Grace and Danger

After my blissful encounter with Mum's friend Dorothy (see the story of that name), I still had a week to go in my little Norfolk hometown, staying in the family home and bored out of my skull most of the time. It was a seaside resort in the days when British people mainly took their holidays in Britain and all you did was take the train or jump into the car and a few hours later you were by the sea. It might be cold, it might be windy, but that didn't matter. It was a different environment and it felt healthy and relaxing. You knew the sea was going to be freezing, but that was just a challenge. And on the east coast, there was almost always an icy breeze blowing off the North Sea. You didn't complain (much); you just hoped for at least a few sunny days and if you got them, all was right with the world and that world didn't have to extend any further than the shores of our island.Now I wandered around town, trying to revive that lucky feeling, but it occurred to me how much the place had changed since I was growing up, when it seemed to be the centre of the world. Now it was dying that sad, slow death that the changing world inflicts on places that have done nothing wrong. It was like being dumped by a girlfriend because she fancied someone else: not your fault, nothing you could have done about it and nothing you can do now.I was looking for some of the girls I used to know, but in their place, I found mothers and wives, all seeming disappointed, let down by life. The happy, carefree girls had either left the area or mutated into these drab, spiritless specimens. I hung around in the cafe we used to use, which itself had changed: different owners, different furniture, different menu, different bahis siteleri cups and plates.Eventually I despaired of the search for lost youth and headed to the cemetery for some poignant peace and quiet. Some people find such places spooky, creepy, but I find tranquility. The modern world is put in perspective by the knowledge that it has always been the modern world to somebody and eventually they fell off it and lived happily ever after, dead.As I wandered the narrow paths, amused by some of the old names and startled by a new grave here and there, I saw Grace standing, staring at an old tomb - not just a stone but a stone box that probably housed several generations of a family. I moved over to that area and hung around, waiting for her to notice me. Eventually she did. She looked up and smiled.?The boy who came home,? she mused. ?Sorry, you'll always be a boy to me. A young man. Not so young now, I know, but younger than me.??I like it here,? I said quietly.?Me too,? she said. ?I'm not just here to see Edward. Just gives me a feeling like it's all right, it's going to be all right in the end.?Exactly,? I agreed. We wandered together, aimless and carefree, feeling strangely at home in each other's company, so it wasn't a surprise when she invited me to her place for a cup of tea. I accepted gratefully and soon we were in her large, dilapidated house.Grace was a slightly chubby and stilted grande dame who had never done a day's work in her life because her parents had money and then she had married a well-to-do businessman with fingers in a lot of pies, including a Ford car dealership. Grace wore too much makeup in an effort to add something to the perfectly good face, which she spent too canlı bahis siteleri much time looking at in the mirror. She had big pouty lips and baggy eyes and was one of those over-managed women who made me want to pin her down and wank onto her chest.Today she was wearing a lilac woolen sweater and a biscuit-coloured pleated skirt.?Needs fixing, I know,? she said. ?The house. But I like it like this. I'm afraid if I ask somebody to tidy it up they're going to tell me it needs more than that, needs ripping apart. Not just replace the wooden windows with plastic ones but rip all the plaster off. Throw this out, replace it with that.?The house had that sweet smell which is quite charming until you realise it's because something is rotting.Grace made green tea and brought out some ginger nuts. It was 3:30. She reached into a sideboard and fished out a bottle of sweet sherry ? Harvey's Bristol Cream, naturally.?Go on,? she said, ?Why not?? But as she finished pouring us a glass each she dropped the cork, which rolled under a chair.?I'll get it,? I said, and sprang down, fishing for it. It had gone further than I thought. I rummaged for it, stretched and found it. I twisted onto my side and found myself boxed between her feet. I turned onto my back and looked up. She was standing with one foot on either side and I could see right up between her legs and into the dark valley with her big, sensible white knickers. I didn't know what to say, so I averted my eyes for a second, then without meaning to, I looked again. She allowed me to do it before stepping away and into a different stance. I lifted my arm to give her the cork.We sat in armchairs by the coffee table and I sensed that something canlı bahis had changed.?So,? she said with something like irritation. ?You've come back to check on the old folks, have you?? I teetered on the edge of correcting her, but she wasn't having it. This was her conversation and she had only just begun. ?Well as you see, we're perfectly all right?even your mother. You think you've got all the answers, just because you're the next generation. Well let me tell you, young man, we know a thing or two ourselves.?She stared at me with an intensity that couldn't make up its mind if it was friendly or hostile. I still couldn't decide how best to play it, but I thought I had better do as children do when they're being told off ? and that was what it felt like. I should just sit there and let the storm blow itself out.?Not married yet, then?? she said rhetorically. ?Well, why should you? The world is your oyster in this day and age. Isn't it?? I was supposed to react in some way, so I grunted. ?A girl in every port,? Grace continued, wandering off the point but staying in the general area of scolding a man for being a man.?Did you enjoy looking up my skirt?? she said with a flash of self-consciousness that made her toss her head. She stared at me. ?I saw you,? she said. ?Looking up the skirt of a woman old enough to be your mother. Is that how you think of me? And Edna? And Dorothy? I've seen you looking. Thinking. Wondering. What's it like with an older woman, that's what men are wondering these days. You've had all the younger ones. What if their Mums are interested? And of course you think we are. We must be. How did our generation produce yours if we didn't allow things to happen?? Now she stopped and sat forward. ?Are you going to do it again?? she mocked, parting her legs slightly. ?Shall I let you? Do I want you to? You don't know, do you? No, the mad old bitch, you'd be asking for trouble, wouldn't you? Well here...?