All Chapters of The Master's Child: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

KlempnerIn Arrivals, the baggage carousel takes fucking ages to produce anything at all. After fifteen minutes, it vomits a small overnight case from the chute which travels a 360 circuit, drawing no more attention than muttering and complaints from the waiting crowd.The ceilings are low and the air suffocating.Could murder a beer...Bored, I lean against a wall, ankles crossed, fishing my phone from a pocket.Anything new?A message pops up: James.Hmmm...The last time we spoke, he blasted me out for fucking up his life.The Sender has requested a Read Receipt - Yes/No?I let my finger hover, then tap, Yes.Shading the screen with a cupped hand against possible observers, I read James' message. Then, I re-read it.Grandad K?There's a thought that hadn't occurred to me.Still... I think I rather like the idea of being Grandad K.A slightly silly smile skirts my lips and firmly, I suppress it.Should I reply??No, too many complications. As Jame

RichardMy friend, Will Stanton, the police commissioner, has called by in person to deliver his news. None of us are happy about it.Will stands, arms folded, sucking at his teeth. "Richard, you know I'll do whatever I can, but I have budgets to keep to. If Klempner's out of the country now, there's a good argument to say that the danger to Charlotte and Georgie, and whoever else, has moved on. I'm going to have a tough case to answer, keeping a police guard here for much longer."Elizabeth, sandwiched between Mitch and Charlotte on the settee, widens her eyes. I'm not happy that Will chose to deliver this here and now, within the hearing of my pregnant wife. She's all but at term and I don't like her getting upsetJames wears a face like a thundercloud. "The original attack on Charlotte happened before Klempner arrived here. And was planned long before that."Will is stony-faced. "Be that as it may, we all know those events were about drawing Klempner out. That's been done

JamesIn the kitchen, pushing bacon around a pan, I ponder how to square the circle and re-introduce Georgie and Charlotte. The fact is that Georgie created the whole hornets' nest herself by being so appallingly rude, not just to me, but Charlotte too, the first time they met.But if I truly want any kind of future relationship with my daughter... my elder daughter... I need to get the pair of them, if not friendly, at least polite with each other.Richard and Beth descend the stairs, she leaning heavily on him for support. She sits clumsily, trying to find a comfortable position so she can eat.Fanning her face, "I can barely reach the table over my stomach." She's laughing but the laugh sounds strained and she runs hands over her enormous belly. "I'll be glad when Adam arrives and I can get back to being able to move again.Charlotte looks up from where she is giving Cara her breakfast. "Know what you mean. I tell you, it's a real relief afterwards, getting back to feeling

MichaelThe pair blow in through the door, in theory, together.James stalks in, face reddened. Charlotte follows and, without a word or a smile, disappears into the kitchen.I watch her scuttle away, then catch James by the arm. "What's going on?"James swipes a hand through his hair, blows air through puffed cheeks. "Georgie." Then spinning, face set, he strides out again. The door slams closed behind him.This has gone on long enough...I hover by the window, listening for the crunch of footsteps on gravel to fade, then head for the kitchen where Charlotte is taking one of Cara's feed bottles from the fridge.Her eyes flick to mine and then back to the bottle. "Hi.""Don't Hi me. What d'you think you're up to, Charlotte?""Up to?" The innocence in her voice sounds fake and as she puts the bottle into the microwave, she keeps her face turned away. Even side-on, the flush on her cheeks is visible."And don't play the innocent either. You know perfectly well what I'

MichaelIn the kitchen, there's no sign of James, but Scruffy and Bear sit in one corner, snouts lifted, noses twitching in the direction of the hob.A pan clatters its lid against the steam, and I lift the lid to some dark red sauce simmering at the bottom, large bubbles glopping and redissolving into the surface. Chunks of sausage and something-or-other-else surface then vanish, nudging aside some kind of beans. The smell of fresh bread competes with garlic. It smells divine.James comes in, carrying a bottle. "Ah, Michael. Good timing. You want to open the wine? Set it to warm... I'll serve the meal in the dining room, but we can sit in here while the food's cooking." He offers me the bottle, then hovers, sucking at his teeth. "That's Rioja, to go with the casserole. But perhaps a bottle of cava too? What do you think?""Good idea. This is a celebration after all, isn't it."He beams. "Course it is. Back in a mo." And he vanishes out again.Scruffy stares fixedly at me,