Klempner - ThailandI set out early, catching the sunrise and making the most of what passes for the cool of the dawn here. Even given the purpose of my trek, I can take the time to look around and appreciate the beauty of my surroundings.I've travelled pretty much everywhere that is reachable without being Shackleton or Hillary, and while it is something I enjoy, the actual 'travel' part of travelling is usually uninteresting. There's only so much variety in cabins and airports.But this is different.There is something about walking: hiking to your destination, connecting with the landscape, that makes the journey more real. And it doesn't get any realer than it is here.So early in the day, hiking up the trail through verdant forest, high up the mountain; sun-slanted mist weaves through the canopy.Trail over-plays the track I'm following. No human laid this route. Some animal probably made it, but of course, most of them are much closer to the ground than I am. From my
James – Thirty-Five WeeksI stride into the kitchen fanning smoke away from my face.Charlotte stands by the grill, the pan a grisly mess of soot and curled-up charcoal.She bursts into tears. "I burned the toast."Briskly dipping a tea-towel into the sink, I drape it over the grill-pan, then pull her into a hug. "It's not a disaster. No harm's been done. And we can afford another loaf." I guide her to the table. "Now sit down and I'll make you some more toast. What would you like on it? Honey? Marmalade? Cheese?"She sniffles, her face low. "Just butter, please." Then she jerks up again. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean...""Charlotte... Charlotte..." I draw up a chair by her, pull her face to mine, kiss her forehead. "You have it all out of proportion. Come on, see the funny side." I cast down. "Look, Scruffy will eat your burnt offering if no-one else will."Then I regret my words. The pint-sized mongrel grins up ingratiatingly, displaying more teeth than the average w
Klempner - ThailandHours later, my water-break is a half-forgotten dream. I'm sweaty and uncomfortable. The sun has westered beyond the treeline and shadows draw long.It's been tough; not so far in terms of distance covered, but the going is steep and over broken ground that bizarrely, has left me with a crick in my neck from constantly looking down to watch where I place my feet.But it's levelling out now, getting easier, and I'm leaving the treeline behind me, the trees thinning. Still hiking hard, I check the mapping app. Despite my break, I'm where I intended to be by now, the trail skirting around the mountain, more or less on a contour.Behind me, above and to my left, the forest is thick and impenetrable. To my right, ahead of me, a sheer drop, some hundreds of feet of rocky cliff-face, has opened up the view. I look over mile upon myriad mile of forest, stretching out in waves of mountain height, valley delve and misted crevasse.But on the edge of my vision, forwa
James – Thirty-Seven weeksThe wee small hours. A full moon slants across the floor, tinting the room in weird monochromatic shades, painting everything in shades of light and dark.Michael lies in his accustomed position on the far side of the bed, his back to me but his ribs moving with the smooth rise and fall of sleep.Between us lies Charlotte, and I lie spooned around her, her spine pressed against my chest, and my arm curving around her so I can rest a hand over her distended belly. Every so often, there's movement against my fingers from inside my sleeping love; a foot or an elbow, pushing at me and I smile to myself as my unborn daughter parties through the night.Charlotte sighs and shifts, the rhythm of her breathing changing.Is she asleep? Keeping my voice low, "You alright?""I'm fine, Master." She sounds a little sleepy, but not just that. Something else lurks there.I nuzzle into her hair to kiss the back of her neck. "You sure of that?"She's sile
Michael – Thirty-Eight WeeksCharlotte waddles into the lounge. And it's a slow waddle. Her feet drag and her breathing's heavy, her face flushed.I stand, offering my arm to help her sit. "You okay, Babe?""I suppose." She reaches around herself, trying to rub at the small of her back. "I'm so tired all the time. And so hot..."Just as well it's winter..."... And my back's hurting." She's drooping almost as I watch.I follow her hand with mine to the base of her spine, feeling for the pressure-point; where she's tense. "Why don't I give you a massage? Let's see if we can ease this up for you a bit.""That would be nice."I slide my arm under hers, trying to help her back up again. She heaves upwards, then drops back. So instead, I stand, this time giving her both hands to haul her onto her feet. "C'mon, let's get you upstairs onto the bed and I'll see what I can do."*****On the bed, she's so quiet. Lying on her side, her back turned to me, head on a pillow, her
James - Thirty-Nine WeeksThe nurse is brisk, speaking from a view between Charlotte's knees. "Everything is fine. The baby has turned and is now in the correct position for delivery. And..." She nods down to Charlotte's 'dropped' abdomen, "... you can see for yourself that she is moving down. You're a textbook case, Mrs Summerford."I squeeze Charlotte's hand and the nurse sits upright. "Your cervix is at half an inch, but that's not a very reliable sign of anything, especially for your first. What I would say is..."She swings to me, her attention moving between my face and the space between Charlotte's knees. "... Have the hospital bag packed and you..." She levels a finger at me... "...make sure you have petrol in your tank. When you're sure she's in full labour, bring her in.""Of course. Thank you, nurse."She lays a hand on my arm. "Everything is absolutely normal, Mr Summerford. Exactly what we'd expect at this stage. Don't you worry about anything. Your wife's in goo
MichaelIn utter horror, I watch the monitor, the scene unfolding; Charlotte, all but helpless in her advanced pregnancy, assaulted, drugged unconscious and taken.And on the point of going into labour...Even in her current condition, she fights back, punching out at her assailants, landing a punch on the one with the hypodermic, screaming for help...There's no sound, it's video only, but her cry is so obvious..."Mast..."... as she shrieks for James. And is cut short.Her Master...Her sworn protector...So close... Only in the waiting area...So far...The back of a hand across Charlotte's face sends her reeling, rattling her long enough for the needle to drive in. Within seconds her eyes roll closed, and she sags into the arms of her attackers.And I was barely any further away than James... Probably strolling into the hospital as they took her. Exchanging chit-chat with him as...Nausea billows up inside me...It's not real...This can't be real...
