It’s 2026, and we are talking 1995. My Dad is like that now. Dementia has its ugly hold, and most of the time, he looks out of his care home window and has conversations with his long-dead parents. For all he knows, or cares, I’m not sitting beside him, and if he does see me, I am a stranger to him. But occasionally, whatever wiring in his head that has gone wrong fixes itself, and he is back in the real world. We are there now, he’s smiling at me and says,
“Do you remember when Uncle Jack got married, and his wife already had a daughter? What was her name?”
“Laura.”
“That’s right, Laura. A proper handful from what I can remember.”
“Oh, I don’t know, she was okay.”
My Dad smiled. “You would say that.”
“Would I?”
“She came on holiday with us once. The old house in Cornwall.”
“I know, I was there.”
“Your mother was stressed out all the time Laura was there. She wanted you to be a good influence on the girl, but at the same time, she thought the girl was a bad influence on you.”
I tried not to smile too much at the memory. “I don’t think Laura was a bad influence.”
Dad reached out and put a hand on my arm. “There’s something I’ve always wanted to know.”
“What?” I asked after a pause.
“Did you get to shag her?”
My jaw dropped open. “Dad? Seriously?”
“Go on, you can tell me, I’ll forget what we were talking about in the next ten minutes.”
I couldn’t meet his eyes, even thirty years later; some secrets should never be revealed. “No, I didn’t,” I said.
Dad slumped back in his chair. “That’s a shame, she had a body to die for, that one.”
“Yeah,” I sighed at the memory. “She did.”
###
My mum’s side of the family was rich. Her parents, my grandparents, had all kinds of investments and land. The best was a house in Cornwall, sitting in the south-west corner of England, the bit that sticks out into the Atlantic Ocean. Think Land’s End and all that. The place was originally Victorian but had been added onto over the years, becoming a rambling three-storey property. It sits on a cove on the county’s south coast with its own private beach. There are rock pools and dunes to explore, and enough waves to make surfing good. I loved my holidays there; my parents were both teachers, so we visited Grandma and Granddad for three weeks each summer holiday from when I was a baby. Other aunts, uncles, and their families came along too, some for the same three weeks, while others might stay for just one or two weeks if they couldn’t spare the time. It was the same in 1995, the year I turned sixteen. All down to Cornwall, and that’s where I met Laura.
My Uncle Jack had always been single, then one day, out of the blue, he announced he had gotten married in secret. His new wife came with a 19-year-old daughter, Laura. This summer would be the first time the family would be meeting the latest additions. There was some gossip. I heard my mum and dad talking one evening about Laura. How she was “difficult”, had got into trouble with the police, and Jack and my new aunt were at their wits’ end in trying to deal with her. What didn’t help was Mum telling me that, since I was the closest in age to Laura, I should spend as much time with her as possible to keep her company. I didn’t want to do that; I wanted to spend my time surfing and playing games with my other cousins who would be there.
So it was a Saturday in July, a bad weather day with strong winds and driving rain coming in off the sea, when Uncle Jack, Aunt Sarah, and my step-cousin Laura arrived in the late afternoon. Introductions were made, and Jack sent Laura over to me to say hello. I hadn’t known what to expect. Probably someone punkish, all studs and tattoos, and ready to fight if she’d had trouble with the police. What I got was an ordinary-looking girl with a round face wearing a baggy hoodie, stonewashed jeans and trainers. She had blue eyes and dark-blonde hair that hung straight to shoulder-blade level. My parents had been reassuring me for months that I would have a growth spurt at some stage, but it hadn’t happened yet, which is why, at five foot six, her eyes were at the same level as mine.
I smiled and said hello, she just looked out the big picture window at the rain and said,
“Is it always this bad?”
“No. The forecast for tomorrow is much better. Sun and lighter winds.”
She looked at me. “You watch the weather forecast?”
“Yes. Mainly for the sea state. I like surfing.”
Laura sighed, put her hands in the front pocket of her hoodie, and pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.
“You can’t smoke in the house,” I said.
“I’m not stupid.” She opened the door out onto the veranda and let in a blast of wind and rain. Outside, I watched her try to light up as her hair swirled around her face, the wind blowing out the lighter flame every time she got it going. She saw me smiling at her efforts and flicked her fingers up in a V sign at me.
Laura came back into the house and stomped through to the other side. I followed her out to where it was calmer in the lee of the building, and she lit up, taking an angry drag before saying.
“I don’t want to be here, so don’t give me any fucking stories about how wonderful Cornwall is.”
She must have seen the look on my face.
