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Again it took a long time to get an update but it was well worth the wait. It's so nice to be able to read an update and recall so many characters that you so enjoyed reading about. Thanks I really appreciate it.

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  • 2 months later...

Your wish is my command!

 

Sunday afternoon tea in the garden is one of those delightful English customs that I had learned to treasure.  It was the one day in the week when I could be sure of reconnecting with my family, and since it was also Imelda's day off I could have them all to myself.  

Recently things had got even better; Peter had been posted to Fleet Headquarters at Northwood, and that meant that he and Juliet were no more than a few miles away, and could join us.  They brought ten-year-old Sally along, of course, which made excellent company for my eight-year-old twins Katherine and Elizabeth, and allowed the adults to have some conversation.  Matt and Peter disappeared off to the garage where Matt was eternally restoring an ancient sports car.

There was much to talk about.  My shift from being a supermodel to being the principal of a model agency had gone very smoothly; Julian had done all the real work and I had taken over most of poor Marguerite's role, hopefully without developing those virago traits that had been her trademark. Regular office hours meant that I had more time for the family. The change of name from Marguerite's to my family name of "Grace" had also helped to ease the atmosphere.  At the same time Peter had been quietly informed that his next posting would allow him to hoist his pennant as a Commodore and had opened the road to eventual flag rank.

There was much family news to discuss as well.  Juliet told me with quiet pride that Sally was now officially dry, after having been so for a month, while Vickie's daughter Caroline was still in nappies at night, but dry most mornings.  I congratulated the bashful, smiling Sally, whose gentle nature and quiet elegance made me quite envious. I could only report that Katherine has had a dry night this week, and Elizabeth had had two.  Juliet nodded and wished me the best of luck with them.  The twins didn't look quite so pleased.  They were in pull-ups, not so much to avoid an accident on the lawn as to make their guest feel at home, and now here she was in pants while they still wore the stigma of babyhood.

Time was certainly moving on.  At Gran's funeral last spring the children's pew had been a line of well-padded bottoms, now there was a sign at least that the curse of the family was coming to its end - for this generation at least.  I thought of Gran;  I often did because I missed her wisdom.  I had bemoaned the fact that Sally was so gentle and obedient while my twins were like tiger cats.  Her reply shook me; "Well, they do take after you, my dear!"  I gathered my wits to protest, but then she went on, "Juliet has always taken after the Tarr side, as has Sally: gentle, cautious, responsible, trustworthy," - and as dull as ditchwater I thought - "while you and Holly and the twins are plainly Sinclairs; better suited to the deck of a pirate ship".  I swallowed that politely.  It may have been right. When being interviewed by an insufferably arrogant BBC presenter the previous month I had had a sudden temptation to fire a full broadside at her and follow up with a cutlass charge.  Black Jack Sinclair's blood still ran in my veins, and I began to see my daughters differently; their indefatigable rebelliousness and general insouciance was a strength.  A bloody nuisance at times, but a strength nonetheless.

Juliet had brought a holdall with her, but had given no indication of what it contained. Now, as she pulled back the zip, all was revealed; a mass of terry towelling.  "Sally won't be needing these any more." she said, "So I thought of you... and the girls."
I gave her my number three smile.  "That's so kind, but my girls..."  I didn't get the rest of it out.  Amongst my daughters' feline characteristics was a great curiosity.
"What are they Mum?" came a chorus.  Gradually a plan took shape.  I was not above a little leg-pull with my children.
"Don't you know?" I replied, "Come and look!".  I pulled one of the nappies out of the bag and unfolded it.  It was huge and square, and in remarkably good condition.
The twins gazed on open-mouthed. "They're nappies.  The old traditional kind.  Don't you remember them?  You wore them from time to time when you were small."  It went down like a pork pie at a bar-mitzvah.

Kate plucked up her courage and reached out a hand to touch the soft terry towelling, rubbed it gently between her fingers and muttered: "Weird!"
Liz protested that it was the wrong shape.  I told her that it was folded before being put on.  Her eyebrows posed a question, and so I kite-folded it on the lawn.  "Your bottom goes here!" I indicated, "and the sides come round and are fastened with safety pins..  
Liz recoiled.  "It's still a funny shape!" she protested, although she was familiar with the idea of washable nappies, having often worn the PUL kind whenever I could get a housemaid prepared to wash them.
"But they hold a lot" I said, "Much more than the others, and there were never any leaks because the baby ...oops! plastic....pants seal more effectively around the legs".
I looked into the bag again.  I could always rely on Juliet to think of things.  There they were.  Several pairs of plain pants in various colours, and another pair, covered, with frills.  I could hardly believe it; I thought they went out of fashion years ago.  I pulled them out and laid them on top of the folded nappy. The girls leaned forward, gazing at them intently.  Then Kate reached out and touched a finger inside the leg hole.  She felt for moment, and drew back sharply.  For a moment I saw the headline "Baby Pants Bite Child!" and my smile must have given something away.  Both recoiled with expressions of loathing.
  