Klempner - ThailandSwiping down the counter, I wipe away slops, discarded prawn shells and peanut fragments.The bar is just what you would expect; lowered lighting, luridly coloured over the stage area where a glitterball twists, reflecting whirling pinpricks of green, blue and red. The shelves are well-stocked for both the locals and the tourists, with names both familiar and unfamiliar to me. Some of them you'd expect, but who comes to Thailand and asks for the local vodka? And the regional wines are revolting - sickly sweet and syrupy. But then Thailand's hardly known for its grape growing either. There's Johnnie Walker on display for those that want it, but most of the 'whiskey' on display is actually rum.The liquor mainly drunk by the locals, lao khao, is brewed from rice. They call it '40 Degree'. After half a glass of the stuff set my ears on fire, I avoided it.I have a glass on the bar to sip from, for appearance sake, and I stick to soda water.On the stage, a gi
It's cold outside, but Klempner sits on the low terrace wall wearing no more than a thin pullover."Want one of these?" I proffer a coffee, heavily laced with whiskey, topped with thick cream.He startles, but then, "Thank you, James." He doesn't smile. His eyes are soft with melancholy as he stares down, watching October mist curling over the lake."Will you visit the grave?""Yes." The single word isn't followed by any others."When will you go?""Sooner rather than later." He breathes steam and fragrant alcohol. "I'm making arrangements now. The Canadian winter arrives early and in force. It'll be under six feet of snow there very soon, and for the next several months.""Would you mind some company?"He twists to face me. "You want to come?""I'd like to pay my respects to the brave woman for whom my daughter is named."He blinks, nodding as he casts his gaze down. "Thank you, James. I appreciate that.""Charlotte wants to go as well."And now he smiles. I
JamesFamily...All gathered together around the breakfast table: Michael to the left of Charlotte, I'm to her right, bouncing Cara on my knee while Charlotte takes a break to get some food down her throat. Beyond Michael, Beth feeds Adam, Richard flanking them.Klempner and Mitch sit side by side. She's turned discreetly away, feeding Vicky. Larry watches, still wearing that slightly spaced-out expression...Man-in-shock?For all the right reasons...Charlotte is very quiet. She eats, but her gaze sweeps the table and back again.Once she had nothing...Briefly, her eyes lock with her father's. He cocks his head, eyes full of question, but then her gaze moves on.What's he thinking?It's not hard to figure. Right from the time Klempner arrived back with us, although he's clearly content to be here, he's had an air of... waiting...The Rat-Tat! of the front door rattles down the hall.Michael pushes his chair back. "I'll go." A half-eaten slice of toast in one h
RichardMy intercom buzzes. "Yes, Francis?""I have the police commissioner on for you, Mr Haswell. He... doesn't sound very happy."I can guess what this is going to be about. I've been waiting for it. "Thanks for the warning, Francis. Put him through please..." The line clicks and reconnects. "Richard?""Good morning, Will. What can I do for you?""I think you can guess why I'm calling you. I'm hearing rumours I don't like. Disturbing rumours.""I believe, Will, that I know which rumours you mean. I've been wanting to discuss them with you. Perhaps you would like to meet for lunch to discuss the matter? Somewhere quiet? ""And away from the office? Yes, I think so."*****The waiter sets a plate in front of each of us, steak in pepper sauce for Will, a prawn souffle for me. He tops up the glasses of Cabernet. "Is there anything else, sir?""No, thank you. That's perfect." I wait until he is out of earshot before I speak. "So, Will...These disturbing rumours?
