The Lover's Children

Chapter 122 – Autumn’s Fury – Part 14

KLEMPNER

Lorelei chews slowly at a thick wedge of cake, measuring the teenager by eye. “So how do you know

Larry? You look kinda young to be part of his circle.”

She gushes, “He saved me when I first got to the City. I was at the station. There was a man waiting,

watching me…”

Lorelei sucks at her cheeks. “Yeah, we know all about them…”

“… Larry saved me from him. He was very brave…” She swings mindless cows-eyes at me… “… And

he got me a job with Mr Haswell. I'm training to be a secretary.”

“That right?” Lorelei swallows, swiping a stray crumb from the corner of her mouth. “’S good cake.”

*****

JAMES

"Let me carry Vicky for you, Mitch."

"Thank you, James." Her forehead wrinkles. "What on Earth's all that noise?"

It's a fair question. From somewhere ahead of us, a cacophony of chatter and yells spills into the

corridor.

Mitch, pauses, then forges ahead. "It's coming from Larry's room."

What can I smell?

Chocolate? Lemon?

A nurse marches toward us, raising an outspread hand. "Not now. We need to limit Mr Waterman's

visitors. He needs his rest."

In tones that would cut metal, Mitch hisses, "I am his wife and this…" She gestures to Vicky, cradled

against me… "... Is his daughter."

The nurse sniffs. "Well, a wife might want to tell her husband to be a bit more choosy about his choice

of friends."

?

Mitch blinks, casts me a look, then shoulders past the nurse, shoving the door wide. I trail in her wake

as cacophonous noise cascades from inside.

It's chaos. © 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

A half-eaten cake takes centre stage. On a seat pushed into one corner, Will Stanton sits with a

delicate china cup and saucer gripped in beefy fingers, wearing an expression flickering between

amusement and bemusement. Beside him, Lydia offers him a slice of the cake on a matching china

plate.

Lorelei perches on the end of Klempner’s bed. Another six… no seven… women… roost along the

sides. I don’t know names, but I recognize some from Charlotte’s ‘Punching out the Drunk’ episode. All

the women are talking at once, to each other and Klempner.

A small boy who I recognize from… somewhere… zooms around the room, zig-zagging like a

bluebottle on Speed. As we enter, his face lights up. "Hey, you wuz there at Christmas when Grandad

K rescued me from the tree."

Christmas?

Oh, yes…

“Hello, Paulie. Yes, I was there.”

One of the hookers swings his way. "What was that?"

"It was brilliant!” The boy’s face lights up like someone just connected the wires. “There wuz this

wedding ‘n Mom ‘n Dad took me there…” His face drops…. His shoulders droop… “…That bit wuz a bit

boring… But then…” And the face lights up again… “There wuz this giant…” He spreads his arms

wide… “…Christmas tree… ‘n it fell on us… Well… not exactly fell on us… Y’see… there wuz this

HUGE metal thing outside and it fell in the storm…”

Lorelei drops her chin onto a fist, riveted by the torrent of information…

“… then the tree fell on top of us an' Grandad K grabbed me 'n Cara and he pushed us under the table

'n he saved us ‘n he stopped me getting scared by telling me all about the maggot woman an'..." He

seems, finally, to run out of air.

Lorelei swings her head. “I’d quite like to hear that story, in sequence and at normal human speaking

speed.”

Beside me, Mitch's face is bland, but she shakes with suppressed laughter. Lorelei's gaze shifts. "You

the wife?"

"That's right. I'm Mitch Waterman."

For long seconds, the two women measure each other by eye…

Then, Lorelei’s mouth twitches. "Gotcha." She jerks her chin back at Klempner. "No wonder he was

okay with us."

Snatches of conversation…

"He's so brave…"

"He saved me too…"

In the background, Will watches, lips quirking, but with an air of intense concentration.

From bed-level, a groan. "Oh, God…" From the bed, Klempner raises despairing eyes. "I'm in Hell,

James. For pity’s sake, get me out of here."

The nurse reappears, her face frozen, passing round the group of street women with a small metal

dish. “I'll have those cigarettes, thank you. This is a hospital."

*****

Leaning heavily on his crutch, Klempner turns for the stables, but Mitch snags a hand through his

elbow, steering him toward the main house.

“Aren’t we going to your place?”

She angles him toward the front door. “We’ve set you up in one of the bedrooms upstairs. There’s more

space there. The nurse is in the room next door and…”

“Nurse? What nurse? I don’t need a nurse…”

Mitch replies in words of steel gloved by velvet. “Yes, you do. At least for now…”

“But…”

“…I have my hands full with Vicky. I can’t be running around after you all day.”

Upstairs, Klempner mutters under his breath as he climbs into bed.

Michael gives him a sunny grin. “No point complaining. The nurse says you have to stay there.”

“Oh?” Klempner arches brows. “And you think some lard-assed nurse is going to…”

Michael's smile shuts down. “And Mitch will enforce it.”

Klempner subsides, then… “Where are my files?”

“Right here.” Charlotte dumps them on the end of the bed. “Anything else you want to complain about?”

*****

HARKNESS

It's a good place to wait. A narrow alleyway separates two streets. Streetlights keep both ends bright,

but not the narrow passage between. So they come in with their night vision screwed and they don't

see me.

And this one's drunk. The smell of his whiskey arrives before he does.

Maybe he's celebrating something. He looks to have plenty to celebrate. Well dressed. Expensive

clothes. Gold glints on his left hand. His right hand holds the bottle.

