The Lover's Children

Chapter 88 – Solstice – Part 21

MICHAEL

James speaks softly. “It’s been a long time. Your friend may not even be in the City anymore…” His

voice peters away as, not replying, she continues to sweep the street with her gaze, then steps out,

approaching the nearest of the hookers. Short and blonde, but the roots of her hair mousey, a halter-

neck top places her cleavage on display. A tight skirt does the same for her thighs and ass.

And she’s young; way too young.

But the face frames much older eyes; speculative as Charlotte approaches. “Does Natalie still work

around here?”

“Who’s asking?”

“We were friends. She was my roommate. It’s a few years ago.”

The girl cocks a brow, then shrugs. “Don’t know no Natalie.” She calls over to her partner; a redhead in

spandex and black vinyl. “Hey, Lorraine. You know someone called Natalie?”

Lorraine, chewing gum, strolls across. “Natalie? No. Should I?”

The blonde jerks a thumb at Charlotte “This one’s looking for her. Says this used to be her pitch.”

“We’ve been here the last two years. When was this Natalie here?”

James interrupts, touching Charlotte on the arm. “Charlotte, these girls are too young to remember

your friend. How long has it been since you lived here?”

She mulls, then, “Eight years.”

“So, find someone older to ask.”

She nods and the girls make to turn away, but Klempner interrupts, displaying his phone screen. “Since

we’re here, do you recognise this man?”

They barely glance at it. “Don’t know him.”

“Never seen him before.”

Michael moves in, smiling brightly. “Please look.” He eases the mobile from Klempner’s hand. “It could

be important.” The pair look him up and down, thawing, visibly succumbing to the ‘Michael’ charm

offensive. “Does he seem familiar at all?”

They look, this time properly. The blonde scissors out the image, peering in. But both swing their

heads. “What’s to recognise?” says the redhead. “A shot of a man’s back and no face.”

Klempner opens his mouth to say something, but from offside comes another of the women, perhaps in

her thirties, but her face lined and her eyes weary. She mutters something to Lorraine, who snaps a

suddenly hostile look at Klempner. The redhead spits a ball of gum onto the sidewalk, turns her back

and stalks away.

*****

News travels fast. No one else will speak with us. This may have been Charlotte’s haunt when she was

poor and vulnerable, but now, clearly well-to-do and in the company of her father, she could be ringing

a leper’s bell.

She sags. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

“Perhaps you could ask in the cinema?” I suggest at her disheartened expression.

Charlotte swings her head. “It wasn’t here when I knew Natalie. That building was a pizzeria then.”

Michael scans the street. “What was here?”

She turns, scanning the street. “That cafe, although the name over the door’s different. A couple of the

bars...” Charlotte aims a finger. “And so was that.”

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To all appearances, it’s just a doorway, framed by lurid posters that surely promise more than they can

deliver.

A doorman, perhaps in his mid-forties, the classic ‘bruiser’ type for this kind of cheap club, blocks the

way to a darkened corridor beyond. As a male figure walks up, he tosses a cigarette butt into the gutter,

accepts what looks like payment and admits him.

Charlotte strides to the door. James and I follow, Klempner hanging behind us. The bouncer eyes her,

arching a brow. “Not looking for any new staff right now.”

“I don’t want a job. I’m looking for my friend. She used to have a pitch over there.” She gestures out to

where the two girls are patrolling. “Natalie.”

He eyes her speculatively. “You don’t look like someone who would have friends around here.”

“It’s a few years ago.” She paints on her big-green-eyes-and-dimples expression. “I moved away.

Y’know, poor girl made good.”

A smile tugs the corners of his mouth. “Yeah?” He pauses, stares into nothing, then shakes his head.

“Nope, don’t recall any Natalie that worked a pitch around here.”

“How about this man?” Klempner pushes between us, displays his photo.

The bouncer recoils, not so much as glancing at the screen. “Who the hell are you? Cops?” He jerks a

thumb. “Get the fuck out of here.”

*****

Yet again, I exchange glances with James.

This is going nowhere fast…

He stamps his feet, rubs his hands together. “Perhaps we should take a break? Something hot? Talk

about what to do next?”

“Perhaps…” I cast around. “That coffee bar looks as good a place as any.”

We troop across to the brightly lit cafe. It’s a classic greasy-spoon. Cheap tiles. Wipe-down walls and

Formica tops. But it’s warm, clean, and smells enticingly of caffeine and toast. The added scent of

bacon has us all shedding coats and gloves to gather around a table.

