It's Practically What Uncles Are For - a romantic story by WTSman Uncle George has always spoiled Hannah since she was a little girl. At 22, after a disastrous relationship, she finds herself a long way from home, working as a nurse in London and living in widowed Uncle George's luxury apartment. He has done so much for her, but he is very rarely there. Much too rarely, Hannah thinks. Other women are attracted to George - including a very young rival who turns out to be deeply fascinating. And other people find Hannah interesting too. Are there things uncles are not for? ______________________ Chapter 1 Hannah had been his special pet all her life. They didn't see each other all that often - living on different continents, but it was like he was always there for important things and he always wrote her and encouraged her, never missing a birthday and always sending her spot-on presents. She was a modest child but whenever she protested that Uncle George spoiled her too much, he would laugh and say "It's practically what uncles are for" and that became a catch cry. 'Uncle' was actually a misnomer. He was married to her mother's much younger cousin - an exceedingly bright and pretty girl that had been swept off her feet by the urbane European, married him after a whirl-wind romance and gone to live with him in far away Norway, making a name for herself at the local University and raising a family. So no, he wasn't really an uncle. But he had always been 'Uncle George' in her mind and she couldn't think of him in any other way. He invited her to Europe after high school and treated her like a daughter - she was only slightly older than his oldest. She was going to spend Christmas with the family near Oslo, but to give her a feel for more of Europe, they spent the week leading up to Christmas in London shopping, sightseeing, and going to a show. While they were there they had joked that after she had become a nurse - she had applied to study nursing - she should come and live nearby for a while. Learning Norwegian would be too difficult, but working in London would be fine - there is always a shortage of nurses and the Australian ones are popular. When Beth, her oldest second cousin, had pointed out that the shortage was partly because the salary of a newly trained nurse was too low to cover the cost of living in the British capital, she had joked that "Uncle George will just have to buy me an apartment," adding with a grin "It's practically what uncles are for." Beth shook her head - rational to a fault, but Anne, her younger sister, loved the idea and embellished on the day-dream. She and Hannah even looked up apartments on the internet and found fantastic places 'for a measly £2 million'. It was not surprising that Hannah hit it off better with her 14 year old cousin than the older sister. Hannah could best be described as a little girl in a woman's body. Not that she was in any way lacking in her mental or emotional development, but her nature was sweet and naive in the most positive sense of the word. Her body was perfect - from her thick dark brown hair, olive green eyes and pretty freckled face down past large firm breasts, an hourglass figure, and long shapely legs, to her small, sexy ballerina feet. But she was as yet uninterested in sex - she was a virgin and her passions were more like that of an early teen than of a budding university student. George, who had never harboured sexual thoughts about her, just feasted on her beauty and enjoyed her sweet company. Hannah went home. While not a top student, her high school grades were fine and she gained entry to the nursing school at the local university which she enjoyed very much. She saw little of Uncle George over the next couple of years. He was 'down under' once or twice on business, but she was busy with her studies and social life, so she neglected writing him. There was otherwise a lot to tell. Her studies were going very well. She had also - finally - found a serious boyfriend, entered the world of womanhood at the unusually high age of nearly 21 and gone on to share a small apartment with him. The fact is this would have pleased Uncle George to know, but somehow she felt shy telling him; and not just about the sex - that's fair enough. But in a strange way she felt she would be admitting to 'cheating' on him if she told him about having found a boyfriend. She knew it was irrational, but it kept her from writing. He still kept up letters and cards and e-mails, but they were getting rare and were missing their usual sparkle. It took her a while to discover it, but when she did, she worried. When she asked her mum if she knew why, the answer shocked her. Her aunt was ill. As in very ill. She was undergoing experimental treatment but was unlikely to pull through. She didn't. On the same day that Hannah passed her finally exam to become a registered nurse, her aunt died in far-off Norway after 6 months of excruciating pain. And still there was a huge bunch of deep red carnations - her favourite flower, a silver necklace in a Viking design and a sweet card from George on the occasion of her graduation two weeks later. She wept. Her boyfriend, Greg, had no clue and made a stupid remark about 'making her cry on her graduation day' that hurt. In terms of him marking the day, his present had been completely uninspired; he got seriously and irritatingly drunk during the party - a BBQ in her parent's garden - and she felt a pang of regret that she had let him be her first. That regret was intensified more and more over the next six months. She had gotten an excellent job at a major hospital continuing working in the neo-natal area that she loved. She got better and better at it. Her boyfriend on the other hand showed no inclination to finish his education and get on with life. When sober he was a bore - almost the stereotypical Aussie male to whom foreplay is a call of 'Oi, are you awake?' When intoxicated - and that was more and more frequent - he was intolerable, bordering on the abusive. He did none of the housework; so Hannah was shopping, cooking, cleaning and washing, in addition to being the breadwinner. Greg had been an occasional recreational drug user - something Hannah only discovered late and disapproved of completely. When he started using harder drugs, the most unsavoury characters were coming to their apartment at all hours and Hannah started fearing for her safety. Greg's habit undermined their already fragile finances and he tried to pressure her into stealing the drugs for him at the hospital. That was when she gave the landlord notice that she was leaving the joint rental agreement and fled home to her parents. Her parents, with palpable relief, took her in. Her dad summoned her older brothers - all hefty fellas who could look intimidating if they tried, although it was completely contrary to their kind and easygoing nature. They drove a Ute - as the Australians call their beloved coupe utility pick-up trucks - over to the apartment and stripped it of everything that was Hannah’s. "The place had a funny echo when we left," her dad said when they came back. The ex-boyfriend flew into a rage when he discovered it, drove to Hannah's parents place and tried to kick in the security door. The only thing that got him was a broken foot, a summons for attempted criminal damage and attempted breaking-and-entering, a small fine for driving an unregistered vehicle and a huge fine and demerit points on his driver's license for a DUI violation. It was not the first, so his license got cancelled. When the police had left, a shaken and miserable Hannah got on with picking up the pieces of her life, starting with setting up her old room at her parents' place. She powered up her trusted PC and it auto-connected to the house WLAN, reinforcing her sense of belonging. Not 15 minutes later an e-mail from Uncle George popped up. It read: My dear Hannah, Nearly 4 years ago, when you spent Christmas with us in Norway, we joked about you coming over to work in London once you had done your nursing degree - provided I would buy an apartment you could live in. Well, I have! Before Helen's last illness we actually thought she was cured, and since we had just made a windfall from some of my company's intellectual rights, we realised an old dream of buying something in London. As you know, we were cruelly deceived about Helen's health so we never got to use the apartment even once. It is still empty, in fact, and none of your cousins are likely to need it for anything long term in the foreseeable future. So it's yours for the taking. I will furnish and equip it for you and you won't have to pay any rent in return for looking after it and letting us use it occasionally. Your mother tells me there is a young man in your life which delights me (I was starting to worry that all Australian males are gay!) and I realise that you may want to wait coming to London until he has finished his degree, but the apartment is plenty big for both of you and he would obviously be welcome. Let me know what you think. Your affectionate Uncle George When her mother came into her room half an hour later, Hannah was still sitting at her desk staring at the screen, reading the message again and again without really seeing it. Her mother came over, put her hands on Hannah's shoulders and read the e-mail too. Hannah's family were completely unreligious, but her mother remembered something her otherwise stern Presbyterian grandfather had once said and she quoted it to Hannah: 'When God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window.' Hannah cried and cried and cried, her mother just holding her until the storm blew over. "He always, always knows what I need exactly when I need it," Hannah sniffled. "And he always thinks of me, no matter what hell he is living in himself. He sent me flowers and the necklace" - she pointed to the gorgeous and intricate silver necklace that had hardly left the valley between her luscious breasts since she got it - "and the sweetest card the same week he buried Auntie Helen - and I never even told him about Greg." She wept again. "Forget about Greg," her mother said and sat down next to Hannah. "He is not worth crying about - I hope...?" The unspoken part of the question hung in the air and Hannah got it. "Oh no, don't worry about that. I am not a complete idiot. He has never been in me without a condom. At first, because I wasn't on the pill and didn't want to get pregnant, but when I discovered his habits, I knew you could get worse things than a baby from an IV drug user." Her mother sighed with relief. "What are you going to do?" she asked. "I don't know," Hannah said. "I can't stand the idea of risking running into Greg again. What do you think I should do?" "Simple," said her mother. "Take up George's offer. Find a job in London." She got up. "I'll make a cup of tea." When her mother came back with the mugs Hannah was busy on the PC having located web-pages for several nursing recruitment agencies in London. Her mother helped her with the checklists and, two hours and several cups of tea later, Hannah had sent applications and resumes to three of them. Exhausted but calm she got ready for bed. Her mother tucked her in like she was a little girl and, for the first time in a long, long time, she felt safe. The next day she told her supervisor that her private life had collapsed and that she needed to get away - a long way away. "What do you have in mind?" the older woman asked. She adored Hannah and would rather she stay, but she was smart enough to know that she would be fighting a lost cause. 'Better to help the girl,' she thought, 'and I might get her back.' "London," Hannah replied. "I was thinking of doing a year or so at a London hospital - it would be a good experience." "It would. You could learn a lot, but you realize it is pretty darn expensive living over there?" the supervisor said. "Yeah, except I don't have to worry about that. My uncle has an apartment there I can use," Hannah replied. "Sounds fantastic," the supervisor said. "Go for it girl and come back to us older and wiser. I will be happy to provide references for you and I can guarantee you there will be a job for you when you return." They hugged and Hannah went back to her tiny, sick babies. Things moved quickly. Two of the three agencies replied within 24 hours and the third the day after. They all had interesting offers, Hannah’s speciality being a god-send. Having dual citizenship through her father cut a lot of the red tape and only two weeks after the initial contact, Hannah was negotiating a post at a neonatal intensive care unit at a major London hospital - her supervisor's glowing reference certainly hadn't hurt. The deal was finalized and suddenly things were moving really fast. Initially she had just sent George a brief message reading: Dear George. You are such a sweetie! The young man in question is no longer in my life and I am seriously looking into taking up your offer. Hannah xxx Uncle George's reply had echoes of his former outrageously funny letters with passages like: ...at least the chap is spared the ordeal of being scrutinised by me to determine if he is worthy of my favourite niece’s affections; an investigation that inevitably comes up negative... And more in the same vein. Hannah was laughing out loud. Her mother, summoned by the welcome sound, read the letter and laughed too. Quietly, and not for the first time, she blessed her late cousin’s partner for being such a rock for her daughter. 'If only he'd been younger,' she thought, but dismissed the idea. Now that Hannah suddenly had a job, a flight number and a ticket - an open-return valid for a year, she had something specific to tell him. Dear George, I've been and gone and done it! I am starting as a Neonatal ICU Nurse on October 1st and will come to London about a week before, arriving on flight QF1 in Heathrow on Saturday, September 25th at 7.00 (AM - ugh!). I'll find a hotel for the first week and hope we can meet up and work things out around the apartment during that week. (Where is it, by the way? I need to tell my new employer my address.) Hannah xxx His reply came so promptly that he must have been on the computer at a strange hour - not a good sign, but the letter was nice. My dear Hannah. I'm delighted to hear that. Don't worry about a hotel; we'll be there in the airport and take it from there. Much love Uncle George She wondered briefly who 'we' were. Surely Beth and Anne couldn't be there as they would be busy with term start on their respective tertiary educations, but she hoped that Colin - their little brother - would. Hannah loved Colin; she called him 'my poster boy' and he was indeed a very pretty kid, full of life and very, very fond of his Australian cousin. She noted that George had forgotten to put in the address. But before she could write again and ask him, another e-mail ticked in with that information - and a hilariously funny comment about 'demented uncles'. When she looked up the address on Google Maps, she gasped. It was one of the converted wharfs right near Tower Bridge on Shad Thames. She couldn't believe she would be living there. Two nights before she was going to fly, the police knocked on the door. Greg had been arrested for a serious drug offence - a sizeable quantity of amphetamines had been found under his bed - and since she was still, erroneously, listed on the lease of the apartment, they wanted to find out what role if any she played in his criminal activities. Hannah was numb with fear, but luckily her father was home. Together they explained that Hannah had left Greg over drug use, but that she knew nothing about drug dealing or she would have turned him in herself. Her father reminded the police about the altercation when Hannah had fled. The police officer, who obviously knew nothing about it, checked up on that information and everything was confirmed. The next day Hannah was asked to make a statutory declaration, but was otherwise allowed to fly. "He sounds like a prize jerk," the blunt but friendly officer said. "And a good riddance. Don't worry. He won't be wrecking anyone else's life for quite a while." Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. The following day her parents took her to the airport and she embarked on the 24 hour journey to London and a new life. Chapter 2 Hannah arrived if not exhausted then very, very tired despite the best efforts of Qantas and their staff. But immigration formalities were easy and her monster suitcase did eventually show up just when she thought she had to go and report it missing. As she exited the restricted area, her heart was beating fast - she was more excited about seeing Uncle George again than she had thought - and she was wondering who 'we' covered. She got an answer to that first, spotting Colin. At 12, he was more than ever a small male version of his mother and her heart ached at the thought that he was now motherless. She looked up and saw George - and once more her heart went through a wringer. He had always been if not fat then thick-set and merry. He looked lean and drawn and must have lost at least 3 stone. But his grey-blue eyes were the same. They were looking straight into hers and she felt lost. She left her suitcase and trolley right there and flew into his arms. The tall lean black-haired woman with the narrow, curiously attractive face was observing the scene. She noted how George's embrace of the pretty Australian girl seemed to cause her oldest daughter - a few weeks from 13 - almost physical pain. 'Oh my,' she thought, 'Catherine's affection for George runs deeper than I realised.' A moment later she saw a similar reaction in her younger daughter when Hannah embraced Colin. 'Fiona is not keen on competition either, but she at least only looks peeved - not pained.' Introductions were made. "Hannah, this is Joanna," George said. "She and her then boyfriend, now husband Dave knew Helen very well when she was on sabbatical in Oxford. They have visited us in Norway and we have kept in touch over the years whenever we were in London. We are staying with Joanna and Dave and the kids until the apartment is set up." "That is really sweet of you. Thank you," Hannah said, smiling to Joanna. Joanna nodded, momentarily distracted by a mutinous look on her elder daughter's face. "I'm glad to meet you and happy to be able to help. George has told us so much about you," she said. That statement was met with a positively murderous glance from Catherine. George noted it too and hastened on with introductions. "Meet Liam, Fiona and Catherine. Liam and Fiona fight over Colin's attention whenever we're here. And Catherine is my closest and dearest friend in all of England. Aren't you sweetheart?" he asked and pulled the girl close to kiss her - and not in an avuncular way either. Catherine blushed scarlet, her heart was beating fast and she felt warmth at the pit of her stomach. Hannah, who had also noted Catherine's very obvious emotional turmoil, wrapped her in a tight embrace. "I'm so glad he has you," she said. Then she took Catherine by the hand and started walking towards the exit where the impatient troika of Colin, Liam and Fiona had run to and were already waiting. "You and I must work out how we get him to start eating again," she said in a conspiratorial voice. Catherine looked up sharply, made a complete mental U-turn and decided she loved this Australian girl. She launched into a long rambling monologue about how worried she was for George that lasted all the way to the car. George and Joanna made up the rear - with the huge suitcase and a trolley loaded with 'hand luggage', duty free bags and so on. "You handled that well," Joanna said to George. "And so did she. Turning herself from Catherine's deadliest enemy into her best friend in two sentences is a miracle. What a honey!" "Yes," said George - with a somewhat distracted tone of voice. "She is lovely, isn't she? I'd forgotten quite how lovely. And the last couple of years she has matured a lot..." He trailed off, lost in some inner thoughts. Joanna did some thinking too. She loved George and always had. Not in a sexual way, or indeed in any way that could threaten her marriage to Dave, but like an older brother perhaps. She wanted him to be happy. She knew George's daughters had been urging him to date; Helen had been dead for nearly 10 months now and given the nature of the disease that killed her, there could have been no sex for at least twice that time if not longer. But he hadn't dated. She had herself invited eligible singles over the last couple of times George and Colin had visited - something that happened quite frequently for business reasons - and one of her divorced friends in particular had been completely taken by the handsome and distinguished looking Norwegian businessman with the cute son, but it had come to nothing. George was friendly, amusing, urbane - and completely uninterested. 'Well, maybe he is just waiting for the right woman,' Joanna thought. 'And maybe she just arrived.' The car George had hired was a 'people mover' - very practical for a party of 7 (or 8 with Dave), and even more so for the shopping expeditions planned for the coming days to furnish and equip the apartment. Most of the furniture had already been ordered - in fact Dave was at the apartment to receive it, but George wanted Hannah to select her own bedroom furniture, and they had to buy everything, as in everything, in fittings, lamps, kitchen gear, bedding and towels and so on. "We'll head to the apartment right away and get an overview," George said to Hannah. "If Colin, Liam and Fiona can entertain themselves then Dave and I can set up the furniture while you, Joanna and Catherine make the shopping lists. Afterwards the four of us will head out to buy as much of it as possible while Dave takes the younger kids to a park or something." Joanna nodded assent and Catherine beamed at being included in the adult party. Hannah was not so sure. "I wanna sleep," she said in a little-girl voice - eliciting giggles from all the children, including Catherine. "Yes," George said sweetly. "Tonight." "It's tonight NOW!" Hannah said in a mock whine that none of the kids could have bettered; making Colin, Liam and Fiona laugh out loud while Catherine looked concerned. Perhaps her new best friend really was very sleepy? "Yes, in Australia, but you're in England now so I will be a Gruesome Uncle and keep you awake until tonight here!" George mocked her. Hannah pouted - Fiona couldn't have done it better. She managed to stay awake for the drive though and when they parked in a parking house in a side-street near Shad Thames she was wide awake, keen to see the apartment. She was not disappointed - it was nothing short of fantastic with sweeping river views including Tower Bridge from a long balcony. It had a large kitchen/dining/entertainment area, three bedrooms - one with river views and an en-suite bathroom - and another very big bathroom with laundry facilities. A spacious entrance - a small hall, actually - rounded it off. Hannah nearly forgot to breathe. "Do you think you can live here?" George asked. Hannah could only nod. A cheerful blond Englishman, so very obviously the kids' father, was in the process of unwrapping a lot of furniture in the main room. He looked every bit the respected but popular school master he was, and he made Hannah feel at ease at once. "You must be Hannah. I'm delighted to meet you, and listen - if you can't stand this place then I just might consider swapping with you." "You wish!" his wife said, but she too was astonished by the place and took it in much in the same way as Hannah. It was almost a crime it had been empty for so long. The kids were unimpressed, as only kids can be. Until they spotted a boat on the river - now that was cool. While the women wrote endless lists, Dave and George - helped, or rather hindered, by the smaller fry - got the living area set up, starting with a huge modern carpet, then a sofa group of soft black leather and then a number of low and high book shelves. A gigantic television and home cinema sound system went in next and when a game console was dragged out of a box, the kids took interest. Having the kids entertained, Dave and George moved on to the larger of the ordinary bedrooms, setting up two single beds, a dresser and a few other items. This was to be George's and Colin's bedroom when they were visiting. "You should have the one with the river view," Hannah protested when she discovered it. "Rubbish," George replied. "I'm very rarely here. You will be living here and should have that one." "You're spoiling me," she said - but in a tone of voice that clearly indicated that she had surrendered. "It's practically what uncles are for," George replied and they both laughed. The third bedroom would be used as a study and equipped as a fully functional office. Setting up furniture and writing master shopping lists were completed at roughly the same time. Pizzas had been collected from the superb pizzeria in Shad Thames and they sat down for a bite. George ate very little. Joanna knew that the last nearly two years had taken their toll on him. Loosing some weight was not a bad thing, he had always been chubby, but since Helen's last illness he had gotten thinner and thinner. She had not missed the split second of appalled shock in Hannah's face in the airport - before she locked in on George's eyes and flew into his arms. The girl was a nurse too. Joanna decided she would talk to Hannah about it as soon as she got a chance. George, Hannah, Joanna and Catherine drove off to get started with the many additional purchases for the apartment. They were going to get the bulk of the stuff in one large shop that had virtually everything, including the furniture for Hannah's room. Or at least they had furniture on display; the actual wares had to be collected from a warehouse a fair way away. They decide to split up; George and Catherine driving out to get the furniture and a large lamp while Hannah and Joanna would fill two monster trolleys with other stuff and await the return of the car. There had been a slightly awkward moment over choosing a bed. Hannah had found a single bed, but George had said "Get a double." "But I'm single," Hannah protested. George knew the thing with Greg was over. "You may not stay single forever," Joanna said quietly. "Besides, an apartment like that really needs a proper double-bed." Hannah had eventually agreed and settled on a gorgeous king-sized waterbed. Catherine's facial expression was strange once more. As George and Catherine were driving out to the warehouse, Catherine looked at George and finally spoke what was on her mind. "Are you going to marry her?" George, who had been busy working his way through the dense traffic, looked at Catherine startled. "What do you mean? Marry whom?" "Hannah," Catherine said. "Are you going to marry her?" "Why do you ask that?" George said. "Because I've heard Mum and Dad talk about you. They thought that you needed a new wife," Catherine said, looking away. "I wanted that to be me, only Mum told me it would have to wait a long time." George was shocked. "What to you mean? What did she say?" he asked. "She didn't say that exactly. She doesn't know. But when I got my period and Mum told me what that was about; she said that I can't do that with anyone before I'm 16 and that's