KlempnerThe view is restful. Living in Mitch's small apartment, hidden away from the world, does...... I suppose...... constitute 'domestic bliss'. But that's at night. For much of the day, we spend our time in the main family home of Jenny's Triad. The women chatter and gossip. The men alternate between business and banter. One or other of the babies always needs attention...It's exhausting.But when it comes to it, that's not the root of my problem.Retreating from noise and activity and 'family-fun' to the sanctuary of the terrace, I let the view wash away the anxiety gnawing at the back of my mind.It's always the waiting...Give me action and some lunatic with a gun every time...Stay calm...Mist curls over the lake far below. On the slopes close by, every blade of grass is etched with a rime of frost that will thaw to dew when the sun crests the mountain. Further down, the individual blades meld into a smooth sheet of silver that merge into haze and wa
Two coffeepots later, we've run out of croissants and moved onto toasted muffins. James slices one in two, dropping the halves into the toaster. He pauses, "Another one, Beth?"She's sitting up against the headboard, next to Charlotte, the two propped up against each other, eating from a shared plate. Beth slathers butter and blackberry jam onto what she has. "Thanks, but I'm fine with this, James. I'll not eat again 'til suppertime.""Charlotte?""Mmmm..." She nods, mumbling through a mouthful, wiping a smear of melted butter from the corner of her mouth. She swallows, then holds up half a muffin - minus two bites. "What is it about muffins and bad weather? I always want more of them."James rolls a look at her, then to me, shaking his head...A wise man says nothing...Richard sucks jam from his fingers, lips smacking. "On a complete change of subject... Elizabeth and I were talking..." Beth falls still, her shoulders slumping... "... Please don't take this the wrong way,
MichaelIt's dark...What woke me?Somewhere down and beside me, the sound of whining. "Scruffy? You need to go out, boy?"At this hour?What the hell time is it?I'm snug and comfortable, draped with a thick duvet. Charlotte, warm and fragrant, sleeps tucked in beside me. Through the curtains, it's pitch-black.Scruffy whines again, this time scratching at the bed.Wonder if he's eaten something he shouldn't?Stretching an arm blindly out beyond the cosy comfort of the blankets, I pat across the side-table, hunting for the light switch. When I find it, as it turns out, it's not Scruffy's habit of eating every bit of rubbish he comes across that is at fault. The clock tells me it's half past seven and my rag-tag mongrel is making a perfectly reasonable request to be let out to relieve the pressures of the night.But outside, there's no sign of daylight and, joys of joys, rain lashes against the window.Goodbye to summer...Scruffy's whining ups by half an octave
JamesAn orderly tries to block the way, arms outstretched in front of the door. "Sir, you can't..."Klempner simply brushes by him.From beyond, Mitch's voice. "Let him in..."The orderly spins, mouth open. "What? All of them?""Yes!!!! Ah... Fuccckkkk...."The monk's feet skid uselessly over the polished floor as he tries to resist his inexorable forward journey into the delivery room. His voice rises to a wail. "But I'm not a priest. I can't do this." Klempner growls, "I don't care if you're a priest, a rabbi, an imam, or if you ran the Bring-and-Buy at the church garden party. The lady here wants our child born in wedlock. You're going to marry us."Klempner turns his attention to Mitch, lying on her back on the delivery table, yelling her way through another contraction. She flings out an arm, grabbing at his wrist. He winces, but lays his other hand on top. "We'll just let this one pass..."The midwife, checking a bleeping monitor, flashes a look at Mitch. "Yo
RichardMy mobile bleeps: James.Landed. at airport now. home approx 90 mins. Tell Mitch he's keenElizabeth grins at me as I tap in the reply.don't go home. come city hospital. Mitch in labourThere's a short pause...Elizabeth holds up her hand, counting down silent fingers: Five... Four... Three... Two...... and my mobile bleeps again.When M go into labour?3 hrs doc and midwife say early but all normal all goodWith you ASAP K got taxi flying on wings of fire*****The corridor is painted the required institutional off-white, scraped black in long stripes at trolley-bed height. The lighting is the compulsory harsh fluorescent white. One strip blinks on and off. Signs point off down apparently identical corridors: Intensive Care... Reception... A & E... Chapel and Prayer Room... Radiology... Cardiology... Breast Screening...How many ways is it possible to be sick?Footsteps echo along the corridor; marching footsteps, almost stampeding footsteps.A
KlempnerAt last, I get some privacy with her. James ushers out Jenny, protesting all the way. Michael leaves too, turning as he exits to give me a kind of approving nod.Haswell poured glasses of champagne, passing them around at their side of the screen, although I did notice that he poured for Mitch from a different bottle. The top of the flute is just in view, spitting the odd bubble over the rim."Are you alone now?"She looks sidelong, off-screen. "Yes, they've gone.""What's Kirstie doing there?""I'm fitting her for her wedding dress. They've set the date for Christmas, remember.""I didn't know that.""Oh... no... Of course you wouldn't." She takes a sip of her bubbly, looking away. "It's been so long. They said you were dead. The police said there was a body.""There was, but not mine."She peers into the screen, searching my face. "How are you? What happened?""I'll tell you sometime, but not now. What's important, is how you are and..." I nod down, bel