She was standing on the edge of Hilton's pond, a figure caught in a sunbeam - her form illuminated by a single ray of sunlight that broke through the branches of the towering Oak that seemed to loom over her.
She gently swayed back and forth beneath it, clinging onto the ropes of a swing someone had hung from the lowest branches many years ago.
He didn't need to see her face to know who she was - the long thick red hair cascading down her bare lightly-freckled shoulders was a dead giveaway - his mother had the same rich shade of Auburn.
As he approached, he boggled at the magnificence of her thin body outlined by the sun through the delicate material of the long sundress she wore.
When he was close enough, he could hear her whistling a tune that he recognized over the soft murmur of the late summer forest ... an old Irish Jig his Grandfather liked.
"Hello, Aunt Mary," he called to her when he was a few paces away.
She didn't startle as he'd expected but turned her head and showered him with a bright smile over her shoulder instead.
"Hello, Charlie!"
Her makeup was very fashionable.
Her lips were bright scarlet but her eyeliner and mascara were dark shades of purple, giving her a sultry and exotic cast, like a movie star.
His Mother considered the look garish but it was all the rage in the cities like Manchester and London.
She was tall and extremely thin, compared to most women Charlie knew, but her exotic thick sultry lips and full breasts evoked the countenance of Bardot more than Twiggy.
"I was expecting you," she informed him.
"You were?"
He hadn't expected to see her.
She'd run off to London a few years ago for reasons unknown ... at least for reasons unknown to him. She hadn't been seen by anyone in the family for quite a long time.
"Aye, as a matter of fact," she turned entirely towards him, "I knew that you'd find your way here eventually."
Seeing her now made his head swim with a strange excitement that he didn't quite understand.
"This was your favourite place to hide from the old mothers and the barmy old da's... here with me and this old spirit."
She reached out and touched the ancient gnarled Oak and fixed him with a look meant to taunt, "All ye all ye outs in free, all ye, all ye, in come free!"
"I'm grown now!" Charlie informed her, pulling himself up straight to show her how tall he was.
"You're but a babe!" Mary laughed.
His fondest memories were of playing with his aunts and uncles in this wood ... this tree and the swing had been their meeting place every year.
It was the only place the younger generation of their giant clan could find any solitude in the entire park.
Mary was closest to him in age ... and always his favourite.
"You're not much older than I am," he chided her, "You weren't so mature then either!"
"Charmer!" she grabbed the ropes of the swing and allowed herself to spin a few times, the dress flared around her, exposing her long lovely legs to the knee ... her calves were sleek and muscular, her ankles were thin and delicate.
"Mind you, you are never too old to play!" "
She was the youngest of seven, his mother being the eldest. Mary could only be ten years older than he was at the most - still, she'd become as beautiful as any woman Charlie'd ever seen regardless of age.
She was a long way from the gaunt, freckled, and akward girl he remembered.
"It's been too long; really ... it's good to see you!" Charlie offered, at a loss as to what to say next and too awestruck by the form revealed to him to think clearly.
She tilted her head and smiled. He held her gaze but visibly blushed. She had to know he could see her figure with the sun at her back.
"Did you really miss me so?" she asked as if surprised and swished her hips side to side nervously.
The material of her dress clung to her hips and the movement provide him with another chance to see her legs.
"That is a lovely dress!"
She laughed an amused little laugh and brushed a fringe from her brow.
"I'm happy you think so," she stated.
"How long are you staying this year?" Charlie asked, attempting to regain his composure to a degree, suddenly concerned that he must truly appear quite childish to her after all.
"Only for the party," she glanced back the way he had come. "I'm expected in London tonight."
"They said you'd been swanning about 'Swinging London' these days - a fashion magazine, isn't it?"
"Very fashionable!" she insisted.
"Join us at the party?"
"I'm afraid not," she turned her back to him again. "Next year, perhaps."
"Why not?" he asked surprised. "You haven't visited for a long time."
She wrapped her arms defensively around herself, her hands on her shoulders, as if she'd suddenly caught a chill.
"I can't, Charlie."
"Will you come again next year then?" he asked hopefully.
The glade fell silent, as if every cricket and frog in the wood reached a pause in their song at the same exact moment ... almost as if awaiting her answer as well.
"If I do," she announced, and looked around quizzically, noting the sudden silence, "It shall only be to not disappoint my charming Nephew."
The forest song resumed.
"I shall wait for you then!" he promised like a love struck crooner, "At the rope swing."
"A rendezvous is it?" she asked tilting her head quizzically.
Charlie cringed in another pang of teenaged awkwardness. He stiffened in his trousers and had to reach in his pocket to make sure she didn't notice.
"Why not?" he managed.
The last rays of the sun fell below the trees on the other side of the pond just then - casting them both in shadow; no longer revealing her body to him.
"Run along!" she cried. "It's getting dark - and the forest is haunted!"
"Leprechauns and fairies, is it?" he teased.
His Mother shared the same folksy Irish superstitiousness and he'd always found it amusing - although occasionally he'd find himself avoiding cats and absently looking for Shamrocks himself.
"Don't invite their attention, Charlie, even in jest!" she warned.
"Then I suppose you'll be in need of a courageous escort!" he held out his hand with a gleam in his eye, "I am prepared to duel any unruly gnome who dares to cross your path!"
"Aye!" She fanned her face mockingly, "You have grown!"
He stepped forward still holding out his hand.
"Wait!" She cried, "I nearly forgot!"
She ran to the swing and grabbed the ropes for balance as she bent over to retrieve something from behind the Oak.
Charlie literally drooled as his entire mind focused on the contours of his Aunt's magnificent long legs and her soft round bottom as she bent and twisted.