“What? Never heard a girl swear before?”
“No.”
She laughs, “Of course, you’re Mr Goody-Two-Shoes.”
I stare at her. “I’m what?”
“My stepdad says, Daniel’s a good boy. He’s a straight-A student, he volunteers with St John Ambulance, and he helps little old ladies cross the road. Mr Fucking-Goody-Two-Shoes.”
There’s an anger in her that scared me. “I’m not sure about the little old ladies,” I said.
“Just leave me alone.” She turned away, shoulders hunched.
When she didn’t move, I said, “We’ll be inside. Tea is almost ready, then we’ll play games.”
“Games?”
“Charades, things like that.”
“Fuck me.” Laura turned back, blowing a stream of smoke into my face. “You play charades?”
“It’s…fun.”
I can see tears in her eyes. “I don’t want to be here. I want to be at home, with my friends, down the pub, enjoying ourselves. Not stuck with a bunch of strangers playing stupid games.”
I can’t think of anything positive to say. When Laura turns away again, I retreat into the house. Laura comes in eventually. She doesn’t take part in the games. There are enough players that Laura isn’t missed. I’m the oldest of the proper cousins. Going down from me there’s Tom, who’s eleven. Lucien, ten. Amy is nine, and the twins Grace and Georgia are six. At some point in the evening, Laura disappears up to her room, and I don’t see her again until breakfast.
As promised, the morning is bright and warm. The wind has dropped, but the sea is still rolling in hard. Everyone is eager to enjoy themselves, and we form a line as we make our way down the steps from the house to the beach. I’m carrying my surfboard and a three-quarter-length wetsuit. Somewhere in the gaggle of adults and children is Laura, and as we spread out to put our things down, we end up next to each other. She hasn’t spoken to me since the night before, and I’m scared to initiate any conversation that might get my head bitten off again.
And then my world stops.
Laura has laid out her beach towel, and as I watch, she pushes down her shorts and lifts her hoodie over her head. She’s wearing a black bikini, and I know now why she was wearing such a baggy top. Her breasts are full and round, the bikini top struggling to hold them in place; her waist is narrow, and her hips are wide. My mouth has gone dry.
I should explain. I’m 16 years old, an only child, and I attend an all-boys’ school. The only experience I have of the opposite sex is female relatives like my mum, aunts, and grandma. I have a friend who has an 11-year-old sister, but that’s about it. I’ve done human biology at school, so I know what goes where and what happens when it gets there, but the finer things are a mystery. Yes, I’ve seen friends with glossy magazines like Playboy and Mayfair, and I’ve flicked through the lingerie section of mail-order catalogues. But here I am, on a beach in Cornwall, breathless, a warmth growing in my chest and a hollow space forming in my stomach. For the first time in my life, I know I’m feeling a proper sexual desire, and it scares me.
“Dan? Dan?” My Dad’s calling me. I’m not sure if he’s smiling as he says, “Surf looks good.”
“Yeah,” I croak. “I’ll go down soon.”
When I turn back, Laura is on all fours, flattening the towel where the wind has flipped it over. Her arse cheeks are glorious pillows that I want to rest my head against. I look away as I feel a stirring in my beach shorts. Not a proper hardening, but an acknowledgement that Laura is doing something physical to me that no other woman or girl has ever done before. When I look again, she has put sunglasses on and is lying on her back. Her breasts have pancaked out, yet still form delicious hills, and I can see a good wedge of side-boob where the bikini top has lost a battle. Her stomach is flat, her pelvis wide, and between her thighs, the bikini bottom hides a secret mound that I desperately want to see.
“You’re staring,” Laura said.
I almost jumped out of my skin. “What?”
“You’re staring. Just because I’m wearing sunglasses doesn’t mean I can’t see you.”
“Sorry.”
She doesn’t reply, but there’s a ghost of a smile on her lips that flips my heart over. My hands are shaking as I get ready to surf. I’m sure the cold water will calm me down. Before I head down to the sea, I risk another glance at Laura; her head is turned a little towards me, and I know she is watching me through her shades.
An hour or so in the water calms me down, but I can’t concentrate fully, miss enough waves and make enough rookie mistakes that I end up sitting on my board at the edge of the surf and stare out to sea. Laura will be here for the full three weeks. Her mum and step-dad will head home next weekend, and then her mum will return to pick her up on the day I’m due to go home with my parents—three weeks of being close to a young woman with a body to die for. I splashed cold sea water onto my face. I don’t know how I’m going to survive.
