Chapter 6: Her Master's Wedding, Part 6, Michael's Help

BETH

As I step out of the elevator and into the reception area, Michael is there. Hands behind his head, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, he sits staring into space, humming tunelessly.

"Waiting for someone?"

His eyes flick to me. "Hi, Beth," he smiles. "Yeah, Charlotte's running late." He stands, reaching for the box I'm carrying. "Here let me take that for you."

"Thanks." Gratefully, I pass it to him, then shake the blood back into my aching hands before brushing myself down of dust and cobwebs.

"Heavy," he comments, lifting it with no apparent effort. "Where do you want it?"

"In the conference room, please. Just put it down in the corner."

Michael deposits the box, gritty with the dirt of years, on the expensive carpet of my husband's meeting room, then swipes hands together with the logic that argues you can clean off one against the other. "Any more like that?"

"I have a carload of the stuff and more where that came from. But don't bother. Ross is bringing it up."

He eyes the carton. "What on earth is it?"

"A lifetime's worth of collected junk. I don't think Uncle Albert ever threw anything away, and he made me executor to his will. I'm lumped with going through it all."

"That sounds like fun."

"You have no idea. I've been quickly through his house. He could barely move in there. He went a bit odd as he grew older, and I don't think he's thrown out a newspaper or a jam jar in the last ten years. There are cupboards full of hoarded food and sugar and even toilet rolls...."

"Saving for a rainy day?"

"I think so, yes. He didn't have much and what he did have, he wouldn't let go of."

Twenty minutes later, I've emptied half the box onto the conference table and a further eight like it are stacked in the corner. And I know that I have several more carloads to come.

"Will that be all, Mrs Haswell?" asks Ross, picking crawlers from his jacket. Michael reaches out and flicks a particularly long-legged example from the back of his collar.

"For today, yes thanks. Then, whenever it fits in, Ross, just pick up the rest of it. There's no hurry. It's going to take a while to go through what's here already."

Michael is on his phone, a hand covering the other ear. "Oh, right? So how long d'you reckon? Okay. I'll see you later. No, it's no problem. I didn't have any plans."

He surveys the avalanche of yellowed paper on the desktop. "Can I help at all?"

With something like despair, I contemplate the task ahead of me. "I don't like to ask, Michael."

"What, with all the help you've been giving us with the wedding? Don't be silly. I'm happy to help. Unless it's private family stuff of course?"

I pick up a random handful of paper, scanning it. "Well, these are eighteen years old bank statements. I think any shock-horror value ran out a while ago. If you're happy to volunteer, then I'm happy to say yes."

He pulls out a chair. "Where do we start?"

*****

RICHARD – THE VOLUNTEER

"What on earth...?"

Elizabeth sits to one side of the table. Michael to the other. Each has a mound of paper worthy of a termite mound and a cardboard crate to one side. As I watch, Elizabeth briefly scans a sheet then tosses it into the box beside her. Michael is shaking his head, disbelief writ large.

"He really did keep everything, didn't he. This is a parking ticket from nineteen-ninety-two and this...." He scans the sheet, his lips moving as he does so, ".... is an invoice and guarantee for removal of a wasps' nest from the following year."

"How did you get dragged into this, Michael?"

"He volunteered," says Elizabeth, her voice short. "Please don't upset my staff member. I might lose him."

Michael snorts. "You've got me for today until Charlotte and James turn up. But I'm happy enough to help. If you like, I can take a box home with me. No harm in doing a bit during the evening in front of the fire."

Elizabeth swings grateful eyes on him. "Oh, would you?"

*****

RICHARD – WEDDING DRESSES

"A pleasant afternoon, my Love?"

She flops down in her chair. It's very uncharacteristic. Normally, my Elizabeth is graceful and carries herself well. Today she has all the signs of being at the end of her tether.

"It's been a long afternoon." She glances around the room. "Master, is there any wine? I'm exhausted."

"Exhausted? Just from a few hours of shopping for a wedding dress?"

"We have been through every wedding shop I know of, plus several of the larger department stores. I have looked at hundreds of dresses." She presses a hand to her forehead. "I've gone wedding-dress-blind. For someone who normally doesn't give a hoot about clothes, Charlotte is being very picky about this. I wouldn't have minded if she was having trouble finding something to suit her. But she looked stunning in everything she tried on."

I chuckle. "Well, she would, wouldn't she?"

"Master?"

"She looks a lot like you my Love, and you also looked stunning on our wedding day."

She smiles, squeezing my hand at the compliment, but there's something....

What's wrong?

"So, did she find something she liked in the end?"

She throws her hands in the air. "No. Nothing made her happy. I'm going to have to go with her to do this again." Then she hesitates, her voice slowing. "Master, I'm wondering if everything's alright with Charlotte. She was very snappy with me towards the end of the afternoon."

That's not like Charlotte....

.... She adores Elizabeth....

"How do you mean? Alright?"

"I'm wondering if she really wants to get married?" Then she slants me a meaningful look. "Or at least, if it's Michael she wants to marry."

*****

JAMES – THE MENUS

I'm about ready to explode.

Give me strength....

If they don't stop bickering soon....

Ben picks up a menu card and pulls a face. "The menu's a bit bland, isn't it? I thought you go for something more adventurous."

Michael, blank-faced, looks up from the table. He has dozens of small name-cards laid out, moving them around as he works out a seating plan. "Like what?"

"Well, plain roast chicken? Why not say, chicken kiev? It's a bit more interesting."

"I set the menu," I say. "It's not everyone who likes garlic. And if people do want something spicier they can choose a sauce. Or anything from the standard menu for the restaurant. But I happen to know from Michael that at least a couple of the older ones in your family have delicate digestions. So, I opted for chicken, plain."

He curls a lip. "I still think it's a bit unadventurous."

"It's too late to change it now," I snap. "All the supplies are in. I've chosen a menu that will be easy to serve to a lot of people. It's the first time the kitchen has served any amount of food and I want it to go smoothly. It's almost the practice run for the Open Day next week."

Ben at his most truculent is a trial I can do without. He squares up on me. "And you know something about a hotel kitchen, do you? And how to run one?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. I...."

Michael interrupts. "If you two don't at least try to be polite to each other, I swear I'm going to bang your heads together. You...." He jabs a finger at me.... "Calm down. And you...." The finger swings on Ben.... "I'd have thought my own brother would give me a bit of support for my own wedding day instead of being deliberately obstructive."

Then apparently embarrassed by his outburst, he stamps out.

Ah... Crap....

I offer a tentative hand to Ben. He takes it without a smile, tugging it down in a short stab of a shake, then he also marches out.

Death, divorce, moving house and weddings....

The most stressful of all life changes....

In the corner, Richard has watched all this in silence. As Ben's footsteps retreat out of earshot, "He's a contrary son of a bitch, isn't he, that Ben. Nothing like his brother."

I don't want to say anything. Biting on my tongue, I simply shake my head.

Richard nods understanding. "I'll go and see if I can calm things down a bit."

*****