How Far Is Too Far?

*****

Author's Note

I was undecided under which category to post this one. It could have been Romance were it not for the incest content. Rather than post it there with an incest tag, I decided to post it here. That being the case, please bear in mind this is a slow-burn, one-chapter story.

Having said that, it does heat up!

Usual caveats apply. Sexual activity is with age eighteen or over individuals. Any similarity to real life people, places etc. are pure coincidence.

*****

The event that changed everything took place when some trees had unfurled their bright green flags. Other trees had slumbered on a little longer, their leaf buds still tightly wrapped.

Spring bulbs had pushed their shoots above the warming soil, like the beaks of chicks breaking out of their shells. The morning sun cast shadows from an armada of white clouds scudding across an otherwise clear blue sky.

Alan West stood in his front garden, uplifted by the changing season. The returning warmth of the sun felt good on his face. His eyes followed the shadows of the passing clouds racing down the street and then careening over the green fields.

He felt alive, and happy to be alive. He'd made love with his beautiful wife Marie earlier that morning. It was soft and tender to begin with. As their ardour increased, it became visceral. He was glad that after thirty-six years of marriage their flame still burned bright.

Alan was 6'4, heavy-set, and only slightly overweight. He had brown eyes and silver hair. Having decided to do some gardening, he was about to re-fill his lawnmower with fuel. He looked up when he heard the front door of the house open and close. Marie came hurrying towards him glancing at her watch. Their lust had made her late.

She was medium build with light brown hair and a very pretty face. She was wearing white jeans, white denim jacket and a light blue angora jumper.

After kissing him on the cheek she said, "I'm off now, we'll probably have lunch in town. I think I'll be back sometime mid-afternoon. If your mum calls you to ask where I am, tell her I'm on my way."

She jogged over to her car and unlocked it. Then she threw her handbag on the back seat and drove off. Marie was taking his mother Angela shopping for new summer clothes.

He mowed the lawn, trying to make perfect stripes, but not quite succeeding. Then he trimmed the edges. He'd almost finished pruning his roses when a police car pulled up on the opposite side of the street. The officer got out of the car and donned his cap.

Hmm, where's he going? Oh, what now? He's coming here.

Alan put the secateurs in his jacket pocket, took off his gardening gloves and walked to meet him, "Hello, can I help you?"

"Good morning sir, does Marie West or Angela Marsh live here?" PC Mike Morton asked, reading the names from his notebook.

Alan's stomach hit the floor. All the colour drained out of the day, as did the colour in his face. Everything now felt grey and ominous, "Marie's my wife, yes she lives here, Angela's my mother. Where are they? What's happened? Why are you here?"

"Can we go inside please sir?"

"Er, of course yes." Alan was dreading the worst.

He led the way into the house and into the lounge; not bothering to remove his muddy boots. PC Morton removed his cap.

"Please, sit down." said Alan, gesturing to a chair.

PC Morton sat down and cut to the chase, "I'm very sorry to inform you that there has been a serious road traffic collision involving a car registered to your wife. The driver and a passenger both died at the scene."

"No! That's not possible, they couldn't have, are you sure it's them?"

"Not yet sir, that's one of the reasons I'm here. The registered keeper of the car tallies with your wife's driving licence retrieved from a handbag in the car. Your mother's bus pass was in another handbag. Can you tell me what clothes your wife and mother were wearing?"

"Er, Marie was wearing white denim trousers and jacket, I think her jumper was blue. I don't know about my mum I didn't see her."

"I'm so sorry sir, the clothes you describe match those worn by the driver. I think we can safely say your wife was the driver and not a car thief. Can I have your name please?"

"Alan, Alan West. But...but, they only went shopping, just this morning, not far. How? Why?"

"Can I call you Alan?"

"Yes, yes."

"A lorry had broken down on the roundabout at the end of the J43 northbound slip road. It caused a queue to form that extended onto the motorway. A heavy goods vehicle collided with the end of the queue and crushed four cars before hitting another HGV. One of the cars crushed was your wife's. Your wife did nothing wrong. From speaking to a doctor at the scene, death was instantaneous for both passengers."

"No! How? Why? Why didn't he stop or swerve?"

