With a surge of warm expectation he heard the car pull onto the drive. From this point there would be no turning back and his new life would be formally launched tomorrow.
Joe's existence during the two years since his wife had succumbed to breast cancer had been pretty miserable, but his imminent marriage to her sister promised a return to a comfortable, if not particularly exciting, future.
Pauline had been their young bridesmaid when he'd married Brenda more than twenty four years ago. The two girls were close then, but the bond between all three of them had grown even stronger as the years had passed.
It had been a happy marriage, marred only by their inability to have children. Ironically, Pauline had given birth to a daughter less than a year after her own wedding, just six months before her husband was killed in a road accident.
Baby Charlotte, perhaps due to the lack of a father's discipline, had grown into a rebellious adolescent, frequently leaving her mother at the end of her tether. Eventually Joe had intervened and tactfully nudged the youngster away from most of the potential catastrophes that threatened to transpire and, as a result, had built up a tremendous rapport with the girl.
She had a lot to be grateful for, even though it had been some considerable time before she admitted it.
He had bought off the irate shopkeeper and persuaded him not to report it when she'd tried her hand at shop lifting at the tender age of twelve.
By fourteen she'd been taught that swearing was only a sign of immaturity and that being polite often achieved more than her previous rudeness.
At sixteen her hormones had become a physiological time bomb. Her wish to pierce her nose and lip was negotiated down to a minor ring in her belly button where it wasn't so obvious to potential employers. Similarly, the tattoos intended for her arms were eventually talked down to a single, tasteful rose on her left buttock.
All this, and much more, had been achieved without reference to her mother who, Joe guessed, was happier in her ignorance.
Pauline had been brought up as a Catholic and tended to see life through rose tinted glasses. She loved her daughter but felt God would provide all the direction necessary to enable a proper upbringing. After all, she'd conceived her baby without any formal sex education and Charlotte could, she felt sure, expect the same celestial guidance throughout her life.
Joe realised his intended second bride was relatively inexperienced and, apparently, had little interest in sexual matters, but loved her enough to settle for the promise of companionship and the remote hope of some occasional intimacy.
He opened the front door before Charlotte rang the bell.
After tomorrow's ceremony he would reside at Pauline's address and, at his suggestion, her daughter would take over his bungalow. He'd argued that, as the youngster was now eighteen, she needed her independence while the parental couple could benefit from being alone to settle into their new life.
She hugged him and kissed his cheek.
"I'll leave my stuff in the car for now," she said quietly. "Give me a quick conducted tour around what you're leaving and then I'd like to talk."
Joe gave her a quick look, sensing another counselling session was at hand.
"Have you got a problem?" He asked tentatively.
"Not really," she murmured, "it's nothing we can't work out between us."
Now apprehensive about the possibility of further, untimely demands being put upon him, he quickly whisked her around the property that was to become her home and then steered her back to the small conservatory.
"Sit down," he instructed, "and I'll go and mash some tea."
"I'd rather have a scotch," she murmured unexpectedly, "and it might be a good idea if you had one as well."
"I'm not sure I approve of you drinking spirits..." Joe observed hesitantly.
"I don't usually, but today I think we may both need a little Dutch courage."
He chose not to argue any longer and made for the drink's trolley, watching her carefully while pouring the whisky.
She was clearly agitated about something. Her fingers kept flicking the long hair back over her right ear while she crossed and uncrossed her bare legs.
Her eyes were everywhere except on him.
"Okay," he muttered when passing the glass, "perhaps you'd better get it off your chest?"
She sipped the amber fluid, took a deep breath and finally locked her huge green eyes to his.
"I want you to show me how to fuck."
The words bounced repetitively around Joe's brain as he sat gawping at her.
