Phone Conversation

[freswith]

My apologies for my absence; I caught the "system tool" virus and have had to have a system rebuild in order to make sure I was rid of it; that and some other work have kept me off line for the last few weeks. It is not really sensible to access DD from the machines in the library. However, good or ill, I'm back now. I haven't been idle in the meantime and there are three more episodes written. I'll post the first just as soon as I've given it another proof-read.

Thank you for your kind comments and feedback; it seems treating Vickie as a grown-up is more popular, and Juliabam can go stick her acid comments where she won't feel them.

[freswith]

Beware of the Greeks Bearing Gifts.

The news was dreadful. Mum and Dad were coming down to Juliet's barbeque, and they were then going to take me back home with them. All my plans were going down the chute. Worse still, Dad said he had found me a "work experience" job in a life insurance office amongst the living dead. It paid very little, but "it would be wonderful experience" for me. Unfortunately I'd got other ideas about getting a wonderful experience, and they involved staying down here with Simon. It was only another fortnight before he would get his flat, and everything would become possible.

I confided in Juliet while we were down cleaning out her parent's holiday cottage, as they were expected to bring Granpa and Gran down with them to stay for a few days over the barbeque weekend. Juliet said she was doing the best she could to get a promotion for Peter; I understood it was a very important one, and would keep him ashore at Culdrose for a year or two, and so all the top people on the station had been invited to the barbeque. Granpa was being deployed as he had once been the Captain's commanding officer, and had been instrumental in bringing on his career, and it was time to call in a favour or three. Even Uncle Percy was sailing his yacht down the coast and hoped to be within reach of the party. I had sudden visions of Uncle Percy in ermine robes at the helm of a yacht in a strong wind, his full-bottomed wig flying free. Now Mum and Dad as well. All it needed was Amelia to make the entire set, but she was keeping a very low profile after all the fuss at the nightclub.

Juliet said that she would be delighted if I could stay a bit longer, but there wasn't much she could do. It wouldn't be a good idea telling my parents that I wished to extend my stay so that I could lose my cherry in an agreeable manner. I could imagine what Mum would say, and I told Juliet. Her reply astonished me. "Better tell Gran, then."

"She'd go through the roof!"

"Don't you believe it. Gran's seen the whole world, and is much more broad-minded than you'd ever believe."

"I daren't!" I replied, "She'd have my locked up in a chastity belt and shipped off to a nunnery as soon as look at me! Screwing a sailor! Even if he's an officer!"

"Well, it's exactly what she did." said Juliet, unimpressed, "And the two of them made damn sure I got well and truly screwed by Peter..."

"Peter's different!"

"He was only a midshipman then, and I was even less. Gran and Granpa practically threw me into bed with him, even though my own mother had reservations. The fact that Simon's in the Navy will make all the difference as far as they're concerned. Granpa's never got over Percy taking up the law instead of the Navy, and breaking such a long tradition. He'd love another navy man in the family."

"It's not as though I'm going to marry Simon; he's lovely, but I've got Cambridge to go to and all that. It'll be years before I'll be able to get married. I couldn't expect him to wait."

"I waited for Peter. Peter waited for me." she said simply.

My mind was in turmoil. Things were developing faster than I could keep up with them. I hadn't even seen Simon as a potential husband; such things were way over the horizon for me, but now Juliet had mentioned it I could see the idea had a certain attraction, but it must be Cambridge first! Dad had lived a dozen years with just that in mind, and I couldn't bear to disappoint him. I needed to chill out and think about all this.

I gave my mind to the task in hand, making up the beds, with Juliet at one end and myself at the other. I thought of poor Holly, whose dry run had ended last night with a flooded nappy and a bit of a leak, so there had been a bed to change already this morning, and a very depressed child to comfort. All the old nostrums were wearing very thin; she had heard them so often, and they all promised a dry future, but not just yet. It would be back to square one and nappies again tonight as always. I felt so sorry for her as she wistfully contemplated the five successive dry nights on her calendar, and got no response when I pointed out that last night was just a one-off. We both knew it wasn't. She'd just set a personal record by being dry for five nights, but alas, she'd also just broken it. An alarm bell jangled in my mind. I could discuss almost everything with Simon now, such was the confidence we had built with each other, but this was one subject that was still absolutely taboo. It was not so much what would happen if Simon found out about Holly's problem, but what he would feel if he discovered the problem ran in the family. That would surely turn him off me as well.

The morning of the barbeque dawned fine, although you could never trust the weather in Cornwall - it could change completely in an hour. Simon came over early to help set up the bar, and I was trying to find a chance to talk to him quietly when Uncle Percy called, and I was delegated to take Juliet's car and fetch him and his family from where they had moored in Helford Passage. It wasn't far, but we had to wait for a while for the children. The muffled sounds of the old familiar row could be heard emanating from the yacht's hatchway, as Percy and I waited by the car with a rather bemused small boy. Haldane was not yet three and couldn't understand what the fuss was about; he wore nappies anyway, and simply assumed other children did so too. Viola, the eldest obviously held different views from her mother on the subject, but Claire was going to make quite sure that the party wasn't going to be ruined by either Viola or Alice having an accident. A final paroxysm of raised voices was followed by an auspicious silence, until a red-faced Viola emerged and stomped ashore, followed by a calmer looking Alice and a still rather frazzled Claire. I examined Viola's rear with a practised eye, and murmured in her ear not to worry, as there was nothing to see, which was true, although I knew from experience that, whatever I said, she would remain painfully aware that she was wearing a pull-up and of the indignity it implied. Alice, as usual, made no comment, but was obviously content to let her elder sister do all the protesting for her.

After a careful drive through the narrow Cornish lanes in a fairly laden car I delivered my charges at Juliet's house and went looking for Simon. I found him sitting on the bench in the back garden deep in conversation with Juliet. I felt a small pang of irritation, as I had missed the opportunity I had been trying to find to have a quiet, meaningful chat with him myself and tell him my awkward news in my own way. It was just not to be, as my arrival was followed by that of Gran and Granpa with Juliet's parents, Bill and Pat, and the hubbub started to build. I had only enough time to introduce Simon and note Granpa's rapid and thorough perusal of him before other guests started to arrive. Simon was promptly called to man the bar, and I went with him to help serving drinks to the rapid accretion of worthy guests. As the peak of the flood passed, I was angling to get him away on his own for a couple of minutes when my parents turned up at just the strategic moment, bearing an envelope as though it contained the crown jewels. I didn't need to ask what it was, it could only be one thing; my exam results. I had almost forgotten about them, and I tore open the envelope with shaking hands. There was a moment of terrible silence, as though the whole room was waiting for me as I read the results, and then I exhaled with relief; I had made a clean sweep of the exams. I had never doubted I would, except in those quiet moments in the small hours when I would wake sweating from the nightmare of having failed the lot. Cambridge was in the bag! I turned to Simon, and gave him a wild hug and passionate kiss, before I remembered that my parents were standing beside me agog to know the results. I put them out of their misery, and then realised that it was not quite enough, so, rather belatedly, I introduced Simon. Dad was obviously very pleased to meet him, but my mother's eyes seemed to narrow slightly; I realised I might have a bit of a problem there.

The news had spread like ripples though the party, and people I had never met before congratulated me. I tried to work my way back to Simon, but kept being drawn into conversations with all and sundry. Just as I reached him there was a general shift of interest, and peering over his shoulder I saw Amelia stalking down the pathway looking a million dollars and wearing almost nothing at all, but wearing it with a style and confidence I knew I could never achieve. I tugged at Simon's elbow, three times before I could break the spell she had woven, and told him that I wanted to speak with him, but I might as well have been speaking to a wall for all the reaction I got.

When Simon finally peeled his eyes away from the vision of beauty in front of him I manoeuvred him into a quiet corner, and told him the dreadful news about my parents condemning me to a lingering death in a life-insurance office, starting Monday at Nine. He replied that Juliet had already told him about it, and I wasn't to worry, as other plans were being laid. I was tempted to answer that it wasn't plans that needed to be laid - it was ME, but that seemed much too forward. He begged me to be patient and insisted that everything would work out. I remained unconvinced. Everything had been going so well, all I needed was a little bit more time down here to, er... clinch things, but instead I was being dragged back to home and childhood. Behind his shoulder I could see Amelia approaching and I knew I only had a few seconds before she would cut in and I would have to introduce Simon to her. I knew the moment I had fought for would pass, perhaps forever, but then Simon leant forward and whispered in my ear that he knew of a very nice country hotel up in Dorset where we could get together for weekend. I accepted with unthinking alacrity and failed to realise for several seconds that I had now crossed the moral Rubicon. He kissed me, I suspect in order to seal the deal and to deny me any chance to have second thoughts and back out, even though that was the last thing on my mind. I kissed him back with an almost desperate passion, not perhaps, as he would have thought, out of a surge of desire, but mostly to stamp my rights of ownership upon him in the face of the looming Amelia.

As Amelia joined us so did another figure appear beside her, blotting out the sun. A tall, russet-haired, raw-boned man, he put an arm around her waist, pulling her gently towards him. She made no resistance, but instead she moulded herself against him, and it was obvious they were an item. I relaxed a little, and introduced Simon and she in turn introduced me to Matt. It appeared that this was the "big, big man" who had carried Amelia away from Pembroke a fortnight ago and vanished into the countryside with her, just ahead of the paparazzi. She had been in hiding in his Devon cottage for most of the time, but now, hoping the news story had now gone cold, she had emerged to rejoin society.