"It's too early to say I'm afraid. From the footage captured by the dashcam in the truck, we do know it did not reduce speed before the collision.

As our investigation progresses, how much information would you like me to release to you? I can tell you everything that relates to your wife and mother, or just what you need to know?"

"Everything, I need to understand what happened and how it happened."

The officer made a note of that.

"Very well, when information becomes available I'll let you know. Is there anybody else we need to contact, or do you feel able to tell them?"

"There's only my sister Janice, our dad died about twelve years ago. Marie has a brother and sister, Harry and Beth. I can tell them, and they'll tell their extended family. Can I see my wife and mother, where are they?"

PC Morton shook his head, "I'm so sorry Alan. You wouldn't recognise them. There's no easy way to say this, the car was completely crushed; like a concertina. You understand what I'm saying?"

Alan slumped, his face in his hands. He couldn't even kiss his wife and mother goodbye. He wept.

When he looked up the PC passed him a card, "This is my card. If you need to speak to me at any time, just call that number. I'm the FLO, Family Liason Officer, assigned to you. I'll be your point of contact throughout the investigation.

Do you have a recent photo of your wife and mother that we can release to the media? Then they won't go looking for their own images on social media."

Alan scrolled his phone and showed it to Mike, "This was taken at my sixtieth birthday party in November, I took this one of them both." he started weeping again.

Mike Morton waited for his tears to pass, "Thank you, that one is fine. Could you email it to the address on the card please? Please tell me when you have informed the other family members. Then we can release names and photos to the media.

The Coroner will need positive proof of identification. DNA testing will provide that. Could I take a hairbrush, comb, or toothbrush used by your wife please? We will also need a sample from your mother."

Alan then went upstairs and came back with his wife's hairbrush. He also gave PC Morton a key to his mother's house and told him her address. The officer checked the address was the same as the one he had from the bus pass and put both items into evidence bags.

"I'll need to speak with you again. That can wait until another time. If you feel ready to talk before I contact you again, please get in touch. The sooner, the better. That's all for now Alan. I'm sorry to be the bearer of such terrible news."

"What do you need to talk to me about?"

"To keep you informed and to explain what's likely to happen in the coming days. It's nothing for you to worry about. I'll explain the administrative steps you'll need to take, and I can help you with those. I'll explain how our investigation will affect you and your family. Now is not the best time. You have enough to deal with right now."

He stood and Alan showed him to the door, "Thank you for being direct and not beating around the bush. I don't envy you with your job."

"You're welcome. No, it's not easy. It does have its rewards though, helping people to cope and come to terms with their loss. I will be in touch, take care."

As PC Morton was about to get in his car, he heard an agonised howl come from inside the house. From his years of experience he knew he had to stay professional and not get emotionally involved. Seven people died in that horrific collision. He was glad he wasn't assigned to handle them all.

Alan cried his heart out, a tall, broad-shouldered, sixty-year-old; weeping like a baby. His sister Janice worked nearby as a teacher, she was fifty-seven. When he'd got his emotions under control, he needed to tell Janice.

Should I drive, or walk? I can't tell her over the phone. I'm okay to drive, then I can drive her home if she's in no fit state to drive.

He got into his beaten-up old Land Rover and set off for the school. He looked at his watch.

It'll soon be lunchtime, no need to drag her out of a class.

The glorious day went unnoticed, he parked up and went to the admin office, "Excuse me. I'm Alan West, Janice Freeman's brother. I need to speak to her urgently, when does her class finish?"

The school secretary looked at her screen, "In less than five minutes."

"Can somebody bring her to me when she gets out please?"

"Of course," she picked up her phone, "can I ask what it's about?"

"I'm sorry no, I have very bad news that Janice needs to hear from me."

"Okay, if you wait in that room." she pointed to it and put down the phone, "I'll fetch her myself, I'll just say you need to speak to her."

He went into the room. It was bare except for some student's artwork on the walls, a table with six chairs and a telephone on the table. It was all he needed. Some privacy for them. Instead of sitting he stood and stared out of the window. He felt hollow inside.

He heard a bell sound the end of the morning classes. Then the clamour of student's voices. It was a secondary school. A few students walked past the window. They were headed home for lunch, rather than eating meals at the school.

