The Lover's Children

Chapter 10 - Winter Wedding #9

MICHAEL

Arriving at the mill, we pull in to a sea of mud. It’s not raining right now, but it was five minutes ago, and

the clouds are threatening another downpour any time now. The temperature’s falling fast and mist

swirls in from the river.

Klempner stamps out of the cab. Within a few steps, his boots are heavy with clay. He casts around

with a doubtful eye, slapping his arms around himself. “When is it they’re having this wedding?”

“December twenty-ninth.”

“Hmmm.” Both face and tone remain neutral. Cold pinches at his face, turning his nose red and his skin

ruddy. Although he’s more or less recovered from his underground ordeal, courtesy of that maniac

Juliana, he’s not recovered all his weight yet and he’s still gaunt. Despite the blondish beard, there’s a

faint hollow to his cheeks and a deep set to his eyes, which gives him the look of Scandinavia's answer

to Christopher Lee.

“It’s this way.” I lead toward the main door, fronting the river. Planking acts as a rough walkway, laid out

over the sea of sludge. We clunk along, the timber giving under our weight, sucking at the ground

underneath.

As we round the corner to the terrace, raised voices ring out. Well, one raised voice: Ryan’s. From his

tone, pitched-battle threatens.

Ryan, in gumboots and waxed jacket, scarlet-faced, stands eyeball-to-eyeball with an older man in

workboots and overalls. “Won’t be finished? What d’you mean, not finished? I’m getting married in a

fortnight. We’re having our reception here. You’re the foreman. You said…”

Klempner murmurs, “Perhaps we should come back?”

“Perhaps we should…”

… but the older man has seen us. Ryan follows his gaze, nods a curt Hello, then turns back.

Ryan is a striking-looking man and it is easy to see why Kirstie is attracted to him. But today…

Shadow-eyed, he sags at the shoulders, his movement is heavy - even allowing for the six inches of

ooze clagging up his boots

The foreman shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Mr Dougherty. We’ve done our best, but what with all the time

lost, stolen equipment, half the crew down with flu and the weather, we’ve just lost too much time on

the project. We’re never going to be able to get the roof on in time.”

“Hire equipment. Hire more men…”

“I’ve done that, but there’s only so many you can put on the job at once. Especially for a roof. And the

forecast is for more rain. And then snow. Even if we got the roof watertight, we’d still have to plaster

inside, and in this weather, it’d never dry in time. If you slept guests in there, they’d be down with

pneumonia by morning. The best I’m going to be able to do is get the roof tarped over and keep it dry

inside so we can start on it again in the New Year…”

Ryan’s hands are fisting…

“… Maybe you should have decided to get married at a different time of year. You could always put it

off ‘til the Spring.”

Ryan turns his back on the man, shaking his head in disbelief, now talking to me. He jabs a thumb

backwards. “He promised me everything would be ready…”

The foreman shakes his head, his face sour…

“… He promised me. Oh, God, Kirstie…” Ryan rubs at his forehead. “What the hell do I tell her?”

Klempner, arms folded, looks up, around about, his eye evaluating, brow furrowing.

So do I. “Ryan, what exactly is unfinished? The last I saw, you had the roof fixed up, the door and

windows in place. The electricity is working…” The great arched window overlooking the river is brightly

lit, a warm glow spilling from the inside. “… So, what’s such a problem?”

“Yes…” Tension shimmers through his voice… “… all that’s done. But only in the main building. The

wheelhouse is being converted into accommodation. One day, it’s where Kirstie and I plan to live

eventually. But for now, we were supposed to be putting up some of the family in there for the wedding.

It should have been ready. At least good enough for sleeping. Now Howards there tells me the roof

won’t be in place.”

“Where are you living now?” says Klempner. “Can’t you put your guests in there?”

Ryan snorts. “Hardly.” He jerks a thumb at the battered trailer that he and Kirstie have been living in for All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

most of the year. “You can barely swing a cat in there, even with just the two of us.”

“How many guests are we talking about?” I ask. “All of them?”

“Um, no.” He scrapes a hand through his hair. “Most are booked into hotels in the City. But Kirstie’s got

family travelling from God-knows-where. There’s my family flying in from Ireland and some from Italy.

They’ve booked tickets. Paid for the flights. They’ll never get accommodation this close to the New

Year…”

“Ryan, stop flapping. How many?”

“Um…” He stares upward, counting fingers… “Sixteen… No, eighteen.”

“Just eighteen? The rest are all booked in elsewhere?”

“That’s right.”