As we were talking I noticed Holly come out of the house looking like she had lost a pound and found sixpence. It didn't take a Sherlock Holmes to deduce the reason, as she discretely adjusted the fit of her clothes. I had failed in my duty of looking after the little ones and the result had been an accident, so she had suffered the indignity of being pulled upstairs for a change. I reminded Simon that he was neglecting his duties and sent him to fetch drinks for Matt and Amelia then I made the excuse that I had to see Holly for a moment. As I went over I met Juliet coming out of the house behind Holly, and my muttered apology was brushed off with a smile. By the time I had turned back to Amelia she had been shanghaied by her mother, who was obviously demanding an explanation of her recent disappearance. I decided not to get involved in that one, and made what amends I could by extracting young Hal from the charcoal bags yet again and trying to clean him up a little. I had really wanted to have a word with Gran and Grandad, but the party was now winding down, and mindful of the tradition that no-one could leave until the senior officer had left, they they had already made their departure so others could go. Tomorrow would have to do. I went back to Simon. I wanted a few more details about this hotel in Dorset, and I had to think up an excuse for going away for the weekend. It would have to be a very good one to satisfy my suspicious mother.

[jbz2079]

Up to the usual high standard-Thanks.

[babykeiff]

The frog does it again. Another chapter just as captivating as the last. It seems to me that a lot has happened in this chapter, that could have been expanded into two or even three chapters. Is the pressure getting to you? We will wait, as this story is well worth the wait, however painful it seems to some to wait. To quote Arthur, good things come to those who wait, and you can't rush perfection.

[freswith]

Many thanks for your compliments. I could - and do - expand the prose up to a point, but it's a compromise between that and keeping the momentum going. Never mind, here is another chapter, and poor Vickie will have to wait just a little longer - two more chapters - before she manages to achieve her ambition. Hopefully I will be able to give all my readers a happy Christmas!

[freswith]

Many thanks for your compliments. I could - and do - expand the prose up to a point, but it's a compromise between that and keeping the momentum going. Never mind, here is another chapter, and poor Vickie will have to wait just a little longer - two more chapters - before she manages to achieve her ambition. Hopefully I will be able to give all my readers a happy Christmas!

[freswith]

Spike

The following morning I went out early, and found that Matt and Amelia had spent the night in their camper van because every other bed was full of family. How he ever fitted his huge frame into that little bunk was beyond me; he was at least six foot four and Amelia was five-ten if you ever saw her without high heels. For once Amelia was looking more ravished than ravishing, but only just. Matt was indoors in the bathroom, and I sat in the van doorway beside Amelia to catch up on her news. I was a bit worried about Simon, who couldn't take his eyes off her at yesterday's barbecue, and I wanted to put my mind at rest. I needn't have worried. Amelia said Simon was a really handsome boy, but she and Matt went way back, and she needed him at that moment and was hoping they would stay together in the long term. I was frightened about raising the subject of her late paramour, but she volunteered the whole story. If I'd sold that to the papers I'd have made enough to retire on, but of course Amelia is Family and that kind of betrayal was unthinkable.

She told me Spike had been a lively character to say the least. He had huge talent, but was terribly unstable, and would be tender and romantic at one moment but screaming and violent at another. She'd hoped that she could do something to stabilise him and release the full potential of his talent, but his response was to reject her, and not come back to her until he'd straightened himself out with yet another fix. He had arms and legs like pincushions, and had to be heavily made up to conceal the damage when on stage. They had found all the media coverage to be an advantage, and had used the system ruthlessly to the benefit of both their careers.

The more she tried to help him, the wilder he became. It all came to a head in the night-club, when he had retired to the toilets for an unusually long time. He often shot up in there, but it only took ten minutes, and after about a quarter of an hour she began to notice that people were distancing themselves from her, and some private joke seemed to be passing among them. Then one of her friends had whispered in her ear. Spike was indeed in the toilets, but for once he wasn't shooting up. He was having sex. With a boy.

Mustering her dignity she had picked up her bag and started to head for the door when she came face to face with Spike and a very young man coming out of the toilets. His face had said it all, and there was a terrible hush in the club. Spike's guilty look was replaced with an insouciant grin, and he scoffed at her, told her to mind her own business; he would do whatever he liked. Amelia said that she actually felt her hackles rising in rage across the nape of her neck and shoulders, and she was taken back to the school playground when the bullies had confronted her. She measured the distance, clenched her fist tightly, put her shoulder behind it and punched him as hard as she possibly could. Taken completely by surprise, he went clean over backwards, and hit his head an awful crack on the pillar behind. She didn't stop to see the result, but stormed out of the club and took a taxi back to her flat, where she dropped the latch on the door.

The following morning the story was in all the papers, complete with old photos of her and Spike leaving various nightclubs and parties looking utterly wasted, and the report that Spike was still unconscious in hospital. There was, mercifully, no report about the reason for the fight, but it was only a matter of time. The Press, ever fickle, had switched from its normal position of leering at her to one of demonising her and presenting the two of them as being violent drug-soaked drunkards. Worst of all it was the start of the Silly Season, and they were short of other news, so the story had legs. Then the doorbell started to ring, and the doorstep was filled with anoraks carrying cameras. She didn't dare to answer the phone, but listened in as the machine recorded message after message from gossip columnists demanding she return their calls to "clear matters up". Eventually she couldn't stand any more and, having thrown a few things in a bag, she pushed through the mass of pressmen at her door, leapt into her car, and drove up the street followed by a number of motorcycles and scooters. She didn't manage to shake them off until she negotiated a roundabout at a crazy speed on a wet road, and looked in her mirror to see a tangle of motorbikes spinning across the greasy surface. She kept on going at quite illegal speeds until she reached her parents' home, and, fearing that refuge might be too easy to discover and on Gran's advice, she finally went to earth with Percy and Claire in the family's fortress of Pembroke.

"I felt so terribly alone, so frightened." she said, "I felt couldn't trust any of my friends, I'd lost my lover, probably killed him, and for all I knew the police were after me; they love to be able to boast they've nicked a celebrity. I didn't even dare go near the windows in case someone looked in and recognised me, and I knew that Percy couldn't harbour a fugitive from justice. I went into the nursery, where I had always felt so safe as a child, and curled up in the corner like a naughty little girl. I don't know how long I stayed there when I heard Matt's voice speaking to me. I thought I was dreaming at first, but he picked me up, held me in his arms and stroked me, and something inside me snapped and I just cried and cried. I couldn't let him go."

"Matt listened to me, and comforted me, and eventually calmed me down so that I could think almost straight. Then I nearly died from embarrassment. In my anguish I had tried to regress. I'd borrowed one of Viola's night-nappies and put it on as a comforter, and Matt had obviously seen it, but he made no comment. He's a doctor now, and has probably seen worse, and he knew my background. He just patted me on the backside, and said I should get changed, and then he would take me away to somewhere I would be safe and the press and the police would never find me. It sounded marvellous, and I changed in front of him without even feeling embarrassed; I suppose it's something doctors have, but anyway, it wasn't the first time I'd been naked with him. There's something about love that makes children of us all, isn't there?"

I disagreed, but kept my counsel to myself. To me my relationship with Simon was the way I intended to escape childhood, not to revel in it. I'd just had so much of it thrust upon me, right up to the end of my exams, like a leaden yoke about my neck. I wanted to cast it off and walk free. I thought of poor Holly, condemned to wake each morning not just with the leaden yoke of childhood about her neck but also the sodden nappy of infancy about her loins. How she must wish for even the smallest sign of progress! I felt a new affinity with her, but there was so little I could do to help.

Amelia continued: "I've been tucked away in the middle of Devon for two weeks - it's incredible how remote that place is. As long as I dressed down or wore a wig they didn't recognise me, or at least they were too polite to do so. These last few days we've been pottering along the surfing beaches where I can pass as just another surfer chick, but yesterday I plucked up my courage and phoned Spike. He's better now, and terribly sorry about what he did, but there's just no feeling there any more. At least he won't press charges, as long as I keep quiet about his gay encounter, so I'm clear on that front, which is why I was able to resurface yesterday. I've got a shoot booked on Tuesday, so I really had to." She paused for a moment. "I hear you've been having a bit of a time, too. What happened?"

I told her my story. It seemed pale by comparison with hers, but she listened agog as I told her about Darren and his mischief. It was easier now, as the pain had finished and the memory was dwindling.

"Oh God!! she said, "It was just that kind of police interview I was dreading! Even if you are as innocent as an angel they have a way of making you feel guilty! Thank God you weren't in the car when they stopped him!" I wriggled uncomfortably, and wanted to change the subject. Just then Juliet appeared from the kitchen door and dumped a large squelching package into the dustbin. It was a ritual on most mornings. I asked Amelia why she had put a nappy on when she wanted to chill out; I could half-appreciate what she did, but wanted clarification.

"I do it sometimes." she replied, "When life gets a bit too stressful. Like a security blanket, or a teddy bear. It gets me back to my little-girl days when I had no worries and nobody expected anything from me. I can relax and recharge, and feel loved and cosseted. It's different from sex - mostly - but I think I got them a bit confused when I was small. I had a dreadful crush on Peter then, and even managed to get him to change me. I loved those big strong hands on me! Sometimes I would even wet myself deliberately during the day in the hope he would change me. I think he actually liked doing it, he certainly never objected, and it was the only hold a ten-year-old girl could exert on him against the attractions my big sister could offer. Unfortunately Juliet eventually rumbled it and stopped him. Such a pity! It's Matt's big strong hands that are part of his attraction for me. That, and his big strong everything-else - he's very good in bed! He also knows about my little habit and indulges it, in fact he meets all my needs." she gave a wry smile, "He is, you might say, a General Practitioner!" I cringed politely. She went on: "How's Simon?"