I was quite enjoying the game, when Juliet butted in.  "Sally used to wear them when dressing up" she said, "She always looked so cute in them, under a little short dress. .  The frills just showed at the bottom, and so people could see that she was safely nappied, and could be trusted on the sofa or the lap. Very girly, very cute."
"Daddy liked them," Sally contributed, "He liked me to sit on his lap while he told me a story."  Yes, I thought, Peter loved to dandle me on his knee when I was nappied.  It got a bit much when I was older, but with all that padding in between us it was acceptable.  Rather nice in fact.  I knew, from our play sessions, how Matt would react; he had always been turned on by me wearing a nappy and frilly pants.

The twins were obviously not convinced.  They drew closer together for mutual protection.  "Are they for us?" came a worried query.
"Could be." I replied, carefully being non-committal, "I wouldn't normally let you wear them because they are a bit too good for you.  They are quite expensive."  That touched a nerve.  The girls were very clothes-conscious, as might be expected of the daughters of a fashion icon. "And besides, Matt might not approve." Not much, I thought, as I remembered the effect it had on Matt when I had worn such pants.  "He thinks frills are much too grown-up for you."  That tickled other nerves.  They were always being told that things were too grown-up for them, and it was like a red rag to a bull.

I noticed Liz's hand creep towards the leg of her pull-up.  Perhaps I had overdone the frightening bit, but it gave me an idea.
"Liz, come here, Darling." I took her hand and drew her to me.  I lifted the back of her skirt and the evidence was plain to see; her pull-up had done its best and was starting to leak down her legs.  "Oh Dear!  How Sad! Never Mind! Soon have you fixed!" Before she could protest I had her dress up and the pull-up down to her ankles so she couldn't run away. 

I couldn't blame her; I had suggested that she wear a pull-up so Sally wouldn't be humiliated; I had expected Sally to be wearing some protection as it was the custom when visiting each other's houses.  I didn't know that Sally had been pronounced dry so recently, and I hadn't nagged the girls to go to the toilet regularly during the afternoon - it was Sunday, after all, and we all wanted some rest.  I had just let them play, and if an accident happened, well, it happened; the pull-ups were "free ones" in the custom of the family and there would be no blame or retribution if they were used, the child was considered to have a baby's licence to wet without penalty.

Juliet passed me some baby wipes - true to form, she had put everything in the changing bag - and came and knelt opposite me while I wiped my reluctant daughter down.  After we removed the sodden pull-up by tearing it down the sides Juliet reached behind Liz for the nappy we had just folded and gave me a wink.  I hadn't nappied a child standing since - I don't know when.  Reaching back I could remember it being done to me by Peter and Juliet, when I had been in one of my fractious moods (most of the time, in fact) and I knew how it was performed. Liz, obviously, did not. She just stood there while I finished wiping her, then without hesitation, Juliet passed the front of the nappy between her legs where I took hold of the corner, and, with our hands on the corners, we lifted it up between Liz's legs and brought the corners together on each side of her waist.  Liz was too surprised to protest until Sally passed the safety pins, but by then it was too late; Liz was snugly wrapped in the soft towelling and could only stagger while she tried to retain her balance by putting her hands on our shoulders.  With the pins locked down we were almost there, and Sally, now fully turned Quisling, completed her transition to the other side of the nappy pin by scrunching up the pants and pushing them against Liz's shins, uttering the magic words "Dressing up!"  Liz instinctively took a step forward into the pants and Sally swiftly pulled them up her legs to her waist, where Juliet and I tucked in any stray bits of nappy, and made sure the leg elastics were pushed well up.   It all took only a few moments, and a surprised child waddled away.  She made a brief attempt to push the nappy down, as I had been expecting, but stopped when I uttered a sharp "No!",  and gave up trying to remove it - years of discipline was paying off - so she pulled the hem of her dress down to cover as much of the  bulging pants as possible. She almost succeeded, but there was still a pillow visible between her legs, and a line of lace at the back.  She looked incredibly cute, and Juliet and I praised her, while she even gained the appreciation of Sally who told her how lovely she looked. Red-faced, disbelieving, and close to crying, she looked from one of us to the other and in desperate appeal to her sister, who was keeping a safe distance from the proceedings.

