Polinka Goes on Holiday
Copyright© 2026 by Clee Hill
Chapter 6
Crap.
They’d done it again.
At some point during the night - or maybe it was an early in the morning thing? - but at some time or another she and her father had moved and now she was on her right, facing the double door, and her father had snuggled up behind her, his knob tucked up between the cheeks of her bum, and his hand cupping her left tiddie.
What was he doing? Holding it, in case it moved or something.
Polinka nearly laughed at that thought, barely managing to stifle it along with her breathing.
But this was serious. She had to get them out of it, again. Yes, she could sneeze them awake again, but she didn’t want to worry her father that she was getting a serious dose of hay fever, something she had never had before, and something which she had promptly forgotten about, being ‘cured’ for the whole of the rest of yesterday.
Would that make him suspicious, though? Especially as, back home, she never woke up sneezing.
So she had to wake up with a start—
—That’s it!
She could do just that, suddenly snap up and awake, as if she had had something happen in a dream and her brain had said, nope, that’s enough of that nonsense, young lady.
Dad being Dad, he would of course ask what had happened. He might even panic a little. So she needed something that would jolt her awake but wouldn’t worry him—
—Cramps!
She could get a cramp in her calf, and be jumping out of bed, doing the whole ‘ooh’ and ‘ouch’ before he knew where he had been, and being all Dad and compassionate and sympathetic might even distract him from thinking about how he was facing the other way, now, as surely he must have moved in reaction to her, even as he was waking up.
Polinka grinned. She was a genius, at least for this morning. She already knew with utter certainty, however, this was only going to be the next in a series of such moments, and what was beginning to worry her was how long she could keep her ‘streak’ going before Stephen began to suspect there was something odd to her abruptly waking up every single morning. The odd time or two she could rely - hopefully! - on him dismissing it as a one off, but too many times in a row and she would be rumbled, or at the very least he might get suspicious about the why of it.
Except.
Why was he doing this? She knew he didn’t miss her ‘mother’, neither of them did, but did he miss the simple act of being in bed with someone else? A woman? He might, and she was beginning to realise how he might, too. Sleeping with her Dad was something she had been looking forward to yesterday, and she was already looking forward to it for tonight. There was something about sharing a bed she found ... enchanting. That was it. Enchanting. There was truly something magical about being in bed with her Dad, sleeping with him, holding him, and having him hold her. It was a closeness and an intimacy that had nothing to do with sex things and absolutely everything to do with them simply loving each other.
And she was going to be doing it for a fortnight!
She already knew, when this was all over and when they were home again, Nicky no more than a collection of photos and happy memories, maybe the happiest of all would be of lying in bed with her father, hearing him breath, feeling him move in his sleep.
Anyway, time to act, she told herself, planning and visualising her actions and movements, as—
“—Ow!” she yelped, stumbling out of bed, hopping on one leg, and trying to straighten the other. She had had cramps in the past so she knew what they felt like and what they must look like, so her acting was pretty good as she tried to quietly stumble around, straightening her left leg as she leant against the locked door.
“Biscuit?” Stephen asked, awake and somewhat alert.
“Cramp,” she answered, managing to sound pained and annoyed.
“Slept awkward?”
“No, Dad, not slept awkward, it’s called ‘puberty’ and maybe I’m going to get taller,” she teased, making an ‘oo’ shape with her lips as she straightened her leg, her attack of the cramps now abating. Apparently.
“You’re sure?” he asked, holding the blanket up for her to get back into bed again.
“I’m sure,” she said, carefully climbing in before she turned to face him, smiling. “5’3.2”, haha.”
“You gained point two of an inch just from that?”
“No, silly. I’m growing all the time, I just decided that, ahem, henceforth my official height shall be 5’3.2”, or ... oh. Will I have gained a centimetre?” she asked with comic hopefulness.
Stephen winked. “Biscuit, if you want to claim another centimetre in compensation for being woken by an attack of the cramps, you claim it.”