not for another 3 years," Catherine said. "And a bit," she added very quietly - staring straight out the windscreen. "And you may not want to wait that long," she said only slightly louder. George's mind was in overload. He was used to children liking him - girl-children especially, but he had no sexual attraction to children at all; he found the notion both vile and completely incomprehensible. No child had ever been in any danger in his presence and they never would be. That a pre-teen girl should fall in love with him in a much too adult way was outside his experience and completely out of the blue. Or nearly; he had gotten a first hint in the airport, and he was at a loss as to what to do. This was a child he absolutely adored - and had since she was tiny - which didn't make it any easier. It was imperative that he handled this well. No matter what he did or said, it would hurt her. The task at hand was to ensure she wasn't crushed. They were at an intersection, waiting for a green light. George turned in his seat, reached out and gently turned Catherine's face towards him, his hand almost caressing her cheek and chin. She wasn't looking at him. "Catherine, look at me," he said gently. Slowly, she complied. Her eyes showed at mixture of fear and embarrassment - and deep, deep sorrow. "Catherine," he repeated. "I am flattered. And I tell you this: had you been 10 years older then I would marry you. People would not like that - but I wouldn't care. But you're only 13 next month and it cannot happen." She nodded, looking if possible even more miserable. "I guess..." She trailed off "So we'll just have to go on loving each other the way we always have," he said. It was her turn to look startled. "Do you love me?" she asked. "Of course I do," George replied - in complete accordance with the truth. "I always have and I always will. Just not the way a husband loves a wife." Tears were forming in Catherine's eyes. "I loved you when Colin's mother was still alive," he added. "I love you now. I may or may not ever marry again, but even if I do, I will still love you. Do you understand that?" She nodded. An angry hoot of a car-horn told George that the lights had finally changed and they drove on towards the warehouse. "But will you marry her?" Catherine asked again a little later. "I don't know. She may not want to marry me anyway - I'm much too old for her. And she has just broken up with a boyfriend," he said - not even realising that he was airing his innermost thoughts to a child. "Why do you want to know?" "Because I think she loves you. And I think she is very nice. And if I can't have you then it would be OK if you married her," Catherine said - feeling very noble and grown-up. George thought she was too. He wisely abstained from saying so. They got the furniture and returned to the apartment. Dave came down to help carrying things up. The help was welcome, but Dave being there surprised George. "What happened to going to the park?" he asked. "Ha!" Dave replied. "The kids decided it was too cold and looked liked it was going to rain." "But it is a nice sunny day; one of the warmest September days I have ever experienced in London!" George protested. "Yes," Dave said, "but someone set up a game console on a giant TV-screen, didn't he?" "I'm sorry," George started but Dave cut him off. "Don't be," he laughed. "We're having great fun. I'm the reigning local champion in Wii Baseball..." They got the last pieces carried up with some difficulty. "Do you want a cold drink before you head out again?" Dave asked. "Nah, I'd better get going. Hannah and Joanna must be nearly done. I gotta come and rescue them - and pay! I'll be back as quickly as possible to help with the bed; that will take some time," George said. He looked at Catherine who was eagerly following the activities of the TV screen "Do you want to stay here or are you coming out to get your mum and Hannah?" George asked. Catherine just looked at him like he had asked the most stupid question in the world and grabbed her jacket. "OK," George said defeated. Catherine's look was not lost on her dad. Joanna had briefly told him about the airport episode. 'Puppy love is never easy,' Dave thought. He had on more than one occasion become aware that a student had fallen for him - it could be very difficult to handle. 'No use telling her that the notion is absurd. I hope she'll get over it.' Chapter 3 Back at the department store, Joanna and Hannah had managed to find most of what was on the lists. The only things missing were kitchen machinery. Joanna wanted George to be there for that; she knew he was wealthy and used to getting the best of the best - the apartment, for instance, must have cost millions - but she had no idea what level of kitchen aids he wanted. Besides, Hannah was at dropping point with fatigue. Joanna called a coffee break in the store cafe and, over gigantic cappuccinos that seemed to revive the young Australian considerably, they finally got to talk. "I don't like that he has lost so much weight," Joanna said without any preamble, "and neither do you. I saw your brief shock in the airport." "Yes," Hannah agreed. "It seems excessive. I guess it all has to do with Helen. He's forgotten to look after himself. His letters also lost their usual sparkle - only I was too preoccupied to notice and never gave him anything back," she added bitterly. By gentle prodding, Joanna got her to tell the whole story. She even admitted to not telling George about meeting Greg because she felt it was like cheating. "I know that sounds absurd, but when I was a little girl I wanted to be married to him!" "Not as absurd as you think," Joanna said. "George has that effect on some very young girls. I know Catherine is completely taken by him too." Hannah smiled. "Yes, I worked that out in the airport. I could totally understand what was going on in her heart. It is not easy. But at least she is safe. He loves her and he will never hurt her." "I know that," Joanna said. "He is no paedophile. It's not him that loves little girls in inappropriate ways - it's the little girls that love him. And they get over it." "You know, I'm not so sure about that!" Hannah admitted - much to her own surprise. She had only known this woman for, what, 6-7 hours or so. And she was now telling her things she hadn't even told her mother. "Not sure at all." "Well, you should get a chance to find out over the next year," Joanna said. "Don't rush into anything. People make mistakes if they enter a new relationship too soon after one breaks up." The advice was sound. And it was not only for the young nurse's sake; if Hannah did rush into George's arms on the rebound and then found out it was a mistake, it would crush him too. She didn't say that of course, but somehow Hannah was thinking along similar lines. "Well, that cuts both ways. George is recovering from something far more serious than I am." Before Joanna could respond to that, her cell phone rang. It was George; he and Catherine had arrived at the shop and wanted to know where to meet them. "At kitchen appliances on the 3rd floor," Joanna replied. "Expect to be bankrupted!" she added cheerfully. George chuckled and ended the call. A few minutes later they met up; George and Catherine had brought an extra trolley. Joanna's initial hunch had been right - the selection process had the Oscar Wilde touch. 'I have the simplest of tastes - I am always satisfied with the best' was George's motto too, so they ended up with a seriously wonderful collection of kitchen appliances. "I would have no idea how to use that damned thing," Hannah laughed when a very advanced piece of machinery went into the trolley. "Oh, I'll come and teach you," Joanna said wistfully. "I've always wanted one of those." George's and Hannah's eyes met. They exchanged a significant glance. Catherine spotted it and after a second smiled knowingly too. "Help me distract your mother for a tic," George whispered and Catherine, quick on the uptake, dragged him and her mother over to look at something while Hannah put an identical machine in another trolley. With three full trolleys Joanna didn't discover the plot, but when they got back Dave did. He was loudly complaining about 'too much guff' when they carried the haul up to the apartment. "Oh, you're such a cave-man Dave," his wife said. "You'd be fine with a heavy club and a roasting spit. Some of us like a more refined approach to cooking." "That may be," he retorted. "But I bet you don't even know what you've bought!" "We do too!" she replied. "It's just you who can't tell one thing from another." "You're not wrong there," he said sarcastically. "To my uninstructed cave-man eyes, these two boxes look identical!" Joanna stopped dead in her tracks, staring at her co-shoppers. Hannah and Catherine avoided her eyes but giggled. George met her gaze calmly with a tiny smile on his lips. Joanna blinked first. "Oh George, you shouldn't have!" she exclaimed. "What? Miss a chance like that?" he asked. "It is easier to find a present for the proverbial middle-aged gold fish that has everything than finding one for you. You expressed a wish - well, you got it. Hannah, Colin and I would like to thank you for all your help." A defeated but happy Joanna supervised the unpacking of the kitchen stuff. Dave's crowing rights were not over. "Did you buy a funnel and a pint-measure jug?" he asked - much too innocently - coming back to the kitchen a little while later. When met with blank faces, he continued "I understand why a subtropical girl might want a nice warm waterbed to get through a cold London winter with said city's notoriously badly heated dwellings, but the trick to a water bed is, well, water. A lot of water. Except it doesn't come with the bed when you buy it. You have to put it in to the mattress. Thus the funnel..." "OK, OK, OK," George said. "I get you. A garden hose would have been a good idea. We might get one tomorrow if we can find an open garden centre." "Sure," Dave chuckled, "but then there will be no bed tonight..." - and he went back to Hannah's room to assemble more furniture. "Sorry about that," George said to no-one in particular. "Oh, don't worry," Joanna said. "The bedding has to be washed like all the other new stuff, so you have to sleep at our place tonight anyway. Speaking of which, the first load of washing will finish in a mo'. When that's in the drier, we head home. This poor girl needs food and a bed and she needs it soon." Hannah was in no position to argue. She, in fact, fell asleep in the car while driving to Joanna and Dave's house. When she woke up next morning in an unfamiliar but pleasant room (Catherine's, to be precise) she had no recollection of getting there or getting undressed and put to bed. Attempts at finding out how it had happened were met with friendly vagueness. She had slept in the same panties she had travelled in, but the tee-shirt was different so someone had removed hers - in addition to her shoes, socks, jeans, jumper, necklace - and bra - before tucking her in. Not that it worried her, but she felt a slight regret not having 'been there', as it were, the first time George saw and felt her boobs. If it was indeed him. Well, it was, and George had gotten the mother of all boners from the process. On arriving at the house, it had been obvious to everyone that Hannah was out for the count. Demonstrating - to the admiration of the smaller children, to the relief of the adults and to both for Catherine - that he was physically strong even though he had lost so much weight, he had picked up Hannah and carried her upstairs to the room she was going to sleep in and gotten her ready for bed. 'Christ, her body is sensational,' George thought. He hadn't said anything about it though because Catherine was present there too, 'helping' him. She had, reluctantly, admired Hannah's body and wondered if she would ever grow boobs like that. She had the tall skinny build of her mother so she didn't think it likely. She had also noted the bulge in George's trousers and - correctly - divined the origin. That could have caused yet another confidence crisis, but George - who in turn had noted where Catherine was looking - saved the situation and indeed made her day by putting his arm around her while they walked down to the kitchen for supper. Colin, to whom the mere idea of missing a meal was utterly horrible, was concerned that Hannah wasn't getting any food and said so. But Joanna was her usual practical self. "If she wakes up hungry before we're up, she can make her way to the kitchen. There are cereals out for you kids, and milk in the fridge. She shan't starve." And indeed, this is what Hannah did when she woke up. Colin, Fiona and Liam where there eating cereals and watching morning TV when Hannah joined them. And since she had no one but the kids to ask, answers to her questions remained vague. Life slowly returned to the house. Catherine, already enough of a teenager to be able to sleep longer on days off, had slept with her little sister to make room for the visitors. She got up around the same time as George woke up in the guest room. She had thought a lot about seeing Hannah's boobs last night - and George's reaction to them. She decided to test if said reaction was triggered only by specific large boobs, or if any boobs would do the same. Sure, she had very little compared to the Australian Goddess, but boobs she had. They could not be mistaken. So when she heard the door to the guest door creak, she darted out on the corridor dressed only in panties and with the rehearsed excuse that she needed clothes from her own room and 'had no idea there was anyone about'. So once more George got an eyeful. Very different boobs they were, but boobs are boobs and men are men. His dick reacted completely according to nature. And being in PJs rather than jeans, the effect was impressive. Catherine was delighted and got a much needed confidence boost. She forgot all about feigning shock or delivering her excuse. She felt herself getting warm and wet and in consequence just said "Good morning George!" before sauntering past him to her room to retrieve the clothes. George on his part found relieving his bladder somewhat difficult for a while. OK, so she was no longer quite a child - although she was still completely out of bounds of course. But he was not otherwise disturbed by the episode; he had no difficulty working out what the little display was all about. Neither had Joanna who had seen it all from a flight of stairs up. 'Good for Catherine,' she thought, 'if that will make her comfortable in her own skin.' A remarkable number of shops are open on Sundays, so by the end of the day the apartment was more or less ready for Hannah to live in. They cooked a meal in her new kitchen for the first time, ending up with divine coffee from the fancy piece of Italian machinery that Hannah had only seen the likes of in upmarket cafes. George and Colin took off for Oslo on a late flight. Dave hade gone back earlier with the younger kids and Joanna and Catherine prepared to walk up to London Bridge station to get on a train home. They hugged Hannah and urged her to keep in touch, and off they went. Suddenly Hannah was alone. It was too early in the morning in Australia to phone her mother and she felt slightly panicky. 'Take it easy girl,' she told herself. 'You'll be right.' She got ready for bed - just panties as the waterbed would keep her warm. She stood at the window for a while, admiring the fantastic view from the apartment and feeling intensely privileged. George had really out-done himself in spoiling her this time. She got into the bed spending a few moments getting used to the slight movement of the water. It felt fantastic, almost like a caress. She couldn't sleep and she thought of George. Her hand drifted into her panties - perhaps she could masturbate herself to sleep. She only ever came from masturbating. Sex with Greg had been nice in the beginning, but no more than that. Nice. He had never made her come. Early on, she had thought it was her own lack of experience that kept her from coming, but now she was not so sure. He had been a bad mistake. She collected a bit of moisture from her vagina - just thinking about George had made her wet - and then teased out her clit with two fingers in a slow circular motion. She reached her climax and realized that she had cried out George's name as she came. Just as she was coming down from her orgasm her cell phone beeped to tell her that a text message had arrived. It was from George. Dear Hannah, we're ready to board the flight. Hope you settle in. I shall be over in London next month I hope. Looking forward to seeing you! Much love George. "Oh George," she said softly out in the empty room. "I so wish you were here with me." Chapter 4 Hannah spent the last days of September getting organized. She got to know where the local shops were, she worked out the easiest public transport to the hospital and she arranged for a bank account, a UK SIM card for her cell phone and so on. She even remembered to tell people about the new number. She had not brought her computer over, only a backup disk. The PC was too heavy, so it would cost more than it was worth to have it sent. Besides George had promised there would be a PC in the apartment. There was and it was nice (of course!), but when she tried to get it working she had difficulties getting her stuff from her own computer on it and she missed her Skype setup and some of her net-handles. Friday was the 1st of October and her first official day at work. She reported herself to the personnel office and was taken up to the ward to meet the duty matron and some of her new colleagues. Hospitals wards are always busy; intensive care units especially so and there can sometimes be very little time for social niceties, but luckily Hannah knew that from her experience at home and she was not put off by it. She made a point of seizing every quiet moment to introduce herself and get a sense of the way things were organised and how the hierarchy worked. It took her a day or two to realise that there was not one but two neonatal ICU wards. This was primarily for administrative reasons, but also because smaller units are safer. The two wards shared management and some senior specialised staff, but were otherwise quite separate. After a couple of days Hannah started to worry. She didn't like the atmosphere at 'her' ward much; everyone seemed tense and closed in and serious. It was serious work - working with critically ill babies is quite possibly the hardest field in all of medicine, but for precisely that reason a warm, collegial atmosphere is imperative. With so much heart-ache, and let's face it, quite a few of the patients have a very brief life, you need to support one another. But that was not the case in 'Left Ward', as it was internally known (for the simple reason that you turned left from the main stairs to get to it), and Hannah, used to getting to know her colleagues in a matter of days and used to being liked - she had a sunny disposition and was quite frankly pleasant to behold - felt she was out on deep water. After a week she felt she knew no-one and while she recognized good nursing and medical work, it was not a happy place to be. What got to her most was the attitude towards the parents. In her work back in Australia, it had always been the policy to give the parents as much access to the babies as could be medically justified and make them feel as included as at all possible. In many sad cases, this was the only time they would ever get with a much wanted child; Hannah felt that the staff owed them compassion, sympathy and respect, but they got neither. The nursing staff offered next to nothing, always looking like they were checking over their shoulder for their superiors. And the medical staff was just awful. No-one more so than a Dr. Gregory Alexander Hamilton-Smythe. His attitude to parents was condescending and unpleasant, leaving them with the impression that they were a nuisance and their offspring an inconvenience. To add insult to injury, he was a sexist bastard with an overdeveloped sense of his own qualities. He was around 30 and quite good looking in an arrogant public school boy way, and in his mind, he was God's gift to women - junior nurses in particular. He immediately hit on Hannah, making all kinds of unwelcome innuendo. Of course it hadn't helped that, after having introduced himself with his full name and titles, he added "but I like my friends to call me Greg." 'No way! I will do no such thing,' a horrified Hannah thought to herself, although she only offered a reserved "I don't think that would be appropriate Dr. Hamilton-Smythe." But the barrage went on. Hannah learnt that he was divorced (that didn't surprise her), supposedly in a new relationship (that did), and still he made hints and suggestions, using every opportunity to stand close to Hannah and touch her. She hated it and started swapping shifts to try to avoid being on duty at the same time as him. Being available to take the less popular shifts - and why not, she had no private life - was popular with the other nurses, but it rarely got her more than a hesitant smile or a hasty 'thank you'. So when George - and Colin - made good the promise to come over in late October, Hannah was not a happy camper and George sensed it. She wasn't able to have very much time with them due to her shifts, but she did manage to talk to George - who had fixed her computer problems in minutes, by the way, and gently chided her for not asking him before - and she admitted that a big London hospital was possibly not quite so pleasant to work at as the hospitals back home. In his usual gentle way he coaxed the story out of her. "I know different places have different work-cultures, but this ward gets to me. And what's worse, I don't feel I learn anything," she finished. "Have you tried talking to the medical staff about it?" George asked. Hannah's look startled him. "Honey, did I say something wrong?" he asked, all concerned. Hannah apologized and listed Dr. Hamilton-Smythe's litany of inequities. George smiled wryly. "I can't blame him for finding you attractive. Any sane heterosexual male would - and putting you in a nurse's uniform is probably just the icing on the cake," he grinned and Hannah - reluctantly - grinned back. "But he should shut up with his innuendo when you are so obviously not interested, and he should especially keep his grubby hands off you. Tell him so, and if it doesn't help, tell his boss." "Yeah," Hannah said. "I thought about that. The chief matron and the professor are both very kind and professional, but I'm just a junior nurse and I've haven't even been here a month yet. I don't want to lose my job." "Hannah, sweetheart!" George said. "There are other hospitals. You still have your recommendation from home. If you say you wanted to change because of sexual harassment then you should be OK." "I know," she sighed, "but this is supposed to be the best place in London. I so want to learn more." They had to end the conversation there - Hannah had a night shift and she wouldn't be back until George and Colin had left. The farewell hug turned into a tight embrace. Hannah couldn't let go. "I miss you so," she said. "I so wish you lived here too." His kiss was avuncular, but there was a deep longing in his voice when he replied. "I wish that too sweetheart." Hannah ran off to make it to work on time. George was sufficiently worried that he called Joanna from Norway the next evening. "That sounds pretty bad," Joanna said. "She is not the kind of girl you get 'down' easily. I'll give her a ring and ask her over for dinner." "Thanks," George said, "I hoped you would." "The only reason I haven't done it before is that I thought it would give her a little time to settle in," Joanna said almost defensively. "Jo," George replied, using a nick-name reserved for only the most intimate situations. "Stop apologising. You hardly know the girl. You don't owe her anything." "I know George, I know," Joanna said. "But I like her. Besides I promised Helen I would look after you lot. That includes Hannah. I know Helen loved her too." George was silent for a while. When it had become obvious that his wife's lifespan should be counted in days or perhaps even hours, rather than months or weeks, he had called Joanna. She had flown over at once and just exactly made it. Their farewell had been the last time Helen was conscious. Joanna had stayed and was with George and the kids when Helen died the following day. That kind of bond doesn't break easily. Hannah was happy with the invitation and if she suspected George had a hand in it, it didn't worry her but rather made her appreciate him even more - if that was possible. The kids were over the moon seeing her again and looked up to her like a much older sister. The evening was pleasant and Hannah was happier than she had been in a long time. "Have you heard from George," Catherine asked when they got a moment together alone in her room while her younger siblings were being put to bed. "Not since he and Colin where here the other week," Hannah replied. "And I didn't get to spend very much time with them because I had to work." "I know. And we had to go to school - lucky Colin; he had holidays!" Catherine said. "But they did come to visit for my birthday." "He is looking a bit better, isn't he?" Hannah said, meaning George, not Colin. She had noted that George had filled out a bit. Just a little, but he didn't look sickly thin anymore. "Yes!" Catherine replied happily, understanding her perfectly. "And he seemed much happier." Then in a more sombre mood, she added "Nell noted it too." "Who is Nell?" Hannah asked quickly. "One of Mum's friends," Catherine replied. "She is divorced and very keen on George." "And is George...?" Hannah started. She couldn't make herself finish the question, but Catherine answered anyway. "Oh no, I don't think so," Catherine said with satisfaction. "And I told Mum off for inviting her over!" Hannah suppressed a smile. Besides, this gave her something to think about. She was somewhat confused about her emotions, but before she could ask more about this 'Nell', Joanna called a curfew on Catherine - it was a school night after all, and after considerable protests, Catherine finally agreed. "Can I talk to Hannah while I get ready for bed?" she asked. "Sure," her mother said. "Just don't take too long." And turning to Hannah, she said "I'll make us a cup of tea. Come down to the kitchen when Catherine's in bed." To Hannah's surprise, Catherine stripped down to her panties and went hunting for a night gown. Hannah was completely taken with the younger girl's developing beauty and couldn't drag her eyes away. "Don't you want me to, you know, leave while you change?" she finally asked. Catherine smiled. "No, that's OK. I've seen you like this, so it's only fair." Hannah must have looked like one big question mark, so Catherine continued. "Your first night in London. You were so out of it. I helped George put you to bed." "Oh!" Hannah said a couple of times while that sank in. "George saw me too?" she asked. She had suspected as much, but now it was confirmed. "Uh huh," Catherine said with a devious smile. "And he liked it!" "As in?" Hannah asked, blushing profusely and feeling slightly apprehensive about the answer. "His trousers got very