Chpater 3

Michael - Twelve Weeks

I try the switch and the bulb flicks on, then off again.

Great. The last one.

I spot Mitch, waiting at the door for me to notice her. “I was coming across to see how you’re getting on. Sally asked me to give you this.”

She offers me a tray bearing a pint mug of tea and one of my hotel chef’s monumental ‘sandwiches’. Lifting the lid, I inspect the contents; sausage, egg and bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms and brown sauce; enough protein to feed a small family for a day. And a larger family wouldn’t be going hungry.

Mitch eyes the creation. “Will you eat all that?”

“Sally lives in eternal torment that I might waste away while her back is turned. I wouldn’t dream of rejecting her contribution to my continued well-being.”

Double-handed, I lift the thing to my mouth and bite in; a deep, delicious mouthful. “I’ve just gotten in the last of the wiring." Wiping a dribble of yolk from the corner of my mouth, I gesture around the room. "It’s ready for you anytime you want to move in.”

From ground level, Scruffy yaps, his stubby tail a dust-stirring blur. But I ignore him; I’m entitled to my breakfast.

Okay… Second breakfast…

He yaps again, experimentally, whines…

Ears drooping, he trots out.

Mitch strolls around, trailing fingertips over the polished timber of the windowsill. “It’s such a lovely space. Are you sure you don’t want it as your office? That was your intention when you started the renovation…”

“I’m fine. There’s plenty more still to work on.” I jerk thumb to the wall. “Next door for a start.”

“You’re making that your work area instead?”

“Nope. It used to be a stable. It’s going to be a stable again… Um…” I mumble a bit through a mouthful of bacon, then follow Mitch’s horrified downward gaze.

Scruffy is back again, something dangling from his mouth. As he sees he has my attention, he drops the back-half of a rat at my feet, making a small, bloody splash on the tiles.

Oh, wonderful…

A mutt that believes in free trade…

On reflex, I stoop to pick up Scruffy’s demi-rodent, then remember that I’m holding my breakfast. I can deal with a little plaster-dust in my food, but…

Sandwich still in hand, I kick the thing hard, out of the door and into some brambles. Piteous whimpering follows and I thumb a sausage downward from between the bread halves.

It’s not as though I can’t spare it.

The sausage vanishes in two chomps and Scruffy resumes his vigil.

Mitch follows the performance. “Where do you suppose the other half is?”

“I don’t wish to speculate. But at least he’s doing real terrier work and going after vermin. I suppose that qualifies as earning his keep.”

Then I sigh at Kirstie’s pack, forming a disorderly queue by the door. Meg muscles her way in first, growling at the others. It’s not as though I mind hosting the ‘Gang of Four’ while their mistress is still recovering from her injuries…

Ben…

…but my mid-morning ‘Second Breakfast’ doesn’t go nearly as far as it used to.

“Meg! Quiet!”

The barrel-bodied little madam subsides. “Outside, the lot of you.” I march them out. Archie, Mac and Emma sit, waiting expectantly. Meg grumbles as she joins them.

Taking a defiant munch of my breakfast roll, I tear off four chunks, passing them down to assorted waiting mouths then, groaning, tear off another piece as I find Scruffy has joined the end of the line, his lop-sided ears triangulating on a possible second serving. It vanishes with a Chop!

Returning inside with my much-reduced meal, I find Mitch, brow cocked in amusement, offering the mug of tea. “Want me to ask Sally to make you another?”

“No, I don’t think I’d dare tell her most of it went to the wolf-pack.”

She rolls eyes outside. “How long are you keeping them?”

“Scruffy’s here permanently. After Ben…” My throat tightens and I skid away from the thought. “Kirstie’s four are welcome as long as it’s needed. After the way she raised the alarm for you and Charlotte…”

Again, my mind veers from a subject still too painful to dwell on.

Mitch regards me for a long moment then, waving around the interior of the once-was-a-stable, “So, you’re sure about me taking this? Living here? I don’t want to oust you.”

“Absolutely. And you’re not ousting me. We’ll bring across the furniture from your room in the house for the moment. You can re-furnish to your own taste as and when it suits you.”

“Do you mind if I redecorate? Plain cream’s pleasant enough, but…”

“Mitch, do what you want with it. Everyone needs a space to call their own. A bit of privacy. It’s your home for as long as you want it. If you need anything else doing, let me know. I’m happy to do the heavy work if you’ll finish off painting and whatever else it needs.”

“Thank you. You don’t know how much I appreciate this… Michael, how long are you happy for me to stay here? I’m sure when you bought this place, you didn’t plan on having the mother-in-law move in.”

“No, I didn’t. It was intended to be a home for me, Charlotte and James… Which is why I’m offering the mother-in-law a space that is hers exclusively. And private.”

“Actually, it is a good idea.” She blushes. “It’s... It's a bit embarrassing... But last night... I could hear you.”

Cringing at this toe-curling thought, “You’re right. I’d prefer not for that to happen. Anyway…” I give her a nudge and a wink… “You might want some privacy of your own now.” Her eyes widen. “Come on Mitch, a woman like you. You’re a serious looker. If you want… someone… a man in your life… then it would be very easy…” But my words trail off at the far look in her eyes.

What’s she thinking about?

Or who?

Conners?

Ex-husband. Wife-beater. Liar…

The man who let her think her little girl had been murdered…

No.

Klempner?

He said he’d leave us alone and he seems to be keeping his word.

Is she thawing out to him?

None of my damn business.

“Anyway, Mitch. This is what I’ve been doing for you. Let’s go take a look at what you’ve been doing for me.”

And she smiles.

*****