“Done,” she grinned.
“So is this us getting up?”
“You need to go ‘trowel’?”
“Not just yet. You?”
Polinka shook her head. “Dad? Can we just hug like this a bit longer?”
“Of course we can. Any reason?”
“I really like it.”
“Well then, that makes two of us,” Stephen said as she snuggled close, he kissed her forehead, and Polinka, still smiling, wriggled up a little so she could kiss him on the lips.
“I love you, Dad. I love you so much I don’t know how—”
“—But you do,” he interrupted. “I can see it in your eyes.”
“You can?” she asked, trying not to tear up but pretty sure she was about to.
Stephen nodded. “I think it was in your eyes the day you were born, but it just kept growing and growing ever since.”
“Aw...” she said, trying to say something, but saying nothing as the tears came, her father hugging her and consoling her as she let out something she didn’t know she was holding back.
“Sorry,” she said, a little while later as they sat up, Stephen handing her a tissue and Polinka daintily blowing her nose, looking at the used tissue in her hand, and smiling again as Stephen insisted on taking it from her to throw away.
“Better?”
Polinka nodded. “I...”
“Biscuit?”
“I want to tell you something, I really want to, but I’m not sure I’m supposed to, er, feel this way,” she began, seeing the look on his face and panicking. “No! It’s nothing like ‘that’, haha, it just, er, other stuff...”
“Other stuff?” he asked, smiling to let her know he wasn’t panicking any more.
“Yeah, you know, like how weird it is that I’m your teenaged daughter and I’ve really loved sleeping with my Dad, even though, no, especially because he’s my Dad because it just makes me feel so treasured and loved and special and, haha, warm when it gets chilly. That part too, definitely that bit as well,” she grinned, deliberately over egging the pudding in case it needed it.
Stephen’s smile told her she was fine. “Probably no more weird than how special it feels that a teenaged daughter doesn’t even hesitate about having to sleep with her father because he can see how she trusts him.”
“Nope. Not that,” she interrupted. “There’s nothing to ‘trust’ because I don’t need to. I know we can do this it be fine, no need for ‘trust’ about, you know, ‘things’.”
“How did I end up with such a beautiful daughter?”
“Who? Oh, me? You’ve forgotten already? The whole four-leafed clover bush and probably a torch light, you know, in case it was dark when you found me.”
“It wasn’t dark, but it’s been a much lighter time since I did.”
“Oh don’t you start saying things like that at me or we’re going to need more tissues. Unless ... you’re not into snotty kisses, are you?”
“Eww,” he said in his best imitation of a disgusted teenager, making them both smile.
“Right then. You’ve been warned. Now, get loved on,” she said, turning into his embrace as they held one another, kiss following kiss as they made sure each knew how much the other loved them.
It took a few minutes before she sat up again, asking, “Dad? Okay if I go out like this to pee?”
“Do you think we’re still alone?”
“I’ll check,” she whispered, for no reason, as she leant over him to peer through the crack in the curtains on his side of the van, wriggled around to check out of the back door curtains, and carefully got off the bed to check through the passenger double door curtains. “Just us. Probably some rabbits, definitely some birds, but nope, just us.”
“I don’t see any problem. I could do with a trip myself, so a game of hide and don’t seek?” he teased.
“Cool. Er, Dad? Is it me or does it feel a bit, haha, ‘naughty’ to go and pee in your pyjamas?”
Stephen chuckled. “I suppose it is, or if it is, it’s the kind of ‘naughty’ that doesn’t really matter.”
“So I can pee in the garden when we get back home?” she smirked, handing out wet wipes and nappy sacks.
“That may be a little too ‘naughty’.”
“Got it,” she laughed, Stephen nodding as she unlocked and the stepped out, slipping on their trainers and confirming they were alone as they headed down the path and turned to each head to their own corner. “Ooh that’s the naughty I needed this morning,” she called out, hearing her father’s laughter as she wiped up, pulled up, and headed back.