tight," Catherine said with a grin. "It seems he likes boobs." "Men do, you know," Hannah said neutrally. Her spectacular specimens of human mammaries had caused many an erection since they sprouted on her chest more or less overnight ten years ago. And while she had never felt uncomfortable about that, if men said or did anything about it then she had baulked for a long time. Well, up until Greg. That George - of all men - should have gotten an erection over her boobs made her feel immensely pleased. "So I'm told," Catherine replied lightly. "And our George is a confirmed boob-man. I flashed him the next morning and he got stiff once more!" "You didn't!" Hannah said with an outraged laugh. "Did too!" Catherine shot back. "Fancy these tiny boobs could turn anyone on!" she said and cupped them with her hands. "They are not tiny," Hannah said almost in a trance. "They are gorgeous. No wonder he got hard, you naughty, sexy girl!" Catherine felt good and warm being called 'sexy'. She moved closer to the older girl and got a good-night kiss that wasn't exactly sisterly. Pulling herself away required all her strength of will, but Hannah finally let go of Catherine - and only after her hands had roamed over the younger girl's sweet bottom. She had to force herself not to touch - or kiss! - Catherine's breasts. "I'd better be off. Sweet dreams!" she finally managed to say. Catherine put on the night gown. "You too," she said, light headed and confused about the emotions she was experiencing. It had been just as exciting to show her boobs to Hannah as to George. Well almost. And the look in Hannah's eyes was just as rewarding as George's. She could feel her crotch was getting wet. Hannah could too and fled down to the kitchen. She and Joanna had finished their first cup of tea when a bleary-eyed Dave joined them. "I think I fell asleep before Liam did," he said, shrugging his shoulders and rolling his neck like he had a crick in it. "Poor darling," Joanna said, massaging him. "Have a cup of tea and then take Hannah home. I don't want her to go on the train alone this late." Hannah started protesting that she was used to travelling at all hours because of her night shifts, but Joanna overruled her. "That's on the Tube and that's different. There are more cameras than seats on the Tube." Hannah surrendered and was driven home by Dave. "Catherine thinks the world of you," he said. "Well, we all do, but especially Catherine." "I noted, and the feeling is mutual," Hannah replied. "I mean, with all of you. But yes, I always wanted a little sister. With three older brothers I had it good. I was spoiled rotten, but I always missed having a sister." "I can imagine," Dave said. "I was the only boy in a flock of six. But at least one of my sisters was into football and such." "Well, none of my brothers were into dolls, I tell you!" Hannah laughed. They arrived at her house - or rather as close as you could actually drive. "Thanks for taking me home - and thanks for having me over. It felt like being part of a family," Hannah said. She leaned over and kissed Dave. "Anytime my dear," he said, kissing her back. "Anytime." Back up in her bed, Hannah reviewed the evening. Dave and Joanna felt like substitute parents, and she could well use that. And she had been basking in the younger kids' attention. But Catherine? Hannah didn't know what to think. For once it wasn't George she was thinking of when she brought herself off. She might have been feeling both confused and even vaguely guilty, but the thundering orgasm that rolled over her sent her off to blissful sleep in no time. The confusion was not one-sided. "Mum," Catherine called as she heard her mother passing her room on her way up to bed. "Can I talk to you for a mo'?" "Sure," Joanna said, came in and sat on the edge of her oldest daughter's bed. "What is it, sweetheart?" "Mum, can girls, you know, like girls?" she asked - grateful that the lights were so low her mother couldn't really see her; she was sure she was getting red in her face. Joanna knew better than to ask 'what do you mean?' and simply said "Of course they can. Auntie Elizabeth is living with another woman, isn't she?" Elizabeth was the football-interested sister of Dave's and openly lesbian. "Hm. Yeah, that's right. But what if, you know, you like both? Can you do that?" Catherine wanted to know. "That's actually the most common," her mother replied. "Most people do to some extent. But at some stage you have to decide what you like best and which kind you want to live your life with. Or finding someone special makes you decide. You can't really have one of each as your one true love, can you?" "No, that's true," Catherine giggled - her embarrassment completely gone. 'Mum is great!' she thought. 'It is so easy to talk to her about these things.' She still had questions. "But, I mean, what do you, they, you know, two women do?" she asked. Joanna hesitated for only a moment. Sex Ed in schools tends to be a little, well, technical. Her oldest daughter knew about sexual intercourse in a strictly procreational context. All the other aspects of human sexuality - all the fun bits, in fact, were left out. "Kiss, cuddle, touch, lick - that kind of thing. There are many ways of making someone else feel good," she replied. "Lick?" her daughter asked. "Isn't that, you know, ick?" The rhyme was not intentional, but they both giggled. "Not a bit of it," her mother said. "You want to be clean anyway. And believe me, that kind of thing can be fantastic." "Do you and Dad, I mean..." Catherine trailed off, not sure she really wanted to know. It was Joanna's turn to be glad the light was low. "That is private sweetheart. But your father and I do a lot of things together that we both love doing. That is the key: What two adults agree to do together in bed cannot be wrong." "But it has to be adults, right?" Catherine asked. "For most things, yes," her mother replied - aware that she might be bending the law a little here, but unconcerned that her daughter might experiment a bit with people she could trust not to hurt her. The unspoken message seemed to come across all right. Catherine sighed contentedly and rolled over. "Good night sweetheart, sleep well," her mother said and kissed Catherine's ear before going up to her own bed. Joanna was still thinking about the conversation with her oldest daughter when Dave came to bed. He was tired and in slight pain from his neck, but two minutes after he had crawled into bed he had forgotten all about that. Joanna's hand was fondling his quickly stiffening dick while she whispered about Catherine's questions in his ear - it felt like her tongue was almost licking his ear drum. She mounted him and rode him fast and furiously to a shattering, mutual orgasm in only a couple of minutes. "Thank you love, I needed that!" she said when her breathing was reasonably normal again. "I could tell," her bemused husband said. "Happy to be of assistance. Anytime! By the way, have we just made baby number four?" Joanna did a quick calculation. "Possibly. If not, there's always tomorrow." "I'd better look into that loft-conversion," Dave said, rolled over and fell asleep. One floor below, Joanna and Dave's vigorous activities had not gone unnoticed. Catherine tickled that special spot between her legs until she got the fantastic feeling. 'A pity one has to choose,' she thought as she was drifting off to sleep. 'I would like to have both Hannah and George.' Chapter 5 Hannah's disagreements with 'Left Ward' in general and Dr. Hamilton-Smythe in particular came to a head on Friday of that same week. She was tending to one of her small charges - a tiny, tiny boy - whose not-so-young parents were both present. On Hannah's urging they kept an almost constant vigil. Hannah had come to like them very much and the feeling was mutual. In fact, they adored her. Unlike most of the rest of the staff, the doctor in particular, this sweet and pretty Australian nurse had instilled them with hope that their son had a chance not only of survival but also of getting a good and normal life. Hope they needed after a fifteen year horror story of late miscarriages, still births and neonatal death. They did not need to be told of the risks of severe physical and mental disabilities, but that was essentially all they heard. Except from Hannah. Dr. Hamilton-Smythe was once more outlining the risk of blindness from the oxygen the baby had been given and at the same time arrogantly running the hand over Hannah's back and playing with her bra-strap. Hannah snapped. Swinging around and waving the surgical scissors in close proximity to the doctor's crotch, she exploded. "The threat to little Alexander's retinas is minimal; the oxygen level was closely monitored. And I insist you keep your hands off my body!" Almost jumping backwards, Dr. Hamilton-Smythe was about to launch into some angry retort when his pager sounded an emergency and he retreated muttering threats under his breath. Hannah completed the procedure and then told Alexander's mother it was OK to touch him again. She looked at Hannah in gratitude but also feeling worried. "Will you be in trouble?" she asked. "I don't know," Hannah said - exhaustion clear in her voice. "Quite possibly. But enough is enough." "I say!" Alexander's father said. "And if anyone's going to be in trouble it should not be you, but that sexist prick!" Hannah excused herself and carried on with other tasks - she had another 4 hours to go on her shift. Her professionalism meant that her work remained first class, but she was worried that her explosion would have consequences. So when the shift finally ended, she requested an interview with the chief matron. Only, the matron wasn't there; she was working from home on administrative matters. Never being one to be shy, Hannah knocked on the glass door to the professor's office. He was on the phone, but looked up and waved her in. He motioned her to sit down while he finished the call and then looked at Hannah. "Yes, Nurse Westlock?" he inquired. "Professor Rutherford," Hannah started. "I fear I have behaved in an unprofessional way this morning." "Yes," the professor said in a neutral voice. "That is what Dr. Hamilton-Smythe tells me." Hannah's heart sank. The bastard had gotten there first. "However," the old man continued, "that is not the impression I got from Mr. Phillips." Hannah looked up. Mr. Phillips was baby Alexander's father. And the professor's tone of voice had changed. "Mr. and Mrs. Phillips think the world of you. Besides caring for their tiny little boy so well, you have given them real hope, they said." The professor paused for a moment. "They could well need that," he added heavily. Hannah didn't say anything, but there was a clear question in her eyes. "Oh, I know them quite well. I went to school with Mr. Phillips' father," the professor said. "Alistair Phillips is my god-son. Besides, Mrs. Phillips' father is on the Hospital Board." All of a sudden Hannah felt a lot better. Perhaps she wouldn't get sacked. "I still shouldn't have behaved the way I did," she said. "That wasn't professional." "According to Mr. Phillips, your reaction was perfectly justified. He is a solicitor, you know, and he said - and I quote verbatim," the professor said - checking a piece of paper over his half-glasses, "yes, here it is 'If she wants to sue the prick for sexual harassment then tell her my chambers will represent her for free. I shan't take the case myself as I will want to appear as a witness'. Quote-unquote." Hannah looked stunned. "But still..." she started. "Yes," the professor said. "I have to remind you that you are not licensed to perform surgical procedures. That is for doctors only. If anything needs to be done to Dr. Hamilton-Smythe's crotch with a pair of surgical scissors then leave that to me." He paused. "It might be a good thing too!" The little jest was delivered in a crackling dry voice, completely dead pan. Hannah, despite her worry and fatigue let up a pearly girlish laugh. The professor, almost old enough to be Hannah's grandfather, felt refreshed and rejuvenated in her presence. "That aside, the only other thing in Dr. Hamilton-Smythe's litany of your sins that needs my attention was one of subordination," the professor said. The wording startled Hannah, but the professor's tone of voice was still reassuring. He elaborated. "With respect to oxygen treatment it seems you overruled his decision and did 'something else'. Now, our consultant neonatal ophthalmologist has just reported to me that baby Alexander's retinas look fine and all his neurological data are perfectly normal. So whatever this 'something else' was, it worked. Tell me about it!" Hesitant, Hannah started. "It's not like it's something I invented, but back home we're mindful that many of the very smallest we save end up blind or nearly blind, so a lot of work has gone into preventing that." The professor was naturally perfectly aware of this curse of the otherwise successful saving of the lives of the very smallest premature babies. In fact, he led an international research group on the matter. He grunted encouragingly and Hannah continued. "Well, we were taught to monitor the oxygen saturation very, very closely for the first couple of days while the lungs are hormonally matured. Making sure there is enough oxygen for the brain, but absolutely no more. Keeping it at the minimal safe level is the key." The professor nodded. "Sound advice. And you are all taught that?" "Yes," Hannah said. "Every nurse working in neonatal knows that." "Very well," the professor said. "Back to Dr. Hamilton-Smythe, do you wish to launch a formal sexual harassment complaint?" Hannah hesitated. "Not really," she finally said. "If I could just get him off my back somehow." 'As in off your bra-strap,' the professor thought to himself - definitely not too old to appreciate Hannah's bodily perfection. His answer was however completely professional and certainly pleasing. "I think that can be arranged. I was on the 'phone to the chief matron just now. We have agreed that you take a couple of days off beginning now and start in 'Right Ward' in the day shift on Monday at nine." Professor Rutherford waited respectfully while the young nurse finished crying with relief. The proffered handkerchief was used and duly returned to him with a kiss that left him in deep thoughts for a little while. He had only disdain for young Hamilton-Smythe's unacceptable behaviour, but he certainly understood the attraction. Hannah, bubbly and light-hearted, left the hospital and went home. She decided to call George at his office and got on to the secretary who knew of Hannah, although she had never met her. There was a standing order that Mr. Hamsun was always available to Hannah. Since Mrs. Hamsun's death, Hannah was the only person besides Mr. Hamsun's children covered by such an order and the secretary knew that the young Australian woman was a nurse, somehow related to Mr. Hamsun's late wife and installed in their London apartment, so she had made a mental note that the young woman must be very important to Mr. Hamsun. She sounded sweet, the secretary thought. 'If only it comes to something!' she mused. Vera Åserud was a motherly woman in her late fifties, had been with George Hamsun for years and years and was as concerned for George as Joanna and Catherine and George's daughters. "Miss Westlock on line two," she said when George answered the phone. "Hannah? Do you think anything is wrong Vera?" George asked - he had been really worried for her after the last London visit. "I don't think so Mr. Hamsun," came the reply. "On the contrary - she sounds very, very happy. I'll put you through." "Hannah, my love," George said when the connection clicked in. "Is there a reason for your call - apart from brightening my day?" Hannah, always pleased with being referred to as George's 'love', launched into a happy rambling account of the developments. George was just as delighted with the outcome as Hannah and told her so - and also urged her to call Joanna. Like Professor Rutherford, George could feel a measure of male sympathy for Dr. Hamilton-Smythe, although he obviously found the doctor's behaviour abhorrent. He decided on a jocular approach which had Hannah in stitches. Throwing all caution to the wind, he ended with a teasing "He should keep his paws off your bra-strap. What was he thinking! An accident might have happened. I know the poor strap is working hard enough as it is!" "Yes, I know you know - so Catherine informs me," Hannah replied sweetly. "Eh, what?" George spluttered, not expecting that answer. "Catherine tells me you relieved said strap of the 'strain' last month - and took obvious pleasure from it," Hannah said in a voice that sent blood - a lot of blood - to George's groin just from the memory. George felt his face go warm and felt busted, but Hannah had even more to add. "She found your reaction so fascinating that she wanted to test it out the next day herself. She tells me that worked too!" George was now totally embarrassed. "I, eh, I..." he started. "Relax George," Hannah said. "I don't blame you. Her boobs are delicious. She flashed me too the other night and it was all I could stop myself from touching them and kissing them and sucking them into my mouth. You can, you know. They are just the right size. You couldn't with mine, but I'd love for someone to try..." "So, you're not - not - angry with me?" he croaked with a nervous hesitation that she found adorable. "About what? For caring for me and putting me to bed when I was unconscious with fatigue? Not at all. For finding my body attractive and having an involuntary reaction from it? Nope." Hannah paused for just a second then added "But I would like to be awake when you look at my breasts next time. Goodbye, Uncle George. I love you, you know." She hung up just seconds before she climaxed from rubbing her clit through her panties. 'That was kinky,' she thought. 'I wonder if George got excited too. There's more to phone sex than I knew!' George thought so too. There was a noticeable tent in his business pants and he had an important meeting in just 10 minutes! He fled to his private toilet and relived himself. It took less than ten strokes before he shot semen in all directions. 'Wow. That call took at least 20 years off of my age!' he thought, dabbed his face with cold water and returned to the office to greet the visitors who ended up getting a very favourable impression of an energetic, youthful and very approachable potential business partner. Hannah made herself some late lunch, had a shower and got dressed in fresh clothes (and dry panties). Mid afternoon she decided to give Joanna a ring as George had urged her too. That turned out to be a very good idea; Joanna was delighted with the outcome and laughed out loud when Hannah told her about the professor's gentle jokes. "So, you're not in trouble, you're rid of the prick and you get to start in the other ward?" Joanna summed up. "Yes!" Hannah said happily. "And I got the weekend off too!" "That's cheap compared to what a harassment case would cost them in trouble and money, but it was sweet of him nevertheless," Joanna said. And then she added. "Hey, so you're not working this weekend?" "No," Joanna said. "I'm free to do what I like until Monday morning." "Got any plans?" Joanna asked. "Not really - do you and Dave need a babysitter? I'd love to do it," Hannah said. "Well, sort of," Joanna said. "Listen, I'll tell you what it's all about, and it is perfectly OK if you can't or won't, but Fiona goes to ballet and there is this intense course down in Brighton this weekend. We have promised to go a fair while ago as it involves parents too. We have 'sold' Liam off to some friends - the parents of his best playmate. But we were going to drag Catherine along. Only she is not into ballet at all. She says she will be bored to tears, and I'm sure that's true. But what can we do? We've been having World War III over it for the last couple of days..." "Simple. She just comes and stays with me!" Hannah said immediately. "We'll make a weekend of it - go to the movies, do a bit of shopping, watch DVDs until early in the morning. It will be fun!" "Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to take your whole weekend..." Joanna said - acting on the perverse notion that convention dictates you must reject it when you're being offered what you really want. "Of course I'm sure. I'd love to have her over. I really love her, you know," Hannah said. "Yes, I know - and I know it is mutual. Catherine will love it too," Joanna replied. "She is a teen now and I'm sure it can be a drag having only younger siblings," Hannah continued. "So she needs a break from the small kids' agenda. Don't inquire too closely about the ratings of the films we see," she added with an audible grin. "No I shan't," Joanna replied lightly - and in a suddenly serious voice she added "I shan't worry about what she sees, what she wears - or doesn't wear, what she eats and drinks and when - or where - she sleeps." The emphasis on the third last word could not be missed. Hannah swallowed hard. "I'll let Catherine decide all that," she said. She felt the second pair of panties getting drenched. "I know you will," Joanna replied in the same intense voice. And back in her normal practical voice, she rounded the call off. "Anyway, we head off early tomorrow morning and will be back late afternoon on Sunday traffic permitting." Hannah's reply was prompt. "In that case I suggest you bring her over already this afternoon - then she won't have to get up early tomorrow. And Catherine and I will cook an early dinner for all six of us on Sunday. Deal?" "Deal!" Joanna said and went to tell her delighted first-born that she would not be spending a whole weekend looking at small girls in pink tulle after all. Chapter 6 If Hannah had been bubbly going home that afternoon, Catherine was positively bouncy when she arrived at the apartment. She had packed a weekend bag in minutes after her mother told her the fabulous news. Truth be told, half the fun was Fiona's pout and whine, but as Catherine so sweetly pointed out (much too sweetly - she got a 'cease and desist' glare from her mother), the Ballet in Brighton was her thing. And so, less than an hour and a half after the phone call, Hannah and Catherine were standing in doorway of the apartment, waving to Joanna as she went down the stairs again. Hannah's hand was on Catherine's shoulder. She led her inside and closed the door with the other hand but somehow couldn't let go of Catherine and they ended up walking around arm in arm, gossiping and making plans. "I suggest pizza tonight," Hannah said, meeting vigorous approval from Catherine. "And a stack of DVDs after that," she continued. Catherine's kept nodding. "Tomorrow we have to shop for dinner Sunday," Hannah added, "but I thought we could do a bit of clothes shopping too." Catherine's non-verbal approval got even more vigorous. This was going to be a great weekend. They went down Shad Thames hand in hand and ordered Pizzas. Hannah was flirting blatantly with the male staff and Catherine, tentatively, took her cue. Back in the apartment they devoured the food with youthful appetite. "Right, DVD time and a complete pig-out on snacks!" Hannah said with relish. "What are we going to watch?" Catherine asked. "We're going to have a Chick Flick Fest!" Hannah replied, and pointed to a large stack of DVDs on the table. "Have your pick." Catherine looked through the pile of DVDs while Hannah found snacks and drinks. There were several films she knew of but had never seen - mainly because she had been deemed too young for them. And there were a couple of Australian titles that she had never heard of but they looked good. "This could take all night!" she exclaimed. "Not a problem," Hannah replied. "We have all night! But let's get into our night stuff first." "This early?" Catherine asked - feeling slightly giddy at the idea of stripping down to night gown and panties with Hannah. "Sure," Hannah said. "Saves time later. Besides, my bra is killing me and my jeans are too tight - I want to get them off." With that she pulled her tee-shirt over her head, reached behind her back and deftly undid her bra. Catherine stared mesmerised at the older girl's large breast. They seemed even bigger than when she had seen them the first time. Hannah was struggling with the jeans button, but sensed Catherine's gaze and looked up. "I've been living too well and put on weight. I need bigger bras - we could go bra-shopping tomorrow for both of us," she said with a grin. "It's not like I have much," Catherine started, but Hannah cut her off. "Don't diss your boobs - I love them. Besides, I was planning on seeing what a push-up bra would do for you..." Hannah waltzed into her bedroom and found a night gown. Catherine retreated to the guest room, got her night gown out of her bag and started to strip. She was secretly hoping that Hannah would join her and she was not disappointed. "Your boobs are getting bigger all the time too," Hannah said as she walked up behind the almost naked Catherine, turned her to face the mirror on the wall and reached round to cup her breasts pressing them upwards and inwards. "Didn't I tell you? With a push-up bra you have cleavage!" The sensation of having Hannah touch her breast had made Catherine close her eyes to focus on the feeling. She felt all giddy and warm and wet. With a struggle she opened her eyes again and looked in the mirror. Hannah was right; she did have cleavage when her breasts were moved that way. She looked up and saw Hannah smiling at her over her right shoulder. She smiled back. After what felt like ages - but in reality it was only a few more seconds, Hannah let go of her friend's breasts and Catherine put the night gown on. 'It could all have been a dream,' she thought. 