Bang on cue, Matt and Peter emerged from the garage still talking cars.   Liz waddled towards Matt uttering an urgent appeal to the higher court.  Matt wasn't even listening as he picked her up and gave her a big hug, patted her on the bottom and laughed. "Wherever did you get these from?" he asked, "They're so pretty!"  I explained that Liz had had a little accident and it was easier than going back to the house to change her.

Held in her father's arms, and holding him around his neck Liz began to look less unhappy.  She wound her legs around his waist, inadvertently revealing a second row of lace, and buried her embarrassment in his shoulder.  She knew her man, and was beginning to play the situation up.  Kate looked on with a calculating look.  They competed assiduously for Matt's affection, and it was apparent that Liz had played a blinder.

Juliet and I exchanged winks. I was still shaking with suppressed laughter when I went back to the holdall to zip it up.  Kate walked over quite slowly, and stood there carefully shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her fingers had curled up inside the hem of her skirt and were playing with the leg elastics of her pull-on. I followed her gaze, and saw that Liz was now sitting in her father's lap, gazing up at his face with big round eyes while he was talking to her.  She had plainly stolen pole position.

"Mum," said Kate quietly, "Are there any more of those frilly ones in there?"

 

 

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Such a pleasure to be reading more of this story. This was ine of the first stories I read here and one responsible for having me returning daily. After all this time nothing has grown old either, it's still pleasant to slip into their lives for a few moments.

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  • 2 weeks later...
50 minutes ago, freswith said:

Vickie had a lonely time then, not able to have much social life without revealing her embarrassing problem, and was to some extent cloistered and pressurised by her over-ambitious parents.

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Having looked at raw word documents it appears that all the corrections and editing is done as an appendix, which gets bigger and bigger with each correction.

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Sibling Rivalry

Sunday afternoon tea in the garden is one of those delightful English customs that I had learned to treasure. It was the one day in the week when I could be sure of reconnecting with my family, and since it was also Imelda's day off I could have them all to myself.  

Recently things had got even better; Peter had been posted to Fleet Headquarters at Northwood, and that meant that he and Juliet were no more than a few miles away, and could join us.  They brought ten-year-old Sally along, of course, which made excellent company for my eight-year-old twins Katherine and Elizabeth, and allowed the adults to have some conversation.  Matt and Peter disappeared off to the garage where Matt was eternally restoring an ancient sports car.

There was much to talk about.  My shift from being a supermodel to being the principal of a model agency had gone very smoothly; Julian had done all the real work and I had taken over most of poor Marguerite's role, hopefully without developing those virago traits that had been her trademark. Regular office hours meant that I had more time for the family. The change of name from Marguerite's to my family name of "Grace" had also helped to ease the atmosphere.  At the same time Peter had been quietly informed that his next posting would allow him to hoist his pennant as a Commodore and had opened the road to eventual flag rank.

There was much family news to discuss as well.  Juliet told me with quiet pride that Sally was now officially dry, after having been so for a month, while Vickie's daughter Caroline was still in nappies at night, but dry most mornings.  I congratulated the bashful, smiling Sally, whose gentle nature and quiet elegance made me quite envious. I could only report that Katherine has had a dry night this week, and Elizabeth had had two.  Juliet nodded and wished me the best of luck with them.  The twins didn't look quite so pleased.  They were in pull-ups, not so much to avoid an accident on the lawn as to make their guest feel at home, and now here she was in pants while they still wore the stigma of babyhood.

Time was certainly moving on.  At Gran's funeral last spring the children's pew had been a line of well-padded bottoms, now there was a sign at least that the curse of the family was coming to its end - for this generation at least.  I thought of Gran;  I often did because I missed her wisdom.  I had bemoaned the fact that Sally was so gentle and obedient while my twins were like tiger cats.  Her reply shook me; "Well, they do take after you, my dear!"  I gathered my wits to protest, but then she went on, "Juliet has always taken after the Tarr side, as has Sally: gentle, cautious, responsible, trustworthy," - and as dull as ditchwater I thought - "while you and Holly and the twins are plainly Sinclairs; better suited to the deck of a pirate ship".  I swallowed that politely.  It may have been right. When being interviewed by an insufferably arrogant BBC presenter the previous month I had had a sudden temptation to fire a full broadside at her and follow up with a cutlass charge.  Black Jack Sinclair's blood still ran in my veins, and I began to see my daughters differently; their indefatigable rebelliousness and general insouciance was a strength.  A bloody nuisance at times, but a strength nonetheless.

