1
Betsy listened as her mother recited what had to be done while she was out for the day and into the early evening. The subject of the conversation, and the purpose of the call, was to remind her to help the man whose image appeared on the screen of her iPhone.
It was one of her favourite pictures of them together, one that she kept on her laptop, on her iPhone as a call sign whenever Tony rang her, and when she was away at university. Holidays, time off from her studies, were precious and that occasion, when the picture was taken, had been such a moment.
She had always thought of him as a handsome man, ever since she had begun to notice such things about people. She observed and took things in but was never overly critical. People would have an opinion about her too; guys, especially, weren't slow to express an opinion so it wouldn't do to give voice to what you thought of another person and their appearance. It had always been a case of 'live and let live'.
It wasn't so easy to take a detached view of Tony, a favourite uncle whom she was seen embracing in that holiday snap, the glittering sea behind them and the sky an impossible blue. The two of them were seen smiling, her face pressed against Tony's cheek, her smile revealing the pleasure to be with him. Tony's look was one of bewilderment as he gazed at the camera, one hand holding her wrist as she embraced him.
They looked so alike, were slender faced and their hair parted on the right side; his greying hair neat and cut short; hers tied back from her face and a riot of long, tumbling ringlets. They were on a family holiday, she with her parents and brothers; Tony on his own but a part of the family group who had expensively rented a villa on a Greek island. There they pursued all that had been on offer, and she had chosen to be a devoted companion to him. It remained a bond that sometimes provoked her mother into remarking on her continuing behaviour where it concerned him, but the reasons why had become acutely clear as time passed.
The word 'uncle' never, or rarely, crossed her lips where it concerned him. He was 'Tony' to her and she was 'Betsy' or 'darling Bee', whenever he called to her. His voice had gone croaky, a legacy of a devastating stroke that had overwhelmed him and that had left Tony battling doggedly to regain what he had once been; an active businessman who was known to a wide circle of friends. He had rarely been seen without an attractive woman at his side. Tony had never married and her mother, Judy, had never made a secret of her opinions about his female companions, about Tony's womanizing ways, her mother referring to them as if they were 'ships that passed in the night'. Success and money had brought them into his orbit but it had all seemed like nothing, when the blow struck him, and he had become like a child needing constant attention.
The picture was a testimony of how far Tony had come to rediscover his true self, and she had been a part of that whenever they were together and she was at home from university.
'I'm here mother, as you know, and I'll do what I can to help him and if he needs that, okay?'
'Yes, and for goodness sake wear something decent...cover yourself,' Judy instructed. 'I know that your uncle's not the man he once was...and I know the weather's unbearably hot...but you are alone there with him. It's not like it was when we were all on holiday together a few weeks ago.'
Betsy bit her lip and stifled a response to what had just been said. It was as if her mother had forgotten what she had been seen wearing out in the sun, a skimpy bikini and thong, her father in swimming briefs that left nothing for anyone to imagine on what he covered up. By comparison, Tony in his swimming shorts had been discreet, knowingly or not, but she'd noticed, nonetheless what he 'packed'. And, as for her bikinis, she had enough to fill them to catch the younger men's eyes as they windsurfed or sailed, but she had chosen not to follow through. Messy holiday entanglements weren't for her.
'Well, if that's all, Mother,' she sighed, 'I'll get on with lunch. Tony will be here soon.' Just as the call ended she heard a heavy knocking on the pass door that separated the main house from the two-bedroom cottage that Tony lived in and was a separate home for him. 'I'm here...come in!'
There was no time to get changed even if she wanted to do that, which she didn't. A good-looking, older man, stood before her and they had the rest of the day to do as they pleased. What that might be would soon be discovered, she was sure of it. Tony needed her and she had prepared herself for whatever he would ask of her.
2
'You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble,' he said as he watched her put the finishing touches to a salad lunch. She had already poured out two glasses of a sparkling rosé wine that she knew he liked. She met his lingering look upon her and she wondered, if only for a moment, what lay behind those eyes. Then she understood.
'Yes, I wore this when we were on holiday...'
'I remember, you looked just as beautiful then as you do now. I remember some things and then others just drop away...just like that!' The ferocity with which he snapped the fingers of his two hands startled her. 'Sorry...'
'It's okay,' she smiled on answering him gently, and handing him one plate just so that it would take his mind onto something else. 'I'm here with you and we've been here before, Tony, and shared moments like this.'
They sat and ate, talked of a jumble of unconnected things, sipped on their wines, and gazed out onto the garden beyond. Any thoughts that she had of doing some studying, and preparing for the term ahead, were pushed to the back of her mind.
'My thoughts and feeling have been all over the place recently,' he confessed, his voice low as he watched her eat, a moment's touch to the tumble of her hair making Betsy turn to look at him. 'They've been like that ever since we came back from holiday. I felt normal while we were there...now it's back to how it was before we went. I shouldn't say it, but being with you has been wonderful and just what I needed. You stayed close...'
She knew it would send a wrong signal, but she allowed his touch to her arm. She was dismayed at the association of thoughts that his caress, as his touch felt, provoked in her. Perversely, it aroused a knot of longing, a flush of moisture between her legs, that the touch of an older and still handsome man, with a history, had made her feel. His mind could well be 'all over the place' and yet he looked so ragingly attractive in his denim shirt and faded jeans, scuffed brown sandals on his feet, and his tan lending a rakish, only too desirable, appearance. As ever he was well-groomed, not slovenly as some became as a consequence of a stroke. Commonplace things, and behaviour, often seemed to be lost to people destroyed by such an event; but not Tony.
The man beside her, the lover of uncounted women, was with her and his desiring look could not be ignored. How could she let go, surrender to the longings that thoughts of them together had again aroused? How would she ever keep it a secret from her mother, from the rest of the family? How would she be able to conceal that she had been fucked by her uncle under the roof of the family home while they were all out? She had begun to sense that he needed her in that way.
'Have I embarrassed you, frightened you?' he went on, seeing the dismay at what was happening between them in her lovely grey-blue eyes, the nervy push of one hand to her hair, so lustrous and healthy. Her sky-blue camisole top shaped her beautifully. He wanted to see so much more, see all of her and pay attention to the young woman she was. His condition, so much less now, hadn't taken all of his instincts away, where it concerned a woman; nor his reaction to her and what she would arouse in him.