'Only, my panties are very wet and there is this faint, but intensely pleasant scent in the room.' Catherine's panties were not the only ones to be wet and the faint, but intensely pleasant scent was that of two very turned on girls. Hannah was shaken by the feelings the little episode had triggered and decided it was time to cool off a little. "Let's go watch movies," she said and dragged Catherine out of the room. All up they watched four different films, frequently laughing, sometimes gasping and occasionally sobbing - and generally having a great time. The last one they watched long after midnight was a Swedish film from the late 1990'es. In English it was called 'Show Me Love' - presumably because the original title - 'Fucking Åmål' - was deemed impossible in the more puritan markets. The story depicted in the film; two teenaged girls in a dreary provincial town discovering their sexuality and mutual attraction, left both Hannah and Catherine in deep thoughts while the end-trailer rolled over the screen. "I don't think I want to watch any more films tonight," Hannah finally said standing up, "or we shan't have any energy for what we're doing tomorrow night." "What about tomorrow night?" Catherine asked. She had been close to dozing off, but now she was suddenly wide awake. "Tomorrow night, that is to say, tonight, we're going out," Hannah replied. "But I won't tell you where, when or what - that is a surprise." Catherine's eyes were shining with excitement. "Not fair!" she said with a mock-pout, "Believe me, little sister, you will have fun!" Hannah said and pulled Catherine into a close embrace. Afterwards they weren't sure who had started the kissing or who opened her mouth first. It was quiet and long and very, very intense and the feel of the other girl's tongue in her mouth and the other girl's soft breasts against her own through the night gowns and the notable heat from the other girl's groin had them both in complete sensory overload. They finally broke the kiss. Catherine helped Hannah carry the remains of their snack orgy back to the kitchen area and then went to find her toothbrush. Hannah followed her into the guest room. "Do we have to pretend you are sleeping in here?" she asked. "I guess," Catherine replied, "but can't we just make the bed look like it has been slept in?" "No need," Hannah replied. "We'll just strip the bed and leave it in a crumpled heap on the floor." She was going to add 'besides your mother OK'ed just about anything,' but decided against telling Catherine that. She also decided they would stick to kissing. They didn't quite. Two people in a waterbed tend to 'migrate' closely towards one another. They decided that was nice - very nice - but also very warm, so they stripped down to panties. They kissed and caressed each other's breasts until they fell asleep lying 'in spoons'. Catherine woke up Saturday morning from the triple sensation that she was in a strange bed, that she was not alone in that bed and that someone was looking at her. She remembered the night before, opened her eyes and saw the smiling face of Hannah very close to her own. "That's the best I've slept in ages," she said with a big smile of her own. "Good morning sleepy head!" Hannah replied, leaned in and kissed Catherine gently on the mouth. Tongues came into play and the kiss developed into a long cuddle and mutual touching of breasts. When they finally broke the kiss for air, Hannah steeled herself. If they were to get up today at all, it had to be now, she thought and more or less rolled out of Catherine's arms and out of the bed. "Time for breakfast," she declared and went to the kitchen area. She was still only wearing panties, so Catherine decided to stay that way too and as a result they ate their breakfast topless. If either of them had expected to feel embarrassed, it didn't happen. They finished breakfast and cleared up the kitchen area. "I suggest we have showers in separate bathrooms, or it may take too long," Hannah said with a grin and stripped out of her panties. Catherine, slightly bewildered by that statement, unashamedly took a good look at her older friend's crotch. Hannah's pubic hair - almost exactly the same dark brown colour as the hair on her head - was neatly trimmed. Catherine herself didn't have all that much hair yet but decided then and there she wanted to keep it trimmed just like Hannah. She took her panties off too and walked towards the second bathroom. Hannah only got a brief glimpse of Catherine's crotch, but followed the cute, gently swaying bottom with her eyes as her young friend walked away. Horny out of her mind, she rushed to the en-suite bathroom and brought herself off under the shower. A few feet away in the other bathroom, Catherine was doing the same. They got dressed and hit the nearby shopping area. Deciding it was too upmarket; they went in to the centre of London and roamed the more ordinary clothes shops there for hours. They had great fun but didn't end up buying very much apart from bras for them both and a low cut silk top for Catherine. Hannah did however stock up on make-up including some colours she wouldn't use herself - she had plans for Catherine. They stopped in a Pret a Manger for a late lunch. "Fill up well," Hannah said. "We won't get supper until late." "What are we doing tonight?" Catherine asked again. "I'll tell you a little later. Be patient for now," Hannah teased and she was unmoved by Catherine's pleading. On the way home on the Tube they studied the entertainment pages of one of the free newspapers including an article on a film that was to have its London premiere that very day, "Oh, I'd love to be there," Catherine gushed. "The lead actor is like totally hot and he will be right there tonight at Leicester Square!" Hannah just smiled. Back in the apartment, Hannah said to Catherine "We should go wash our hair - it's time for serious dolling up!" "What are we doing, where are we going?" Catherine tried once more. Hannah relented. "We are going to that premiere so you get to see your hottie," she teased. "You mean, like going in to Leicester Square and watch the stars arrive?" Catherine asked - surprised but excited about the idea, if a little confused why they had to dress up for that. "Nope," Hannah said. "We are going to the premiere. I have tickets." "No way!" Catherine squealed. "Way!" Hannah replied coolly. "I won them in a competition." Catherine's excitement was very noisy. When she was finally out of breath, Hannah explained how she had entered an on-line competition just for fun - and won. She hadn't thought more about it because normally she would have been working this evening, but she had remembered them while talking to Joanna yesterday. "I did originally think of giving them to you - I remembered the five posters of the male lead on your wall! - but the film is rated 15 and I didn't think your mum would go along with it." Catherine gulped. "What do you think Mum will say?" "Your mum isn't the problem. She explicitly said she wouldn't worry about film ratings this weekend," Hannah replied. Catherine caught the emphasis on mum and hesitantly said "But?" "But the film is still rated 15 - so we gotta make you look at least that," Hannah replied with a grin. "Thus the makeup and the push-up bra?" Catherine asked, comprehension dawning. "Exactly," Hannah replied. "And I have a skirt that is slightly too, ahem, narrow, for me. It will look fantastic on you with the new blouse." It did. And Hannah's work with Catherine's hair and makeup was nothing short of amazing. Not only did she easily look 15 - actually, she could pass for 16 or even 17. On the way on the tube, Hannah tried to dampen expectations by telling Catherine that although they would be let in they weren't exactly VIPs, that in fact their only advantage compared to the fans outside was that they were inside and able to actually see the film, and that they were unlikely to see much of the real VIPs. But when they arrived at the cinema, Hannah had to eat her words. The staff discretely sorted non-VIP guests and directed the two very pretty girls out in front were they could see everything - and be seen. They had no idea that it was their looks that did it; only stunned by their good fortune. Catherine didn't call her friend wrong; in fact Catherine was completely over the moon. She got to exchange a few words with the male lead, got his autograph and had her picture taken with him with the camera in Hannah's cell phone. "Wait until my class mates hear about this and see the picture!" she gushed. The film itself was actually quite good, the girls agreed. And the brief after-party was superb. Once more Hannah's predictions were shamed - the food and drink was good and plentiful and the same for all. "Stay off anything with alcohol," Hannah whispered. "You may look at least 16 but you are only 13 and we don't want trouble." Catherine was fine with that. And she was thrilled when two young men - well, a young man of about 18 and a boy of 16, hit on them. Mark and Thomas were brothers and somehow related to the chairman of the film's distributors. Mark tried to make it sound like they were important members of the film industry. Catherine took it all in while Hannah found Mark's tactics obvious and juvenile and his pickup lines pathetic. His younger brother was much more natural - and very much taken with Catherine. Hannah excused herself to the bathroom. When she returned and found that Thomas had moved in very closely to Catherine, she decided to pull the brakes. The party was breaking up anyway and Hannah politely but firmly declined the invitation to 'go out somewhere' with the brothers. Catherine was slightly peeved. "Thomas was cute," she pouted as they were walking away from the crowds in the Square. "He sure was," Hannah agreed, "but his older brother was unbearable. Much too full of himself. Besides, he was too young for me - and you are too young for his brother. Your mother would skin me alive if went out with those two." "I suppose," Catherine said, "but I don't really want to go home yet." Chapter 7 They had crossed Shaftesbury Avenue into Soho and found themselves in Old Compton Street with its many diverse bars and clubs. "We don't have to go home," Hannah said. "We could go dancing." "Like where?" Catherine asked visibly brightening. "Right here looks fine," Hannah said. There was a short queue at the venue - and all the patrons were girls. "Is this a, you know, a lesbian club?" Catherine asked barely above a whisper. "I think so," Hannah replied. "At least we won't be hit on by guys!" she laughed. "What if we are hit on by girls?" Catherine wondered. "Everyone will think we are together," Hannah replied. "No need to worry." Catherine bit her lip. "I suppose so." Once more Catherine's clothes and makeup fooled the staff at the door and they entered unhindered. They had a ball dancing. Again they stayed off alcohol, mindful of the precarious legal situation. They met a pair of girls - Eleanor and her young friend Jennie - and had a great time both talking to and dancing with them too. Reluctantly, they finally broke up the party and went home. "I think I'll want a shower before I go to bed," Hannah said. "Shall we shower together and help each other get the make up off?" "Good idea," Catherine said and undressed quickly. A good 20 minutes later she understood why Hannah had said showering separately was quicker. Under the mesmerising and plentiful warm water, they washed and caressed each other. On several occasions hands drifted towards crotches. When Hannah ran a finger long Catherine's pussy she shuddered and nearly came. "Mum says girls, you know, can lick each other," Catherine said. "It is supposed to be very nice to be licked" "So I'm told," Hannah replied. "But I've never tried it. My ex-boyfriend wouldn't although he was keen enough for me to lick him." 'And you are my first girlfriend', she thought, but she didn't say that loud. "Should we, you know, try?" Catherine asked nervously as Hannah switched off the shower and they started to dry each other. "No," Hannah smiled. "That's a line we can't cross. It is against the law when you are so young. I shouldn't even have touched you down there before." "I'm glad you did," Catherine replied. "It felt great." They went to bed completely nude and kissed and cuddled each other to sleep, but by unspoken agreement their hands stayed out of crotches. Sunday morning it was Catherine that woke up first. She looked at her beautiful friend and tried to analyse her feelings. Being naked in bed with Hannah was wonderful, but was this what she wanted? Thomas had been an interesting experience too - a pity really that Hannah and Mark had fitted so badly. Damn and blast having to choose. Damn and blast being deemed 'too young' all the time. They had left the curtains open when they went to bed last night and Catherine's eyes drifted out over the river and the city skyline. She was miles away and nearly jumped out of her skin when Hannah suddenly said "A penny for your thoughts." "I didn't know you were awake," Catherine said and then replied to Hannah's question in an indirect way. "I was just wondering if that club we visited last night, if, you know, if I really belonged there. Or if you do for that matter." Hannah half smiled, half sighed. "You mean if we are lesbians?" Catherine nodded. "I don't think I am," she said, then added "I like boys too, well, some boys, and I want babies." "Do you regret anything we've done this weekend?" Hannah asked quietly. Despite her youth, Catherine recognized her friend's vulnerability. "Never!" she replied. "This is the best weekend in my life and I love you!" Hannah opened her arms and Catherine cuddled up close. Hannah was all smiles again. "Well, I love you too! I think it is quite obvious we are bi." Catherine's questioning eyes made her clarify. "Bi, as in bisexual - liking both kinds." "Oh," Catherine said enlightened. "Mum says most people are, but at some stage you have to choose. I just hate having to choose." She trailed off, and then took up her other grievance. "Not that I have to choose any time soon. It will be 3 years before anyone is allowed to touch me." "I think you will find that touching is OK as long as it is with someone closer in age. Your Mum is quite liberal, you know," Hannah said. "Really?" Catherine asked. Few teenagers would agree to that description of their parents. "Really!" Hannah replied. "Think of all the things she has talked to you about. Besides, she more or less OK'ed that we slept, as in slept, together this weekend. She knew I wouldn't hurt you - and she knows we love each other." Catherine stared open mouthed. That was news. And it could make for some embarrassing moments when her parents returned. She dismissed the thought and followed up on something else instead. "But what about you?" she asked. "I think I interrupted you before." "Well, I really don't know," Hannah said. "Like you, I have always wanted babies. I just never hit off with boys and men my own age. I never dated in high school. Greg was my first and one and only and he was a disaster. And there is this creep at work that hits on me, but I would rather never have sex with a man again than have sex with him." Catherine giggled, but Hannah stopped herself. Perhaps she was loading too much on a 13 year old. On the other hand she saw only love and understanding in her young friend's eyes, and when Catherine spoke; her question shook Hannah to the core. "Why don't you marry George?" "That's just it. Why don't I?" she pondered. "I always wanted to when I was a kid, except he was married to my auntie. Now he is a widower. But, you know, his daughters are nearly my age." Catherine just nodded. She had met the Hamsun daughters many times from as far back as she could remember. Not so often recently though, especially not Beth. She had no idea how they would react. She tried to imagine if her own mum was dead and her dad remarried someone just older than herself. And a second cousin at that. Would she be able to accept that? She honestly didn't know. It would depend on the person. And Hannah was lovely, that was for certain. Catherine needed the toilet and excused herself. While she was there, her cell phone started to ring. Hannah - thinking it might me Joanna or Dave - picked it up and said "Catherine's phone - it's Hannah." "Oh hullo Hannah," an ill-defined male voice said, shifting almost a whole register. "It's Thomas. We, eh, met last night. Eh, is, um, Catherine there?" "Oh, hi Thomas," Hannah said. 'I didn't know the little monkey gave you her phone number', she thought. 'How do we handle this?' She spoke again. "No, Catherine has just gone to be 'where others are not' right now. She'll be back in a mo." "Oh," Thomas said. "Actually, I'm, you know, 'eh glad it was you who picked up the phone. I was, eh, going to ask you if, um, do you know, like, does she have a boyfriend?" The last few words came very fast. Hannah suppressed a laugh. "No Thomas, I am quite certain she doesn't." Wickedly she added. "Why do you want to know?" His stammering and frequency shifts got even worse, but eventually he managed to convey the meaning that he would like that position provided it was vacant. Hannah decided to be straight forward. "I am not saying she wouldn't be interested, but you would likely have to wait a couple of years." "Why?" the boy asked evidently confused. "Because she is only just 13," Hannah said. "No way!" he exclaimed, the stutter momentarily gone. "She looked at least 16!" "She had to," Hannah said simply, "or your uncle's people wouldn't have let her in, would they?" There was some heavy-duty whispering going on in the background. "Well, um, she completely fooled us," the boy finally said. "And, um, just out of interest, how old are you?" "Was that your brother asking?" Hannah said suppressing another laugh. "Uh huh," the boy replied, evidently embarrassed. "It's not like it is his business," Hannah said, "but you can tell him I turn 23 next birthday - and he is unlikely to be invited." Hannah heard this message be repeated verbatim. She thought she sensed a certain Schadenfreude in the tone of voice, amongst the stutter. "Anyway," Hannah continued as she saw Catherine approach the bed again with a puzzled expression, "Catherine is back and you can talk to her yourself. But just remember this Thomas: Anything you do will have to be OK'ed by her parents, do you get me?" As Hannah handed the phone over to a startled Catherine, she thought she heard a faint "Yes Miss" on the phone. With a big grin that Catherine couldn't see, Hannah pulled on a pair of panties and left the bedroom to start making breakfast. She took her time and still she had to wait quite a while before a flushed Catherine joined her. "Yes?" Hannah said with a lifted eyebrow. "He said he didn't mind I was only 13. He said he was more than willing to wait for a good thing," Catherine said in wonder. 'His pick-up lines are WAY better than his older brother's,' Hannah thought. What she actually said was "So what did you two work out?" "I gave him Mum's number. He doesn't live so far away from us and he would ring Mum and ask if he could visit me one day or perhaps we could go swimming." "Super," Hannah replied to that very sensible arrangement. "Let's eat. Did you tell him you were late for 'topless breakfast'? I bet you that would have interested him." 'I bet he would have been even more interested to know what I did to my pussy while talking to him,' Catherine thought - she too had put panties on to 'cover the evidence'. All she said was "Yeah, men - and boys - like boobs." They giggled and dug in. Chapter 8 They got dressed and spent a lazy day, watching more DVDs and just talking. Mid afternoon they started dinner - Hannah had planned an elaborate meal and it took a while to cook. Around 5.30 Dave and Joanna arrived with the younger kids, having collected Liam on the way. Fiona was happy and exuberant after a day and a half of ballet. She had slept in the car home and was full of energy again - and wanted to tell Hannah everything. Her enthusiasm was so infectious that even Catherine forgot to be a grumpy teenager and listened instead. The blow-by-blow account of the ballet school carried on into dinner. When Fiona had finally run out of steam - though possibly not things to tell, Dave hastened to ask as casually as he could "And what have you two been up to this weekend?" Catherine and Hannah looked at each other. There was a slightly nervous look in Catherine's eyes that wasn't lost on her mother, but Joanna didn't say anything. "It is claimed that one picture says more than a thousand words," Hannah eventually said - and then had to avoid Dave's eyes as he made a theatrical gesture of relief just outside the periphery of Fiona's vision that almost made Hannah crack up. She retrieved a photo print from the PC printer and handed it to Joanna and Dave. It was the snapshot from the movie premiere. Joanna's eyebrows shot up, but still she didn't say anything. Her husband studied the picture - he'd been in Catherine's room often enough to work some of it out. "Even I know who the chap is," he said, "but who is the chick he has put his arm around?" Hannah, Catherine and Joanna exploded in laughter. "That, my dear, is our oldest daughter," Joanna said. Dave was gob-smacked. His stunned expression had everyone in hysterics. "I think," he said subdued, "that at least some of those thousand words this pictures supposedly replaces need to be spoken anyway." "Possibly," his wife said, "but not here and not now. And some of them may not be good for you!" The women laughed again. Catherine and Hannah launched into a kids-friendly version of their weekend, including DVD watching, clothes shopping and the movie premiere, but most definitely excluded the push-up bra, the lesbian bar and the topless breakfasts - and the other activities that involved various stages of undress. "And Catherine got herself a boyfriend," Hannah teased. "Did not!" Catherine said blushing scarlet. "Did too!" Hannah retorted. "Or at least an admirer, boyfriend status subject to parental approval." That obviously needed some further explanations. "We met him at the premiere. He is the nephew of the chairman of the film's distributor and a very nice kid," Hannah said. "He knows Catherine is only 13 and was told to clear all contact with you two." "I gave him your number Mum," Catherine said. "He is a keen swimmer and asked if I would like to go to the pool with him one day." "That's fine sweetheart," her mother said. "I'll talk to him." "I would tell him that you are to have no boyfriends before you're 18 and that you must wear neck to knee swim suits," her father teased. "But why bother? After what you wore last night, he knows exactly what he's getting anyway..." His wife shot him her withering 'cease and desist' glare and Dave backed off. Fiona finally got to see the photograph. She expressed sea-green envy with meeting the actor, admiration for the blouse, the make-up and the hair-do and wanted to know all about the film - a request Catherine happily fulfilled. "Can I go see it too Mum?" Fiona finished off. "No, Sweets, you can't," Joanna replied. "You have to be much older - they wouldn't let you in." She shot Hannah a sideways glance and winked. Hannah winked back and the conversation turned to other matters. It had been a long weekend for all of them and it was back to school and work in the morning so the party broke up early, but not until everyone had helped clear up after dinner despite Hannah's feeble protests. "Rubbish," Joanna cut her off. "It is no trouble and besides you need to be fresh tomorrow for your new work!" Catherine was sent to pack up her stuff which she dutifully did in the guest room aided by her mother. She bestowed Hannah a sisterly caress when they left and Hannah, who suddenly felt very tired went to bed almost immediately and slept like a log. Back home with the younger children safely in bed and asleep, Joanna knocked on her oldest daughter's door and entered. Catherine was in bed already too, so Joanna sat on the edge of the bed like she did about a week earlier. "So, did you have a good weekend?" Joanna asked. "The best Mum," Catherine replied. "We had so much fun! Hannah is such a sweetie." "Did you work a few things out?" Joanna asked - not wanting to infringe on Catherine's privacy and willing to back off immediately, but still curious. "Kind of," Catherine sighed. And then with more vigour she added "Yes, well, I did. But it still sucks having to choose." "You know," Joanna said, "there is really nothing to stop you from remaining very close - as long as there are some lines you don't cross. Mainly not to hurt whoever you end up with permanently." "Mum..." - Catherine had opened her mouth to speak but faltered. She somehow knew she needn't tell her mother that Hannah and she hadn't crossed those lines anyway. Instead she said something else. "Mum, if Thomas does ring, can I go swimming with him?" "I can't see why not," her Mum said. "If he is as nice as Hannah says then it would be OK." Joanna got a hug for that. Just as she was leaving, her daughter called her back. "You know Mum; one can get padded swim suits too. They work just like the bra Hannah bought me..." Joanna laughed, but in a sweet and understanding way. "That's an idea. We can't have that the young man gets disappointed, can we?" She left the room. Catherine sighed and rolled over. She felt safe and happy and loved. Upstairs Dave was waiting for Joanna in bed. He took a very keen interest in 'Operation 4th Baby' and while Joanna assured him that if they hadn't already done the deed it was too late for this month, his 'well, we'd better make sure' argument was irresistible. As they were basking in the afterglow, Dave was gently playing with his wife's breasts - what they lacked in volume they certainly had in the nipple department. He suddenly said "When did our daughter get cleavage and how come she got to go to a 15-rated movie premiere?" "The answers to those two questions are closely related," Joanna said with a sigh as her husband's nipple-stimulation triggered a small after-tremor in her womb. "In order to get in to a 15-rated movie she had to look 15, and in order to do that, a push-up bra was used. It worked." "I'll say!" Dave replied. "She looked like my O-level students." Like many teachers he still referred to 16-year olds that way. "Anyway," he continued, "were you aware that they would be doing that?" "The movie premiere?" Joanna asked. "No, I didn't. But they had carte blanche to watch whatever DVDs they liked irrespective of ratings. Hannah must have taken that as a general permit, and indeed that was OK. We agreed they could do just about anything they liked." "Do you think they did anything else?" Dave asked. He wasn't being specific, but his wife understood him anyway - the hand rolling her nipple certainly helped steer her thoughts in a specific direction. "To a point," she replied. "Catherine's bedding which was very prettily stripped off the bed and artistically strewn on the floor of the guest room had not been used, I am sure. I noted that when I picked it up to put in the laundry bin. I folded it neatly instead..." Dave laughed, "So they slept together?" "Yes, I'm sure they did. But I think sleeping was mostly all they did," Joanna replied. "How so?" Dave asked, not too precisely, but his meaning was clear from the context. "Because your daughter wanted me to buy her a padded swim suit to be able to display that new found cleavage to the young man when they go swimming," Joanna said between small gasps - Dave's other hand was now playing with her unusually large clit. "Whatever else she likes, she likes boys - and what they have to offer." She grabbed Dave's dick - his erection had returned with a vengeance. "As does her mother. Come on Big Boy, let's make it twins!" Despite having come so recently, Dave came almost as quickly again as his wife. He couldn't remember when they'd last done it twice in a night, or when his wife had last been so loud when she came. He wasn't complaining. Downstairs, Catherine again had no difficulty working out what was going up in her parent's bedroom. She dimly associated the sex-related conversations she had been having with her mum with the subsequent vigorous action upstairs. "You owe me Daddy," she chuckled to herself as she brought herself off too and finally managed to fall asleep. Monday morning Hannah woke up bright and early, feeling rested and ready to start afresh in 'Right Ward'. She too thought it had been a great weekend. She felt certain that her relationship with Catherine, such as it was, would enrich her life but not cause any major upheavals for either of them. The weekend's experiences had been good, but she would put them behind her. Yes, she was bi - come to think of it she had known that for a long, long time and