Grandpa's Girl
Chapter 1
Wilfred Dewhurst was an old man. Not exactly ancient or 'past it', but undoubtedly he no longer had the vim and vigor of his more youthful years. Now in his early sixties, he sat on his sofa, newspaper in hand, sipping milky tea from an old battered mug adorned with the logo of his favorite football team. His recently deceased wife had got him the mug as a Christmas present many moons ago and it had always been his favorite. He sat in the living room, which was almost a tribute of sorts. Family heirlooms were scattered across the mantelpiece and in a glass fronted display case next to the windows, along with numerous pictures of his beloved Denise covering the walls. Their wedding photo, pictures of their honeymoon and countless holiday snaps with their daughter Melanie stared back at him as he drank his rapidly cooling brew, a constant reminder of what he had lost. Wilf and Denise had met in school and had been in love ever since their first date, a trip to the cinema and a walk while eating ice cream on the promenade. His heart pumped a little harder in his chest whenever he thought back to that magical moment, but six months on from her passing, Wilf was still devastated by the loss.
Newspapers from the past few weeks were stacked up on the arm of the sofa hazardously, at risk of toppling over any moment. Empty takeaway containers and lager cans were spread around the room, crisp crumbs crushed into the carpet, a surefire sign of the depression he was experiencing. Melanie had been helping him as much as she could, cleaning up after him when she came round, but with three children of her own, she couldn't be there all the time to take care of him. His heart felt empty and hollow, as much as he tried to put on a strong front for others, those who really knew him could tell he wasn't right.
Despite his age, he had always eaten well and been fairly fit, something he had been very proud of. Whether it be playing football and running about with the grandkids, going hiking or playing bowls with his mates, he'd always been active, but not since she had gone. A small gut was starting to form, something he'd been ignoring, but deep down, he knew he would have to make some changes if he wanted to get back to how he had been. There just didn't seem to be any point in staying in shape, it seemed trivial and unimportant. Denise had always said he was a handsome man and as he glanced in the mirror above the mantelpiece, he could still make out the details that had made her fall in love with him in the first place.
His usually perfectly maintained short gray hair had grown out, making him look a little unkempt, but in a sexy, bad boy kind of a way, or at least he thought so. His jawline was strong and masculine, which many people had commented on over the years. His warm, brown eyes conveyed a sense of safety and comfort, with just a hint of danger hiding behind them, if you looked deep enough. His broad shoulders and muscular arms were still strong and welcoming, although they felt empty without Denise to hold in them. His frame was large, standing at six foot six, many initially found him quite intimidating, but over time they would come to realize that his size didn't reflect the man on the inside. Many women had thrown themselves at him over the years, but he had always been faithful to Denise, and she always seemed to enjoy knowing that her man was seen as being so desirable.
They had enjoyed an amazing sex life over their many years together, cemented by the intense love they had for one another. As much as he missed her presence, her laugh, her smile, the way she would interlock pinkies with him when they walked, he missed her body and the physical connection between them the most. Those moments of complete intimacy and trust, when their mind, body and soul were connected in a way that made the heavens open and their hearts sing. He'd gone months after her passing without any kind of release, almost feeling guilty at the idea of indulging himself without her there to share in the pleasure.
Finally, the built up sexual frustration had been too much and he had sunk into a deep hole of masturbation to try and mask some of the pain. It had gotten to the point where he was pleasing himself out of boredom and sadness rather than genuine arousal. He desperately wanted to feel that closeness with another human again, but he couldn't imagine being with anyone other than Denise. This had been part of the reason for his downward spiral as he found himself staying at home more, rarely leaving the house, even when family and friends tried to encourage him to do so.
Pulling himself up from the sofa, he placed down the freshly finished paper atop the pile of discarded news, a reminder of the world moving forwards while he remained stuck in place. Making his way into the kitchen with his mug in hand he placed it down in the sink atop a pile of dirty pots from the past few days, leaning against the counter and looking out of the window. The garden was horribly overgrown, another reminder of how he, in his mind, had let Denise down. She had loved their garden, spending every summer out there, pruning, mowing the glass, watering the flowers. He could almost picture her in his mind's eye, a light summer dress wafting in the breeze as she looked over to the kitchen window, smiling warmly at him.
Wilfs daydreaming was interrupted by the sound of keys being pushed into his front door. "Dad?" came the voice of his daughter from the hallway. Based on the time of morning, she'd probably just finished the school run and was coming to check up on him.
"In the kitchen, sweetie," Wilf replied raspily. His throat was dry as he realized they were the first words he'd uttered since waking up in his now half empty marital bed earlier that morning. He heard her footsteps getting closer, until her head popped through the kitchen doorway, a wide smile on her face. She looked so much like his mother that whenever he saw her it broke his heart a little, but of course he'd never tell her that.
"Hi Buttercup," he said, smiling warmly at her as she walked into the kitchen and wrapped her arms around him, holding each other in a tight embrace. Her head barely reached his chest and he gently stroked her hair, her scent wafting up to his nose. She even smelled like Denise, causing another pang of sadness to run through his body. "How are you?" He asked as they loosened their hug.
"Good thanks, but Lacey was being a nightmare this morning, wouldn't get dressed or brush her teeth or anything. I was chasing after her all morning."
"Ah, I remember many mornings like that when you were little," Wilf said, smiling at the pleasant memories. "She gets it from her mother."
"Nonsense," Melanie replied, "I was a perfect little angel and I still am." She looked at him, flashing him a cheeky smile and a wink. She had always been a daddy's girl and knew exactly how to wrap him around her finger. It would be annoying if he still didn't see her as his adorable little girl.
"Ah of course, I'm sorry sweetie," Wilf replied jokingly, "I must be getting forgetful in my own age."
"Apparently so, you certainly seem to have forgotten to do the washing up," Melanie replied with a raised eyebrow as she gestured towards the sink.
"You've got me there," Wilf replied sheepishly.
"And based on the number of beer cans in the living room, I'd assume you've barely been off the sofa?"