“Yup, what’ll it be?” The waitress stands over us, pad in hand, her voice weary.

“I’ll have a coffee with a splash of whiskey,” I say.

James nods. “Sounds good. Me too.”

“And me,” says Klempner.

But Charlotte’s voice ripples with surprise. “Natalie?”

The woman swings, stares, then, “Jenny? Oh my God, Jenny! It is you.” She slaps her pad down on

the table and leans down to bear-hug Charlotte up from her seat. “It's been... How long...?”

Charlotte, her face bright with delight, hugs back. “Eight years.”

Natalie grips her at the shoulders, looks her up and down and around, “Well, just fucking look at you.

You look great!” Turning back, she yells over her shoulder. “Hey, Livvy. Could you hold the fort for a few

minutes. Just had a blast from the past.”

A woman scrapes onions over a hot plate. “Sure. Want anything over there?”

Klempner breaks in. “I’d like something hot inside me. Coffee. Ham and eggs and whatever else you

have going with it. Anyone else?”

James scrubs palms together. “Absolutely.”

Natalie yells back. “Four all-day breakfasts, Liv. And the coffee jug.”

“Coming up.”

Natalie pulls up a seat, casting calculating eyes over me and James. As they pass over Klempner, she

frowns as though trying to remember something…

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… but he holds her gaze, his expression non-committal.

Charlotte’s old friend is no girl; a woman perhaps in her early forties. Or maybe a hard life has added

years to someone younger. She has the look of having taken everything life has thrown at her.

But her smile is bright and genuine. She takes Charlotte’s hand in her own; rough and reddened.

“Jenny, you look like you’ve done really well for yourself. Always thought you’d go far. What are you

doing now? Married?” Her gaze skims me, James and Klempner again.

“Yes, I’m married with a little girl… Um… This is James and Michael and… this is my father… Er…

Larry.”

“Yeah? Pleased to meet you all.”

The two women rattle on, exchanging catch-up and gossip. Four vast plates of food appear alongside

steaming mugs of coffee. A rack of toast follows. I dig into mine. James and Klempner work into theirs,

apparently fixed on their meals, but both constantly glancing obliquely at the two women, trying not to

be obvious.

Eventually, the chatter lulls and Charlotte comes to the point. “Natalie, it’s not entirely an accident I

found you here.

“No?”

“No. I’ve been looking for you.”

Natalie’s brows rise. “After all this time? What’s brought this on? Looking up old friends?”

Charlotte pinks at the cheeks. “Um, yes, sort of.”

Natalie sits back, palms cupped around a coffee, her eyes calculating. “Jenny, not that it isn’t great to

see you, but why are you here? I don’t think this is just a social call.”

“It’s not, no, but…” Her eyes flick across to Livvy, then around the tables: a couple two tables away; a

group of workmen in overalls and boots; a gang of teenagers with colas and burgers. “… It’s kind of

private. I don’t think you’d want to talk about it here. Is there somewhere we could go?”

Natalie’s eyes narrow. “This is a blast from the past, isn’t it. Yeah… I’m off shift in an hour. We’ll go to

my place.”

*****

An hour later, we’re accompanying Natalie to the not-quite-so-cheap end of town, on the edge of the

red-light district, but not a part of it. Charlotte and Natalie walk ahead of us, chatting about small,

inconsequential matters.

The words drift back. “You said you were married. Which of them is it? The blond or the dark one? I

can't figure it...”

James throws me a look, mouth twitching. Klempner raises eyes skyward.

There’s a second or two’s hesitation, then, “Both of them.”

Natalie stops in mid-stride, her head swivelling back to me and James. “Both of them?” Her jaw hangs.

“Yup.” Charlotte sounds a touch defensive. “Got a problem with that?”

Natalie hacks a laugh, swats her on the arm. “Why would I? You go, girl.”

*****

The apartment is tiny and cluttered, but immaculately clean, an all-in-one living area and kitchenette,

doors leading off.

Natalie waves us to a table and chairs. “Have a seat.”

Charlotte glances around. “I went to your old place, but no one knew you.”

“Yeah… I moved out when I gave up turning tricks. I can’t make the money in the cafe like I did before,

but I’m sharing and that covers the rent.” Natalie clatters around in the kitchen area, heaping grinds into

a coffee pot before setting it on the hob. “I always wondered what had happened to you, Jenny, after

you left here. And whether that weird cop found you. The one that was asking about you.” Her eye

pierces her old friend. “Is this something to do with him?”