Chapter 131: The Girl Who Was Hunted - Chapter Forty-Seven


    BETH


    We return again a couple of hourster with Ross’ meal. Miracle-wise, in the short time, he’s put


    together a hot casserole, sd, fruit and cheese, juice and coffee; all in pic-style containers, for


    easy eating in difficult conditions.


    We hover at the room door. Michael isn’t there, but Charlotte is sitting on the edge of the bed, her back


    to us, holding the unconscious James’ hand, kissing his fingers.


    She’s talking to him, and even though I can’t see her face, I hear the tears in her words.


    “…. I know you always worried about being older than I am…. But I still thought we were going to have


    years and years together…. Now…. What am I supposed to do? With you like this? I love Michael too,


    but it’s supposed to be the three of us. Don’t leave me, Master. Please don’t leave me….”


    She starts sobbing. It’s a gut-rending, heart-broken sound. Richard and I exchange nces. Even his


    eyes are filling.


    We sit either side of her on the bed. I wrap my arms around her. Richard holds her hand.


    Where’s Michael?


    He appears at the door, towelling damp hair, sees us, with Charlotte, and visibly curses under his


    breath.


    “Oh, Charlotte. I thought you were asleep….” Then to me. “Gotta use the bathroom sometime….”


    “We brought food for you.”


    “That’s great, thanks. Charlotte. C’mon, eat.”


    “Ross cooked it. It’s his mother’s recipe chicken-casserole….” I say.


    Her voice is numb. “I’m not hungry.”


    “Yes, you are.” insists Michael. “You just think you’re not.”


    She makes no move towards the food, which even I, ustomed as I am to Ross’ good cooking, have


    to admit smells wonderful.


    Charlotte won’t look at it. Her face works, as though she’s suppressing the urge to vomit.


    Michael pushes the casserole at her insistently. “Charlotte, eat.” Still, she doesn’t make a move.


    “Charlotte. James would want you to eat it.”


    That finally does it. She picks up a fork and takes a small mouthful, chewing endlessly, forcing it down.


    Richard catches Michael’s eye, gesturing him out into the corridor. Michael looks across at me. “I’ll stay


    here,” I say.


    He nods, following Richard.


    After a few minutes, they’ve not returned, but Charlotte is drooping. “You should sleep.” She nods but


    doesn’t speak.


    “Let me get you into bed. You’re right next to him. You can watch him from there.” She nods again.


    I help her into bed, fully clothed still, tucking her in like a little girl. Almost instantly, she drops off. I wait


    for a minute or two, to be sure she’s asleep, then look out into the corridor. Michael and Richard are


    there, talking quietly.


    “You think we should get her sedated?” asks Richard. “Or perhaps away from here? It can’t be doing


    her any good, seeing him like that.”


    Michael shakes his head. “I don’t think sedation is the answer. Whatever happens, she’s going to have


    to deal with it. I think it’s better just to have the people she loves around her. As for taking her away; I


    don’t think you’d get her out of there with a bulldozer…. Beth! You’ve left her alone?”


    “She’s asleep.”


    He looks angry, pushing past me, back into the room.


    Charlotte is still there, sleeping, but is now in James’ bed, lying next to him, one hand resting against


    his face.


    A doctor arrives, white-coated and efficient looking. He spots Charlotte in the bed, and for a moment,


    surprise, then disapproval, washes across his face.


    “You want us to get her out of there?” asks Michael.


    The doctor hesitates, then shrugs. “Strictly, I should say yes, but on the other hand, if he can feel or


    hear anything, I don’t know of a better way to remind a man what he has to live for.”


    *****


    CHARLOTTE


    I’m trying to sleep but can’t. Michael has his arms around me and drifts between sleeping and waking.


    From his breathing, I’d say he’s sleeping right now.


    Blurry-eyed, my head aching from too much crying, I watch my Master. He’s close, all but next to me


    after Michael pushed the two single beds together.


    His eyes blink open.


    C0pyright ? 2024 N?v)(elDrama.Org.


    He’s not focussed, his stare zed, not fixing on anything.


    But he’s waking.


    I push back to my sleeping lover. “Michael! Michael!”


    Michael’s voice is confused, groggy. “What? Charlotte? What was that?”


    “He opened his eyes. He’s waking up.”


    But as I look back, and Michael sits up to see, my Master’s eyes are closed again.