“Breakfast here or somewhere?” he asked as they get back inside and he began to put the bed away again.
“Here, if that’s okay with you.”
“Any reason?”
“It’s quiet.”
“It is, isn’t it,” he said, Polinka smiling as she got the kettle on. “Sandwiches again?”
Polinka shook her head. “Scrambled eggs and sausages? I can put the lid on the sausages so there’s no fat splashes.”
“You’ve thought it through?”
“Yeah. This set is too nice to risk, and so am I if I’m wearing a cropped top,” she grinned, glancing over to her suitcase where it was wedged out of the way.
“I see. So no bikini today?”
“Can I?” she asked, excited at the idea she could wear a bikini all day.
“Or you could make a top from your scarf, if you’re going to wear yesterday’s bikini panties again.”
“I could, but if I do then they’ll really need washing and I don’t know when we can do that.”
“Ah. That’s my fault. Friday should be fine to do that.”
“It is? What’s happening on Friday?”
“We’re booked into a camp site for the night, so we can do our laundry, make sure Miss Glory is washed off and the battery for the fridge gets topped up, those kinds of things.”
“Oh wow. So I can wear those panties and my scarf?”
“If you want.”
Polinka grinned.
“I’ll give you a minute to change, shall I?” Stephen chuckled, stepping out and closing the doors behind him.
“Thanks, Dad!” she called, checking the curtains his side were secure before she took out her case and off her night things, standing there nude for a moment as she found her bikini panties and pulled them on. Her scarf was a little buried and took a little finding, but once she did she looked at it for a moment in thought. “Dad?”
“Hello?”
“Can I wear it as a bandeau?”
“I don’t know, Biscuit, can you?” he asked, his smile clear in his voice.
“Thanks Dad!” she called as she carefully folded it down until it was about 10cm wide, slipping it behind her and knotting it in front of her chest, unfolding the ends a little to make the knot look prettier. “Done! Come and see what you think?”
Stephen cautiously opened the door, saw she was done getting dressed, and smiled. “You look very nice, young lady.”
“Thanks,” she beamed, her smile slipping a little as she worried a little. “It’s not, you know, too much or, haha, not enough, is it?”
“Not at all. If you’re happy wearing it, I don’t see anything I should be making ‘fatherly objections’ to. You are a very attractive young woman, Polinka, and maybe we should get you more things to reflect that. If that’s what you want?”
“You’re asking me if I want to go shopping?” she giggled.
“Ah, I see my mistake,” he winked. “However, speaking of clothes...”
“Your turn. Thanks, Dad,” she said, stepping outside, hugging him to her, kissing him, again, before she shooed him inside as she went to pretend to look at some bushes or something. To be fair, they were nice bushes, but not ‘trowel camouflage’ standard.
“All clear!” Stephen called, Polinka smiling at his silliness as she opened the door again and saw how, for the day, it was tan shorts with creases because of course, along with a nice bright red shirt over a white tee-shirt.
“Very summery. Now, can you be trusted with the tea if I get the sausages going?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, with an added salute that made her giggle as they got to it.
After passing through Llangadog later that morning where they stocked up on a few local specialities as well as milk and bread, Stephen headed them towards Llandeilo where he had planned for them to spend the afternoon and even get dinner somewhere.
Those plans, however, were subject to abrupt alteration in that, although he had checked the little town out in terms of places to restock, get petrol, and other such important but basic things, he had not really done much more than check there were some places where they could get their dinner. With a restaurant in mind for later, he wasn’t really paying much attention as they drove down Rhosmaen Street when—
“—Dad?!” Polinka said, not quite screaming, but her head whipping around to make sure she had seen what she thought she had seen.