I felt the blush burn its way up my face, and I bit my lip. Amelia remained silent for a moment, and then said softly; "Sorry, I'm a bit premature, am I?" I just nodded. "Don't keep him waiting forever. There are plenty more fish in the sea for him. Is there a problem?"

I shook my head. "Just the lack of an opportunity. And Mum. She's all over me - as always - and is insisting on taking me back to Bristol to be under her wing again. There's not much I can do once I'm back there - it's back to childhood for me too, but hopefully without the nappies. I'd love to stay down here - Simon's got a dirty weekend planned for us, " - the phrase suddenly slipped out without my realising it - "but if Mum gets wind of it, she's bound to scupper it. It seems my Big Love will peter out into a holiday flirtation, and I'll end up like the Lady of Shalott in a tower block in Bristol." I stopped. My voice was breaking and I had felt the tears welling behind my eyes; I knew if I went on I would cry.

It was Amelia's turn to be silent for a moment. Then she swallowed. "Does he really mean that much to you?" - I nodded. - "You haven't had a man before?" - I shook my head. - "And you are sure he's the one?" I nodded vigorously. "Then something had better be done!"

Just then, bang on cue, Matt appeared from the house, hair still wet and a towel round his neck. We reverted instantly to two-silly-girls mode, chattering about something inconsequential. Some things are just too important to talk about when men are around.

That afternoon, after we had finished clearing up the last mortal remains of the barbecue, including empty glasses from the window boxes, Gran and Granpa came round, and spent some time in the suntrap at the bottom of the garden talking seriously to a slightly subdued Amelia. The rest of us kept well away as the Board of Inquiry reached its findings, but Amelia reappeared looking more cheerful, evidently with her sword unbroken. The next Board convened almost immediately as I was detailed to take the tea tray down to them. I checked that my clothing was clean and respectable, straightened my back, and carried the tray down the garden. After a brief inspection I was invited to sit; but I was not invited to bring any defence counsel.

Gran opened by congratulating me on my exam results and my securing of a place at Cambridge, and asked me if I was looking forward to it. I hope my reply sounded convincing to her, as I heard my own voice ring hollow. It was a whole year away, and I wanted to do other things during that year. Granpa was looking down at his tea, his eyes obscured by the brim of his Panama hat, slowly and methodically stirring his tea. Then Gran started to ask the real questions, about Darren and the affair with the police. Detailed questions, not as probing as the police had asked, but then Gran obviously knew me much better and could draw more inferences from my answers. She came to the crunch: "Do you still care for him?"

I looked her straight in the eyes. "Nothing. Nothing at all. I hope he rots in prison for the way he treated me!" Gran matched my stare, and out of the corner of my eye I could see that Granpa had stopped stirring his tea and was watching me closely.

"Very well." said Gran eventually, "We'll let it all pass. Worse things happen at sea."

I relaxed. I, too, could retain my sword. Then she asked "And how about Simon? He seems a nice fellow." I felt on safe ground again and waxed forth about Simon's virtues. Gran listened to me, nodding gently, and then asked if I hoped we would go on seeing each other after my holiday. I replied that I hoped so, we were already planning some dates. Gran smiled. "It's a long way for him to come from here to Bristol, isn't it?" My shoulders fell. It was. Too far for an evening's date, and the possibility that Simon would be allowed to stay in my room was out of the question. I wouldn't even dare to propose that he stayed in the guest room. I told Gran it looked like this evening's date with him might really be our farewell one. Gran looked at me carefully, her lips pursed, nodding gently. The thought of losing Simon was hurting me and I wanted to change the subject, so I mentioned that the policeman had said that he had once served under Granpa in the Navy, and spoke well of him.

"Name?" said Granpa. His blue eyes were now locked on to me like a warship's guns reaching for their target.

"Er... Collins...I think. Hang on, I've still got his card in my address book." I got it out and showed him. "Paul Collins. Detective Sergeant."

Granpa took the card and studied it carefully, then nodded, took out his wallet and placed the card inside. "I'll borrow this for a while if I may." was all he said. I could hardly refuse. Juliet's arrival with more hot water for the tea effectively closed the inquiry.

When Simon came that evening there was an air of sadness in the house. Everyone had realised that this was likely to be our last date; of course, we were keeping our plans for next weekend very secret indeed. Both Peter and Juliet were particularly friendly towards him and even Holly came down to greet him in her dressing gown. She seemed to be most affected by our leaving and I realised that Simon had meant something to her as well. Instead of half-hiding behind the back of an armchair, as was her wont, she came up close to where he was sitting on the end of the sofa. I listened carefully for any giveaway rustling, for it had reached that stage of her daily ritual, but I wasn't prepared for Simon reaching out a friendly arm and sweeping it around below Holly's waist, and she wasn't quick enough to evade it. He drew her close, and it must have been obvious that her rear was well padded, but he showed no reaction at all. As quickly as I could I took his other hand to distract him, and after giving Holly a perfunctory kiss, he released her and the danger of discovery had passed. Holly then kissed him back, smiled, blushed, then overcome by her own temerity she turned and ran back to her bedroom with her backside wobbling. I suspected it was the first time she had ever kissed a man who wasn't a relative.

Simon took me to the Coldstreamer in Gulval, much further than before, but once again the food was excellent. During the meal he passed me a brochure about the hotel in Dorset, which showed some splendid suites, and after a cursory examination in the dim lights of the restaurant I tucked it in my handbag for a closer perusal later. Our route homeward led us through Marazion, and we stopped for a while on the seafront opposite St Michael's Mount, but there was no moon that night and only the floodlights illuminated the Mount. We didn't dare to try and cross the causeway in those conditions, but instead strolled along the front. I wanted to make every minute I had with Simon to last as long as possible, as I was by no means certain that I would be able to get away next weekend, and besides, it was six whole days away, and I hadn't ever had such a long separation from him - not in the whole fortnight I'd known him.

[alex 04]

nice update hope for a new chapter before i will have no net for a few weeks

[dyperaby]

I've been reading this serial novel since it's first installment over 2 years ago, and look forward to each and every one that continue this story of young women. Please keep it going as long as possible. It is very enjoyable.

[freswith]

Thank you for that!

I've got one and a half chapters written out of a probable six more planned for Vickie. After that, I don't know. It will probably bring the total up to nearly 200,000 words which is the equivalent of about three ordinary novels.

I am not sue if I will be able to take it much further. I will have to wait for inspiration.

[freswith]

Pincher

Sunday dawned bright and sunny, except for the black cloud that seemed to hover over me. I had been slow in packing my bag for the journey home because I didn't want to bring my departure one moment closer. Eventually Mum came up the stairs to see what the problem was. I hurriedly packed my new underwear in the case beneath a sweater so she wouldn't see them. They had, so far, been largely a waste of money, but next weekend might prove different providing, that is, I could think of a watertight excuse to make myself absent. I just wasn't confident I could do that. It was vital that Mum didn't have any cause to suspect my real plans. She bustled into the room complaining I was holding everybody up and we had to get away. I closed the lid on my case, and made a quick visual sweep of the room to see if I'd left anything. Only my shoulder bag lay open on the bed with the hotel brochure clearly visible. And Mum in between us, also making a sweep of the room. Any moment now and her eyes would see the bag, and the brochure, and being Mum, the questions would start, and not stop until every last bit of truth had been racked out of me. I had to do something very quickly, and in a moment of inspiration I dropped my case onto the floor, and it broke open. Mum muttered angrily and bent down to retrieve the tumble of clothing, and taking advantage of the distraction I grabbed my bag, and slung it over my shoulder. Unfortunately Mum had seen my sexy underwear and snorted her disapproval, remarking about the waste of money on fripperies. Presumably if it had been a pair of blue stockings and a textbook she would have approved. I replied that I didn't see why a grown woman such as myself should have to wear big cotton pants with little red roses printed on them, of the kind that she insisted on buying me. I grabbed the bra and knickers and stuffed them in my shoulder bag; I wasn't having them getting lost in the wash in the way I could see Mum arranging. She was drawing breath for a comprehensive response when Holly came into the room, and she realised this was not a subject to be discussed in front of a child.

Duly repacked, we made for the stairs. In passing Holly's room I noted a nappy hanging over the end of the bed to air; she had obviously managed another dry night. We exchanged winks on the strength of it. Holly's initial caution about me had been transformed into full confidence by now, and we realised that we were very much on the same side in such matters. I was now the truculent child on the receiving end of parental disapproval, and Holly was commiserating.

The whole family had assembled out on the driveway to see us off. All except Simon, who was on duty today. Unfortunately Simon was the one face I wanted to see as Mum drove me out towards the family car, like Joan of Arc being marched to the stake. I dawdled as long as I could making my goodbyes, while Mum waited impatiently. Dad was pacing the lawn, talking into his mobile phone and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, a sure sign that he was getting a bit agitated. With my suitcase in the back of the car I was just saying goodbye to Amelia when he rang off and walked stiffly across the lawn. His face said trouble, and his voice confirmed it; he looked very worried indeed. "That was the detective fellow, Collins or whatever his name was. There have been developments. Apparently some of this Darren chap's gang have got the idea that it was Vickie who informed the police about the drugs and they're looking for her with evil intent. He said a great deal of cash has gone missing as well. I told him it couldn't be Vickie as she had been down here in Cornwall all this time and he agreed with me, but apparently it is very difficult for him - a policeman - to tell them that Vickie isn't his informer."

