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He placed her on the deck as she continued to cough. His large hand patted her back with some force as she bent forward. ‘Just relax a bit. You took in some water.’ ‘Oh you poor poor girl!’ Mrs. Kirkland began to hover over Sharon. She looked around. ‘Michael! Matthew! Don’t just stand there. They need some towels!’ Seconds later the wet pair had towels around their shoulders. ‘Poor thing! You’re shivering! Maxwell let her up so she can change into something dry.’ ‘I didn’t take a change of clothes with me ma’am.’ Sharon shivered again though the night was warm. Maxwell solved the problem in an instant. Without a word he rose then lifted Sharon into his arms. He walked into the house and straight up to his room with her. He did not stop until he got to the bathroom. He allowed her to slide from his arms and pushed her through the doorway. ‘Get out of the wet clothes. I’ll try to find something for you to wear home.’ He closed the door in her face. Sharon stood looking at the. .. had I sat back and entertained sexual thoughts regarding my sister. And I would have been willing to bet, Lisa hadn't entertained any of me either. And now ... less than ten minutes ago, we'd both been sitting here watching one another masturbate. Would it be something we'd both come to regret? Have guilty thoughts about for letting it happen? Would what happened eventually ruin what we'd only recently managed to bring together. The closeness of a relationship we'd once shared.I soon after went upstairs to bed myself, walking past my sister's closed bedroom door. The lights were off as evidenced by the darkness coming from beneath the door. I stopped briefly, considering whether to knock on her door or not, and then thought better of it, walking down the hallway towards my room.I didn't get a hell of a lot of sleep that night.I had eventually dozed off yes, but it was a very restless sleep. Waking the moment I heard her bedroom door open and then close, followed by footsteps.
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Her hearing was starting to fail, and the fags and booze diet of decades was catching up with her at last.Let's just say, we were both tired, and had been under some strain. I kept on thinking of Morocco. I had spoken to Ed about another visit last time he rang, but it was going to be hard to justify a second holiday in such busy year. Talk about losing one's freedom to responsibility! As we left the motorway, I recognised where we were at once. I found myself shaking, slowing, swerving onto a slip road, and there it was, the Little Chef where Sarah and I had paused during our flight from the police. I pulled up untidily in the car park."I'm sorry Em, I just ... This is where Sarah and I ... I've never been here since..." Margaret knew the story, but not the exact location. Sitting there in the car park the memories became unbearable. I sensed that other motorists were noticing, watching us, and I didn't want their pity, their intrusion. I dried my eyes as best I could, started the.

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