“Sorry? Did I miss—”
“—Dad, there is a very nice chocolate shop back there, and I mean very nice. If you insist on pretending you didn’t see it I shall have no choice other than to insist on saying ‘please, please, please’ over and over and over—”
“—You know, I do believe there is an artisnal chocolatier in this town. Perhaps you would like to pop in?”
“Love you, Daddy,” she giggled as he found them somewhere with the shade of trees to park before they were out, her camera around her neck, and Stephen’s hand in hers as they headed into town, his spare hand ‘busy’ with a couple of hemp tote bags ‘just in case’ there were anything she wished to bring along back to the van later. Aside from chocolate. Although Polinka wasn’t really someone who had ever eaten very much chocolate, or sweet things in general, not even Easter eggs, if she was presented with the opportunity for good chocolate, all bets were off.
“Have you seen over there?” he said, pointing to a random shop which he knew was of no interest to her whatsoever.
“Father,” she sighed, so hard that Stephen laughed. “If you insist on delaying things, well, let me just say that things could become ... expensive.”
“More expensive that clothes shopping?” Stephen chuckled.
“They sell clothes here too?” she asked, her head swivelling from side to side as she ‘scanned’ for likely shops.
“Some scarfs, maybe?”
“I really look okay like this?”
“You look a lot more than okay, Biscuit.”
“Love you,” she said softly, snuggling up to his arm as they found the shop and went inside, Polinka inhaling deeply.
“Miss. Sir,” said the kind of matronly woman who was probably born to work in a shop like this. Own it too, maybe.
“Hi. I’m Polinka, this is my Dad, Stephen, and he said I can, and I am directly quoting here, ‘go mad’. So, how ‘mad’ can I— Wait. You’ve got Dubai bars?” she asked, there being a sudden and faintly ridiculous craze for anything chocolate with pistachio cream inside it.
“We do, Miss, our own too,” the woman said, her accent softly Welsh, though that might have been because Polinka was English. “One per person.”
“They’re really that good?”
The woman smiled. “Not for me to say. We make ours a little less sweet than some, so you can taste the different elements. We make the phyllo pastry, too.”
“Oh father...” Polinka said, grinning comically.
“Does it keep?” he asked.
“Dad?! You can’t ask that.”
“I can’t?”
“No. Can I share is a better question, and of course the answer is yes,” she smiled.
“In that case, can we start with one bar of your Dubai chocolate then,” Stephen asked.
“Start?”
Stephen winked as he turned back to the woman behind the counter. “These chocolates,” he said, pointing to an almost dizzying selection of individual chocolates and some empty boxes into which they could be packed. “Can you make up your own selection or do you have to take so many of each?”
“Whatever you want,” the woman said. “Had a guy just last week, took a box of twenty pralines. Said his wife loved pralines. Hope she did,” she chuckled.
“In that case, Polinka? Would you like to select sixteen chocolates to make up your birthday box of chocolates?”
“Yes, but I will be sharing them with you too. Sixteen’s too much,” she said, the woman behind the counter clearly surprised by her comment as, with that, Polinka set about selecting a variety of truffles (her favourites) with some pralines (Stephen’s favourites) and even a couple of chocolate liquors filled with rum (Polinka’s Christmas treat, and in the summer!). Being both efficient and also knowing what she did and did not like, they were soon done, one of their bags now containing a variety of chocolate treats, Polinka having said ‘no’ to the brownies but an eternal ‘yes’ to the little packet of Welsh cakes.
“Ready for dinner yet?” Stephen asked as they headed vaguely where he had pre-booked them, the proviso for the booking being a three hour window to allow for traffic and other distractions.
Polinka shook her head. “That shop was amazing, but the smell of all that chocolate? Dad I need to clear my head!”
“It was a little heady, wasn’t it,” he said as they mooched away, working their way along the main road taking their time as they came close to a shop called Quaintrelle’s, a shop that seemed to specialise in very nice little dresses, the kind that don’t come with price tags anywhere in sight.
“Dad? Do we have time to go and at least take a look?” she asked, already veering in the direction of the open door.