    It doesn’t matter. He’s waking up…. He’s getting better.


    *****


    I sit in the armchair by my Master’s side, reading to him.


    “…. The way to live a long time—oh, a thousand years or more—is something between the way a child


    does it and the way a mature man does it. Give the future enough thought to be ready for it—but don’t


    worry about it. Live each day as if you were to die next sunrise. Then face each sunrise as a fresh


    creation and live for it, joyously. And never think about the past. No regrets, ever….”


    His eyelids blink open, dark eyes staring aimlessly at the ceiling. They close again, but a momentter,


    flick back.


    I lean forward in my seat. “Master?” I whisper. “Master? Can you hear me?”


    He blinks again, then his eyes slide sideways towards me. He tries to speak, and fails, mouth and lips


    dry. Quickly I dip fingers in the water jug, pat his lips damp. I pour a little into a ss, and supporting


    his head, holding the ss carefully, I help him sip a little, wet his mouth. “Master? Is that better?”


    This time his eyes meet mine. “Charlotte?” His voice is so weak, but he’s speaking. He’s with me again.


    I take his hand in mine. “Yes, it’s me. I’m here, Master.”


    He smiles, still struggling to speak. “That’s good, Charlotte. That’s good.”


    *****


    “How are you feeling?” asks Michael.


    My Master, lying t on his back, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, “Err.… terrible, actually. I’ve


    never felt so knocked out.”


    “Mmm…. That’s a good sign actually.”


    My Master looks up at him doubtfully. “It is?”


    “Ah-ha. It means you’re alive.”


    *****


    “How long have I been here? I feel dreadful.”


    “Four days,” says Michael. “Do you remember what happened?”


    “Um…. no, not really. I was sting Charlotte for behaving like a maniac.” He frowns at me, but his lips


    are puckering to a smile. “Then…. er…. it’s a bit hazy after that.…”


    “Corby was there, with a gun, aimed at Charlotte. I tried to get to him, to stop him from firing, but I


    couldn’t move fast enough. I only knocked his aim off. You grabbed Charlotte, and shielded her with


    your body; took the shot instead.”


    My Master blinks. “I did?”


    “You did. It was either the bravest or the most stupid thing I’ve ever seen. You dropped like a stone,


    and I think you were unconscious before you hit the ground. The bullet severed your femoral artery.


    You lost a lot of blood. You’re very lucky to still be here, to be able toin about how you feel.”


    My Master swallows, digesting this. “But Charlotte wasn’t hit?” His eyes swing back to me.


    “No Master. It didn’t touch me. I’m fine. And even if you don’t remember doing it, thank you. I’d be dead


    if it weren’t for you; for the two of you.”


    *****


    A dayter, pumped with painkillers, my Master is much more himself. He is still very weak but is sitting


    up in bed, propped up with pillows. With me and Michael, Richard and Beth, sitting around him, he is


    happily talking, with the air of one giving court.


    While he and Richard discuss ns, Michael sitting, silently watching, taking everything in, it all feels


    so much more normal….


    Whatever that means….


    “So where do we work from now, as a base?” asks my Master. “With the old offices burned out. What


    has actually been lost?”


    “Oh, it’s by no means a disaster,” says Richard. “All the information that mattered was stored in the


    cloud anyway. And, as you know, it was always the n that we would move to the new headquarters


    as part of the City Project. I’ve simply brought forward that phase of the works. The offices are going up


    as we speak. We should be in there within three months.”


    “And until then?”


    “Until then, I’ve rented out one of the old warehouse blocks down by the docks. It’s not ideal, but it will


    do as a temporary fix…”


    Beth has brought some more of Ross’ delicious food. Ye gods, but I’m hungry!


    I polish off a dish of chicken and vegetables and, without asking, Michael shovels more onto my te. I


    down that too, and, with an air of satisfaction, he pushes an apple into my hand.


    “On the subject of temporary fixes….” continues Richard. “I was going to suggest, that since the


    renovations are notplete in your own home yet, and.…” he nods to Michael, “…. you could do with


    a free hand to get on with the work, why don’t the three of you move back into the beach house for a


    few weeks. It will be much easier for you toplete your renovation works that way, and your


    mountain home really isn’t a suitable ce for a recuperating man right now.”


    “Thanks, that’d be great.”