MICHAEL"Perhaps not, but we'll keep looking."She blows on the milk, takes a slow mouthful. "What I'm meaning is, it's about continuity, isn't it. As long as I'm here, there's a bit of her too. And my father. It's not all gone. And if...""If what?"She chokes up. "He's so unhappy. He's usually so full of life; so full of... of take-it-in-big-bites... He's... It's just not him.""He? Who? James? I thought we were talking about you?""Yes... No... Yes...""Charlotte, you're not making a lot of sense."Looking away, she drinks more of the milk, but moonlight reflects from the tears trailing down her cheeks.I lay an arm over shoulders, kiss her face. She's chilled, tasting salty. "You want to find your mother. He wants his daughter back." I rub at my forehead. "I hate seeing him like this too. I wish there was something I could do to help him, but he'll get over it."She turns to look at me. "You think so?""Time's a great healer. Georgie turning up like that might

MICHAEL"Think he'll be talkative?"James shrugs. "Who can guess with that bastard?" He casts down. "Charlotte?"She's tight, controlled, hands shoved in the pockets of her jeans. "It's okay. I'm alright."Mmmm...The guard at the counter goes through the usual rigmarole...Got to have their procedures I suppose...... sliding the daybook across the counter. He taps a cracked fingernail on the bottom row. "Name and signature there, sir. And some ID, please."I hand over my driving license. "I'll just be a moment." The guard scans the license, stapling the copy to the rest of his paperwork, passes it back then turns to James. "Now you, sir."He repeats the performance with James and Charlotte, then "And your car keys, please." I hand them over and he hangs them on a keyboard at the back of the reception area. "Thank you, sir. You can go through now."The interview room is as dismal as ever...Can't they ever give these places some fresh paint?And a couple of ext

JAMES"You're not my father!" Pushing herself backwards against the wall, Charlotte shrieks the words at him. Close to hysterical, almost frenzied with denial, utterly distraught, she screams, struggling against Michael when he tries to hold her, tries to calm her.The guard, Hartland looks increasingly alarmed. "You want me to...?"No, it's alright. We need to deal with this."But he's already talking into his phone, satisfaction etched on his face as more guards burst in, bundling the passive Klempner out. He looks over his shoulder as they hustle him away, his expression shell-shocked.Charlotte is still fighting against Michael, refusing to be held. "Let's get her out of here," I say. "I'll get her out. You get the car keys.""We all need to sign out.""Just take her out," interrupts Hartland. "I'll clear it at the counter."As Michael heads for the reception, I have to drag Charlotte, resisting me all the way, to the car. Red-faced, wild-eyed and screaming, she fi

MICHAELShe has her bath, returning an hour or so later scented of lavender and rose. We drink, but not too much. We eat, sharing Charlotte's favourite treats; cheese, bread, olives, strawberries and cream. She sits on the rug by the fire, not hitting the food the way she normally does, but nonetheless, she eats.Then she sits, inert, leaning back against my legs as I stroke her hair.Over her head, James cocks a brow to me, tilts his head. I nod.He rises, takes Charlotte's hand and pulls her upright, then kisses the fingers. "You are going to go downstairs now, undress and wait for us. Michael and I will join you in a few minutes..." She hesitates... "And the next words I expect to hear from you are 'Yes, Master'."She bows her head. "Yes, Master.""Good." I pass her a glass of Rioja... "Now, drink your wine... And I want you to have another glass after that."*****Downstairs, in the basement, James' 'playroom', the demesnes of a Master, she's waiting for us. As he

A cop in blue uniform enters the bar. "Would you be Angelo?"The barman pauses in swiping a towel through a glass, brow wrinkling. "That's me, yes. Something I can do for you?""I'm looking for a woman who frequents here. Goes by the name of Mitch."The brow uncreases, his expression flattening. "Mitch? Barely seen her the last few weeks.""When did you last see her?"Angelo pays strict attention to his polishing. "Couldn't say." His cloth works tight circles over the glass.Taking off his sunglasses, the cop props elbows on the bar. "We know that she hangs out here, soliciting."The circles slow. "She never did any soliciting that I saw. I mean, she knew how to pull a guy, but that's different altogether isn't it? Nothing illegal there." The barman bends to his work again, concentrating on some ingrained speck on perfectly polished glass.The cop drums fingers on the bar-top, saying nothing; the kind of silence that sucks out the words. After a minute, the drumming mor