Mum blew her top. She must have been practising, as she did it very well. "We can't let Vickie go back into all that! They might do anything to her! They're evil people!" and carried on in the same vein for what seemed like ten minutes. Dad was never good at quick decisions - it's not a talent mathematicians need very often - and he just stood there with his mouth moving slightly as his mind worked through all the possible permutations.

He appeared to be just about to reach an answer when Juliet said, very simply, "Well, she'd better stay down here with us, then, until all the dust dies down."

Granpa cleared his throat. "Seems like the only course of action! Did Pincher say how long he expected it all to go on for?"

"He couldn't give us any more information, except to say that their enquiries are ongoing and he expected to make some arrests in due course."

"That could be any time." said Aunty Pat.

"Can't let Vickie get hurt!" said Peter.

"Well, well, well!" said Amelia helpfully, "Looks like you're on the run again, Vickie."

"We can't impose her on Peter and Juliet indefinitely." said Mum.

"She's no imposition." replied Juliet, "She's a great help with the children. I'd love her to stay longer"

"She could spend some time with Pat and me." said Uncle Bill, and then stopped suddenly as he was caught in a ferocious glare of disapproval from Amelia, who was standing behind Mum.

Aunt Pat quickly jumped in. "That sounds like the best thing, Juliet, perhaps she might even find a little job down here to help pay her way?"

Dad nodded. Mum was still evidently in shock. Gran spoke for the first time, giving her considered opinion. "Obviously Vickie's safety is the first concern. I'm awfully sorry about your job in the life insurance office, dear, it sounded so exciting and worthwhile, but I'm sure there must be an opening for a clever girl around here, where those dreadful people would never dream of looking for you." Against Gran's judgement even Percy could never appeal, and so Mum had no choice but to nod her speechless assent. Granpa simply grunted his endorsement, and the matter was settled.

I concealed my disappointment with the most splendid stoicism until their car had turned the corner out of sight. I even waved my handkerchief in the time-honoured way. It wasn't until I turned round and saw Juliet and Amelia collapsing over each other in uncontrollable laughter that I realised I wasn't holding my handkerchief. In my delight and confusion I had waved my saucy knickers at my parents as they left.

Douglas Adams wrote that civilisation goes through three stages: "Shall we eat?", "What shall we eat?" and "Where shall we have lunch?". It was Granpa who offered to treat us all to lunch in the local pub. I had called Simon with the glad news almost as soon as I could dial his number, and having completed his duties he came over hot-foot to join us. In his delight he ordered a bottle of champagne, and as that didn't go very far amongst the ten of us, Matt ordered another, and as they were drained in turn they were replaced by Peter and Bill. The landlord was delighted; he didn't normally sell four bottles of bubbly in a month. I could hardly class myself as an experienced champagne drinker as it always went straight to my head, and it wasn't terribly clear what we were celebrating, but Granpa seemed to be very pleased about something, and no one felt like asking what it might be. Simon and I just wanted to celebrate my escaping from mum's control and the modern nunnery she had planned for me at Bristol Life. It wasn't until the fourth bottle was about to give up its life in a noble cause that Amelia got around to asking Granpa who "Pincher" was.

"Who?" replied Granpa, rather vaguely.

"The Detective. You called him Pincher."

"Did I really? How careless of me."

"His name's Paul." I interrupted, my voice seeming a little muffled, "Defective - Oops! - Detective Sergeant Paul Collins."

"There was a "Pincher" Collins once," Aunt Pat came in, "He was your coxswain wasn't he? Always in trouble but no-one could ever quite pin it on him. You used to talk about him and his escapades."

"I'd be astonished if he took a job on the right side of the law!" said Gran.

Granpa wiped his lips with his napkin. "True, true," he said, "I must have got them confused. Old Age! Creeping on!" and he poured the remains of the champagne into Pat's glass. Pat didn't react, but kept a level gaze on the discomfited old man for several seconds.

I lay back into Simon's arm and digested the little conversation through a pleasant haze of champagne. I hoped Simon had realised the kind of family he was dealing with, as even if he thought of treating me badly, he would realise I was under the protection of Granpa's even longer arm.

I had a long chat with Amelia that afternoon, in fact Matt was visibly getting impatient outside; he wanted to get back to Devon as he was on duty at the surgery in the morning, but Amelia judged this to be more important. We discussed love and sex and how painful it might be the first time. Amelia's verdict was that the pain was brief and worth it; after all it had been judged to be so by all our mothers back to the year dot, and I shouldn't be too worried about that. She gave me some very practical tips on how to handle Simon and examined the hotel brochure with a gleeful chuckle.

"Four poster beds! I hope he's booked one of those! It'll give him something to tie your wrists and ankles to if you get fractious!"

"I hope he's not into that! I certainly don't intend to get fractious! And, besides, he's a gentleman! I'm sure of that!"

"A Gentleman? I hope not too much of a gentleman, or you'll never get anywhere! Anyway, it's something you can tie him to if he gets too fractious. You've got the whole weekend to work on him, anyway."

"I'm hoping for a tender, loving relationship. Nothing like that!"

"Well, that'll do for Friday night, but what about Saturday night? - and Sunday morning, of course!"

"Sunday morning? You don't mean we should miss Church?" I was determined to give as good as I got, and play her up.

"No, of course not, but doing it in church during the service might cause real trouble. You'd have to put lots of money in the plate to keep the vicar happy - and then there's the verger, too!"

"I'm not doing it with him. Just Simon!"

"That's my girl!"

I worried about what the chambermaid might think, but Amelia just laughed. "That's what these hotels are for!" she said, "It's the best part of their business. You can guarantee the staff in a properly run hotel will be the very soul of discretion. It's hardly Fawlty Towers, after all. You let them mind their own business; you'll find they're good at it. After all, Simon is paying them, not them paying him."

I felt much easier after having talked my worries down to size with Amelia, and wished her and Matt a reluctant farewell as their Volkswagen camper spluttered down the road. I knew that there was nothing between me and my target, and next weekend would see the fruition of my plans.

[freswith]

Pincher

Sunday dawned bright and sunny, except for the black cloud that seemed to hover over me. I had been slow in packing my bag for the journey home because I didn't want to bring my departure one moment closer. Eventually Mum came up the stairs to see what the problem was. I hurriedly packed my new underwear in the case beneath a sweater so she wouldn't see them. They had, so far, been largely a waste of money, but next weekend might prove different providing, that is, I could think of a watertight excuse to make myself absent. I just wasn't confident I could do that. It was vital that Mum didn't have any cause to suspect my real plans. She bustled into the room complaining I was holding everybody up and we had to get away. I closed the lid on my case, and made a quick visual sweep of the room to see if I'd left anything. Only my shoulder bag lay open on the bed with the hotel brochure clearly visible. And Mum in between us, also making a sweep of the room. Any moment now and her eyes would see the bag, and the brochure, and being Mum, the questions would start, and not stop until every last bit of truth had been racked out of me. I had to do something very quickly, and in a moment of inspiration I dropped my case onto the floor, and it broke open. Mum muttered angrily and bent down to retrieve the tumble of clothing, and taking advantage of the distraction I grabbed my bag, and slung it over my shoulder. Unfortunately Mum had seen my sexy underwear and snorted her disapproval, remarking about the waste of money on fripperies. Presumably if it had been a pair of blue stockings and a textbook she would have approved. I replied that I didn't see why a grown woman such as myself should have to wear big cotton pants with little red roses printed on them, of the kind that she insisted on buying me. I grabbed the bra and knickers and stuffed them in my shoulder bag; I wasn't having them getting lost in the wash in the way I could see Mum arranging. She was drawing breath for a comprehensive response when Holly came into the room, and she realised this was not a subject to be discussed in front of a child.

Duly repacked, we made for the stairs. In passing Holly's room I noted a nappy hanging over the end of the bed to air; she had obviously managed another dry night. We exchanged winks on the strength of it. Holly's initial caution about me had been transformed into full confidence by now, and we realised that we were very much on the same side in such matters. I was now the truculent child on the receiving end of parental disapproval, and Holly was commiserating.

The whole family had assembled out on the driveway to see us off. All except Simon, who was on duty today. Unfortunately Simon was the one face I wanted to see as Mum drove me out towards the family car, like Joan of Arc being marched to the stake. I dawdled as long as I could making my goodbyes, while Mum waited impatiently. Dad was pacing the lawn, talking into his mobile phone and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, a sure sign that he was getting a bit agitated. With my suitcase in the back of the car I was just saying goodbye to Amelia when he rang off and walked stiffly across the lawn. His face said trouble, and his voice confirmed it; he looked very worried indeed. "That was the detective fellow, Collins or whatever his name was. There have been developments. Apparently some of this Darren chap's gang have got the idea that it was Vickie who informed the police about the drugs and they're looking for her with evil intent. He said a great deal of cash has gone missing as well. I told him it couldn't be Vickie as she had been down here in Cornwall all this time and he agreed with me, but apparently it is very difficult for him - a policeman - to tell them that Vickie isn't his informer."

Mum blew her top. She must have been practising, as she did it very well. "We can't let Vickie go back into all that! They might do anything to her! They're evil people!" and carried on in the same vein for what seemed like ten minutes. Dad was never good at quick decisions - it's not a talent mathematicians need very often - and he just stood there with his mouth moving slightly as his mind worked through all the possible permutations.