“Got any change, Pal?”

“Sure, here…” The drunk rummages in a pocket, producing a handful of silver. “Go get something hot

to eat. You look like you could use it.”

“Thanks. You're a star.”

And as he wavers on, he doesn't notice I’m still behind him. Making barely a murmur as he goes down,

he cracks his head against the brickwork. But I'm careful to avoid the blood as I go through his pockets.

Left trouser pocket…

Turns out he gave me all the change he had from there.

Right trouser pocket…

A tissue, slightly used. Car keys.

Inside coat…

Bingo! Wallet.

I've struck gold. A thick wad of notes. A driving license… You never know when an ID might come in

handy. Most people don't look properly.

Cell phone…

Why bother?

The ring is tight and I have to twist hard at the finger to get it off. Something Cracks! as I pull, and even

unconscious, he yells…

Anything else?

Car keys?

It’s a long shot, but I follow through the way he was heading. At the end of the alleyway, I lift the keys

high and press.

And not twenty yards away, lights flash and locks Clunk! open.

A dozen steps toward the car and another thought occurs. Hot-footing back to the fallen drunk, I

reclaim the cell. It’s on biometrics, and his left thumbprint unlocks it.

Five minutes later, in the warmth and comfort of my new vehicle, the phone’s running through a factory

reset.

What else?

What’s in the back?

A quick rummage through the boot…

My drunk must be a workman of some ilk; powertools; drills, saws, sanders, and a toolbag. Clicking it

open, a series of nested trays unfolds… bits and blades, hammers, screwdrivers, pliers…

Everything the working man might need.

And enough money to buy anything else I might want.

*****

JAMES

Klempner sits up in bed, propped by pillows, reading some report. Stacks and sheaves and files of

documents take up most of a side table, the small space remaining is just enough to accommodate a

coffee cup.

Jotting some note into a margin, he doesn’t notice me at first, standing in the doorway.

I tap on the door. “Got a minute?”

He looks over the top of his report. “I have nothing but minutes right now.”

“It’s a lovely day outside, so we’re having lunch on the terrace. Sunshine aside, it’s a sort-of goodbye

party for Marty. We thought you might like to join us out there and enjoy the sunshine?”

“Sounds good, but…” He waves a hand over his piles of papers… “…I’m working. There’s my files

and…”

“Not a problem. We’ll ferry down whatever you need and set you up on a lounger with a side table. You

can work out there all day if you like. If you want to use your laptop, the signal reaches the area quite

comfortably.”

*****

Outdoors, Cara and Adam watch wide-eyed as Klempner limps out, leaning heavily on his crutch,

refusing any assistance and snarling at anyone who tries to help.

Klempner lowers himself to the lounger. The nurse, slim and rather attractive, fusses over pillows, but

backs off with a Tut! as Klempner scowls, then growls, at her. Mitch rolls apologetic eyes, gesturing her

away, then moving in with a blanket, laying it over his legs and waist.

“Mitch I don’t need all this…”

Fist on hips, she looms over him. “For once, Larry, you’re going to do as you’re told. Lie down. Stay

warm and take the medication. Do that and you can stay here.”

“But I need…”

“Whatever you need, someone will fetch it for you. Now stay there.” Mitch pauses, pinning him with her

eye, then stomps away.

Klempner grimaces, fumbling at the top of the cast, trying to scratch. “I'll be glad to see the back of this

fu…” He glances at the toddlers watching him… “…this flipping thing. Still…” He casts an eye over the

files and folders on the side table. “At least I can get some work done.”

The nurse sets a tumbler of water and a small brown bottle by him. “You can do anything you want, Mr

Waterman, so long as you do it from there, and resting…” He arrows a glance that should turn her to a

pillar of salt… “And you can be sure that if I get any argument from you, I will be informing your wife.”

He opens his mouth to protest, then sags in surrender.

Michael leans back against the wall, arms folded. “Take it in good part, Larry. Everyone means well. For

now you can work out here in the fresh air and we'll take turns at being your legs. Deal?”

Klempner grimaces then. “I suppose.”

“Oh, and make sure the kids don’t see anything too… inappropriate… that you might have in those

files.”

“Of course not.”

*****

Michael produces a trestle table, setting it out in the shade against the wall. Mitch spreads a cloth while

Beth and Charlotte ferry out cutlery and crockery, then serviettes, salad and slaw while I set up the

barbeque.

Marty hovers at the door. “Can I help at all?”

My mound of charcoal’s just nicely beginning to glow. I spread it out more evenly under the grill. “Yes, if

you look in the kitchen, you’ll find a cold box with the meat for the barbecue. You could bring that out.”

She vanishes indoors. Charlotte eyes the table. “Any dessert?”

Michael aims a finger at the door. “Kitchen. Under the cover. Sally sent tiramisu across.”

Beth eyes the barbecue. “Is that safe…” She nods out to where the toddlers are playing on a bright red

and blue plastic slide… “…with Adam and Cara roaming free?”

“We can put them in their pen while it’s cooking.”

Michael produces the folding grid that serves as combined child pen, fire guard and occasional dog

gate, setting it, four-sided, around a play mat with brightly coloured wooden farm animals and bricks.

But my breezy assumption flies into the wind as Richard lifts Adam and Michael lifts Cara inside. Faces

turn matched shades of puce and purple around vibrating tonsils. Shrieks cut through breeze and

birdsong.

Klempner grimaces. “This is your idea of a peaceful afternoon in the Great Outdoors?”