When my Uncle George was killed in a mysterious road accident, I was devastated. It would seem that as he had been coming over to pick me up for a football match, his BMW failed to take a tight bend on the hilly road from their house and went over the cliff edge. The car had exploded on impact and his remains consumed by the ensuing holocaust, there was nothing left to recover and the verdict had been accidental death.
He was more like a father to me than my own Dad, his brother, was. It wasn't Dad's fault that he had to spend so much time away from home, it was his job and I had grown up with the fact that he couldn't be there when I was playing football or learning to ride a bike, or doing any of the other things that Dads normally do with their sons. Uncle George did though and as he and Aunt Marjory never had kids, he spent all the time he could with me and over the years, she grew to resent this. It wasn't until after his untimely death that I found out just how much she hated me.
"Carol, how that useless son of yours could be a part of our family is beyond me, he does nothing but plays sport and hang around in the gym with his equally obnoxious, lay about friends. I cannot, for the life of me, see why George took such a liking to him" She said one dinner time, during one of her frequent visits to our house. Mum looked a bit embarrassed at her sister-in-law's venomous outburst and replied,
"Madge, you know George enjoyed his sport and loved Gordon's involvement, if Bob had more time off work, he would be just the same, and wouldn't you love?" Dad managed to take his head out of the paper long enough to grunt a reply,
"Of course I would, but some of us don't have the luck that George had with his wheeling and dealing, or I might have been able to only work three days a week like he did." I actually think that Dad was jealous of his older brother's success with the stock market and possibly even the rapport that Uncle George and I had had between us. Auntie Madge couldn't resist having another snipe at me and included her dead husband this time,
"To be honest, George could be as much of a waster as Gordon sometimes; they made a fine pair you know?" This was said to nobody in particular and she went on to say, "And as he couldn't give me the children I so desperately wanted, he latched on to Gordon and spent less and less time with me" There was a tear in her eye when she said that and I'm sure it was a big act, to gain sympathy from Mum and Dad. Dad paid no attention, but Mum dutifully put an arm around her and said,
"You have been through a trying time Madge, I'm sure George loved you every bit as much as you loved him. But now he is gone, you still have us and you know we will do anything we can to help, don't you? Bob, for goodness sake, will you put down that paper and listen to Madge. She needs our help!"
Reluctantly, he threw down the paper and said that he was listening. He was far too busy to give her any of his time, but he was sure that I was big enough and ugly enough for anything she had in mind. After all, since I had turned eighteen, it was about time that I did something useful for a change and what was it she wanted help with?
George's will hadn't even been read yet, but it seemed that his devoted wife wanted to put the house on the market and needed assistance in getting everything packed into boxes. She glared at Dad and pointedly said that it was a man's job and not one for a mindless kid like me to handle. Mum jumped in and reassured her that I would be more than happy to do the heavy work and she could do the more delicate chore of wrapping and putting things in boxes. By the look she gave me, I knew she wanted me to say something comforting to my Aunt.
"You know me Auntie Madge, all brawn and no brain, great at lifting heavy weights, so when do you want me to start?" I said a bit sarcastically, remembering what she had just said about me being useless.
I really wasn't looking forward to helping her out, especially when Mum told her that I could stay over for a couple of nights to get things done quicker. It wasn't that she was bad looking or anything; it was her attitude that stank. She detested me and made no attempt to disguise the fact. She was a little older than Mum, mid forties I would say, she dressed in the latest of fashion and I have to say, quite sexily for her age. Since George's death she had taken to wearing black, which, with her short blond hair, suited her perfectly. Her figure could be described as trim but not skinny, pert breasts, tight butt and very shapely legs, all fitted into a shortish, 5' 4" frame which some would say, made her a very desirable woman.
She gave me a withering look, my sarcasm obviously hadn't gone unnoticed and she said,
"Well I suppose if Bob hasn't got the time, then you will just have to do. Go and get your things ready, I want to make a start as soon as possible and I don't want to be hanging about here all day waiting for you" I deliberately took my time about leaving the room and heard her say to Mum that she hoped I would be able to cope with a couple of days of real work and not let her down like some she could mention. That remark went right over Dad's head like a stealth jet, totally unnoticed.
The drive up to her house was uneventful and almost in complete silence as we didn't have much in common, other than George that is; and it would have been very boring if I hadn't been giving her sexy legs, a good coat of looking at. When she got into the drivers seat, her tight skirt had ridden up her thighs, a bit more than I think she was aware of and I could see the darker tops of her stockings leading to delights that I could only imagine. I quickly pushed these evil thoughts to one side and started counting sheep. Well I had to do something to stop the growing bulge in my jeans and quickly, before Auntie Madge spotted it and thought I was a pervert, as well as a lay about and told my parents about her disgusting nephew.
A feeling of deep sadness and loss came over me as we sped past the hastily repaired crash barrier where my uncle's car had over shot the bend. The twisted metal of the ruined crash barrier and charred vegetation was the only legacy of his mystifying crash. Seemingly unaffected, Madge negotiated the twisting turns competently and we were soon parked outside their beautiful house. The sun glinted off the clear, still water of the pool and again I thought of Uncle George and how he had spent hours teaching me to swim. My thoughts were rudely interrupted by my Aunt saying,