tone penetrates. Her smile fades. Michael and I sit, he next to her.

What’s coming…?

“Jenny…” Chad’s voice is gentle. “These aren’t the only things of yours I have.” He reaches for an inside pocket, plucking out an envelope, offering it to her. “It's from Mr Kalkowski to you.”

She stares at the letter, eyes glossing.

Is she going to collapse?

Then she drops into the chair.

“He posted it but it never reached you. I was trying to find you. I picked it up from your old apartment.”

He pulls his seat closer. “Jenny, I was with him at the end, in the hospital. Almost his last words were for me to give you his love when I found you again. I didn't tell him you'd not received his letter, but I kept it so I could give it to you if I ever could.”

“Aren't you going to take it?” I say. “Read it?”

She reaches out, her fingers trembling, takes it, then stands, retreating to a corner, turning her back to all of us. The envelope rips, and she stands head bowed, soundless, as she reads.

I meet eyes with Michael, then with Chad. “Charlotte?”

Her head still low, there's a sob. Then another, echoing around the otherwise silent room.

As one, the three of us stride forward, then Chad, flushing, backs away again, gesturing Michael to her. He tries to take her in his arms but she brushes him away.

Tears streaming down her face, “I went back to the farm once, that first Christmas. But no one would talk to me. They just said you'd left and Mr Kalkowski had died. They wouldn't even let me in.”

“That man, the one who said he was a policeman, he came looking for you. He told everyone you were wanted for theft and fraud.”

“I never did that. Never!”

“Whoa!” Chad holds up his palms. “I believe you. But my mother believed him, or wanted to. And she poisoned everyone against you. Except for Mrs Collier. And Mr Kalkowski of course.” He smiles, places his hand over hers. “He was so proud of you, you know. Tell me, did you make it to university?”

“I did, yes.”

“Geology? Astronomy?”

“Physics, but I changed to engineering.”

“Engineering? What brought that on?”

I interrupt. “Charlotte… Is the letter… From your old friend… Does it say the things you would have hoped it would say?

She gives me a startled glance, then smiles, nods and offers it to me. I read it then pass it to Michael.

My Dearest Jenny,

As I sit to write this, I have just learned of and am still assimilating the facts of the Blessingmoors scandal which has just been released to the newspapers. And now, so much about you which was unsaid is clear to me.

I could have wished that you felt able to confide in me but, given what I am reading, I understand why you did not. And so young as you are, I now understand also why you were so reluctant to leave your life here, with the safety and shelter it must have represented to you.

I hope and pray that you are now freed from the shackles of your past and of the memories that go with it. I can say from my own life experience that such memories never leave you, but they do with time, cease to control us and our actions.

The loss of you to the world was my gain. It has been my honour to be your teacher and my privilege to be your friend. I hope we will meet again when times are happier for you and your life more certain. Alas, I am not young and am finding life a little more difficult with each day that passes.

I wish you everything you ever hoped for or dreamed of, and the very happiest of lives.

Your ever loving friend,

Levi Kalkowski

Michael gazes at the letter, then passes it to Chad. “What did he mean,” he asks, “about his own experiences?”

“He’d left his old country, years before, to come here. Just him and his wife. He never really told me about it. But it was clear that he'd lived through bad times.”

Chad perches on the table beside her. “Jenny, are you still mad at me?” Sebastian looks over his shoulder, then turns away with an overly obvious show of disinterest.

She lays her hand on his. “No, not anymore.” She stares into space for a moment then, “I'll admit it wasn't always like that. There were times that if you'd been standing in front of me, I would have punched your face in, but that's long gone.”

He laughs, but the sound is rueful. “I'm pleased to hear it. I would have felt morally bound to let you land the punch.”

The doorbell rings.

Perfect timing…

Lighten the mood…

“That will be Beth and Richard,” I announce. “Michael, Charlotte, why don’t you answer the door. Chad, Sebastian, what can I get you to drink?”

Sebastian offers the bag he brought in. “Got red and white here.”

“Perfect,” then I listen to the noises from the hall. Michael’s voice: “Beth, Richard. Lovely to see you. Charlotte, do you want to take their coats…”

I turn to Chad. “So, what’s the deal with the rock?”

He lifts a finger. “Ah, that’s another Mr Kalkowski story….”

*****