the physical closeness to Catherine had been good, but she also wanted a man. A specific man. George, to be precise. How that was going to happen she didn't know. She would work on it, but it had to be him. She had woken up from the most wonderful dream about him. She wanted that dream to come true. The plan of putting the weekend's experiences behind her lasted for about two minutes at work until she was introduced to her team. "And this is your team-leader," the Matron said. The nurse thus introduced turned around with a welcoming smile. It was Eleanor. "Uh hullo Hannah," she said with a slightly disconcerted look in her eyes. "I didn't know you two knew each other," the Matron said - Hannah being so recently employed and mainly working nights and weekends in 'Left Ward' made it surprising. "Oh we met, eh, socially in town this weekend," Eleanor said. "For a, um, girls' night thing." "Well, that's excellent Eleanor," the Matron said brightly to her deputy. "I can leave you in charge of our new colleague then," and she rushed off. Eleanor decided to do just that - here and now. When they were alone - that is to say with someone quite incapable of telling tales; a 9 weeks premature baby deeply asleep - Eleanor wasted no time. "The place we met," she started. "I have never been there before." Hannah smiled. "That makes two of us - well, three - my young friend hadn't either." "Four then, I think," Eleanor said. "Even if it was my young friend's idea. Jennie is the little sister of my very ex-boyfriend and it turns out she has had quite a 'pash' on me for ages. When I agreed to meet her in town, I had no idea what was going on or what she had in mind. I always liked her and missed her and we had a great time, but it is not my scene. And I'd rather it didn't come out - I don't think she should have been there. She is quite a bit younger than me, you know. It could be a bit of a scandal." "I can relate to a lot of that," Hannah said, "including bringing someone much too young." "Yes, I guess Jennie and Catherine was it? - are much of an age," Eleanor agreed. "Jennie turned 16 a few weeks ago, but it is amazing what a little make-up can do." Hannah nearly cracked up. "I'll say!" she said. "Throw in a wonder-bra and you can get a 13 year old into a night club." Eleanor was stunned. "13??? NO way. She looked 16 or 17." "Yes," Hannah said. "That is exactly how the boy she met at the movie premiere reacted when he was told. But it is true. For starters she is tall. Her boobs are quite good for 13, her skin is clear and with makeup and the push-up bra the illusion was perfect. Of course it had to be for us to attend that premiere. The club was an afterthought, and they should have turned us away. At least we stayed out of the bar. I don't think they would have served us." Eleanor shook her head in amazement. "Well, I suppose keeping quiet is not going to be an issue for either of us, is it?" "Nope," Hannah said. "As I said, Catherine is very much into boys too. And while I love her, I also want a flock of these," - she indicated the baby - "and their father." "It sounds like you've got someone specific in mind," Eleanor said - it was a statement, not a question. "I do," Hannah agreed. "A real man this time, not like the immature brat I was with before I fled Australia." "My turn to relate. Jennie's brother was a bad mistake. He even turned abusive. And I have a sneaking suspicion Jennie's preference for girls has a sad background. She was hinting that Jim - my ex, her brother, is called Jim - had crossed some lines that shouldn't be crossed between siblings." Hannah visibly shuddered. Her three older brothers had clearly and openly admired her beauty, but she was sure they would rather have cut off a hand than touch her inappropriately. "That's tough. And then she hits on you in vain. Will she get over you?" Hannah asked. "Oh, I'm sure she will," Eleanor replied. "I talked to her on yesterday and we are still friends. She will find someone her own age. I kind of got the impression that besides actually liking me, she also saw me as the perfect revenge over her brother - turning us both lesbian, as it were. I didn't want to play along with that." "Obviously not," Hannah laughed and the conversation turned to professional matters where they too found much common ground. So, completely according to expectation, Hannah made friends already on her first day at her 'new' work. Besides Eleanor, she clicked instantly with another junior nurse, Stacey, who reminded her of one of her closest friends from nursing school. The pattern repeated over the next several weeks until she knew, liked - and was liked by, everyone. 'Right Ward' was right indeed. Chapter 9 The following Saturday morning, Joanna and Catherine were home alone. Fiona was with a friend and Dave had taken Liam shopping, so they were able to a have a mother-and-daughter morning in the kitchen. The night before Thomas had finally worked up the courage to phone Joanna about seeing Catherine and a 'date' had been arranged for the coming Tuesday afternoon at the local aquatic centre. Joanna would be there - discretely in the background, she promised, to supervise things. That was OK with Catherine. There is a limit to how frolicsome you can be in a public swimming pool anyway; her main concern was if they would have time to buy the promised new swim-suit and if her period would be over by Tuesday. Something about her period struck her as odd. And suddenly it dawned on her what it was. Ever since her period started it had been completely regular and completely in sync with her mother's, as is often the case. So under normal circumstances they should both have been writhing in agony, yet only Catherine seemed so afflicted. She remembered the unusually frequent noises from her parents' bedroom in recent weeks and the implication seemed inevitable. "Mom! Are you pregnant?" she blurted out. Joanna nearly choked on her coffee sending it spluttering in all directions. It was indeed possible, but she was only just late and she had not expected Catherine to know. "Why do you ask?" "Because we always have our period at the same time," Catherine replied. "Besides you and Dad have been busy in the bed recently..." she added with an impish grin. Joanna turned scarlet. "I'm sorry honey; I didn't know you could hear us. I am so sorry!" Her daughter stopped her. "I'm not," she said. "It's nice to know your parents love each other." Joanna smiled. "You don't mind yet another sibling?" "Not at all - I love babies," Catherine gushed. "And better me than you?" Joanna teased. It was Catherine's turn to blush. "Mum!" she exclaimed. "As if!" "Sorry honey, just teasing," Joanna said. "But I'm glad you're not adverse to the idea." "No, it's cool," Catherine said. "It's not like you and Dad are ancient." "Exactly," her mother replied - relived that her oldest had taken it so well. Teenagers can be funny about their parents being sexually active. "Anyway, are you pregnant?" Catherine asked again. "I don't know yet," her mother replied. "I haven't even told Dad yet that I'm late." "How soon can you, you know, test?" Catherine asked. "In principle already now. The tests you buy these days can be used from the day you period is due," Joanna said. "Have you got one?" Catherine asked. "As a matter of fact I do," Joanna replied, "but..." she trailed off. Her daughter looked so eager and truth be told, she was curious herself. "All right then," she relented. "But on two conditions: If it is positive you are not to tell your siblings. Early pregnancies are fragile. It will be another 10 to 12 weeks before we can be fairly certain there will actually be a baby. OK?" "OK," Catherine said. "What is the other condition?" "That I get to tell Dad!" Joanna stated firmly. Catherine vigorously nodded her acceptance and a few minutes later they were both peering intently at the small window on the pregnancy test. As if by magic two clear blue lines appeared. Catherine squealed in excitement and hugged her mother. "That is so cool," she exclaimed. "I hope it's a boy - it would be good for Liam to get a playmate." Her mother smiled, feeling elated, happy, worried and all those other emotions that all women experience when faced with a pregnancy, however desired. "Just remember what you promised," she said. "Sure," Catherine replied, "Mum's the word!" - her impish grin spreading from ear to ear. While no longer having to volunteer for night and weekend shifts in order to circumvent the loathsome advances of Dr. Hamilton-Smythe, Hannah evidently couldn't avoid such shifts altogether and this Saturday morning, which saw so much jubilation in her friends' home half a dozen suburbs away, Hannah was dragging herself home from London Bridge station. She was feeling miserable from her period and wholeheartedly wished she could avoid that for the next five or six years while turning out a flock of babies of her own. She bought fresh bread from the baker in Shade Thames, made herself a cup of divine coffee on the Italian Marvel and sat down with a grunt on her balcony. OK, the coffee was fantastic and the bread was superb and the view was second to none. And she had to admit that even the weather was much better than she would have expected from November. OK, that all helped. But she felt lonely. She missed her parents. Only yesterday her Mum had told her they couldn't come for Christmas anyway - something about her Dad's work and her Gran being ill, but it was a blow. And George wouldn't be there for Christmas either, of course - he would be in Norway with his kids and while Hannah had been invited, she had initially declined because she thought her parents would be in London, and besides she couldn't go away due to her shifts. Anyway, Christmas was over a month in the future. Now was now and she missed George so much it hurt. Just as she had managed to find a sitting position that reduced the pain, her phone started to ring. She realized she had left it in the kitchen. She let it ring. It finally stopped, but a few moments later it started again. With a curse, a grunt and a jabbing pain from her abdomen, she got up and went to answer it. It was George. "Hannah! Oh I'm so glad you're there anyway. How are you?" came his familiar cheerful voice. "George!" Hannah sobbed and then broke down completely and just cried. "Hannah, my love. What ever is the matter?" George asked in concern. "I am sick and miserable and lonely and I miss you!" Hannah got out between the sobs. "First things first. 'Sick' you say. What's wrong?" George asked. "Oh, it's nothing - it's just the women's curse," Hannah replied bashfully. "That would account for 'miserable' too, you poor thing," came George's reply. "Well, that leaves 'lonely' and 'missing me' - which are luckily the ones I can do something about. And that's actually exactly why I'm ringing. Can I come tomorrow and stay for most of the week? I have some heavy duty negotiations coming up." "Oh George, I would love for you to come," Hannah exclaimed, "I am feeling much better already. When will you be here?" "It will be fairly late," he replied. "I don't think my flight lands until shortly before 9." "That's fine," Hannah replied. "I have a late day shift tomorrow, so I'll be home around 10 myself." "Super," George said. "We can have a late supper together then. My meetings start around midday so I don't have to get up early." "That sounds lovely. Will Colin be there too?" Hannah asked. "No, I've had a bit of flack from his school about him 'always being away', so I've 'parked him' with the girls for the week," came the reply. The Hamsun girls were sharing a very nice apartment in central Oslo and presumably they would be able to get their little brother to school before heading of to Uni themselves. "Like he was in any danger of falling behind," Hannah said scornfully. Colin was acing every test and breaking every curve and had been doing so since Kindergarten. "Yeah, I know. It's absurd," George said, "but there is a new class teacher and she gave me a lot of guff about 'social cohesion' and such like. Wasn't pleasant. I've just about had it with that place." He was sounding uncharacteristically angry and Hannah decided it would be better to talk about it some other time. "I just wanted to know if my poster boy would be there too," she said. "Nah, you'll have to make do with the poster boy's father," George replied grumpily. "Lovely!" Hannah chirped. "There are a lot of things I can't do with the poster boy's father if the poster boy is around." A stunned and slightly confused George mumbled his farewells. Hannah grinned to herself. 'Shock therapy I think that was called,' she thought. 'I hope I didn't scare him off!' George's oldest daughter Elsebeth, or Beth as she had always been called, was there to pick up her little brother. She had walked in at the end of the conversation. "Who was that?" she asked. "Um, Hannah," George replied slightly dazed. "I see," his daughter said. "I see." And in fact she did see - she was looking at the tent in her father's trousers. But George was too bewildered to notice her glance or intonation. "Colin and I are leaving now," his daughter said. She had to repeat it and George finally pulled himself together and made some reply. "Anne, I think Dad is falling in love with Hannah," Beth told her sister in a hushed voice when Colin was happily installed in front of some TV program. "About bloody time, Beth," her younger sister replied. "Took him long enough." "You saw this coming?" Beth asked in surprise. "Sure I did," came Anne's reply. "They've loved each other always." "But, but, she is so much younger than him. I mean, she is just a year older than me!" Beth protested. "And?" Anne replied scornfully. "You gotta admit he's good looking for his age. And Hannah is a complete babe. And she hasn't exactly had much luck with men her own age, has she?" Beth shrugged. She had never been quite as close to Hannah as Anne was and in consequence knew less about the Greg-affair than her younger sister, but she could see there was some truth in what Anne said. It just felt strange somehow - hooking up with someone your father's age. Or did it? She'd had a crush on a friend's father more then once. Not that it had come to anything but she might have let it, given half a chance. And her supervisor at Uni was not much younger than her dad. And absolutely hot. And single. And flirtatious at times. Anne was saying something and Beth snapped back to the present. "Sorry, what?" "I said you are not the first to get that impression by the way," Anne repeated. "Mrs. Åserud noted a change in Dad after a phone call from Hannah a little while ago." "As in?" Beth asked - although not sure she really wanted to know. "She was kind of circumspect about it," Anne replied. "But she's been his secretary for years and years and after Mum died she is most likely the person who knows him best. 'Youthful' and 'frisky' were the words she used." "Frisky?" Beth asked. "Her word, not mine," Anne said archly and got on with cooking dinner. Yes, Vera Åserud had been circumspect - discretion is imperative for a personal secretary. But married to a highly sexed man for 30 years and having brought up three strapping lads, she was in no doubt what George had been 'up to' when he fled to the bathroom in between talking to Hannah and meeting the negotiators from the company they were thinking about merging with. She knew that certain smell very well. She was, in a mild way, hoping her boss would find a better place to squirt than in the restroom. So would Hannah, had she known. She had been so close to telling George he could do something about the reason for her being 'sick' and 'miserable' - at least in the future, but had decided that was just too forward. But it was what she wanted and she was now debating with herself how to go about achieving that goal. Chapter 10 Hannah had the first part of her Sunday day shift with Eleanor. "You look chirpy Pet," Eleanor said when they were 'alone'. "Given how bad Stacey said you were yesterday I am surprised." "George is coming tonight!" Hannah exclaimed. "George, as in the designated father of your children?" Eleanor asked lightly "Yes, that one," Hannah said. "Only he doesn't know that yet." "But surely he must be keen on you if he is visiting?" Eleanor said in some confusion. Hannah realised that she had never told Eleanor about her living arrangements. They had talked a lot and found many things they had in common, including being hit on by Dr. Hamilton-Smythe. Eleanor, who hated the man with a vengeance, had been in stitches over the professor's gentle jest. "We should set up a petition to have Rutherford de-ball Greg - it could be the main entertainment at the Christmas party," she had said. "I swear three quarters of the nurses would sign it!" But George had never been mentioned - except indirectly on Hannah's first day in 'Right Ward'. She now told Eleanor about the apartment and George's occasional visits. "But who is he?" Eleanor asked now even more confused. "He is a Norwegian businessman and the widowed husband of my mother's cousin," Hannah said. "Oh!" Eleanor said. "A sort of uncle then. How old is he?" "Late forties," Hannah replied. "But very well kept." "O-ho," Eleanor said. "And a widower?" "Yes, my auntie died last year," Hannah said. "And you want him," Eleanor said. Again more like a statement than a question. "Yes!" Hannah sighed. "I just don't know how. I mean, he has three kids and he lives and works in Oslo. But I only ever feel happy when I am with him." "You could move to Norway..." Eleanor said tentatively. She didn't really want to see her friend go, but on the other hand it had always been understood that Hannah was only in London for a year or so, planning to return to Australia after that. "Have you heard the language they speak over there?" Hannah said in despair. "I understand zilch. And I was always a prize idiot at learning languages." "Well, you'll have to find a way to make him move here then Pet," Eleanor said lightly and kissed her friend on the nose. Their work precluded more talking and mid-afternoon a bleary-eyed Eleanor went home. "Have a pleasant evening Pet," she waved and rushed off to catch her bus. The day dragged on, but eventually Hannah's shift finally did end. As she was walking up Shad Themes she noted light from the apartment. She almost flew up the stairs and when she opened the door she was met by the most mouth-watering smells - and a sight to match. George, dressed in a shirt with rolled up sleeves, business pants and an improvised apron made from a tea-towel, was preparing a meal in the kitchen. "Hello Hannah my love," he said. "I managed to get on an earlier plane, so I'm cooking!" This kiss he got was not of the kind usually exchanged between uncle and niece, and the hug turned into a long, close caress. "I am so glad to see you," Hannah said. "So I gather, and it is mutual," a bemused George replied. "And I am so hungry," Hannah added. "What is that you're making?" "I'm cooking various things in tempura batter - using genuine Japanese tea seed oil," George said. "The shellfish and the red Kuri squash - you Aussies call them Hokkaido pumpkins - need a little time; the Shitake mushrooms, bell peppers, eggplant and gobo root much shorter. And the leaves only go in for a few seconds." "Mmmmm," Hannah said. "Mmmmm," George agreed - although that had also a lot to do with the fact that Hannah had now taken off her coat and was showing her nurse's uniform. She was blatantly unbuttoning said garment when she returned from hanging her coat in the hall. "I'll get changed quickly," she said, "and come and a set a table." "OK," George said - following her closely with his eyes. "But we'll eat here and don't be long - the food will be ready in a few minutes and it spoils from waiting." "Fine," Hannah said. She stripped down to panties by shrugging out of her uniform, unclasping her bra and removing her stockings. In a deliberate move she put on nothing but a long cream mohair cardigan with a fairly deep V-neck - besides the silver Viking necklace, of course. "What are we drinking?" she said when she reappeared from her bedroom and started putting plates on the kitchen-bench itself. George nearly burned himself on the hot oil from the shock of seeing her outfit. "Em, eh, white wine. There are a couple of very nice white Aussies in the fridge," he stammered. "Lovely!" Hannah said. She practically never drank alcohol and never alone, but neither of them had to get up early - she not at all since she had tomorrow off. And although her period pain was gone now, she still welcomed the idea of a glass or two. Or six. They sat down on the bar-stools and ate. She with youthful appetite; he with an appetite inspired by hers - and her. "God, you are beautiful!" he exclaimed. "And you are just so sweet," she said with a blazing smile and leant over to kiss him, giving him an even better view to the necklace between her breasts. He quit pretending and openly admired the view. She noted and smiled. Inwardly she cursed her period. 'I'm sure I could seduce him tonight,' she thought. 'But never mind - let's build it up - and I'd much rather it was him seducing me...' They finished eating. She emptied the bottle in their large wine glasses - she had 'accidentally' picked huge Burgundy bowls - and fetched the second bottle in the fridge. "Let's move to the sofa," she said. He smiled and complied. They sat at opposite ends of the sofa, she with her legs pulled up under her. Their talk about all kinds of everyday things flowed freely. So did the wine. She excused herself to the bathroom. The last pad was unsoiled; she discarded it. When she came back she returned not to 'her' end of the sofa but to his. She placed her head in his lap and stretched out. She was definitely 'influenced' by the alcohol, but strangely did not feel actually drunk. He pulled up a blanket from the basket next to the sofa and covered her. They were quiet for a while and he was just going to suggest they should call it a night when she looked up at him and started to talk. She told him about Greg. As in everything. She cried. He just held her. "You could have told me, you know," he said gently. But even now she couldn't bring herself to say why she hadn't. Next she told him about the weekend with Catherine. As in everything. This time she didn't cry. She wasn't sure if she should be annoyed or upset or intrigued or even excited from the fact that she had felt George's lap firm up. What he said completely threw her "I can understand that after Greg you needed to work out who and what you are and what you're looking for in a partner." The love and understanding overwhelmed her and her tears started again. He gently stroked her hair. They lost all sense of time. She was looking deep into his eyes until she could hold the gaze no more. She fell asleep. He carried her to her bedroom. Mindful of her gentle jocular rebuke about wanting to be awake next time he saw her breasts, he didn't take the cardigan off of her; only the necklace. He tucked her in and kissed her, but she was too far gone to respond. He placed a giant glass of water on her bedside table and got ready for bed himself. Despite the unusual quantity of alcohol sleep eluded him for quite some time. He realised he hadn't felt anything like this since meeting Helen all those years ago. Could this really be happening? Was he crossing the line between 'love' and 'in love'? With someone he had thought of as his niece for all of her life? George got up sometime after 8, more refreshed than he had expected and suffering no ill effects from the night before. He let Hannah sleep; he knew she didn't have to go to work at all today. He ate breakfast and took a cup of coffee out on the balcony. The morning was cold - almost frosty, but clear and sunny and in his great coat he didn't feel the cold. He was reading some papers from the prospective partner company. He was an old fox at this game and knew what lay behind the lyrical prose. They had tried a hostile takeover and failed. They had tried to press him out of the market by dumping the price of their own inferior product and failed. They had tried to make integration between their suite and his product more difficult - in violation of regulations on anti-competitive measures and only ending up with the real risk of an embarrassing defeat at the hands of the European Court. They had bought up one of his minor competitors but failed to integrate that product with their own portfolio - loosing overall market share in the process. They needed him now. They were at the point where their only option was to negotiate a merger on his terms. The next couple of days should be interesting. Just before he had to leave he heard a stirring from Hannah's bedroom. She came out - still in the cardigan, looking significantly worse for wear. "Thanks for the water," she croaked, indicating the empty glass in her hand. "I need more and I need it 8 hours ago!" She went straight to the water cooler and refilled the glass. "Poor sweetheart," George said. "At least you don't have to go anywhere today. See you for dinner?" "Yes," she said. "But no wine tonight. I have a double shift tomorrow." "OK," he said. "That's fine with me; I have meetings all day tomorrow too." He was about to leave, but she called him back. "George!" he turned around. "Thanks. Thanks for last night." She indicated the cardigan, and he understood what she meant. "Thanks for everything." He smiled, blew her a kiss and ran down to his taxi. She walked around in the apartment like a caged animal. 'Why does he have to be such a bloody perfect gentleman all the time?' she thought. Despite her aching head she had immediately understood the significance of still wearing the cardigan when she woke up. 'He didn't even LOOK at me - nine men out of ten would have carried me to bed and bonked me senseless! I was not all that drunk; I would have woken up!' Or would she? She wasn't sure. 'Besides, you love him because of that,' she conceded. She felt rotten but knew she had to eat something. She opened the fridge - there was a bowl of newly diced fresh fruit covered with cling wrap and a tub of organic Greek yoghurt. On top of them was a hand-written note - 'Good for Girls' - in George's hand. She sobbed, got out the fruit and the yoghurt and ate hungrily. It was full of things she loved - and things that made her homesick, including lychees and Queensland mangoes. 'Damn the man! He always takes care of my needs. Why can't he take the last step?' She had a long shower, got dressed and made herself a cup of coffee. She went out on the balcony, just like George had. But she wasn't dressed for it and fled back in shivering. Last night he had wrapped her in a blanket. 