He appeared to be just about to reach an answer when Juliet said, very simply, "Well, she'd better stay down here with us, then, until all the dust dies down."

Granpa cleared his throat. "Seems like the only course of action! Did Pincher say how long he expected it all to go on for?"

"He couldn't give us any more information, except to say that their enquiries are ongoing and he expected to make some arrests in due course."

"That could be any time." said Aunty Pat.

"Can't let Vickie get hurt!" said Peter.

"Well, well, well!" said Amelia helpfully, "Looks like you're on the run again, Vickie."

"We can't impose her on Peter and Juliet indefinitely." said Mum.

"She's no imposition." replied Juliet, "She's a great help with the children. I'd love her to stay longer"

"She could spend some time with Pat and me." said Uncle Bill, and then stopped suddenly as he was caught in a ferocious glare of disapproval from Amelia, who was standing behind Mum.

Aunt Pat quickly jumped in. "That sounds like the best thing, Juliet, perhaps she might even find a little job down here to help pay her way?"

Dad nodded. Mum was still evidently in shock. Gran spoke for the first time, giving her considered opinion. "Obviously Vickie's safety is the first concern. I'm awfully sorry about your job in the life insurance office, dear, it sounded so exciting and worthwhile, but I'm sure there must be an opening for a clever girl around here, where those dreadful people would never dream of looking for you." Against Gran's judgement even Percy could never appeal, and so Mum had no choice but to nod her speechless assent. Granpa simply grunted his endorsement, and the matter was settled.

I concealed my disappointment with the most splendid stoicism until their car had turned the corner out of sight. I even waved my handkerchief in the time-honoured way. It wasn't until I turned round and saw Juliet and Amelia collapsing over each other in uncontrollable laughter that I realised I wasn't holding my handkerchief. In my delight and confusion I had waved my saucy knickers at my parents as they left.

Douglas Adams wrote that civilisation goes through three stages: "Shall we eat?", "What shall we eat?" and "Where shall we have lunch?". It was Granpa who offered to treat us all to lunch in the local pub. I had called Simon with the glad news almost as soon as I could dial his number, and having completed his duties he came over hot-foot to join us. In his delight he ordered a bottle of champagne, and as that didn't go very far amongst the ten of us, Matt ordered another, and as they were drained in turn they were replaced by Peter and Bill. The landlord was delighted; he didn't normally sell four bottles of bubbly in a month. I could hardly class myself as an experienced champagne drinker as it always went straight to my head, and it wasn't terribly clear what we were celebrating, but Granpa seemed to be very pleased about something, and no one felt like asking what it might be. Simon and I just wanted to celebrate my escaping from mum's control and the modern nunnery she had planned for me at Bristol Life. It wasn't until the fourth bottle was about to give up its life in a noble cause that Amelia got around to asking Granpa who "Pincher" was.

"Who?" replied Granpa, rather vaguely.

"The Detective. You called him Pincher."

"Did I really? How careless of me."

"His name's Paul." I interrupted, my voice seeming a little muffled, "Defective - Oops! - Detective Sergeant Paul Collins."

"There was a "Pincher" Collins once," Aunt Pat came in, "He was your coxswain wasn't he? Always in trouble but no-one could ever quite pin it on him. You used to talk about him and his escapades."

"I'd be astonished if he took a job on the right side of the law!" said Gran.

Granpa wiped his lips with his napkin. "True, true," he said, "I must have got them confused. Old Age! Creeping on!" and he poured the remains of the champagne into Pat's glass. Pat didn't react, but kept a level gaze on the discomfited old man for several seconds.

I lay back into Simon's arm and digested the little conversation through a pleasant haze of champagne. I hoped Simon had realised the kind of family he was dealing with, as even if he thought of treating me badly, he would realise I was under the protection of Granpa's even longer arm.

I had a long chat with Amelia that afternoon, in fact Matt was visibly getting impatient outside; he wanted to get back to Devon as he was on duty at the surgery in the morning, but Amelia judged this to be more important. We discussed love and sex and how painful it might be the first time. Amelia's verdict was that the pain was brief and worth it; after all it had been judged to be so by all our mothers back to the year dot, and I shouldn't be too worried about that. She gave me some very practical tips on how to handle Simon and examined the hotel brochure with a gleeful chuckle.

"Four poster beds! I hope he's booked one of those! It'll give him something to tie your wrists and ankles to if you get fractious!"

"I hope he's not into that! I certainly don't intend to get fractious! And, besides, he's a gentleman! I'm sure of that!"

"A Gentleman? I hope not too much of a gentleman, or you'll never get anywhere! Anyway, it's something you can tie him to if he gets too fractious. You've got the whole weekend to work on him, anyway."

"I'm hoping for a tender, loving relationship. Nothing like that!"

"Well, that'll do for Friday night, but what about Saturday night? - and Sunday morning, of course!"

"Sunday morning? You don't mean we should miss Church?" I was determined to give as good as I got, and play her up.

"No, of course not, but doing it in church during the service might cause real trouble. You'd have to put lots of money in the plate to keep the vicar happy - and then there's the verger, too!"

"I'm not doing it with him. Just Simon!"

"That's my girl!"

I worried about what the chambermaid might think, but Amelia just laughed. "That's what these hotels are for!" she said, "It's the best part of their business. You can guarantee the staff in a properly run hotel will be the very soul of discretion. It's hardly Fawlty Towers, after all. You let them mind their own business; you'll find they're good at it. After all, Simon is paying them, not them paying him."

I felt much easier after having talked my worries down to size with Amelia, and wished her and Matt a reluctant farewell as their Volkswagen camper spluttered down the road. I knew that there was nothing between me and my target, and next weekend would see the fruition of my plans.

[alex 04]

thanks for the update before i left for home

[freswith]

Thank you Alex, I'll try and get Vickie into bed with Simon in the next episode - probably on Wednesday. It's just rather difficult working in the diaper angle!

[freswith]

Dorset

It was a long drive, and even though Simon had got off duty a little early, and we had passed through the rush hour while on the motorway, it was still nearly seven by the time we'd arrived at the hotel in a little village in the middle of nowhere. Simon drove fast, and his sports car was powerful, but I didn't feel alarmed as he was an excellent driver. My own experience of driving had been rather limited, and fetching Percy's family had been about the most daring thing I'd done. I wondered how long it would be before I got a chance to drive Simon's car.

I'd told Juliet where I was going for the weekend, and her sole reaction had been to raise one eyebrow as she continued to fluff out Holly's nappy. She couldn't really say much more, as at that moment Holly had emerged from the bathroom in her dressing gown with her damp hair spread over the shoulders. Juliet spread the nappy on the bed, and turned to Holly, undoing the cord of her dressing gown and sliding it off her shoulders. She manoeuvred Holly and sat her down on the spread nappy for the necessary ritual.

"You're going to be very careful, aren't you? She had said to me as she anointed Holly, "We don't want an accident."

"I'll do my best." replied Holly, somewhat missing the thread of the conversation.

"Think of Cambridge!" Juliet went on, ignoring Holly's promise and continuing to wrap the child's loins in a swathe of rustling plastic. "Don't get too involved with him." She slapped the tapes down.

"Too involved with who?" said Holly.

"Never you mind. I was talking to Vickie." Juliet said, reaching for Holly's pyjama top.

"Don't worry! Amelia's briefed me about all that." I said as Holly's head appeared through the collar of her top. "And I suspect she's had a quiet word with Simon, too."

"She has." Juliet helped Holly to her feet. "Now go and kiss Daddy goodnight!" she said as she patted her on the rump, and drove her towards the door. Holly trotted out along the landing.

I felt a bit nonplussed. It was nice to have Juliet and Amelia on my side, but I didn't want to be served up to Simon like the Dish of the Day. This was my business. My escape from childhood; doing my own thing and all that, and I said so.

"Sorry!" she said, "But I want it to go well for you." And she gave me a brief hug before we followed Holly out of the room.

These and other memories passed through my mind as we crossed the Tamar into the softer landscapes of Devon, and ultimately into the lush countryside of Dorset. I thought of other long car journeys and suddenly I realised I could do with a bathroom break. It reminded me forcefully of the times I had made such journeys in what might be called a self-contained state, and I had always suspected it was more to do with Dad not having to stop the car than it was to avoid my having an accident on the back seat. It wasn't pressing, and I merely asked Simon how much further we had to go.

"Not far." he replied, which told me everything and nothing. At least we were turning into narrower roads, which suggested we were getting closer to our destination. The persistent niggle started to become an obsession, and I even began to think that a nappy would be quite a nice thing to have on just at that moment, when we arrived in a small village and turned into the car park beside an ancient stone-built pub. I tried to appear patient as Simon removed our cases - mind that plural; it gives us away! - but I made my excuses as soon we entered the cool of the building and slipped away to the toilets. Much relieved, I rejoined Simon at the reception desk.

Our room was splendid, exactly what I had dreamed of, with a big four-poster, an equally big bathroom complete with a tub, and a view of the countryside from the window - not that I planned to do much walking. I bounced on the bed to check it; yes, just the right amount of springiness. I felt carefully around the bottom sheet; yes, there was a mattress protector: in my family you never can be too careful of such things. I turned to face Simon.

He was putting a tie on.

"Dinner in ten minutes. Are you hungry?"

"Ravenous!" I replied and I was, but not necessarily for food. I straightened his tie. It was perfectly straight, but I straightened it anyway because I could.

