All Chapters of The Master's Child: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Three Days Before ChristmasThe clouds, low, dull and grey, match my mood, and I stare out of the passenger window, not wanting to show my disappointment. Sleet spikes down, spitting onto the windscreen and the wipers squeak, leaving white streaks as they arc across the glass.Ryan, from the driver's seat, lays a hand on my thigh. "Cheer up. There'll be others." "I know..." My throat is unreasonably tight. "It just looked so good in the ad. I'd thought maybe..."He cuts in, but the cheerful tone to his voice sounds forced. "Vendors are always going to overegg the cake. It did say, Needs Renovation."I huff. "Needs complete demolition and rebuilding would have been nearer the mark." Then, at his answering silence, I realise how waspish I must have just sounded. "Sorry, I didn't mean it to come out like that. It wasn't aimed at you."He squeezes my knee. "I know. Hey, tell you what. We're not far away. Let's go say Hi to the happy family. You can deliver your balloon and you

James joins us, stretching out his legs in the passenger seat as Richard takes us down the mountain and back onto the main highway. Then, he curves around the base of the mountain before turning off to follow first a side-road; then a narrow country lane.We pass frozen fields, frigid and sparkling, lined by hedgerows of hawthorn and crab apples, bare of leaves but bright with winter fruit. The fields give way to woodland, the trees stretching naked branches towards the thin sunlight filtering under the grey sky. Crossing a humped stone bridge, we cross rushing water; the road narrow enough that Richard slows down, steering carefully to avoid scraping the sides of his car.Then, as we turn a corner, the woodland opens up to reveal a huge building; neglected and abandoned, four storeys high, built from brick and stone. Even from here, I can see that the windows are barred, much of the glass broken."This is it." Richard draws in towards tall steel-bar gates, razor wire looping

Back at the Threesome's home, Michael serves up coffee and cake in the lounge then piles logs onto the fire.Richard's phone buzzes. He holds up a forefinger and everyone falls silent."Yes? Ah, Brian, thank you for getting back so quickly..." His eyes pass to mine. "Yes, I have them with me... Yes? As per the original asking price? Ah... I understand. Yes, I'll get back to you."He snaps the lid down on his mobile. "That was my old friend, the owner of the mill. He is hesitating because his lawyer has been approached by a third party who has offered him a better price."The cake congeals in my mouth. Ryan sags. "Oh... That's that then. We can't get into a bidding war. As it is, we'd be way out on a limb financially..."Richard Harrumphs, then sniffs. "Not necessarily. There's more to any offer than the price."I swallow hard, trying to free my mouth of cake. "I'm not with you. What else is there?""Oh..." Richard lifts arms, opens his palms... "Intended end-use. Reputat

Coming down the stairs, my face heating, I brush by Michael. He inhales, eyes crinkling, but he doesn't look at me, instead, suppressing a smile as he heads up.In the dining room, I find Charlotte and Mitch. Charlotte sits by the fire in an armchair, humming to herself, cradling Cara as though she'll never let go.Mitch has brush and twigs laid out on the table, knotted and intertwined into a tightly woven whole, six or eight feet long. She winds in sprigs of pine, ivy, and holly, glossy and green, and brightly berried. Then she loops in ribbons of red and gold and tartan, twisting and knotting them with a practiced hand into coils and bows. She looks up, eyes brightening. "Ah, Kirstie. Good timing. Can help me with the swags, please." "You look as though you're almost done.""I am..." She twists wire through one end, then the other, "... but it takes two to hang them up. You take that end, I'll take this. Onto the stepladders and we'll snag them onto those hooks over the fir

Christmas EveMichael strides in, muffled up in a thick roll-neck sweater and a scarf, loaded with firewood. Stacking it by the hearth, he swipes off flakes of snow, which promptly thaw and puddle onto the tiles. "I reckon that's a good two feet of snow that dropped overnight."Beside me, Ryan inhales. "Are we snowed in?""Right now, probably, yes..." Michael nudges with the toe of his boot at the heap of dogs lolling in front of the flames. "Budge up you lot." Grumbling, they shift to make room for him. Scruffy yaps protest. Michael grins, bending down to rub his face then, blowing into his palms, holds them over the fire. "... But the snowplough will be along in a while. And in any case, when James stocked up the kitchen, I think he was planning for the arrival of the Mongol hordes. There's enough in the house to see us through to the New Year. No-one's going to go hungry."Close by, Charlotte and Mitch sit next to each other at the table, happily making Christmas tree orname