'Why aren't you here to wrap me in your arms?' she thought. Irrationally? Yes. But heartfelt. George at that stage would have liked nothing better. What was supposed to have been a brief introductory meeting followed by a pleasant business lunch had turned into a nightmare. Someone was obviously keen on trying the bully-boy tactics one more time. The pleasant people he had met in Oslo were there but also a hard-nosed bitch from the US headquarters and some silent sidekick who wasn't even introduced. When the American woman for the third time interrupted George with some condescending remark he was close to exploding. His host, the lead negotiator from the Oslo meeting, was squirming with embarrassment. George cleared his throat. "Ms. Johnson," he said sharply when she had finished her repeat of how generous their offer was and how insignificant George's company and product was. "You are flogging a dead horse." Everyone looked up in shock; they hadn't expected such language from the mild-mannered Norwegian. "And you are wasting your breath," George added. "You should think up something to say in the European Court instead." That was not exactly diplomatic and his host looked pained. Undeterred George went for the kill. "Not that it matters. You bought SaferWare's nice if ill-fitting little product and made a botched job of integrating it into your suite. But I bought a perpetual license to their API. Our product will be 100% plug compatible - in essence replacing SaferWare completely - with a release that could be ready to be delivered tomorrow. It will stink in almost all the areas that SaferWare stinks because of your incompetent integration, but not quite because we, unlike SaferWare, actually use the same primary methodology you do. And it will add a zillion features your customers need. Plus give them constant reminders that they can migrate away to a completely different platform." "What different platform?" the 'sidekick' said - those were the first words he had uttered. "Why, the complete suite of products we will be forced to bring in," George said casually. "It will be a lot cheaper than yours - a lot of it is open-source based. So is yours, of course, but unlike you we will acknowledge it." "What makes you think we don't bring in our own product to eliminate yours?" Ms. Johnson asked. Her bravura was audibly fading though. "Because you can't," George said, not dismissively, but still with a convincing air of finality. "You tried and you failed. We own the patents you need and we're not licensing them to you. And we won't let you get away with stealing them." "What makes you think we need anything of yours?" Ms. Johnson demanded - still combatant, but she looked concerned now. By way of answer George located a file on his notebook and opened it. Ms. Johnson's voice came out of the speakers. "This is Ms. Johnson trying to incite my main developer to jump ship and bring our technology," George said conversantly. And in the next bit you will hear her offer legal assistance if Bjørn is willing to go to court and claim that the patents are really his, not ours." The American woman was heard speaking with an intense fake sincerity that rivalled that of a TV-evangelist saying 'We wanna help you get what's rightly yours!' "I think we have heard enough," the 'sidekick' said. "Yes," George's host, the head of the London office, agreed. He turned to his equally embarrassed secretary. "Michael, would you be a dear and serve George a cup of coffee in my office while we discuss this internally?" "Yes!" the young man said with such eagerness George could only smile and follow him out of the room. "Linda, what the HELL were you thinking of," the male American was heard yelling as the door closed behind them. "Good question," Michael muttered. "I can't tell you how sorry we are Mr. Hamsun," he started. "Call me George," George said. "And yes, you can. You already did. Yours and Christopher's body language told me so even without words. And I am fine for coffee, really." "Will you pull out?" the young man asked. He looked slightly embarrassed asking, but George put him at ease. "That's up to Christopher and the American big-wig," George said. “I'm still here, but if Ms. Johnson stays then I leave - when you have bought me lunch." After a second's incredulous hesitation Michael let out a youthful laugh, no longer worrying that he might be considered unprofessional in some eyes. There was so obviously no need to stick to formalities when dealing with this unorthodox Norwegian. They waited for quite a while. Just when George had said "Actually Michael, now I could do with that cup of coffee!" Christopher came to get them. "I am sorry about this George," he said. "It came completely out of the blue to me too." "Yes, so I understand from young Michael," George replied. "What's the deal?" "Keith will tell you," Christopher said. "Keith?" George asked as they walked in. "Yes, I'm Keith," the American said. "Keith Eberhofer. Linda and I head two different divisions. We also have very different views on these negotiations, and since neither of us can pull rank, we'll have to touch base." This was obviously the agreed compromise. The room was almost vibrating with barely suppressed hostility. George simply said "And people are asleep back in Texas?" "Exactly," Keith replied. Linda murmured something indistinct. "Not a problem Mr. Eberhofer," George said. "I can wait." "Thank you George," the American said. "I really appreciate it." "Not at all. Christopher invited me to lunch at his club. I have been looking forward to that," George said dead-pan. "Indeed," Christopher beamed. "We are running quite late. But it is just around the corner - ladies and gentlemen, if you please..." - he motioned towards the door. "No thank you," Linda Johnson said curtly. "I will see you when we reconvene tomorrow morning." Lunch was OK. The conversation started a bit strained; George insisted on 'not talking shop' as he put it so he got Christopher to tell about the club and there were no further incidents. As they were leaving the club, and with no reason to go back to the offices since negotiations were on hold until the Texans had been consulted, Keith Eberhofer tried to keep the communication channels open anyway. "Can I give you a lift to your hotel George?" he asked. "Kind of you Keith. I really appreciate the offer, but there is no need," George replied. "I have an apartment here and it is really easy to get to, so don't worry." "Is it worth it having an apartment here when you're based out of Oslo?" Keith asked. George smiled. "Not really, but I have a young lady living in it - a nurse. She looks after it for me." Keith attempted to exchange winks and envious glances with the other members of the party. Christopher and Michael did not return the winks. Chapter 11 As George was walking towards the nearest taxi-rank to be driven home, he wondered why he had referred to Hannah as 'a young lady' and not 'my niece'. 'A psychiatrist would get a lot out of that', he thought. 'Perhaps I ought to work it out myself.' In a parallel development, Hannah had been debating with herself if she ought to say 'George' from now on, not 'Uncle George'. True, she had never thought of him in any other way, but perhaps that was a part of the problem. 'If I want an adult relationship with him, I have to act like an adult,' she thought. Whatever her thoughts had been, suddenly and unexpectedly he was there. It was her wrapping her arms around him, and she was neither saying 'George' or 'Uncle George' - she was too busy kissing him. "That is by far the nicest thing that has happened to me all day," George exclaimed. "Not that improvements were hard to come by, but still," he added and shook his head. "Bad huh?" she asked. "Worse," he replied. "I really don't want to think about it - let's go out somewhere." "Like where?" Hannah asked. "Oh, I dunno," he said. "An art gallery, the Zoo, anything. No, drop that. Not the Zoo - I spent the day in one." "I shan't ask you what happened today," she said. "But what happens next? Over the next few days, I mean." "Oh, I guess there will be another inconclusive meeting tomorrow - could turn out fairly long, but then you are away all day, aren't you?" he said. She nodded and felt pleased he had taken note of, and cared about, when she would be there. "And there just may be another meeting on Wednesday - make or break, really," he continued. "I have to go back Wednesday night. Beth has texted me that Colin's unspeakable teacher is on the war-path again and wants a meeting Thursday morning." "So you won't be here Wednesday evening?" she asked with clear disappointment in her voice. "Oh yes I will," he replied. "I could only get a late flight home." "Fine," Hannah said. "Don't make any plans," she added with a mysterious smile. They ended up at the National Gallery. George showed her Hans Holbein's divine portrait of Princess Christina - daughter of the last Catholic King of Denmark and Norway and painted at the instigation of Henry VIII. Henry had been smitten, but Christina was not. "She is reported to have said 'If I had two heads, one should be at the King of England's disposal',” George chuckled. Hannah was spooked over how the princess' eyes seemed to be following her around the gallery. "Cool girl. How old was she?" she asked "Christina? Barely 16 I believe," George replied. "She looks much older!" Hannah said without thinking. "Yes. Girls have been known to pull that trick for a long time," George said in a teasing voice. "Touché," Hannah conceded. "Anyway, why is she dressed all in black?" "She was widowed 3 years earlier and still in mourning," George replied. "WHAT?" Hannah spat. "She was married at 13?" "11 actually," George replied. "But her aunt and guardian, the regent of the Netherlands, had stipulated that the marriage could not be consummated before Christina started menstruating. By then her elderly husband was too sick, so she was reputedly still a virgin when she was widowed." "One small mercy in an altogether gross and revolting setup!" Hannah said. "Yes, times were very different," George replied. "Did she eventually remarry?" Hannah asked - still spooked by Christina's gaze through the archway. "Yes she did - a few years later," George replied. "You'll love this," he added with a chuckle. "She married one Francis, Duke of Bar." "Never heard of him," Hannah said. "No one has," George replied. "Except that Francis had been betrothed to Anne of Cleves." Hannah was stunned. "As in that Anne of Cleves?" she asked. "Yup," George said. "The one whom Henry VIII married when Christina kept turning him down!" "The one who was so ugly that Henry wouldn't fuck her?" Hannah asked - causing a middle-aged couple also in the gallery to look up, scandalised. "Cruel, but apt. Yes, that one," George replied. "Hans Holbein was a touch too flattering in that portrait it is said. But Christina was every bit as beautiful as this picture suggests contemporary sources agree. And prettier still when not in heavy blacks." Hannah smiled. Then her face changed. "I suppose, compared to that girl, that I am already really old - nearing 23 and still not married. But then again, life-expectancy was much shorter then - I bet she was dead before 40." "No no," George said. "Christina lived until she was nearly 70. A great schemer and manipulator until the day she died. She never reclaimed the Danish/Norwegian throne though. Henry could possibly have accomplished that for her, but the risk was too great." "You seem to know a lot about her?" Hannah said. "Yes, I read a very good book years ago. Sort of a fictionalised biography," George replied. "Very well written." "What was it called?" Hannah asked, now genuinely interested in this head strong renaissance girl. "I don't know the English title," George said. "I read the original Danish. The title was simply her name." "How come a Norwegian would be interested in a Danish book about a Danish princess?" Hannah teased. "I thought you hated having been ruled by the Danes." "Oh, we do, but not nearly as much as we hated the Swedes," George replied. "Besides, both Danes and Norwegians are pretty schizophrenic about their shared past. Danes are quite ready to claim a Norwegian naval hero as their own. And Norwegians are proud of the pretty girl in here even if she never set foot in Norway." "What do you want to do for dinner?" Hannah asked as they were leaving the Gallery when it closed at six. "I haven't done any shopping. I know it is slack, but I was slightly under the weather all day!" "Dunno, something simple," George replied. "I had lunch at a gentlemen's club." "Sounds interesting," Hannah said. "Not really - food wise, I mean," George said. "Very traditional and heavy. But it was an interesting cultural experience! I readily admit that." "So?" Hannah asked. "Can I make a confession?" George asked. "I'd like nothing better than a pizza from Shad Thames." "Pizza it is," Hannah laughed. "It is perfectly fine with me." They went to get their pizzas and ate in - "Pizza is best piping hot," George said to the approval of the manager. Although it wasn't all that late when they got back to the apartment, Hannah excused herself almost immediately. "I have to be at work hideously early," she said. "And work through until late - I need my beauty sleep." "Sweetheart," George said. "You simply can't get any more beautiful, but of course I'll let you sleep. Will it disturb you if I watch some TV?" "Flatterer!" Hannah smiled. "And no, of course not. That's fine." She moved in close. "Thanks for a lovely afternoon and evening. I just love being with you." The kiss they exchanged was maybe a little outside the accepted range of an avuncular caress, but otherwise George 'behaved' - to Hannah's frustration. She went to bed just in her panties. More or less automatically her hands drifted to her crotch and she started fingering herself. 'Why do I have to masturbate when the dick I want in me is less 10 meters away?' she thought. 'Perhaps I ought to try shock therapy. Topless breakfast, perhaps.' She came and fell asleep. The TV-programs could not excite George and he went to bed too, thinking of Hannah. 'Her kisses have sure changed from when she was a little girl,' he thought. 'A lot. And her banter on the phone is very suggestive.' He dismissed it as absurd. And then again. 'If it wasn't Hannah, I would have sworn she was coming on to me!' Tuesday's meetings were indeed inconclusive. It seemed the two combatants had received nothing besides a 'definite maybe' from Texas. Linda Johnson still wanted to negotiate an outright purchase of George's technology; something he firmly, but politely, refused. Keith Eberhofer was willing to set up the main heads of a merger agreement in which George's company would become the security division of theirs with R&D in Norway and management, support and sales out of London, but it was obvious that they couldn't complete the details before the Texas main office had finalized an in-principle position. George was unwilling to 'show his hand' with Linda Johnson around. Besides, in that model, he would have to be in London so much that relocating was the only realistic solution. Did he want to do that? Could he do that to Colin? At least the tone was civil and constructive, but with so many unknowns the meeting ended early. Shortly after lunch they were out of matters that could be decided without consultation. "I suggest we stop here," Christopher said. "But I would like you to come again tomorrow." "I will," George said. "But only if it is about negotiating a merger." He looked pointedly as Linda Johnson. "That may not be on the agenda Mr. Hamsun," she said. "So be it. Give me a call if you want to talk on my terms," George said and left - with young Michael taking him to the door. "I hope to see you again tomorrow Mr. Hamsun," he said. He sounded sincere. "I hope so too, Michael," George replied. "And when I asked you to call me George, I meant it. Getting you and Christopher as colleagues would be one of the most positive features of the proposed merger." He shook the young man's hand firmly and walked out to hail a taxi. Back in the apartment George sat down with a cup coffee to think things through. Hannah wasn't there of course; she was working and would be home very late. He missed her. Badly. She featured a lot in his thoughts. He would see much more of her if he moved to London. Colin would like that too. But what about Colin? Suddenly George had an inspiration. Many years ago Helen had suggested that Colin ought to have at least a part of his education in an English speaking country, preferably England. George had agreed and made the initial contact with a prestigious public school in Surrey. Such places are apt to be mercenary in their approach to rich clients and over the years the Hamsuns had received many communications from the school - what Helen had called send-more-money letters. To stay on their sweet side, George had more than once contributed nice sums to their various fund-raising campaigns - quite recently in connection with some jubilee. He decided to call in a favour, looked up the school phone number on the net and called them. The deputy headmaster was available. He remembered Mr. Hamsun perfectly, or so he said. George could hear key clicks in the background, so quite possibly he was being looked up. The research must have been satisfactory - the tone of voice changed from polite to very polite. The deputy headmaster was honest too and admitted doing the computer search. "Why yes, Mr. Hamsun. I can see from our records that young Colin will have the age to enter 1st form next Oration Quarter. Were you and your wife considering having him boarding with us? Our waiting lists are very full, but perhaps there is a chance..." "Actually, no," George said. "I would rather that he became a day-boy. It is quite possible that Colin and I will move to Britain. After the tragic loss of his mother, I was thinking that boarding would be too much for him. I could take a house in the area." The deputy headmaster, aghast that the widowing of a wealthy benefactor had passed unnoticed by the school - thus causing him to drop a massive brick - recovered nobly and was most sympathetic. "My heartfelt condolences Mr. Hamsun," he said. "I didn't know Professor Hamsun had passed away. And yes, I think you are quite right - boarding might not be the right option just now. But I can assure you that there will be a day-place for Colin." "Excellent," George replied. "Kindly have your secretary send us the relevant papers." The deputy headmaster readily promised that, thanked George for his generous contribution to the Jubilee Fund and ended the call. 'So far, so good,' George thought. 'It pays to keep your options open.' Chapter 12 Hannah wouldn't be home until after 10, so George decided to drop in on Joanna and Dave. Dave was out and wouldn't be back until late; he had an evening meeting at his school, but Joanna and the children where home and made much of George. George noted they all had moist hair. "Yes, we're only just back from swimming down at the aquatic centre with Catherine's young man," Joanna said. "Mum!" Catherine exclaimed, colouring up beet red. "What young man?" George asked sternly. "Is he good enough for my Catherine?" "He is a real sweetie," Joanna said. "Very good for Catherine and kind to her siblings. He is even polite to Catherine's old mother." "You're not that old," Catherine said with a pointed look at her mother's abdomen. Neither the comment, the look nor the furious cease-and-desist glare Catherine got in return were lost on George. Under the pretext of helping Joanna making a pot of tea, George followed her to the kitchen. "What was that about?" "Oh George," Joanna said. "I might as well tell you, but no-one - especially not the children - can be told this side Christmas. I am pregnant again." "Jo! That's wonderful," George said. "Congratulations to you all. And I gather Catherine knows?" "Yes she does," Joanna said, "and she is fine with it. A little too fine with it at times. I fear she has romantic ideas about pregnancy. She is very fond of that young man - who is actually much too old for her. Not that I worry about him - he seems to behave, but Catherine is one big bundle of hormones." Comprehension dawned on George. "Is this the young man Catherine and Hannah met that weekend?" Joanna smiled. "So Hannah told you about it? I thought she might. Yes, that's the one. He recovered from the shock of learning Catherine's true age quickly enough and he's been her devoted slave ever since. He behaves impeccably. It's Catherine who wants to pull his swim-trunks down and impale herself on him." "Joanna!" George exclaimed. "We've all been young once," Joanna replied. "But I draw the line at a 13 year old having sex." "And so you should!" George agreed. "But perhaps you should consider putting her on the pill anyway. On the pretence of her having bad period pain perhaps? We did that with Anne at 14. Not a moment too soon either, if I am not mistaken." Joanna looked doubtful. "It would feel like we were, you know, encouraging her to have under-age sex," she said. "Rubbish," George replied. "Make it clear she can't and do your best to enforce it. But spare her the heart break of an unwanted pregnancy if she manages to coax the bloke's semen too close to her crotch anyway. Teenagers are shockingly fertile." "Perhaps you're right," Joanna said. "Oh George, you're the best big brother I never had." She embraced him closely and, almost involuntarily, his hand caressed her abdomen. "The world's a better place for having you in it," he said tenderly. "I am so glad you reproduce!" George was asked to stay and eat with the family. He happily agreed and helped preparing the meal. They had a lovely evening. George read to Liam and Fiona in bed and joined Joanna and Catherine for a cup of tea while they waited for Dave to return. Well and truly over the puppy-love, Catherine was much freer and relaxed around George, flopping down in the sofa next to him and pulling his arm around her. "I hope you're jealous of Thomas," she said. "Deadly," George replied dead-pan. "I will have to meet him, judge if he is good enough for you and interrogate him about his honest intentions." "Oh, his intentions are clear enough," Catherine said. "You can always tell with a boy - or man." She ran a hand lightly across George's crotch. "Ahem," her mother intoned. Catherine giggled. "What? Just because I've worked out what boys like?" She blatantly pulled George's hand down to her bra-enhanced boob. "Catherine, that's enough," her mother said quite sharply. "I'll say," George chided. "If you act like that around men you'll end up just like your mother." "You told him?" Catherine asked Joanna. "Actually, you did," George said. "Your mother simply confirmed it." Catherine backed off. "Sorry, didn't mean to tease." "You did too, but that's OK", George said. "I love you, you know, and I'm so glad you've found somebody nice." "It was all Hannah's work," Catherine said. "You should thank her." "Yes," George said absentmindedly. "Hannah..." He stared blankly into space and missed the glance exchanged between mother and daughter. "You should marry her," Catherine said firmly. "Catherine!" Joanna exploded. But before any more could be said, they heard the door open as a tired Dave came home. Dave was happy to see George and even happier when George told him he knew about the pregnancy and congratulated warmly. George eagerly listened to Dave's plans for a loft conversion which he told about while eating. "I want to live up there," Catherine demanded. "You can," her father agreed, "provided we get George to install surveillance cameras everywhere." "Sure, and plenty of sound-insulation down towards your bedroom," his daughter countered. The happy banter went on for a while until George excused himself. "I may have some important negotiations tomorrow," he said, "so I'd better get home and have some sleep." "What do you mean by 'may have'?" Dave asked in surprise. "My opposite numbers are somewhat divided amongst themselves," George said. "So I'm not sure they will be ready to strike a deal for a while." "A strange world you move in," Joanna said as they saw George to the door. "You can say that again," George replied. "Sometimes I would much rather be a school master raising babies." He kissed Joanna and Catherine, shook Dave's hand warmly and set off to the train station at a brisk pace. Hannah was only just home when George arrived. She had gotten changed for bed which, with a nod to the temperature outside, now included an over-sized tee-shirt. A thin over-sized tee-shirt. With a deep neckline. It left very little to the imagination; George got an eye full when she came running to hug him, and he could feel her fantastic breasts and large hard nipples very clearly against his chest. "Where have you been?" she asked - looking up at him with her little-girl smile. George's heart was aching. Her beauty and her sweetness took his breath away. "Hi sweets," he said. "I've been to see Joanna and Dave and the kids. They send their love." "Thanks," she said and kissed him. "How were they?" 'This is what it would be like if she was my wife,' George thought. 'God, I would love that.' He snapped out of it. "Fine, really fine. Dave came in late. The others were just back from swimming with Catherine's young man when I arrived. I hadn't rung them in advance." "Young Thomas?" Hannah asked. "Yes, so I gather. He wasn't there," George replied. "But he was much talked about." "Hmmm," Hannah just said. What that meant she left for George to work out. "When do you start work tomorrow?" George asked. "Nine," Hannah replied, "and it is a short shift. I get off again at two." "That's great," George replied. "If you don't have to get up so early, perhaps we could have a cup of tea?" "Love one," Hannah said. "I'll make it," and she went to put a kettle on. George followed her with his eyes. The rear view was every bit as perfect as the front. He felt himself getting hard and flopped down on the sofa to hide it just as Hannah turned her head around. "How was your day," she called over her shoulder, "and what happens tomorrow?" "The short answers are 'Indecisive' and 'Undecided'," he replied. "But I may have another meeting; if so it will be at 10." "When will you know?" she asked. "Dunno", he said. "Ten to ten perhaps. Can't say." "And how long will it go for?" she asked. "Dunno either," he replied. "But don't worry - I'll get home before evening. Just like I promised you." "Good," she said while readying the tea-pot. "Can you tell me why it is so important?" he asked, "OK," she relented. "My colleagues Stacey and Eleanor are coming for dinner. They are both dying to meet you." "That sounds like fun," George said. "I'm looking forward to that. When are they coming?" "I have invited them for 7," Hannah replied. "Stacey works until 5.30." "Super," George said. "I don't have to leave until 9." The kettle boiled and Hannah poured the water on the tea. They chatted about this and that while the tea infused, then Hannah brought the pot and mugs over to the sofa on a tray. They drank the tea. Mostly in silence when they had finished discussing the menu for the dinner party. It was getting late and time to turn in. George started to get up. "George?" Hannah started. Her voice was hesitant. "Yes?" he replied. "Sorry that I am so nosey," she said, "but what are those negotiations about?" He smiled. "They are supposed to be strictly confidential, but I have no secrets from you. I make, or rather my company makes, a product this American company needs. They want to buy the rights to the product. I want them to merge our companies. Maybe." "Why 'maybe'?" she asked, "Because it would mean a lot of changes for a lot of people, especially Colin and me," George replied. "How so?" Hannah asked perplexed. "I would have to work in London most of the time, so we would have to move over here," George replied. Hannah's heart was beating fast. Her first thought was positive and excited 'He could be here all the time!' The next thought was so disconcerting that she voiced it loud. "Does that mean that you would have to take over the apartment?" she asked. He smiled. "No, no way. Don't fret - if we move over here then I'll buy a house close to where Colin goes to school. I would never turn you out." She smiled the heart-breaking smile. "You are so sweet to me always," she said, "It is practically what uncles are for!" he said flippantly. "No George," she said firmly. "We are past that point. Way past that point." She leant in to kiss him. She was dying for him to put a hand on her breast. Her nipples were almost poking holes in the tee-shirt. Instead he put a hand on her shoulder, kissed her gently back and said good night. Hannah silently debated the merits of 'operation topless breakfast' when she had gone to bed. 