Juliet had brought a holdall with her, but had given no indication of what it contained. Now, as she pulled back the zip, all was revealed; a mass of terry towelling.  "Sally won't be needing these any more." she said, "So I thought of you... and the girls."
I gave her my number three smile.  "That's so kind, but my girls..."  I didn't get the rest of it out.  Amongst my daughters' feline characteristics was a great curiosity.
"What are they Mum?" came a chorus.  Gradually a plan took shape.  I was not above a little leg-pull with my children.
"Don't you know?" I replied, "Come and look!".  I pulled one of the nappies out of the bag and unfolded it.  It was huge and square, and in remarkably good condition.
The twins gazed on open-mouthed. "They're nappies.  The old traditional kind.  Don't you remember them?  You wore them from time to time when you were small."  It went down like a pork pie at a bar-mitzvah.

Kate plucked up her courage and reached out a hand to touch the soft terry towelling, rubbed it gently between her fingers and muttered: "Weird!"
Liz protested that it was the wrong shape.  I told her that it was folded before being put on.  Her eyebrows posed a question, and so I kite-folded it on the lawn.  "Your bottom goes here!" I indicated, "and the sides come round and are fastened with safety pins..  
Liz recoiled.  "It's still a funny shape!" she protested, although she was familiar with the idea of washable nappies, having often worn the PUL kind whenever I could get a housemaid prepared to wash them.
"But they hold a lot" I said, "Much more than the others, and there were never any leaks because the baby ...oops! plastic....pants seal more effectively around the legs".
I looked into the bag again.  I could always rely on Juliet to think of things.  There they were.  Several pairs of plain pants in various colours, and another pair, covered, with frills.  I could hardly believe it; I thought they went out of fashion years ago.  I pulled them out and laid them on top of the folded nappy. The girls leaned forward, gazing at them intently.  Then Kate reached out and touched a finger inside the leg hole.  She felt for moment, and drew back sharply.  For a moment I saw the headline "Baby Pants Bite Child!" and my smile must have given something away.  Both recoiled with expressions of loathing.
  
I was quite enjoying the game, when Juliet butted in.  "Sally used to wear them when dressing up" she said, "She always looked so cute in them, under a little short dress. .  The frills just showed at the bottom, and so people could see that she was safely nappied, and could be trusted on the sofa or the lap. Very girly, very cute."
"Daddy liked them," Sally contributed, "He liked me to sit on his lap while he told me a story."  Yes, I thought, Peter loved to dandle me on his knee when I was nappied.  It got a bit much when I was older, but with all that padding in between us it was acceptable.  Rather nice in fact.  I knew, from our play sessions, how Matt would react; he had always been turned on by me wearing a nappy and frilly pants.

The twins were obviously not convinced.  They drew closer together for mutual protection.  "Are they for us?" came a worried query.
"Could be." I replied, carefully being non-committal, "I wouldn't normally let you wear them because they are a bit too good for you.  They are quite expensive."  That touched a nerve.  The girls were very clothes-conscious, as might be expected of the daughters of a fashion icon. "And besides, Matt might not approve." Not much, I thought, as I remembered the effect it had on Matt when I had worn such pants.  "He thinks frills are much too grown-up for you."  That tickled other nerves.  They were always being told that things were too grown-up for them, and it was like a red rag to a bull.

I noticed Liz's hand creep towards the leg of her pull-up.  Perhaps I had overdone the frightening bit, but it gave me an idea.
"Liz, come here, Darling." I took her hand and drew her to me.  I lifted the back of her skirt and the evidence was plain to see; her pull-up had done its best and was starting to leak down her legs.  "Oh Dear!  How Sad! Never Mind! Soon have you fixed!" Before she could protest I had her dress up and the pull-up down to her ankles so she couldn't run away. 