“End of problem, then. At the end of the evening, they come up to our place and stay in the hotel.”

He stares at me. “I thought you said you were booked solid for Christmas and New Year?”

“In the restaurant, yes. But not the hotel. That’s closed down for the period…” Relief washes over his

face… “… If you recall, we’re all supposed to be helping out at the wedding of some friends of ours.”

Ryan closes his eyes for a moment, letting out a long breath. The flush cools from his face.” “Michael,

thank you. I don’t know…”

“I’m not going to have the staff to go running after them, but if they’re happy to make their own beds

and shift for themselves, then they’re more than welcome. Let me have the details. The names. Who

shares with who. If anyone needs a family room, a cot or whatever else. I’ll make sure the stuff’s there

for them. Now… Are there any more emergencies to deal with before you help me ‘n Larry here lug

your tree inside?”

*****

Klempner whistles through his teeth as we unlash the tree. Ryan wears his accustomed casual smile

again. “I’m hoping we can get it up before Kirstie gets back from work.”

The foreman stands a little distance away. “Can I help you with that?”

Ryan’s reply is cool. “No thank you, Mr Howards. I wouldn’t dream of putting you to any more trouble.”

Klempner meets my eye, cocking a brow, but doesn’t speak.

It takes the three of us to winch the tree into position, but once in place, it looks great. Now the

centrepiece of the hall, well over twenty feet tall, it stands beside a huge arched window, overlooking

the river.

Given its size, it needs mounting safely. Between us, we drill out the bottom of the trunk, bolt it to a

wide plywood stand and screw in some posts to brace the tree to the base. But in the end, properly

upright, it looks good. Bricks and concrete blocks stacked over the base stabilise it nicely.

Klempner gives it an experimental shove, then another, harder this time. The top, towering above us,

quivers. Fine lower branches rattle, shedding the odd needle. But the tree’s not going anywhere.

“So, there’s your Christmas tree,” I say. “Once the branches have dropped back into position, it’ll look

great. I’ll tell Mitch and Charlotte it’s up. They’re itching to have another tree to decorate. It’s like a

production line back home with them churning out Christmas decorations.”

I stand back to admire our handiwork. “I know you’re having problems, Ryan. But I’ve got to hand it to

you. Seeing it now, it’s hard to recognise this room for the old industrial site you bought.

“The window was originally a loading bay entrance…”

“Yes, I remember. Served the barges I imagine, when water was the way to transport heavy goods.”

“That’s right. Now it gives us a view over the river itself. And in better weather, we’ll dine outside on the

terrace.” Ryan’s usual self-assurance shines through. “Thanks so much, Michael. It’ll really cheer up

Kirstie. With everything that’s been happening, she’s been a bit blue. And you too, Larry. Thank you.”

Klempner is strolling around the great open space, Ryan and Kirstie’s dining hall, gazing upwards and

around. “You’re welcome, Ryan. If it gets you and Kirstie off to a good start, I’m happy to help.” His tone

is completely sincere and, in a way I’ve not seen before, quite charming.

Well, there’s a thing…

He thinks of them as friends…

Then he swipes irritably at his hands. “Bloody resin over everything.”

And now he’s back to normal…

Rubbing palms and fingers against his jacket, Klempner continues, “What was that about stolen

equipment?”

Ryan stuffs hands in his pockets, examines his feet. “Would you believe we had a break-in? They cut

through the fencing at the side and took a stack of the power tools and other equipment. Materials too.”

“You can claim on the insurance presumably?” I say. “You’re covered?”

He shrugs. “Well, yes, but it takes time doing that. And to get the replacements. And meantime there’s

men standing by with their hands in their pockets. And… not all of the stuff taken was mine. Some of it

belonged to the builders and… quite a bit was equipment Richard let me borrow.”

Klempner sucks at his teeth. “Got a list of what was stolen?”

“Sure, I had to put that together for the police and the insurance. Why?”

“Let me have a look.”

It only takes Ryan a minute to find his list, a single sheet of paper. Klempner reads it, pulling at his chin.

“Classic petty-thief stuff. The kind of thing they can sell cheap on the side to the types who don’t ask

questions.” Producing his mobile from a pocket, he holds up the sheet. There’s a brief flash and a click.

He turns it over, snaps the reverse side and returns the list to its owner.

Ryan surveys the tall, sombre man. “What’s on your mind, Larry?”

“I’ll ask around for you. See what I can find out.”

Ryan cocks a brow. “Something that the police can’t learn?”

Klempner displays his teeth. “The police can’t ask in all the places I can.”