'That man is a tough nut to crack,' she thought. She was wrong. George was close to cracking. 'Why didn't I caress those breasts of hers?’ he wondered. 'She almost placed them in my hands!' Chapter 13 She was gone when George got up. At 9 he was dressed, had eaten his breakfast and felt restless. He was channel-surfing on the TV when his cell phone rang. It was Michael. "Mr. Hamsun, George I mean," he started, "Christopher was wondering if you could come over for a three-part meeting." "It depends on who the third party is Michael," George replied coolly. "It's Keith Eberhofer," Michael replied. "Fine!" George exclaimed. "I'll be there as soon as I can find a taxi." The meeting was friendly. Linda Johnson was not there. Her absence was not mentioned, but it was obvious from the negotiations that Keith Eberhofer had won the argument with the top people in Texas. For most of the initial talk, only George, Christopher and Keith were present. Late morning Michael was called in to take notes and another lower ranked American was asked to check up some details. They ate lunch at the negotiating table since both George and Keith had a deadline. Around 4 they had a document both sides liked. "I will take this straight to the Board in Texas tomorrow evening your time," Keith said. "Fine," George replied. "And I will put it before my share holders already tonight." "Can you get hold of them that soon?" Keith asked. "Oh yes," George said. "I am meeting them just before midnight." Keith left highly impressed and rushed off to the airport with his contingent. "Who are those shareholders?" Christopher asked when he and Michael were alone with George. "My daughters," George chuckled. "They inherited their mother's shares." Michael and Christopher were still laughing several minutes later when George left. The two friends emerged from the tunnel at London Bridge Station. The young women were both nurses, but you couldn't tell - they were dressed up for a night out. They crossed Tooley Street. "Let's go through here," Stacey said. "We're a little bit early." She let them into The Hays Gallery with its many fancy shops. When they emerged at the waterfront they turned right and started walking towards Tower Bridge. "This is a nice area!" Eleanor exclaimed. "Fancy being able to afford living here!" "Just wait to you see Shad Thames," Stacey said. "It is gorgeous." When they passed under the Tower Bridge road and entered Shad Thames, Eleanor had to agree. She was gaping at the famous walkways which criss-cross high above their heads as they walked along the street towards their new colleague's apartment. "Hannah's George must have serious money!" Eleanor said. "I knew he was spoiling her, but this is amazing." They found the right door and were buzzed in. When they got to the apartment the door was opened by a well-kept middle aged grey-haired gentleman in a business suit. He smiled a welcoming smile. "You must be Stacey and Eleanor," he said. "Hannah has told me so much about you. I should be able to tell who is who." He turned to Stacey. "You must be Stacey; that hair colour gives you away." He shook her hand "I'm George Hamsun." "How do you do Mr. Hamsun," Stacey said. The man's handshake was firm and confidence inspiring. "And you must be Eleanor," George continued. "Not a very impressive deduction of course now that Stacey has been indentified, but I would have recognized you from Hannah's description anyway - the harebell blue eyes and the dimples are every bit as characteristic as Stacey's copper beaches hair." His smile was warm and his grey eyes locked with Eleanor's as he shook her hand. "I'm so pleased to meet you Mr. Hamsun," Eleanor said, felling quite giddy. "Hannah has told us a lot about you too, you know." "Please do call me George," George said and let go of Eleanor's hand. "I'm sure she has, and I'm sure she has been much too kind in her descriptions. But do come in. Let me take your coats." They entered the main room and Hannah came running over from the kitchen area. "Stacey, Eleanor! Welcome. Don't you look gorgeous?" "Hi Hannah, don't you!" Stacey replied. "And what a fabulous place you have!" "Yes," Hannah agreed. "George is much too good to me." "I've never been in this part of town before," Eleanor said. "I didn't even know this street existed." "Well, it does," Hannah said. "And I defy anyone to find a nicer place to live in London." She gave her friends a quick tour of the apartment while George got out the pre-dinner drinks. The dinner was very pleasant. George was at his most charming, most urbane mood and Hannah's friends were more than able to understand her infatuation. They noted that Hannah and George had shared the cooking, and they were smitten by his old-fashioned table manners - he would invariably stand up if either of the young women did. He asked them about their work and told them about his family in Oslo and especially his young son. Much too soon it was approaching 9PM and George excused himself; he had to leave in order to catch his plane. He politely shook Stacey's and Eleanor's hands, declared himself delighted at having made their acquaintance and kissed Hannah before leaving. When George had left, Stacey and Eleanor put Hannah through a gentle 3rd degree. "Gosh, he is gorgeous, isn't he?" Eleanor exclaimed. "George?" Hannah said. "Oh yeah. When I was a little girl I wanted to be married to him!" "And you don't now? I mean now that he is a widower and available as it were!" Stacey asked. "I don't know that he is. He is as sweet to me as ever though," Hannah replied. "Has he ever, you know, come on to you?" Stacey asked. "Oh no, he is much too much of a gentleman to do that!" Hannah said. She didn't tell them about her provocations. "He is always correct to a fault." Stacey detected the regret in Hannah's voice and simply had to ask "What would you do if he did?" Hannah smiled - she thought she heard a noise in the hall and on the pretext of fetching something in the kitchen area, she spoke quite loudly. "That's simple," she replied to her friend's question. "If George ever made a pass at me then I would spread my legs like a good girl and have his babies." "Good for you," Stacey laughed. "Good for George!" Eleanor added and they all giggled. Out in the hall, George - who had returned to get a bag with a present for Colin that he had forgotten - heard Hannah's reply clearly. Her expressed desire predictably caused an immediate tightening of his trousers. He did not want to let the young women know he was there and quietly left the apartment once more. 'If that's how she feels about me then I should do something about it,' he thought to himself in the taxi to the airport. 'But what on earth are my children going to say?' His children had a lot to say some hours later. Well, his oldest daughter first - Colin was asleep and Anne was looking after him while Beth went to meet George in the airport. "You didn't have to do that sweetheart," George said when she embraced him in the arrival hall. "We have to talk," Beth said and dragged George off towards the parking house, "and soon." "Yes, we do," George replied. "The Texans have made an offer that I ought not to turn down." "That wasn't what I meant," Beth said, "but OK - tell me about that first." George did. He summarised the agreement that had been worked out. Beth, every bit as sharp witted as her father and late mother, came to exactly the same conclusion as George had: "If you accept that then you would have to move to London and take Colin with you." "Exactly," George said, not particularly surprised she saw it that way. But her continuation threw him. "Well, that's great Dad," Beth said. "Colin so needs to get out of that school. You should marry Hannah and settle over there." George nearly walked in to a pillar. "Say what?" he sputtered. "I said you should marry Hannah," Beth said. "You love each other, don't you?" "Well, yes, I," George stammered. "Anyway, we can talk about that later," Beth said when they got to the car. "But first we need to talk about Colin. We kept him home from school today - that bitch of a teacher tore into him again yesterday. He was crushed and humiliated." George was seething with anger. "If only we could prove it," he said. "Indeed!" Beth said with a grin. "Just wait until my clever sister tells you about the little stunt she pulled off!" George tried in vain to get Beth to tell, but she wouldn't. And he didn't have to wait long - they arrived in down-town Oslo at his daughters' apartment shortly after. Anne had made tea and wasted very little time launching into the story once they were seated. "You know how Colin said Ms. Pettersen is always making disparaging comments about you to him in class?" she asked. "I know," George replied. "But she has always denied it when I complained about it - and the principal backs her up to the hilt. We can't prove it, short of interrogating Colin's class mates - and I would never do that." "Well, you don't have to," Anne said triumphantly. "I've got proof!" "How?" George asked. "Simple!" his younger daughter replied. "I bugged my brother." "You did WHAT?" George spluttered. "I put my hacked iPod and a good microphone in his school bag and made it record everything that was said throughout Colin's school day," Anne said coolly. "It is not broadcast quality obviously, but Ms. Pettersen's tirades against 'selfish businessmen who neglect their children' in general and you specifically were captured loud and clear." "Anne, that's illegal - it would never stand up in court," George said aghast. "Who cares about court?" Anne said. "That's not what it is for." "But it is also highly unethical!" George said. "So is Maud Pettersen's merciless persecution of my little brother," Anne shot back. "That bitch needs to be slapped. And hard. If you don't use it I will!" "But I can't use that kind of material!" George protested. "Of course you can," Beth interjected. "Just listen to what Anne's device captured." Anne pressed the 'Play' button on the Media Center and the petulant voice of Miss Pettersen was heard on the HiFi speakers. What she was saying to the audibly distressed Colin made George furious. "Enough!" he exploded. "I was wrong. It can and will be used. I want that cow sacked. And her unspeakable boss. And then I'll take Colin out of school and move to England." "Good idea Dad," Anne said. "Then you could marry Hannah." George was gob-smacked. "You too?" he asked. "Your sister suggested that in the airport!" "Dad nearly walked into a pillar in the parking house," Beth giggled. "Actually, I worked it out first!" Anne said. "Actually, you didn't," Beth said. "Mrs. Åserud did. You said so yourself." "Vera?!" George asked astonished. "Yes," Anne said. "Don't think you can hide anything from your daughters and your secretary. And I bet you Joanna has got you sussed out too." "Listen," George said. "I'm getting all kinds of hints from Hannah, and truth be told I am tempted. I do love her, I'm not in denial about that, but changing roles from uncle and niece to lovers is not all that simple. And I need to work a lot of other things out too. Including what I am going to do about the company and what is best for Colin. But I can't say how happy I am at having your support." "Sure Dad. Work it out, but don't overplay the 'uncle' bit. She calls you that, but she's not a blood relative of yours, remember?" Beth said. "Anyway, if the deal with the Americans is good then go ahead with it." "What deal?" her younger sister asked, so George explained the merger plans once more. "I need the stock-holder's approval to do that, of course," George concluded. "That means you two." "Sure Dad," Anne said. "I agree with my sister. Go ahead." Chapter 14 "So you categorically deny that you have said anything to my son that could be construed as disparaging?" George asked Ms. Pettersen. She was reeling from the way this father had taken complete control over this early morning meeting. Parents weren't supposed to do that! They were supposed to listen to what the teachers were telling them. And it wasn't like he was aggressive or making allegations. He was quietly asking about his son's complaints. Like the claims of a 12 year old boy could be trusted! Luckily Maud Pettersen believed she knew just how to handle this. "Absolutely Mr. Hamsun. Of course not. But it is a sad fact that neglected children frequently make up completely groundless allegations. It must be seen in context - as a desperate cry for attention." She delivered that line well, she thought. It was straight out of her thesis. Her supervisor had commended her for it. The principal assumed a benevolent facial expression to indicate he thought so too. He was on the lookout for a skirt now that the third Mrs. Engelhart had made herself scarce and little Ms. Pettersen would do charmingly. She had rejected his advances so far, but he wasn't giving up. "Of course not Mr. Hamsun," he said. "Maud would do no such thing. She has my fullest confidence and I am sure her analysis comes close to the core of the problem..." Before he could go any further, which he would happily have done seeing the rapt attention and surprised gratitude in the young teacher's eyes, George cut him off. "Then you would perhaps be kind enough to explain this?" and he activated his notebook's media player. The recording shocked these listeners in much the same way as the playback in London the other day had done. Maud Pettersen was trying to swallow her hand. "That recording is illegal!" she faltered, George just looked at her with something bordering on pity. The principal looked like he had suffered a stroke. "Who has heard this recording?" he managed to ask. "So far only my daughters and me," George said pleasantly. "But of course all of Colin's class mates heard it being said. My lawyers will find a copy in their in-tray when they get to work shortly." Suddenly the pleasantness was gone. "And so will the editors of Verdens Gang in an hour or so unless you can give me compelling reasons not to. The paper would love this story, you know. Motherless boy, hard working father, devoted older sisters. Good looking devoted sisters, I should add." His sudden harsh tone of voice and his pointed look at Ms. Pettersen's plain features made her shrink. The mere mention of the name of the notorious tabloid newspaper - who likes to call themselves Norway's answer to The Sun - drained all colour from the principal's face. "You will appreciate this comes as a complete shock to me. I will need some time to assimilate the implications, but I can assure you Colin will not be exposed to anything like that ever again. It will not be possible." This was as close as he could come to saying - without involving the union rep - that Maud Pettersen would be removed from her class-teacher duties so George let him off the hook. "Excellent principal Engelhart." he said. "I'll hold you to that." He got up and left without so much as a nod to either of them. When the door had closed behind George the principal turned to his hapless teacher. She opened her mouth to speak, but he lifted a hand to stop her. "Do you want to keep your job?" he asked brutally. She nodded in fear. "This year's Christmas Party is next Friday," he said. "It should be interesting to find out how good you are at sucking dick." The next few weeks leading up to Christmas was busy for everyone. The Texans had several objections to the draft proposal so Keith, George and a host of company lawyers were hard at work getting the wrinkles ironed out. Unable to make a final decision, George refrained from discussing the matter with Hannah, but he called her frequently and he had resumed sending his funny little e-mails to her. She felt happier than she had been for a long time. Not just from George's attention but Dave and Joanna had invited her for Christmas, and Professor Rutherford had hinted that a promotion was on the cards. There had been a joint meeting of the senior staff of both wards. "The statistics are just in," the professor said. "The survival and success rates of 'Left Ward' are on par with the best in the country, despite our hospital getting the most complicated cases. Well done indeed!" "Thank you professor," Dr. Hamilton-Smythe smirked - as if the success rate was his personal accomplishment. "Now, 'Right Ward' is doing even better," the professor said. "Especially during the last few months." "That must be a statistical fluke!" Dr. Hamilton-Smythe exclaimed with a forced laugh. "I don't think so," the professor said. "The difference is small but significant and it coincides with a particular new member of staff joining us." "Spare us!" Dr. Hamilton-Smyth said derisively. "Don't attribute a random change in the numbers to the Ice Maiden joining." Eleanor who deputised for the chief matron cut him down to size. "Oh knock it off Greg. Just because the girl is sensible enough to be unimpressed with your macho bravura doesn't mean she doesn't like real men. I know she does. The man she has set her mind on is gem - I've met him. But that's beside the point. She's the best neo-natal nurse we've ever had and she's inspiring all her colleagues to do better all the time." "I agree," Professor Rutherford said. "I will recommend that Nurse Westlock is promoted." Christmas with Joanna and Dave was wonderful. George knew that Hannah would be there and had sent a present to their address. He had managed to track down the English version of the book about the princess from the National Gallery - 'In the Courts of Power' it was called - and found a beautiful first edition of it. Catherine asked what it was, so Hannah told her about the visit to the Gallery and about the princess. "Jeez," Catherine said. "She was married at 11 - and Mum won't even let Thomas sleep over!" "Well, you know what can happen if a boy sleeps over in your bed - just look at your Mum," Hannah whispered with a sly grin. Joanna actually wasn't visibly pregnant yet - she was less than 3 months along and the younger children still didn't know, but Joanna and Dave had told Hannah on arrival. Partly to explain why Joanna wouldn't be drinking any alcohol, and partly because they were so happy and were bursting to share the news. Hannah shared her friends' joy - but at the same time she was more than a little envious. She was feeling a strong urge to be pregnant herself. She knew enough not to say so to Catherine - Joanna had also whispered her concern about Catherine's unrealistic romantic ideas. Catherine reluctantly grinned back "I suppose. But 3 years is such a long time to wait. What if he finds someone else who is older and willing?" "If he does then he wasn't good enough for you sweets," Hannah said firmly. "Simple as that." The subject of pregnancy wasn't mentioned again. But when Hannah took leave with her hosts, she hugged Joanna closely and almost involuntarily her hand caressed Joanna's abdomen. The similarity to George's reaction hit Joanna forcefully - she was convinced George and Hannah ought to get together. She almost spoke her mind, but the moment passed with the arrival of Liam for an extra farewell hug and she just waved Hannah off. On the evening of Boxing Day, Hannah's doorbell rang just a few minutes after she had come home from her shift. Since she was occasionally plagued by drunks pressing every button, she answered the door phone with a non-committal "Yes?" This was not a drunk. "Hannah, it's Colin. Can I come in?" "Colin?!" Hannah squealed. "Yes of course you can! Where is your dad?" She pressed the button. "Thank you," Colin said - always polite to a fault. "He is just parking the car and bringing the suitcases, but he let me run on ahead." Although Hannah had a million questions she restrained herself so her young second cousin could get in rather than being interrogated through the door phone. He flew up the stairs and she wrapped him in a tight embrace. "Hello Poster Boy!" she said. "What a lovely surprise. What's the deal with a car?" The rental car was unusual; cars are a nuisance in London and George always used public transport or taxis unless he had a specific need for a car, like when they set up the apartment. "We are going out to look at some houses," Colin said. "Are you moving over here?!" Hannah squealed again. "Fantastic!" "Yes," Colin said happily. "I am starting in a really cool school next autumn and Dad says we will buy a house near by." George appeared with the suitcases. Hannah flew in his arms as soon as he had put them down. "Colin just told me!" she exclaimed. "You are really moving over here!!" "We are," George said when he had finished kissing her. "The merger is going head. We're moving the company headquarters to England and Colin will go to school in Surrey from next autumn." "What happens until then?" Hannah asked. "We're finding a tutor so Colin can get up to specs with the English curriculum," George replied. "I've put his new school on to that one - they think they will be able to find an Old Boy who is taking a gap year." "That sounds like a good idea," Hannah said. George and Colin had taken their coats off and she put her arms around their waists. "Come on in - I was just going to make myself some supper. I'm afraid I've only got bread and cheese; I didn't want much after yesterday. Honestly I felt like the stuffed turkey after eating Christmas Dinner over at Joanna and Dave's." "We can supplement with a side of smoked Norwegian salmon," George said and returned to the hall to retrieve the fish from a special duty-free cool bag. "Yum!" Hannah said and got on with making tea "Tell me about the houses." Hannah said over supper. "Well, the one we like the best from the pictures is an old rectory only a few miles from Colin's school," George said. "We have an appointment to inspect that tomorrow at 11." "Ooh!” Hannah said, and then checked herself. "Are you free then, by any chance?" George asked mildly. "Uh huh," Hannah nodded eagerly. "I get the feeling Hannah would like to come, don't you?" George said addressed to Colin. The boy laughed. "Yes, Sherlock, I think you're right." "The other possibilities are further away from the school and not so convenient for trains to the City," George said, "but if the Old Rectory doesn't live up to expectations then we have appointments to look at them the day after tomorrow." "When?" Hannah asked. "I have an afternoon/evening shift." George smiled. "In that case you would miss one of them, but Colin and I are really hoping the Old Rectory works out. It is huge." He got out the plans from his briefcase. "Gosh, it is too! It has a lot of bedrooms, hasn't it?" Hannah said. "Yes it does," George agreed. "Rectors often had a lot of children." Their eyes met. Colin started yawning and was sent off to bed. George and Hannah talked on for quite a while, but then decided it was time to sleep. As they were clearing away in the kitchen area, Hannah told him about the possible promotion. "I always knew you were brilliant," George said. "I'm glad your boss knows too!" "You are so sweet," Hannah said, moving in close. They embraced. "George," she said with her most alluring smile. "Don't you think you risk waking up poor Colin if you sleep in the same room?" "Possibly. And you have a better idea perhaps?" he smiled back. "I bet you do." She was now practically plastered to him, and he had to mobilise all his resolve to not make love to her right there on the kitchen floor. "Hannah, my love, my true love. I adore you and want to be with you always. I want you in the worst way. And practically everyone around us is fine with that. I've talked to the girls - they are just happy for us and urging me on. But I still haven't told Colin, and I don't want him to find out by finding us in your bed." Hannah was elated. 'He loves me too! He wants me!' she thought, dizzy with happiness. "I understand," she said. "The girls are adults, Colin is not. He needs to be told in the right way. But please George, don't take too long!" He kissed her. For the first time ever he kissed her not as an uncle but as a lover. His hands found her breasts and squeezed them gently. She groaned into his mouth. "I won't take long," he said when they broke for air. "I hope this will be the last time I ever have to sleep alone when I am around you." "I'll hold you to that," she said. "I'll do everything to ensure you won't want to!" Her hand was rubbing his erection. He kissed her on the nose. "Better stop now. And gosh, I hope Colin is asleep, or I will have to explain the tent in my pants!" Hannah laughed and then - reluctantly - left his embrace. But she was walking on air going into her bedroom. 