We dined. In fact we dined very well. Not too much; I was careful. Long years of Mother's instructions about not swimming after having eaten a heavy meal in case you got cramp had had their effect, although I wasn't sure if that applied to having sex after eating as well. Champagne. He was doing me proud. I knew my limits now with champagne: two glasses, after which I started to lose it, so I had three.

The bedroom door closed behind us with a solid click. I turned round to face him once again, reached up, put my arms around his neck and drew his face down to me very slowly. His hands slid around my waist and behind my back, cradling me. I slipped my shoes off, but remained on tiptoe, hanging on his arms. Then he kissed me, then more and more and deeper and deeper. I slipped my hands back around his neck and pulled his tie undone, and one of his hands found the zipper at the back of my dress, and began to pull it down, inch by inch. I felt the cool of the evening air on my back as my dress loosened on my shoulders and my hands continued down his chest unbuttoning his shirt, trying not to hurry, but quietly enjoying every one, memorising every move, and exulting in my ownership and control of this great big man. I pushed his jacket back over his shoulders, and as his arms fell back, so did my dress began to slip down my arms. I made no attempt to stop it, but let it fall to the floor, where it joined his jacket. He undid his belt and dropped his trousers and then peeled his shirt off, before slipping his hands around my waist a second time and holding me close, bare skin against bare skin with a delicious friction. I felt as if every nerve in my body was alight. Simon released the clip on my bra and peeled it forward down my arms, and then he bent for a moment and flicked back the bedclothes. I looked down and saw that the lower sheet had been covered in a large white towel, and it was on this that I was deposited a few moments later, with Simon letting himself down beside me. Something felt awfully familiar and I instinctively lifted my bottom as he slipped my knickers down to my ankles, and I parted my legs in the way I had always been accustomed to do. There was a brief hiatus as the cool air hit me underneath where I was damp, and I half-expected a cloud of talcum powder followed by the front coming up between my legs, but instead I got Simon, his hands and lips seeming to be everywhere at once, in places where nobody else had touched me since I was out of nappies. I writhed on the soft towelling, even though I knew it was useless to wriggle as whatever was going to happen would happen just the same, only this time it wasn't Mother's hand holding me down, it was the size and weight of Simon's warm body.

When it came the pain was intense but quite brief, but even so I gasped desperately for breath and clutched at Simon, not to make him stop, but rather to draw him even closer into me. Somewhere between ecstasy and agony I felt him penetrate deeper and deeper into me until I felt he was passing completely through me, and wave after wave of fire was passing outwards from my loins to envelop the whole of my body until it swamped my very being.

I lay still and quiet for a long time afterwards, calming my rapid breath and busy heart, and letting the sweat cool on my body in the gentle night air. From somewhere the words of "Amoureuse" began to filter through my mind; "Reaching out I touch another's skin, breathing out as he is breathing in." I watched Simon's shoulders move softly as he slept, and I matched my breathing to his. I found it very hypnotic, and the song kept playing in my mind, "Deep inside I feel my soul's aflame, can my life ever be the same?" Yes my soul was still burning, and yes I hoped my life would change now. It was exactly what I'd wanted.

Little by little it began to nag me. I suppose it might have been the champagne, or the excitement, or just my supposedly undersized bladder, but I had to go. I slithered out of the bed as softly as I could and crept step by step across the thick pile carpet to the bathroom. Once inside, and having relieved myself - it stung a bit - I put the light on and surveyed the damage in the mirror. Not as bad as might be, but I climbed into the shower and cleaned up before turning off the light and carefully opening the door. Simon hadn't moved. As I approached the bed I saw the towel on which I'd been laying - laid! - much rucked up and with a nasty stain in the middle. I wasn't going to lie down on that, so I extracted it gently from underneath Simon, rolled it up and dropped it into the laundry basket. Then, out of some half-forgotten habit, I took a clean towel from the rail and spread it over the bed. The memory came back to me. I was effectively changing Simon.

I went to the window and drew back the curtains to let the moonlight flood in. I stood there for some time breathing the cool pure night air and looking at the silent garden before turning back to Simon. I caught sight of myself in the cheval glass in the corner, and saw the beam of moonlight outlining the curves of my body and passing through my pale hair, giving me the look of Greek statue. At that moment Simon turned over, saw me, and sat up. He held out his hand towards me, and I walked slowly to him along the path of the moonbeam, took his hand, and climbed into the bed beside him.

[jbz2079]

Bump! are we due an update? We have been very good, Honest.

[freswith]

OK, you have been very good! Update coming!

(and thanks for the "bump"!)

[freswith]

Getting in deeper.

The summer and autumn had been the best I could ever remember. I had found myself a job, against all the predictions, as a receptionist in a group medical practice. It was only after a week or so that I realised the tensions that existed between the senior partner, a lecherous old man, and the other managing partner who was a rather feminist woman. I suspected that I had been employed by the man because of my looks, and remained employed because the woman respected my brains and my Cambridge place. As long as I steered clear of the old man and kept in with the woman all would be well. I was covering for someone on maternity leave, so the short term of my employment suited all of us.

The other issue came to a head when Mum rang - thankfully on my mobile - to tell me that it was now safe to return to Bristol. It appeared that Darren's henchmen had finally realised what had happened. The police had photographed me with Darren in what might be described as potentially compromising situations. They had then shown the pictures to Darren's wife, and in a fit of pique she had shopped his whole operation to the police. She was now safely away on a witness protection program, together with Darren's missing money, and the penny had finally dropped with the gang. I was now out of the frame as far as they were concerned, and it was safe to go home. Then I took a deep breath and told her the truth; I had now been living with Simon in his new flat for some time and I intended to continue doing so. I loved Cornwall and I liked my job, but above all I loved Simon and intended to spend my gap year down here with him in Cornwall.

There was a long shocked silence at the other end while this sunk in. Then Mum began to ask questions, probing my position for weaknesses. Yes, I was all right for money as my job was - modestly - paid. Yes, Juliet knew and had approved. In fact Juliet had asked all the same questions, and so I had been able to develop the necessary answers. Yes I could manage with the clothing I had, but please could she send me down my winter coat and other clothing; I was intending to stay here come what may. Yes, I still planned to go up to Cambridge next year. That was axiomatic. Yes I was being very careful, and yes, we were using contraceptives, and yes, Simon was very gentle and considerate. And yes, I was very, very happy here.

Eventually she ran out of questions, and finished off by saying that, of course, she would have to tell Gran and Granpa. This had really been my biggest worry. I knew I could fight Mum, and even though I loved her, I realised that one of my unspoken aims for my gap year was to cut the apron strings, learn to stand up to her and live my own life. However Gran was another matter, and was notorious for quietly and diplomatically getting her own way in family matters. I was left in suspense for some days until Aunt Claire rang and invited both of us to Pembroke for Christmas. We could have the third bedroom. It was obvious the she had heard the news from Gran, and this was Gran's reply; The flag at the yardarm plainly said "Engage the Enemy More Closely!"; my relationship with Simon was officially recognised and approved, and we were an item. I clinched the matter by thanking her, but I'd have to agree it with Simon before accepting. I thought this sounded frightfully mature and grown up, but realised for the first time that it meant Simon now controlled me, at least in part, and similarly I controlled parts of him. Instead of feeling resentful, as it had when I was living at home, it gave me a warm secure feeling. I could break the control if I chose, or I could work to deepen our relationship. The latter was far more attractive.

As it happened I had agreed to go and sit for Peter and Juliet that evening while they went out to a function, and as usual Simon came along to keep me company, and also to be fed. My culinary skills were rather lacking, and Juliet knew far more than I did when it came to feeding a man. I was learning, but I hadn't realised quite how much went into planning a meal and getting it all on the table as needed. This wasn't a skill I had planned to acquire during my gap year, but now I was seeing the importance of it, and I was grateful for the meals that Juliet would prepare for us.

I arrived to find Holly and Jack in their day clothes; my familiarity with the children meant that Holly felt no longer felt embarrassed at having her evening rituals performed by the sitter, as long as it was me. It did, however, present me with a small problem; I had been very careful to keep Holly's secret from Simon, not just to protect Holly, but also to protect myself from any probing questions that Simon might be moved to ask. It would be bad enough to admit that Holly had a little problem which obliged her to wear nappies at night, but it would be ten times worse if he learnt that it ran in the family, that I had had the same problem until I was eight, and - the ghost of a thought began to manifest - that any children I might have with him could be similarly afflicted. I hadn't really given any conscious thought to having children of my own, it had always been a prospect somewhere well over the horizon of school and then university, but once sighted, like the thin column of smoke that presaged the arrival of a strange ship, the prospect had to be noted in the log and the necessary actions formulated. Following that ghost of a thought another slightly warmer vision appeared, of life with Simon in the long term, of a family of my own nestling in the green countryside of Cornwall, just like Peter and Juliet had. The idea seemed quite attractive, and began to jostle for room beside dreams of lying on the grass on the Cambridge backs, studying a textbook of - higher mathematics! Suddenly those dreams dimmed a little. Even the most intriguing equations and the most fascinating theorems seemed dry and uninteresting compared with the living, breathing Simon beside me now.