The door opened and Janice stood in the doorway carrying a folder. A worried expression on her face, "What is it Alan, what's the matter?"

"Hi Jan, come and sit down." he turned two chairs to face each other.

Janice was the Deputy-Head, she taught French. She'd obtained her degree at the Paris-Sorbonne University.

Janice was 5'8 tall and dress size 14. Her shoulder-length, light-brown hair was now coloured to hide the grey. She had a beautiful face, despite the lines now starting to appear. They just gave her an interesting, classy look. She didn't look older than her years. Her eyes were grey with brown flecks. She had full, soft lips and nice teeth.

She wore a black, knee-length skirt and black, flat shoes. A tailored white blouse accentuated her breasts. A green cashmere cardigan completed her outfit. She was a very attractive woman. It wasn't without reason that some student had scrawled, "Mrs. Freeman is a MILF" on a cubicle wall in one of the boy's toilets.

Janice had been made aware of that graffiti. After the caretaker had painted over it, he'd mentioned it to one of the male teachers. Her colleague tried to tease her with it. She took him down with, "Well at least I've still got it. I can't imagine any of the girls think of you as a DILF!"

She placed the folder on the table and sat facing him. He held her hands. From his experience with PC Morton, he knew it was best to just come out with it, "Mum's been killed in a car accident."

She just sat there with her mouth slightly open. Her grey eyes darting from one of his brown eyes to the other, looking for anything to indicate this wasn't true, "No! No! Don't you dare say that. Don't!"

"I'm sorry Jan, it's true, the police came round to the house earlier to tell me."

"Why your house? What?"

"She was in Marie's car, Marie died as well."

"Noooooooo!"

He put his arms around her, all he could do was hold her while she sobbed. As her initial wave of emotion started to pass he said, "Wait here a moment."

He went out to the secretary, "Our mother was killed in a crash this morning. I'm going to take her home."

"Oh I'm so sorry. I'll let the Head know."

He went back to his sister. She was just staring straight ahead, her hands in her lap.

"Come on, I'm taking you home."

"I don't want to go home, I want to see her."

"I didn't mean your home, I meant mine. There's more to tell you."

"I just want to see her."

"I know, but first let me take you home, come with me, please."

He helped her up then she went to fetch her coat and bag. She walked listlessly, as if in a trance. As she returned a man behind her called, "Janice, please wait."

It was the Head, Jeremy Wilson. He caught up with her and held her hand, "I'm so sorry Janice. I only just heard. Take as much time as you need."

Janice just nodded. Then she walked to the door.

He turned to Alan and held out his hand. He spoke quietly, so Janice couldn't overhear, "My condolences. If Janice becomes concerned about her job, please tell her not to worry, we'll cope. We'll put her car in one of the storage sheds, pick it up when you're ready. Can you get her car key please?"

Alan gave a wan smile in acknowledgement and went to Janice. He took her car key off her keyring and gave it to Jeremy. Alan walked with her to his car and helped her climb in.

Old Land Rovers are quite a step up to climb in. Her skirt rode up exposing her pale thighs and the lace tops of her tan stockings. She was in a daze and didn't notice, he pulled the hem of her skirt down to make her decent. He took the buckle of the non-retracting seatbelt and put it around her waist.

She didn't help him and just sat there. He made sure the diagonal strap wasn't twisted, and that it passed between her breasts. Then he leaned over her and clipped her in. He needed to tighten the strap making sure it was tight but not pulling too tightly into her tummy.

They drove in silence. In a few minutes they were at Alan's house. He helped her out of the car. In the house he took her coat and sat next to her on the sofa.

"We can't go and see them Jan, it was a very bad accident, we wouldn't recognise them."

"No! Was there a fire? Oh, no they weren't burnt were they? Please say no!"

"No, the police didn't say that, just that they died instantly. A truck ran into them and crushed the car."

She sobbed again and leant into his arms, he just held her, stroking her hair. He didn't know what to say to comfort her. After a few minutes, her sobbing stopped. They sat in silence in each other's arms.

"It's just us...two now, isn't it?" she said, with emotion still catching her breath.