“I think that train has already sailed,” he said, Polinka taking the time to stop, roll her eyes, and groan before almost dragging him in after her, Polinka knowing this was all a game, and if he did not want her going in for any reason, he would have said so. She guessed the whole ‘women and shopping’ meme was one he shipped. Or something like that.
“Miss. Sir,” smiled the... man at the counter.
Polinka blinked and grinned. “Hi. I’m Polinka and this is ‘Dad’. I’m sure he’s got a real name, but to me he’s Dad. Also known as ‘The Wallet’, haha. Okay. Sorry. So. This top isn’t a top, not really, it’s the scarf that come with this as a bikini bra and panties set, only I wanted to wear it as a top and I think it kind of rocks.”
“Indeed,” the man smiled. Polinka tried but she couldn’t figure out how old he was. A bit older than her father, maybe. He was also immaculately groomed, not a hair of his slightly grey and white ‘bouf’ out of place, his waistcoat matching his trousers in a very nice pale grey pinstripe, and his yellow diagonally striped tie complementing it and also his white shirt with ‘posh collars’ as Polinka called them, ‘Londoner’ as Stephen had described them with reference to his own shirt. Posh, Polinka had insisted. “You have done a very good job with it.”
“I have? Thank you but, haha, it’s kind of the only way I know how to, you know, make a rope and knot it up,” she grinned. “An-y-way, thing is, this is the only scarf that didn’t come from a sheep, and I was wondering if you had anything like it that, you know, a slightly cheeky schoolgirl could afford? Oh, and you don’t have a leaflet or anything on ‘how to make a scarf into a hot top’ do you?”
“Well, first of all, I am Jeremy and it is a delight to meet you, Polinka, did you say, and ‘Dad’ you said. I think the first question should be, do you have a budget?”
“I do,” Stephen said. “Meaning yes, she does have a budget though if there is something which she simply cannot live without, there is some flexibility.”
“And that budget is?”
“Let’s see where she goes, first,” Stephen said.
“I see. Well, do you have a preference for colour or pattern?”
Polinka shook her head. “Just, you know, nice to wear.”
“Meaning satin, but also ramie and a couple of others. Are you planning to wear this only as a top?”
“Maybe. I mean I’m not going to wear it over my head like a shawl, haha, but if it’s nice, sure, maybe as a shrug or even as a coverup skirt for my bikini panties.”
Jeremy nodded. “If you would like to come over here, let me show you what we have,” he said, guiding Polinka to join him in the section next to the lingerie as he took some scarfs out of some drawers, unfolding those she was interested in, folding away those she was not.
“Oh. I like this,” Polinka said, pointing to an oversized scarf in browns with deep brown and equally deep green used to form a very large scale paisley pattern, not at all the busy paisley she was used to seeing on ties, or the horrific paisley people were made to wear in the seventies. “I could probably wear it as a sarong,” she giggled.
“And why not?” Jeremy said. “If it works for your style, it works.”
“I don’t really have a style yet, I’m only just out of my school uniform last week.”
“So you wore your uniform at the weekend as well?”
“No, but you know, Dad had to approve,” she said, winking to Stephen who looked comically innocent.
“And he approves of ... more, now?”
“Well I am on holiday so, you know, the rules all got defenestrated Day One,” she grinned, delighted to get the chance to use one of her favourite words naturally in conversation. Mark the calendar.
“I see. Well, yes, I think this scarf if more than large enough to double as a sarong if you needed a coverup to go to a restaurant—”
—Polinka’s eyes suddenly went large. “Er, Dad...?”
“Already checked and fine. It’s not a black tie kind of a place,” Stephen said.
“Phew. Sorry, Jeremy, you were selling this scarf to me,” she grinned.
“I do hope so. You seem rather taken with it, and it has been here since last summer. As I was saying, you could also wear it several different ways as a top, squared, ‘triangled’ with the knot to the front or the back.”
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