'YES! I've got him, he is MINE!' she thought repeatedly before falling asleep. Chapter 15 The Old Rectory was everything they had hoped it would be. The grounds were charming even though the garden was obviously dormant for the winter. The house itself was spacious and everything was in very good condition - it could essentially be lived in at once. While George and the real estate agent went through the ground floor, Colin and Hannah checked the many rooms upstairs. "I could live here!" Hannah exclaimed. "I wish you would," Colin said wistfully. "Would you?" Hannah asked surprised. The boy nodded shyly. "I would love that." "Let's talk to your dad about it then," Hannah said with a little smile. An idea was forming in her mind. "Are you serious?" Colin gaped. "Absolutely," Hannah replied. "But let's wait until the agent has left, shall we?" Colin agreed. He had not expected that reaction to what was merely a slip of the tongue. He was highly intrigued. The agent was intrigued too - by the 'family'. The boy called the distinguished foreign client 'Dad', while the extremely good looking young woman called him 'George'. A 'younger model', perhaps, but neither of them wore rings. Perhaps Norwegians didn't. Only, the young woman's English sounded different from the males'. The agent wasn't good at accents, but the young woman sometimes sounded like someone out of 'Neighbours'. Anyway, whoever they were, she sensed quickly that there was no need to put on the 'hard sale pitch' and mentally she notched this off as a certain sale. She wasn't disappointed. "My solicitor will send you our formal offer by close of business tomorrow," George said when they had been round the property twice. "We can settle very quickly and would be willing to take possession essentially immediately." "I am sure my clients would be agreeable to that. Are you handling the financing yourself or can I interest you in our competitive rates?" the agent asked. She could get a handsome commission if she brokered the financing, but she sensed this client would not need her services. Once more she was spot on. "Thanks, but no thanks," George replied. "We don't need a mortgage." The agent kept her composure, but she was impressed. Such sales were rare at the moment. The Old Rectory had been on the market for over two years. The heirs after the previous owners had dropped the original estate agents and contacted her. They had been very reluctant to 'adjust the price' as the euphemism goes, but had finally agreed to set it to her recommended level and now, just two weeks after taking over, she had sold it for the new asking price. She felt pretty pleased with herself. After the boom years where every Tom, Dick and Harry called themselves real estate agents and properties sold themselves, times were tough now. Only those who really knew the market - and worked hard to help sellers set the right price, not the highest - could succeed. The agent drove off. "I suggest we have a look at the village and see if we can get a bite somewhere," George said. Colin, at 12 and continually hungry from a prolonged growth spurt, lit up. "Great idea," he said. "I'm starving!" The village wasn't big and it being Christmas the selection was limited but they found one open cafe that served lunch. When the serving girl had delivered their food, Hannah winked at Colin then turned to his father. "George," she said in a conspiratorial voice. "Colin had a suggestion." "Yes?" George said - slightly puzzled. Colin usually spoke up for himself. "Colin said he would like me to live at the Old Rectory too," Hannah said. "Did you?" George said, looking at Colin who started to go slightly pink. "Uh huh," he faltered, looking down. "You know what?" George said. "I've had the same idea myself. I would love having Hannah living with us." "Really?" Colin asked excitedly and now dared to look at his father. "Really," George replied with a big smile. He took the plunge. "Listen, I know there are many of them in the new house, but Hannah moving in with us would not require an extra bedroom." "At least not right away," Hannah added, picking up the thread at once. "In time we might get to use a lot of those rooms though." It took some time for the implications of that to sink in. Colin was a quick-witted boy, but this was adult stuff way outside his experience. Like George, Hannah marvelled at the chance of presenting their relationship in this way. She studied Colin's face closely. You could see and almost hear the little cog-wheels in his mind spinning. She was - nervously, she had to admit - looking for the boy's initial reaction when comprehension dawned, as she was sure it would. She need not have worried. At all. A smile, so heartbreakingly sweet and full of joy that it brought tears to Hannah's eyes, formed on Colin's face. "You mean you and Hannah, I mean..." Colin stopped - looking from his father to Hannah and then back while the pink returned to his face. George held his son's gaze and nodded. "And you would have, I mean, I would have, eh..." Colin started. "Little brothers and sisters?" Hannah completed the sentence for him. "Yes Colin. That's the idea. And soon." She looked sideways at George with a smile. "Cool!" Colin exclaimed. "That is so cool. Oh wow! When did you, I mean how long have you?" Once more he found it difficult to formulate the question. George smiled. "Forever and just now. It's a little bit complicated." He grinned. "Come to think of it, I haven't even asked!" "Nor have you," Hannah said, cocking her head. George turned to Hannah. "Hannah, you know I love you. Will you marry me and look after Colin and me and be the mother of Colin's little brothers and sisters?" The answer came promptly and without hesitation. "I will George, I love you too." The simple meal became very festive. Colin needed to use the toilet before leaving which gave George and Hannah a few moments in relative privacy. "I ought to apologize. That is most certainly not how I had imagined I would declare my love for you and propose," George said with a bemused grin. "In the presence of Colin. And I don't even have a ring for you or anything." "It was brilliant," Hannah replied. "Brilliant and very romantic. When Colin blurted out that he would like me to live with you we solved a lot of problems. And anyway, I know I'm getting a 'package deal' - you couldn't possibly marry anyone who didn't absolutely love and adore Colin too." They were still kissing when Colin returned. "Can we leave when you've finished that?" he said coyly. "We won't 'finish that' anytime soon," his father retorted. "But we may keep it more private. I'm moving in to Hannah's room tonight." "Cool - then I get our room to myself," Colin replied - and demonstrating that adult themes were not completely foreign to him he added "If you are too noisy I'll just put on my iPod." "Colin!" Hannah exclaimed. "Where did that come from?" He grinned. "I spent a week in Anne and Beth's apartment. I slept on the sofa. The living room is right next to Anne's room and her new boyfriend Tord visited one night..." George hastened to stop him. "I think that falls in the too much information category." "Sure," Colin said. "But you promised me siblings. And I know they are not brought by storks." They all laughed as they were leaving the cafe and George nearly collided with a woman of around forty who was trying to get a pram in the door - a manoeuvre she obviously had very little practise in executing. As George was politely apologising and assisting, the woman spotted Hannah and uttered a girlish "Hannah! - Nurse Westlock, I mean. How wonderful to see you!" Hannah looked up "Mrs. Phillips! Oooh! You have gotten him home!" "Yes we have! Yesterday evening. This is my first time out with him," Mrs. Phillips said, "And please do call me Irene." "I am so happy for you Irene," Hannah said. She looked at the tiny baby in the pram who was peacefully asleep. "Hullo Alexander! Aren't you a gorgeous boy?" "What brings you here?" Mrs. Phillips asked. Hannah smiled widely. "I am here with -" she hesitated; then said it for the first time " - my fiancé George Hamsun and his son Colin. George, this is Mrs. Irene Phillips - mother of baby Alexander. He may be very small, but he is one of our big successes at the neo-natal ward." "I am so pleased to meet you Mr. Hamsun," Mrs. Phillips said. "Without Hannah, Alexander wouldn't be here today. Your fiancée is a saint - look after her well!" "We intend to, although I'm sure it will be mainly Hannah looking after Colin and me," George smiled. "Do you live nearby?" Mrs. Phillips asked. "Not yet," George replied, "but we have just made a purchase offer for the Old Rectory." "We shall be neighbours then!" Mrs. Phillips said with another excited squeal. As an afterthought she added "But isn't the Old Rectory rather big for just the three of you?" "We don't intend to remain just the three of us Irene," Hannah smiled. Mrs. Phillips beamed. In a conspiratorial whisper to Hannah she said "We might be pregnant together. Hamish - Professor Rutherford that is, has said it would be OK for Alistair and me to try for a sibling for Alexander and soon. With the new treatment I should be able to carry the next baby closer to term." "Lovely," Hannah said, shook Mrs. Phillips hand and joined George and Colin who had moved on to the car. "Well Saint Hannah," George said with a grin. "Shall we start the journey back to London?" "Oi you!" Hannah laughed. Before going home they went to a jeweller's shop where George bought Hannah an engagement ring - a very simple white gold design with a large solitaire diamond. The jeweller was used to a bit of everything in his trade but was nevertheless taken by the romantic scene. The young woman seemed to be completely lost in love when the grey haired gentleman put the ring on her finger. An unusual couple for sure - and a big pre-teen boy thrown in as well, but there was a calm certainty about them. 'I don't expect them in a divorce court ever,' the jeweller thought. "Damn - I simply can't ring Mum and Dad now," Hannah said when they were back in the apartment. "It is 2 in the morning; they would have a fit if I rang, thinking something was horribly wrong." "You'll just have to wait a few hours," George said, as always very practical. "You can call them after dinner." "After dinner I have other plans!" Hannah said and made a movement with her hips that clearly indicated what those plans were. They were practically plastered to each other and Colin, busy with the game console, wasn't looking. "OK, OK, OK," George said. "Tomorrow morning will be fine for their time zone." They rang Anne and Beth - who declared themselves thrilled and happy for George and Hannah but not particularly surprised. They cheerfully accepted an invitation to come to an engagement party on New Year's Eve - provided George coughed up the tickets. That ended up having to be business class, but George couldn't care less. Joanna, Dave and the kids had been planning a quiet New Year at home but accepted the invitation with glee and many congratulations. Hannah knew Stacey couldn't come since she had the evening shift, but she would ask Eleanor at work tomorrow. George contacted Christopher and Michael. They both declined, pleading prior engagements. That was with each other - something George had suspected, but apparently his two new colleagues were not quite ready to 'come out' yet. They also called George's London solicitor who promised to handle the purchase of the house and arranged to meet George the following day. Despite these activities the afternoon seemed to drag on. They cooked dinner together and kept touching and kissing all the time. After dinner they watched a movie with Colin. OK, Colin watched the movie. George and Hannah were too busy making out like they were teenagers. At the end of the movie Hannah got up "I'll get ready for bed," she said. "Good night Colin." "Good night stepmother," Colin said with an impish grin. "Don't you dare call me that, or I'll turn into an evil stepmother!" Hannah retorted in mock outrage. "You couldn't even if you tried!" Colin taunted with an even bigger grin. "Thank you for that vote of confidence," Hannah said happily and kissed the boy. She turned to George. "Give me ten minutes. But not a second longer!" She sent him a smouldering look. "OK love," George said - hoping that his straining dick would remain unnoticed by Colin. Colin noticed but he didn't comment. Together they cleared up after evening tea, then George sent Colin off to bed. "Goodnight my boy," he said. "Sleep tight." "You too," Colin replied. "I will," his father said. 'But not anytime soon,' he thought and went to the master bedroom. Chapter 16 The menial tasks of clearing up had naturally made George's dick soften, but the sight that met him in the bedroom returned so much blood to his groin that it threatened to rip open his trousers. Hannah was lying on the bed naked, clean and inviting after a shower. Her sex was swollen and glistening with secretions. "That is the prettiest pussy I have ever seen," George said. "It looks yummy - good enough to eat!" "Does it?" Hannah asked nervously. "I've never tried that." "You poor deprived child!" George exclaimed and dived in. In the next room Colin heard Hannah's howls. He was smiling to himself, recollecting the episode in his sisters' apartment. He had been woken up by a similar noise and very nearly ran to 'rescue' Anne - who, he was sure, was being murdered. But at the last moment he realised his sister was yelling "Yes, yes, yes!" and decided to stay where he was. The next morning at breakfast Beth made Tord and Anne apologise for the noise, but both had goofy grins on their faces and looked too happy to be convincingly bashful. Hannah's howling was every bit as enthusiastic as Anne's had been. When it finished, Colin rolled over expecting to fall asleep. But a few minutes later the howling started again - George was continuing his oral onslaught on Hannah who was now experiencing an even more bone shattering climax. Colin found his iPod and put on some fairly loud music. It didn't help much. When the fourth round of howling started Colin moved over to other bed on the opposite side of the room. 'Dad must be really good at it,' he thought. Hannah though so too. In all the time she and Greg had been together she had never experienced an orgasm with him. Now she'd had at least four with George, and he was still fully dressed! Needing a break, she pointed that fact out to George who grinned and stripped. Hannah was stunned. Not only was George slimmer than he'd ever been - that she had known since she came to London - but he was incredibly fit. His body certainly didn't look like that of a nearly fifty year old. His stomach muscles were very well defined - actually he was sporting a bona fide 'six pack' and his dick was bigger - much bigger - than Greg's. George got back on the bed and started licking Hannah from her pussy and upwards. When he got to her left nipple he suckled it in much the same he had treated her clit and the sensation was incredible. To Hannah's amazement she realised she was close to climaxing again and when George swapped breast and did the same to her right nipple she actually came. He moved upwards, kissing her on her throat, her chin, her mouth. She could feel his dick on her pussy and despite still coming down from the orgasm she felt slightly apprehensive. The first time with Greg had been very painful. She had expected that, but it had never stopped being uncomfortable having him enter her; it wouldn't be a sharp pain, but still unpleasant. And George was so much bigger! To her amazement, there was no pain and no discomfort. Sure, she was tight and she really felt she was being filled by George, but it was a wonderful feeling. Her body was so ready for him. Before she knew it he had bottomed out in her, their pubic bones meshing and stimulating her sensitive clit. When he slowly withdrew and entered her again she knew this was going to bring her off in a major way - much bigger than the oral orgasms. George established a rhythm that matched the water-bed and in just minutes Hannah reached her plateau. Vaguely mindful that she had already been quite loud she 'muffled' herself in George shoulder and let the continuous stream of orgasms wash over her. She completely lost count of the climaxes or sense of anything except her pulsing womb. Far, far away she felt George go rigid. Instinctively she locked her legs around him to pull him even closer and she sensed more than felt him deliver his semen as deep in her as possible. Rationally speaking you cannot know, but like many women before her Hannah knew that they had just created new life. The thought overwhelmed her with happiness. George rolled off of her, pulled her close and in a few minutes they both drifted off to a blissful sleep. Sometime during the night they awoke - just - and made love again lying on their sides and gently rocking towards each other. And mid-morning, Hannah mounted George's 'morning wood' and rode him to another shattering orgasm before she reluctantly left the bed to get ready to go to work. 'Dad looks just as goofy and happy as Tord did,' Colin thought when George appeared in his dressing gown to make breakfast while Hannah showered. Colin was watching TV and had fixed himself something to eat. 'This sex-thing must be nice. They don't teach you that in school.' All he did say was "Morning Dad!" "Morning Son," George replied. "Slept well?" "After a while," Colin replied drily. He let that sink in, George opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head instead and got on with the breakfast. Colin again watched TV. After a few minutes he took up the thread. "Listen, do you think I could have the other bedroom - the one that is an office right now?" "Were we that loud?" George asked. "Uh huh," Colin confirmed. "Well, Hannah was - I didn't hear you nearly as much." George had the good grace to blush. "We'll see what we can work out. Anyway, it won't be for long - soon we'll move down to the Old Rectory and we can have bedrooms at opposite ends of the house." "Cool!" Colin said and returned his attention to the TV. "What was that about?" Hannah said - she'd walked in and only heard the 'opposite ends' bit. "Believe me honey; you do not want to know!" George replied. Hannah got it anyway. "Were we that loud?" she whispered. "Uh huh," George confirmed in a low voice. "Well, Colin says one of us was..." That elicited a massive blush from Hannah. "Sorry Colin!" she said loudly. "Huh?" Colin said, looking up. "About the noise, I mean," Hannah said blushing even more. "No worries," Colin said in perfect Australian English with the impish grin spreading from ear to ear. George and Hannah ate breakfast. "When do you have to leave?" George asked. "In about an hour, but I really must phone Mum and Dad," Hannah replied. "I don't want them to discover it from my change of status on Facebook." "Of course!" George agreed. "Do you want me to be there too when you talk to them?" "I'd love that," Hannah said. They retreated to the office and called Hannah's parents. Her mother picked up the phone. "Mum! I'm engaged!" Hannah yelled as soon as her mother had said "Westlock." "Hannah darling, congratulations!" her mother exclaimed. "I am so happy for you. I'll get Dad, hold on." Hannah's mother put the receiver down and yelled "Neil! Neil! Come quick. It's Hannah. She's engaged!" "Whom to?" her father was heard to say as he approached the telephone, "Don't know," her mother said in a whisper. "Haven't gotten that far yet." Hannah and George who could hear the exchange chuckled quietly. "OK, Dad's here too," Hannah's mother said, "and he wants to know who the lucky young man is." "I'm the one who is lucky and he is not exactly young," Hannah replied. "But you know him very well." "George?" two voices said in unison after a very brief silence. "Uh huh," Hannah confirmed. "George!" "Fantastic," Hannah's mother said. "I thought you were never going to work it out! What do the kids say?" "They are all really good about it," Hannah said. "Apparently Anne and Beth have thought for months it was going to happen. Even George's secretary had an inkling." "What about Colin?" her father asked. "It was actually our worry about him that held us back," Hannah said. "But in the end it was him that triggered it all." She explained to her parents about George and Colin relocating, viewing the house and Colin expressing his desire to have Hannah living with them. "Oh, the little sweetheart," Hannah's mother exclaimed. "It can't have been easy being him for the last year or so." "Nor has it," George said. "But he seems genuinely happy." "Oh hullo George," Hannah's mother said. "Congratulations to you too. So you're leaving Norway?" "Mostly," George replied. "We will still have a division outside Oslo, but my work will be out of London." They talked for a long time about George's company and the house and Colin's school and Hannah's work. "So you're getting a promotion?" her father exclaimed. "That's great news - even if it drowns out a bit amongst getting engaged and buying a house!" Hannah laughed guiltily. "Yeah, I suppose work ranks a little low all of a sudden. But speaking of work - I have to leave fairly soon; I have a dayshift." "Yes, you mustn't forget your little sick babies," her mother said. "Now you mention them, babies I mean," Hannah said. "Don't take too long rescheduling your trip over here. I want a proper church wedding with Dad giving me away and all and I want to be able to fit a wedding dress." "I see," her mother said pointedly. "We'll keep that in mind." Hannah had to leave and they ended the call. "They took that well!" she exclaimed as the Skype 'end' signal sounded in the computer speakers. "Very!" George replied. "Admit that you were nervous about their reaction!" Hannah challenged. "Very!" George readily admitted. "But then I also worried about Beth and Anne and Colin. I think I'll stop worrying and just start to enjoy!" "Very wise Mr. Hamsun, very wise indeed." Hannah said, kissed him and left for work. "I believe congratulations are in order Nurse Westlock!" Professor Rutherford said when Hannah arrived at work. "Oh my, news travel fast, doesn't it?" Hannah said but happily accepted the Professor's handshake which she deftly converted to a hug. The professor smiled. "Irene Phillips phoned me last night. She was so excited. But I assure you I have told no-one." "That's fine," Hannah smiled back. "I will tell Eleanor presently and then I suspect the entire ward will know a few seconds later." Eleanor had one look at Hannah's left hand and exclaimed "Oh my god! You're engaged! When did that happen?" Hannah explained about the house and the proposal. "So he finally made the pass yesterday, huh? Well, well, well!" Eleanor teased. "Stacey and I heard what you said you were going to do in response. And I thought you were walking slightly bow-legged!" "Get out of here!" Hannah grinned good-naturedly. "You are every bit as bad as Colin!" That required some explanation that left Hannah slightly pink and Eleanor in stitches. "Well at least the boy is taking it well. But I forget; he must have known you always. And knowing you is loving you Pet." Eleanor was thrilled about the invitation for the New Year's Eve engagement party even though she had already accepted another invitation. "Bring him!" Hannah urged, so Eleanor phoned her date and coolly explained there was a 'slight change in venue'. The young man was so smitten he docilely acquiesced. George spent the afternoon with his solicitor and got the paperwork regarding the purchase of the Old Rectory finalised. He also discussed the best way to arrange his personal affairs. "I can only recommend that you make a comprehensive will Mr. Hamsun," the solicitor said. "Your grown daughters are well provided for, but there are some legal implications for your boy vis-à-vis his late mother's estate. I do not want to pressure you of course, but you would be well advised to marry before you take title of the new house - or you have any further children." "But we are in complete harmony over this, my daughters and I," George protested. "I am sure you are and that is excellent," the solicitor said drily. "But my profession would not be nearly as big and profitable as it is if family life was always harmonious." George recalled that conversation later that night. Hannah came home late but she was adamant she wasn't 'too tired' for anything and while their love-making might have been slightly less noisy than the previous night it lacked nothing in vigour. Hannah's contracting vagina triggered George's own climax and for the fourth time he delivered a large quantity of semen directly into Hannah's womb. "Hannah my love," he said when their breathing had returned to normal. "I've noted we have no interest in contraception. It would be a tad late for that anyway, but yes, we're very deliberately not being careful, right?" "Absolutely," Hannah said - and the after-tremors in her body emphasised her sincerity by trying to milk the last few drops out of George. "It can only take too long for me to get pregnant." "Right," George said. "And I also recall what you said earlier today about a church wedding and your parents being there and so on which is lovely. But I talked to my solicitor today and he urged us to marry as soon as possible." He outlined what the solicitor had said. "What do we do?" Hannah asked. "I suggest we get legally married at a register office at once and then have the big church do when your parents - and possibly your brothers - can get here. Whitsun is a tad late next year; you might be pretty big by then - I hope so anyway, but perhaps they can get here by April," George said. "Sounds fine," Hannah said. "And listen, if my belly arrives at the altar before I do, so be it!" The New Year party was great. Hannah only got home late, having had to work during the afternoon, but George and his daughters had everything ready. Joanna and Dave and the kids were elated about George and Hannah. "I feel so happy for you," Joanna gushed. "Next year is going to be fantastic for all of us." In a whisper she added "I wish we could tell Fiona and Liam about our news too, but it is still much too early." "Better not jump the gun Jo," George agreed. "But I bet they will be excited. And listen, yours will not be the only baby next year if we can help it!" The only discord was Catherine who would rather have gone to a party with Thomas and Mark. Joanna was initially willing to let her, but when further investigation revealed that it was a party for Mark and his friends and that Thomas was only grudgingly accepted amongst the older participants, Joanna pulled the plug. So Catherine was in a foul mood, made fouler by the fact that Colin paid Fiona much more attention than he offered her. And George obviously only had eyes for Hannah. "Sometimes it is hard to be 13," Dave whispered to Hannah. Hannah nodded and tried to engage Catherine in the revelry, but she had decided to be grumpy and declared that children and adults alike were equally 'childish' and 'embarrassing'. But the rest of the party enjoyed themselves. Eleanor's date - a young doctor from another ward at the hospital - turned out to be really sweet and immensely keen on Eleanor. "There are a lot of jokes about nurses wanting to bag a doctor and vice versa," he said, "but honestly - we met at a party held by a mutual friend and had no idea we were colleagues until later." "And we will probably have to tell people that for the rest of our lives," Eleanor added - and then blushed profusely when she realised what she had said. But her young doctor certainly seemed to like that prospect. There is something about weddings and engagement parties; the mood is infectious. George and Hannah were married quietly in late January at the Southwark register office. By then they knew that Hannah was pregnant. They took over the Old Rectory on the first of February and moved in about a month later. Colin's tutor was a find. Quentin was planning to study to become a teacher and his work with Colin showed that to be an excellent career choice. Over the next couple of months he helped Colin getting ready for the English school system and also became a close friend. Hannah's parents, her brothers and her oldest brother's partner came in May for a huge church wedding. Stacey and Eleanor were bride's maids and bawled their eyes out. It was hard to imagine that they were cool and level-headed ICU nurses for their day-jobs! That the bride was visibly pregnant didn't detract one bit from the day - Hannah looked gorgeous in her dress. And besides, the place was swarming with pregnant women - Joanna who was quite large by then, Irene who had just starting to show and was doing very well and Trish, Hannah's brothers partner, also had a noticeable bump. At the end of the long day, as George and Hannah were getting ready for bed and had stripped down, George looked at his gorgeous fertile goddess of a bride in wonder. He seemed far away. "Penny for your thoughts?" Hannah said. "There are things uncles are not for," George replied with a deep contented sigh. "I am so glad we worked out I could be your lover and husband instead." THE END