I installed Simon on the sofa with a beer in his hand and left him to "supervise" Holly - in fact Holly was supervising him - while I prised a reluctant Jack from his toys and shooed him up to bath and bed. He wasn't difficult as, possessing a fiery independence, he eschewed my offers of assistance and insisted on doing everything for himself. No problem, I just hoped that Holly would be as cooperative. I found her sitting on the sofa with Simon, trying to engage him in conversation, and Simon, with his usual good humour, consenting to be chatted up. It seemed I would now have to prise Holly from her new-found toy as well. I caught Holly's eye and gestured in the direction of bed. She smiled back, but ignored me. Simon, catching the drift, got up from the sofa and took his glass through to the kitchen, ostensibly to wash it up. This left Holly undefended, and so I went over and spoke quietly to her.

"Can I trust you to get your self to bed?" she nodded, and I continued "...and do everything that's necessary?" She looked me in the eye, and nodded slowly.

"If I do, can I stay down a bit longer?"

I considered this, and checked my watch. "OK, just a little bit, but then you've got to do it all yourself. We don't want Simon knowing, do we?" I didn't have to say what it was Simon was not supposed to know. Holly, already playing above her league in chatting up Simon, certainly wouldn't want to spoil it with the humiliation of having her secret revealed.

Simon returned and we sat on the sofa while Holly practised her very limited conversational skills. Quite quickly she ran out of repartee and I gestured towards her bedroom. No result. Smiling the smile of the assassin, I got to my feet and watched her shoulders slump. The game was up. She said goodnight to Simon, and went upstairs. I pointedly didn't follow - not yet, anyway, as I wanted her to have a chance to get herself to bed in proper order. I turned my attention back to Simon.

"Do you like kids?"

"Generally." he replied, "Jack is fine and Holly's cute, but I don't know how they behave when I'm not around."

"Much the same. Only Holly doesn't vamp everybody she meets. You are specially privileged!"

"Ah! So I've made some kind of conquest have I?"

"You might say that. At ten years old she's beginning to realise what it's all about."

"She's going to be a very pretty girl, one day, like you."

"Oh! I'm flattered!" I replied, fluttering my eyelids and looking coy, "and I never thought you'd even noticed!"

Simon chuckled and reached out for me. We didn't need to speak for a while, in fact it would have been quite difficult, but we did eventually come up for air. "Perhaps we'll have kids too, someday."

Yes, Simon, if we're still together after I've been to Cambridge, I thought. Lovely kids. A nice handsome little boy for Simon to father, and a pretty little girl for me to bring up and dress ...and change! And change again, year after year. Ten or a dozen years of it. Wet nappies, the stench of urine in the bedroom, the tears, the humiliation, the endlessly careful management of the poor child's morale, her miniscule self respect, self-harming, wretched arguments, the lot. How could I tell Simon about it? Could I pretend ignorance until the horrible truth was revealed? What had Mum done? When had she told Dad, and how? Had she left it until after the wedding, or after I was born, or after the umpteenth attempt at getting me dry at night had manifestly failed? I realised I'd never really bothered to ask her, until now when it had somehow become terribly relevant to my relationship with Simon.

In the meantime I had become aware of an iron getting colder and colder, and in desperate need of being struck. "Yes, Simon. I want lots of yours, but only after Cambridge. You'll just have to wait." and I tapped him on the nose. Suddenly I had visions of Cambridge in the winter, all grey skies and cold wind.

"Bugger Cambridge!" came his reply. The image was replaced with one of ranks of big strapping sailors bearing tubes of Vaseline and advancing with evil intent onto a huddle of pale and pimply students. The Navy had a certain way of doing things thoroughly. Then came another thought. Simon had had a steady girlfriend before me, and they had separated when he was given a tour of duty at sea. She might come back, or he might find another one, in the three years I would be at Cambridge. Simon was very handsome, had a steady job and a future, was quite well-paid, and highly eligible. I was a pretty little schoolgirl - well, student nearly, and it wasn't he who had to do the chasing. I would have my work cut out to hold him for that time and at that distance. I supposed it would be easy to find a man at Cambridge, and the familiar mental image of a Cambridge student swam into my mind, only somehow he had just acquired spectacles, protruding teeth, acne and a hollow chest. Without realising it I tightened my grip on Simon's broad back; after all, possession is nine points of the law.

It seemed to be a good moment, so I told Simon about Aunt Clare's invitation to spend Christmas at Pembroke, where most of the family would be massing. He paused before answering, and I added a rider that Peter and Juliet would be there - and of course, The Admiral and his lady would also be present. Peter's new job meant that he was Simon's commanding officer, and the potential for brown-nosing was obvious. He nodded, and mentioned that he normally went home to his parents' farm at Christmas, but he could probably delay it, as his brothers would still be there over the whole period. I suggested that we go there after spending Christmas Day at Pembroke, and it was all agreed. I realised that WE had made plans jointly - as opposed to just me making them, or having my parents make them for me, for the first time.

I remembered my charges, especially Holly, who should be safely in bed by now, and so I went to check on them. I climbed the stairs quietly and found Holly hastily climbing into bed as I entered. Not quite quickly enough, as her retreating posterior betrayed the lack of some essential padding. I gave a sigh, and pulled a fresh one from the cupboard.

"Now, Come On Holly!" I said as I fluffed it out. She stayed sitting there, obstinate refusal visible in every inch of her.

"Please, please can I try a night without one?" she replied, "I've been dry for the last five nights in a row!" I looked at the calendar. "D"s were indeed proliferating, but the thought struck me they were just so easy to add long after the event, and perhaps it would have been better to stick to the custom of marking wet nights with a "W", as it was less easy to fake. I sympathised with her, as I could still remember making such pleas myself. I could also remember how stonily they were received, and how unsuccessful they had been. Holly had a far more sympathetic judge now, or so I thought, than I had ever had when I was the plaintiff, but now I realised for the first time how dreadful it was to be on the other side of the negotiation. I really didn't have any choice. Although Juliet hadn't left me any specific instruction, the default rule was that Holly was still in nappies at night, and it was my duty to make sure she wore one. Duty was, alas, taken very seriously in our family.

"Sorry, Holly, I would love to say yes, but that has to be your mother's decision, not mine. I am sure she would have told me if you were out of nappies, and she hasn't. The nappies are still here, you are getting ready for bed, and that means you have to have your nappy on. Now come along." I put the nappy down on the foot of the bed and reached out for Holly.

Simon's voice came from the stairwell, asking if all was well. I replied that it was, and I would be down in five minutes. I was under time pressure, now, and I realised that this was probably Holly's strategy all along; she knew that our family curse was to be kept secret from Simon, and she had calculated that I wouldn't risk a bloody row and fight to get her nappy on if Simon was within earshot. I turned it to my advantage. "Quick, Quick, before he comes up here!" Holly hesitated a fraction of a second while she weighed the alternatives, and then climbed out of bed, pulled her pyjama bottoms down, and I guided her down onto the spread nappy. There was the sound of a leather-soled footfall on the stairs. I dispensed with the ointment and she lifted her backside as I centred the nappy, then without further ado I brought the front up between her legs, and frantically unstuck the tapes and slapped them closed. Not a perfect job by any means, but she had her legs back between the sheets and the bedclothes pulled up to her waist when Simon asked if he might enter, before, typical of an officer, he came in anyway. I smiled, and Holly sat up, bold as brass, vamping Simon coyly, and Simon, poor fool, went over and kissed her goodnight. He must have seen it. Looking down her back he must have seen it. He told Holly to settle down and go to sleep like a good girl, and like a good girl, with a deafening nappy-rustle she slid down the bed; it sounded like thunder to my practised ears, but Simon didn't react at all. I quietly kicked her pyjama bottoms under the bed, took Simon's arm and led him from the room, giving Holly a farewell wink and switching the light off.

Halfway down the stairs it struck me. At Christmas it would be "Pembroke Rules"; nappies all day in case of accidents, and no questions asked, no objections allowed. And probably three girls in them. Simon couldn't avoid finding out sometime during that day. I would have to tackle the issue by then, or all would be uncovered, and possibly undone.

[jbz2079]

Sorry Freswith, I've just found this continuation now and read it through, Thanks for the continuation.

[freswith]

Thank you for that, (and for bumping it through the 30,000-hit mark) It's always nice to receive some appreciation. I hope I'm getting the ratio of diaper to drama about right - I find the characters have become so well matured that it is interesting to write their story for its own sake. I've been trying to explore the AB/DL thing from as many angles as possible, not least the long term effects of an early experience on the later lives of its victims, and it can be quite difficult working in the diaper angle. Feedback is always appreciated!

Here's the next one. I hope you enjoy it

[freswith]

A Worsening Situation.

The drive from Cornwall to "Pembroke" is a long one, from the southernmost town in the UK almost to East Anglia, and in good conditions it takes at least six hours. Conditions on Christmas Eve were anything but good as we discovered as we crossed Bodmin Moor, with snowdrifts beside the road and everyone driving very carefully. We stopped for lunch at a pub in Somerset, and were joined almost immediately by Peter and Juliet, who had apparently been on our tail for miles in the muck and spray.

The kids were fairly boisterous, as might be expected on that day, although Holly was a little subdued, and it wasn't difficult to guess why. Peter was, as usual, always keen to press on in the finest Naval tradition, and that was not very accommodating to a girl-child with a notoriously weak bladder. It was not hard to guess that under her thick winter coat she was even more thickly padded out, and I noted that, unlike her little brother Jack, she kept her coat on throughout the meal. I didn't say anything, not least because Simon was sitting next to me, but I went to the toilet with Juliet and Holly afterwards to assist if needed, or just to provide a distraction if there were other women in the toilet who might have heard a suspicious rustling and recognised it for what it was. Holly had enough to worry about without that.

