All Chapters of The Master's Child: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Back indoors, energies apparently exhausted, the dogs collapse in a heap and peace reigns.Mac, having claimed prize place in front of the fire, lies eyes closed, upside down, all four legs in the air; doing his best 'Dead Bluebottle' impression. Archie nudges up beside him trying, unsuccessfully, to ease him to one side.Richard regards the pair, expression neutral. "Is that a natural position for a dog?""It's his favourite," I say. "When he's chilled out." Mac's tail twitches and his lips pull back in an up-side-down canine grin."Will he stay in that position long?""Just until someone offers him food or another..." I mouth the word silently... "... Walk..."I sit beside Ryan, kiss him on the cheek. Subdued, he returns the kiss, but his voice is slow. "Is everything alright, Kirstie? You were outside a long time talking with..." He jerks his head towards Klempner, returned to his seat at the back of the room."It's fine. We were just talking...""Damn!" Michael, on

Christmas DayThe heap of gifts stacked under the tree is bright with coloured wrap and ribbons. James waves an arm down at the stack. "You're closest, Michael. You're in charge."Michael takes a small gilt-wrapped package from the top, checks the label then offers it out to Beth. "For you."Beth peels off foil and ribbons to reveal what is very obviously, a perfume bottle. She opens it, then smiles brightly at Richard. "It's lovely, thank you. The old one has almost run out."Michael is already reading the label on another gaudy parcel, bulky and soft, in the kind of economy wrapping paper you might find in a supermarket or newsagent. "This one's for you, James."He accepts it, raising brows and looking to Charlotte, but she shakes her head. "It's not from me."He turns over the tag, jagged-edged, perhaps pinked from an old birthday card or similar. His head inclines. "Why, Mitch, thank you. You shouldn't have. You're only just getting back on your financial feet..."Kle

I sit with Charlotte and Cara in the nursery, taking in the mass of murals, colourful and bright, occupying the walls. Mobiles hang from the ceiling, dangling birds and horses and little bells which sway and tinkle with the slightest movement.From outside comes the slam of a car door.More visitors?Charlotte, feeding Cara, is still pale but a touch of pink blushes over her cheeks.Recovering a day at a time...Uncertain as to how I approach the subject, I speak carefully. "How are you feeling now?"But she simply smiles slightly. "I'm getting better. I'm not coughing much now." She strokes Cara's face, very gently, not disturbing her daughter from her meal. "The important thing is that Cara is healthy. When they had me prisoner in there, yes, it was awful, but the main thing I was thinking about all the time was whether they'd damaged her by drugging me. Or whether it was doing her any harm because I wasn't well..."She seems set to keep talking but is interrupted by a

"Crackers!" Michael holds up his; red and green crepe paper wrapped with silver foil. He leans across the table, arm outstretched, flashing eyebrows. "Pull a cracker with me, Mitch."James picks up his from the side of his plate, sounding piqued. "They're nothing like the one we had last year, I'm afraid." Michael shrugs, unperturbed. "So there was no time to arrange your fancy hand-made affairs. They're just the first packet I could grab off the supermarket shelves. It's anyone's guess what's inside. It doesn't matter. It's Christmas. That's what it's about." "Oh, stop fussing, James." Mitch makes a grab for the cracker. "So long as they have a paper hat inside and a bad joke, they'll be fine." She tugs, and with a Snap! the cracker splits and multi-coloured shrapnel confetti's out.With a grin, she unrolls a vivid green elf-hat, slipping it atop her immaculate red up-do. Craning up to the mirror above the hearth, she checks her reflection.Mmmming, she takes off the hat,

We make our way to the courtyard at the back of the house. A path cuts through, shovelled and cleared from the first fall of snow. Nonetheless, there is still a covering of a couple of inches over the ground and snowflakes fall around us, brushing my nose like iced feathers.Michael grumbles, "I'm going to have to bloody well do this again, aren't I...""Yes, you are," says James blithely. "But you opted for that instead of peeling vegetables, didn't you."Michael tugs his jacket around himself, scowling.We follow the path to an outbuilding. Mitch's 'apartment' is next door, but this is...Charlotte's face lights up. "The stable?" She spins on her two husbands, mittened palms raised to her cheeks. "Oh... You haven't..."Richard clicks his tongue. "Oh, yes, they have."From beyond the stable door comes a nicker. I've never had much to do with horses, but I know animals well enough to recognise the sound of welcome when I hear it. Charlotte dashes for the doorway, flinging