I couldn't blame her; I had suggested that she wear a pull-up so Sally wouldn't be humiliated; I had expected Sally to be wearing some protection as it was the custom when visiting each other's houses.  I didn't know that Sally had been pronounced dry so recently, and I hadn't nagged the girls to go to the toilet regularly during the afternoon - it was Sunday, after all, and we all wanted some rest.  I had just let them play, and if an accident happened, well, it happened; the pull-ups were "free ones" in the custom of the family and there would be no blame or retribution if they were used, the child was considered to have a baby's licence to wet without penalty.

Juliet passed me some baby wipes - true to form, she had put everything in the changing bag - and came and knelt opposite me while I wiped my reluctant daughter down.  After we removed the sodden pull-up by tearing it down the sides Juliet reached behind Liz for the nappy we had just folded and gave me a wink.  I hadn't nappied a child standing since - I don't know when.  Reaching back I could remember it being done to me by Peter and Juliet, when I had been in one of my fractious moods (most of the time, in fact) and I knew how it was performed. Liz, obviously, did not. She just stood there while I finished wiping her, then without hesitation, Juliet passed the front of the nappy between her legs where I took hold of the corner, and, with our hands on the corners, we lifted it up between Liz's legs and brought the corners together on each side of her waist.  Liz was too surprised to protest until Sally passed the safety pins, but by then it was too late; Liz was snugly wrapped in the soft towelling and could only stagger while she tried to retain her balance by putting her hands on our shoulders.  With the pins locked down we were almost there, and Sally, now fully turned Quisling, completed her transition to the other side of the nappy pin by scrunching up the pants and pushing them against Liz's shins, uttering the magic words "Dressing up!"  Liz instinctively took a step forward into the pants and Sally swiftly pulled them up her legs to her waist, where Juliet and I tucked in any stray bits of nappy, and made sure the leg elastics were pushed well up.   It all took only a few moments, and a surprised child waddled away.  She made a brief attempt to push the nappy down, as I had been expecting, but stopped when I uttered a sharp "No!",  and gave up trying to remove it - years of discipline was paying off - so she pulled the hem of her dress down to cover as much of the  bulging pants as possible. She almost succeeded, but there was still a pillow visible between her legs, and a line of lace at the back.  She looked incredibly cute, and Juliet and I praised her, while she even gained the appreciation of Sally who told her how lovely she looked. Red-faced, disbelieving, and close to crying, she looked from one of us to the other and in desperate appeal to her sister, who was keeping a safe distance from the proceedings.

Bang on cue, Matt and Peter emerged from the garage still talking cars.   Liz waddled towards Matt uttering an urgent appeal to the higher court.  Matt wasn't even listening as he picked her up and gave her a big hug, patted her on the bottom and laughed. "Wherever did you get these from?" he asked, "They're so pretty!"  I explained that Liz had had a little accident and it was easier than going back to the house to change her.

Held in her father's arms, and holding him around his neck Liz began to look less unhappy.  She wound her legs around his waist, inadvertently revealing a second row of lace, and buried her embarrassment in his shoulder.  She knew her man, and was beginning to play the situation up.  Kate looked on with a calculating look.  They competed assiduously for Matt's affection, and it was apparent that Liz had played a blinder.

Juliet and I exchanged winks. I was still shaking with suppressed laughter when I went back to the holdall to zip it up.  Kate walked over quite slowly, and stood there carefully shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her fingers had curled up inside the hem of her skirt and were playing with the leg elastics of her pull-on. I followed her gaze, and saw that Liz was now sitting in her father's lap, gazing up at his face with big round eyes while he was talking to her.  She had plainly stolen pole position.

"Mum," said Kate quietly, "Are there any more of those frilly ones in there?"

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LOL what a little sibling rivalry can do. Very pleased to see the story continued again. I also missed the cloth nappies and frilly plastic pants. As often as I changed my own children's cloth diapers I have never attempted to do with them standing up I have little doubt that would have resulted in a disaster. The diaper would have either fallen off them or I would have stuck one with a pin. More than likely both. Thanks for keeping this coming.

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Freswith, I'm curious - are you a published author? If not, why not? In all seriousness, this is one of the better works of fiction I've read in some time. I jumped here from page 5 to offer my compliments on this family saga you've written. Now it's time to go back and read some more....

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22 hours ago, vvp39 said:

Freswith, I'm curious - are you a published author? If not, why not? In all seriousness, this is one of the better works of fiction I've read in some time. I jumped here from page 5 to offer my compliments on this family saga you've written. Now it's time to go back and read some more....

Thank you, no I have never been published. I just create the characters, think of a situation, and the characters write the story themselves.

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