We left just behind Peter's car, and my mind returned to the problem that had been nagging me for weeks. I still hadn't told Simon about the little problem that bedevilled the women of our family, and obliged them to wear some form of protection to bed until late in childhood. So far every single one had managed to stop bedwetting before their teens, but it isn't the easiest subject to bring up with a boyfriend; it just never seems to be the right moment to mention that it takes ten or a dozen years to toilet-train a daughter. Besides, I was supposed to be on a gap year, and this was supposed to be "just a fling" before I went on to university and, presumably, academic glory. Somehow the prospect of Cambridge had withered a little in my mind - I had been very happy living with Simon, and had been thinking more and more of Simon and less and less of Cambridge each day.

Now it was getting to the crunch. I knew the long tradition - I had been a part of it - that vulnerable children would be nappied on Christmas Day to avoid accidents. It had been much disputed, especially by the children themselves, but experience had shown that whenever the parents had relented the result had been an accident, a scene, and a flood of tears spoiling everyone's day, not to mention damaging Pembroke's splendid carpets. It had been the custom to put a nappy on any child who might need it, then let them get on and play as much as they liked, with only the occasional discreet change if necessary. It kept the peace and the festivity going without fuss or embarrassment, and no child was ever, ever chided for being wet. It was called "Pembroke Rules" and was a family tradition as old as time. Now Simon was on his way to Pembroke and it was inevitable he would at sometime notice the unusual underwear arrangements amongst the children, and I still hadn't plucked up the courage to tell him about it. This was one very large fly in the ointment of my happiness.

It wasn't just Holly, either. Claire had two daughters, Viola, who was now twelve and hopefully out of the frame, and Alice, who was seven and right in the middle of it. Long dresses would help, but with five children in total - and I suppose my revolting little brother William qualified as a sixth even though he was now thirteen - some fairly rumbustious party games would be inevitable. I would really have my work cut out to distract Simon.

There were two more flies in my ointment. Mum and Dad. This would be the first time I would come face-to-face with my parents since the barbecue in the middle of August, and I knew that my moving in with Simon had come as quite a shock to them, and they had - at least at the start - strongly disapproved. It wasn't that Simon was in any way unsuitable, even though Mum had spoken disparagingly of him as being "just a sailor" (until Gran had reminded her that Granpa had also been "just a sailor" once), it was more to do with their ambitions for me to match and even surpass Dad in the academic field, and Simon was seen as a major threat to this. Even if I had brought Prince Harry home for tea, I am sure they would have disapproved of him. While living with Simon I began to realise how much I had been sheltered and hot-housed by my parents; Mum never seemed to be more than a couple of inches away from me, night and day, and even after I went to bed she would come in and close the window "in case it rained", although in fact she was symbolically putting me to bed like a little girl. I hated it. Not only did I hate the continuous supervision, but I had to get up and open the window again because I could never sleep well in a stuffy room. With Simon I did pretty well as I liked, but there were always those big arms to hold me when I wanted them to. I had felt myself expanding in his company, and becoming much more able to handle the social rough-and-tumble amongst the other wives and girlfriends on the station. With Simon I was finally growing up, and there was no way I wanted to return to the extended childhood involved in living with my parents.

Fortunately I had my allies. Gran and Granpa seemed to approve of my boyfriend and even of my lifestyle. At first I put it down to Gran having very successfully married a naval officer herself, and generally approving of the breed, but I realised later she had a great ability to tune in on people's thoughts, a genuinely unselfish approach to seeing things their way, and she had brought her considerable influence to bear on my mother who had long since learnt the futility of arguing with Gran. This had made everything much easier for me, and I was in no doubt that Gran had an agenda in mind - she always did - when it came to inviting Simon and me to Pembroke for Christmas. Mum and Dad were there to be worked on, and brought around to accepting Simon, and I was there to be briefed on how to handle a sailor boy.

The daylight was fading as we reached Pembroke, and the warm light spilling out of the great front door was a welcome sight, promising warmth and hospitality inside. My immediate desire was the toilet, as it had been quite a long drive since lunchtime and there had even been moments when I thought enviously of Holly with her personal insurance policy for such problems. There was absolutely no chance of finding a place to go in a snow-filled hedgerow, and filling stations were few and far between, but I made it. Uncle Percy, now the owner of Pembroke, was playing the generous host with all the splendour that his slightly pompous nature provided. Claire was an equally solicitous hostess, but I was able to slip into the smallest room after only a few minutes of greeting. We were both settled by the fire with glasses of mulled wine when Peter and Juliet arrived with the kids, having separated from us when they had to stop for petrol. As little Jack goggled at the Christmas tree in the hall, Holly was shuffled upstairs without delay, but she reappeared a little later looking much happier.

The warmth of the mulled wine had penetrated right to the tip of my nose before the front door opened again to admit my parents and little brother William. That was the first surprise. In the few months since I had seen him, he appeared to have grown several inches, so he was now taller than me, his voice had begun to break, and his tousle of sandy hair had lost some of its childhood softness. No more "little brother" he! Mum greeted me with warmth, and even managed to spare some for Simon, although I kept a weather eye out for any concealed daggers she might be carrying. Dad's greeting, though warm, contained just a touch of sadness inside it . He knew he had lost a part of his little girl, and lost her forever, but he hadn't yet gained a son. I felt so sorry for him, and wanted to reassure him that I was still his loving daughter, but inside me I knew it was true. I had grown up and moved on, and he would never tuck his little girl into bed again. I realised that there was now no turning back for me either; I was a woman now, and had my own pathway to take.

Claire came in and told us that our bedroom was ready. Simon picked up our suitcase, and I suddenly realised the imputation: one case for the two of us, as though we were married. It was actually because there was only room for one big suitcase in Simon's little sports car, but it must have shocked Mum to think that the underwear for both of us was rubbing together inside it. Claire led us past the nursery to the third bedroom, which now contained a double bed, and we settled ourselves in. As we returned, I saw Mum and Dad going into the second bedroom, but I didn't want to interrupt them; I still felt a little ashamed that I would be in bed with my boyfriend just down the corridor, so I sidestepped into the nursery where Haldane and Alice were playing inside the playpen. Hal was still only tiny, but Alice was about seven by now, and obviously occupying the playpen in order to keep Hal company. She called out to me and reached out her arms, and so I picked her up and heaved her over the rail. It was only when her short dress rode up that I saw that Pembroke Rules had been applied a little earlier than usual to Alice, and she was already well padded out. Not only that, but, following Claire's meticulously green credentials she was in "real" nappies and pants, and the bulk about her loins was unmistakeable. I put her down quickly, hopefully before Simon had noticed, knelt down beside her and gave her a big hug, then remembering my manners, introduced her to Simon. Obviously quite at home in her own nursery and amongst her family she ran over to him to get a closer look, and for a dreadful moment I thought he was going to pick her up and sit her on his arm, but she contented herself with solemnly shaking hands. Then Claire came into the nursery, all a-bustle, and declared bath-time for Hal. I offered to stay and help before I realised that it probably meant Simon would have to stay as well, but Claire declined and so I was able to steer him to the door, and get him around it just as Claire reached down to check Alice's nappy. It was a near thing but, if I could keep this up, there was a chance that I could pull the wool over Simon's eyes for the rest of the stay.

After supper I felt my parents had warmed enough to Simon to be trusted not to eat him alive, and I went to help Claire with the washing-up while Juliet put the girls to bed. William, in deference to his new found maturity, was staying up with the men and could be relied on to get himself to bed without the necessary rituals the girls required. This was another subtle privilege that came with his status as a teenager.

Claire thanked me and then said she had better go up and see that Viola was being good; she thought she would probably play Juliet up about wearing her nappy, and Claire wanted to make sure there was no family row on this Christmas Eve. I took my chance and asked if Pembroke Rules would be applied tomorrow. "Of course!" She said. "Hal wears them anyway, Alice is still wet at nights and sometimes during the day, and only Viola objects, but she had a dreadful accident only last week on one of the new carpets - you've no idea what it costs to carpet Pembroke - and Percy hit the ceiling. She's been sentenced to Nappies dum suscatis* for the whole holiday, no excuses, no options and no appeal. She's furious about it, but there's nothing I can do. That's probably why she has been making herself scarce so much this evening. I put Alice in them too, just to be on the safe side, but Alice never objects anyway, she just likes to be allowed to do her own thing and she sees Viola in them and just accepts it. Percy doesn't do the washing. If he did, he might be a bit more reasonable. You did tell Simon all about it, didn't you?"

I bit my lip. I didn't want to upset Claire's plans or to make her feel bad, and I resolved to tell Simon this evening. I didn't really have any choice. "I don't think he'll be a problem." I said, and I hoped fervently I was right.

"I've asked Juliet to do a deal with Holly as well. Viola would be hugely humiliated if the younger girl were allowed pants while she herself has to be nappied."

I groaned inwardly. I had no idea what Claire meant by nappies dum-whatever, but it sounded like poor Viola wouldn't be able to cross her legs much this holiday. I would just have to brief Simon - and then answer all his questions - and I was dreading it.

*While you are awake.

[weeboy]

hi

keep this story going.....luv it!!!!

[freswith]

Many thanks - it makes a huge difference to have some feedback, as without it I have the impression I am preaching to an empty auditorium.

I've got another episode written, which I am just reading through and polishing, and I'll post it tomorrow afternoon (Friday).

Thank you again!

[alex 04]

hurry up and post it lol i would like it you to post at 1 pm my time hehehe

[jbz2079]

I can assure you there is no empty auditorium where this story is concerned.

We await, as usual-lol