"Yes, it is."

Janice lived alone. She had divorced about twenty years earlier. Phil, her ex-husband had left her for a younger model who was carrying his baby. His new partner being fertile was a pre-requisite. He needed to know she could give him the child that Janice couldn't.

Before she was married, Janice had either been cheated on, or dumped for no real reason by most of her boyfriends. That, and her ex-husband's behaviour left Janice with severe trust issues. The only man she trusted was her brother.

When she'd come to terms with the marriage breakup, she did go on a few dates. Unfortunately, the walls she'd built to protect her emotions proved too much for them. They weren't prepared to be patient and hang in there for her. They moved on.

She threw all her energy into her career. It would not be long before she would realise her ambition to be a head teacher in a school of her own.

Alan and Janice now had no other relatives. Marie's only relatives were her brother who lived about fifty miles away and her sister who lived in Scotland. She also had nephews and nieces.

"I don't want to go home." said Janice.

"You don't have to. Do you want to go upstairs and lie down?"

"Yes, will you lie with me?"

"I will, I need some rest too. I want to shut everything out if I can. I need to tell Harry and Beth what's happened first."

He called Marie's brother to give him the bad news. After telling him, he said, "I hate to put this on you Harry, but could you tell Beth and the rest of the family please? I've got Jan here, she's in bits."

"Of course, leave it with me. I understand."

He then gave Harry the policeman's contact details and put down the phone. Then he brought his fist down, over and over, pummelling it into a cushion. If it had been the face of the HGV driver, Alan's powerful right arm would have smashed his face into a pulp, "You fucking useless bastard, what was the matter with you?" he then wept uncontrollably.

He went upstairs, it was only one-thirty in the afternoon, but he was so tired. After he and Marie had made love earlier that morning, Marie had thrown the duvet right back to air it. Janice lay on that bed fully clothed in the foetal position without covering herself. She was fast asleep.

Her skirt had ridden up. He could see her red panties, the curve of her bottom, and her shapely, stocking-clad legs. His eyes roamed over her, he couldn't help looking. Not many men would have averted their eyes, sister or no sister.

Janice kept herself in reasonable shape. As she got older, her size 12 figure became size 14. If she dieted, she would have been able to get back into size 12 clothes. She had no desire to do that. She swam most mornings before work and attended a yoga class twice a week. That was good enough for her.

Advancing years meant Alan no longer had the ripped physique of his youth, he had more of a dad-bod. He didn't have a big pot-belly, just a bit of a paunch. His physique was better than most men his age.

He moved his eyes away from his sister's underwear and legs, then covered her with the duvet. Sleep would help her, he didn't want to wake her up by climbing on the same bed. He quietly went to the spare room and fell asleep on that bed, fully clothed himself.

Janice woke up around four o'clock and stretched. From the room in which she found herself, she became aware that this was not a bad dream. This was her new reality. She went to find her brother.

She found him in the spare room. He looked peaceful as he slept. Her heart went out to him. Not only had he lost his mother, he'd lost his wife, the love of his life. He was a good man, he'd been a good brother.

Janice's memories of their childhood were that they'd had their moments, but he'd always been her rock. As a youngster, she followed him everywhere. They did everything together up until he left junior school. She always wanted to go with him when he was going to meet up with his new mates at the secondary school.

He didn't mind at first, he'd let her join them. When he became a young tearaway, he wouldn't let her; it was too dangerous, some of the things he got up to. Sailing down the river weir on a home-made raft, playing on railway lines, climbing on building sites. Then anger at being left behind made her snitch on him for revenge, whenever she knew what mischief he was up to without her.

Despite that he still looked out for her. She had nothing to fear from anyone. They didn't want to mess with him. In her late teens, when she'd been hurt badly by boyfriends; he held her in his arms and told her they were knob-heads. It wasn't her it was them.

The best her mum could say was, "What will be, will be.", or "All things happen for the best.", or "There's plenty more fish in the sea."

Alan holding her in his arms and saying, "He's a knob-head, it's not you it's him." was far more comforting.

After looking at her sleeping brother, she climbed on the bed next to him and put her arm around him. As long as he was in her life she felt she could cope with anything. She fell asleep.