Chapter 1

I slow the Mercedes in anticipation then come off the road onto the small lay-by looking out across the valley where much of my early girlhood was spent.

I’d made the detour on a whim after calling on a new magazine client.

Pulling out a cigarette, I light up. Morose nostalgia accompanies the old familiar vista.

The sawmills where Dan joked the work gave him his ‘mill muscles‘, the church where mother prayed for absolution from sin and my old high school.

Sweet and sour memories from those early days; I grimace at the memory-scape.

At the girls high I’d been regarded as rather prim, a studious kind of girl that teachers approved off. Mum’s aspirations for me made her fussy with whom I mixed. Some of my classmates, especially the rebels, saw me as a stuck up prig.

Well, I was soon pulled off my high horse; ... how they must have laughed.

I was studying to be a teacher before I... ‘turned out bad’.

I never finished teacher-training college ... I had an illegitimate child instead.

Mother’s suicide came a year later.

Nudging the Merc into drive and back on the road the view of the valley is quietly left behind me.

My thoughts though, remain surrounded by it.

I imagine returning to a point in life and able to step back onto my original pathway.

Perhaps I’d be a university lecturer now, not BluMag’s proprietor.

I’ve often avoided thinking about those times to be honest. It’s all remained very hazy.

Perhaps we all polish over the bits of life that make us feel uneasy.

This evening though, alone on the highway, those memories from the early sixties, surface ... memories from a day that began altering things ... altered me, from being just another home-alone young mum

Early Days

I hum along to Radio Caroline as I wash-up and listen to them playing together behind me.

Jess is squealing with delight as Dan romps on the floor with her. The sounds are reminiscent of my own childhood with him.

Staring at the darkness through the window I recall how he would play with me in just the same way and I’d adored him.

He’d fondle me on his lap, calling me his princess. When older, I’d daydream of those moments, placing him in the role of my boyfriend.

That carefree period of innocence had past all to soon; to be replaced with awkwardness.

Sat on his lap before bedtime, I had begun a kissing game on his ear.

I’ll always remember that strange tone of mum saying, ‘you should be past that sort of thing my girl!‘

It induced a sense of shame. A girl has to stop romping around with her Dad at some stage but you lose something growing-up.

I smile to myself. Now it’s my daughter experiencing those joys!

While I stare into the darkness of the window I become aware of the reflection that’s before me, of the two of them on the floor behind me.

I smile in surprise at the quirk of it, like watching a hidden camera.

Jess is squirming on the floor underneath Dan. Kneeling over her, he’s tickling her first on the neck then the waist. She’s in convulsions, legs kicking out against the delightful torture, her school dress skewed up past her knickers.

The tickling fingers work from her waist down into her thighs, suddenly I’m alarmed. I watch his finger stroking slowly into the crouch of her knickers.

She’s ceased squirming; motionless. Her brown impassive eyes lift to meet his gaze as her thighs begin parting.

Flicking off the transistor, I snap back to reality. I yell at them over my shoulder,

‘OK Jess, lets start getting ready for bedtime, you can begin by brushing those teeth’.

Normality returns; coming into the kitchen pulling strait her dress Jess complains, ‘Oh mum! I’m not a child! It’s early yet!’

‘I’m afraid so poppet, it’s school in the morning’ I say, with Dan following behind saying, ‘Can I give you a hand with anything Val?’

I look at Jess. The fleeting images of her responding to his sexual touch bring confused feelings over me.

Then, in mix of shamed arousal I find myself replying, ‘Well if you could read her bed-time story for me Dan, I could get her uniform seen to’.

That old feeling of self loathing rose over me with mother’s words hissing in my ears; ‘ ... slut of a girl you are.’

As he followed Jess upstairs my mind was in a spin. What was I trying to prove? Jess wasn’t like that. My imagination had been running wild. I hardly dare think it; had I envisaged Jess acting out my secret childhood yearning when Dan had played with me? What did I expect to catch them doing upstairs?

As I place down her school blazer I see my hands are trebling at that prospect.

Quietly, I make my way up the stairs to the landing. Creeping up to Jess’s bedroom I can hear his deep soft voice reading from the storybook.

The door is ajar and I peek through the crack.

I clearly see him sat by her bedside holding the book on his lap. Jess is in bed and appears to be nearly asleep.

Again self-revulsion begins creeping up; but its oft-lurking presence begins a final retreat, as what I’m witnessing, materialises.

While Dan methodically reads from the book on his lap, his mind is focused on what his other hand is caressing.

It is under the blanket quietly exploring Jess’s parted thighs. That moment sublimates me.

Looking at Jess again I see not a passive virgin but a maturing girl discovering sex; just as I had yearned for at her age.

Without disturbing them I go to my bedroom.

Elation starts to explode the repression that’s held my sensuality a prisoner since schooldays.

Suddenly, aged twenty-seven, I realise there is no longer a taboo on sex and I can feel good about how I am and what I want.

Late into the night I ponder over how I can begin afresh in the morning.

New View Jess

In the bathroom during the scramble to get ready, I hand Jess a fresh pair of panties saying, ‘you can change into these now because I’m putting the washing through.’ She took off her knickers, then I exclaim, ‘What a rash that is Jess’. I crouch down rubbing my fingers over her slit. ‘Not to worry’, I say stroking her, ‘nothing’s wrong, you’ve had a wet dream and rubbed yourself sore, that’s all.’

‘How do you mean a wet dream’ she says guardedly. I smile and lift her up onto the high stool saying, ‘Look Jess, as girls like you start to grow up, they occasionally have a sexy dream which makes them want to rub their slitty. I suppose it was your first one and that’s why you’re sore. Its quite natural, but you just keep it to yourself. Now, I’m going to put some cream on it for you, Ok?’