At some point, I heard a shout and looked to see my mum waving to me. Lunch time, a picnic on the beach. I walked back up with my board to find Laura had turned over and was tanning her back. Her bikini bottoms had ridden up into her arse cheeks, and I wanted to rest my head on them. I dropped my board with a sigh and stripped off my wetsuit, facing away from her. That seemed the best option, don’t look at her, don’t think about her. Just concentrate on the others and imagine she’s not here, within arm’s length, waiting to be touched. Join in the post-lunch game of beach cricket and then head over to the rockpools to keep myself busy.
Somehow, I survived the rest of the day and evening. Some of us went for a walk along the cliffs, Laura didn’t, and I was able to relax even in the presence of the kind of annoying twins. Lying in bed, not thinking about Laura, was trickier than expected. I read a book until two in the morning, and even then, I wasn’t tired enough to fall straight asleep. My cock grew hard as images of her played on repeat in my head. I lay on my hands for a while, until I eventually dozed off. Even then, she haunted my dreams.
The next day was a planned trip to St Michael’s Mount. The tides were favourable for a late morning visit across the causeway. By the time we’d visited the castle and gardens and eaten in a pub, the tide had rolled back in, and we took a ferryboat back to the mainland. We returned home, and even a day out hadn’t slowed down the younger children, who wanted a game of hide-and-seek. I can remember my surprise when Laura said she’d join in.
It was the twins and Tom who would do the seeking. The rest of us scattered, and I made a lot of noise heading down one hallway before returning on softer feet to climb the stairs. I aimed for the attic, where a big Victorian wardrobe full of winter coats awaited. I could still hear the kids counting loudly in the kitchen as I opened the wardrobe doors and stepped in.
“Too late,” a female voice said. “I’ve got this spot.”
Laura, hidden somewhere in the gloom, I started to turn away when a hand reached out and grasped my wrist. “You may as well stay now, it’ll finish the game quicker if they find us at the same time.”
I was dragged into the shadows, pulled through coats as hangers rattled above my head.
“Close the door,” Laura said.
When I did as asked, the darkness became complete. I was aware of dust and heat, still with Laura’s hand on my wrist as she tugged me into the corner where she stood. The coats shifted together behind me, muffling all sound, and all of a sudden, I was up close to her as my body pressed into hers. Instinct made me pull back, but she whispered.
“No. They’re coming.”
I became aware of many things. I couldn’t see Laura, but I could feel her breath in my ear, her full breasts pressing into my chest, the brush of an eyelash on my cheek as she blinked, her arms slipping around my waist to hold me steady.
“Why are you shaking?” the question is whispered into my ear.
“I’m off-balance.” That was an excuse; I was scared.
“Then hold onto me.”
I put my hands on her waist. From outside the wardrobe, I could hear the twins squealing as they raced up the stairs and from room to room. Inside the wardrobe, all I could hear was the beating of my heart. The temperature was rising, or at least mine was, and I was finding it hard to breathe. Something else was happening. My cock was getting hard. The feel of her breasts, the contact with her thighs, our bodies melding in the dark, all came together. I pulled back a little, not wanting her to know. Laura’s grasp tightened, drawing me into her.
“Stay still,” she breathed.
The attic door crashed open, and the twins were here. I felt a sense of relief as the wardrobe door was wrenched open and small hands began pulling at heavy winter coats. Light filtered to where we stood. I could see the outline of Laura’s face and the hint of a smile.
“They’re not here,” Grace announced.
“They must be here.” That was Georgia—more pulling of coats before Georgia shouted, “They’re downstairs somewhere.”
The wardrobe door closed. We were back in darkness. Laura’s lips brushed my face as she whispered, “Idiot children.”
“Yeah.” I was having trouble breathing. She must be able to feel the rigid length of my hard-on, but didn’t seem to care.
“This is cosy, isn’t it?” she said.
“I guess.”
One hand glides up my back. “You don’t sound so sure.”
“It’s just hot and stuffy in here,” I said.
“Oh, I don’t know.” I can almost see her grinning in the dark.
I tried to move away again, and this time she let me. There’s a gap of about an inch between us, but it feels like a mile. The relief doesn’t last long, as Laura said,
“I think they’re coming back.”
She pulled me closer, and this time, I know she can feel my cock hard against her because she lets out a little, throaty chuckle and pats my back.
The kids are back in the attic now, this time with Tom, who opens the wardrobe and drags the coats to one side.
“Found them,” he says to the twins, “I told you they had to be here. It’s the only place left.”
I stumbled out into fresh air, bending over and resting my hands on my thighs to conceal my erection.
“Why are you so red, Dan?” Grace asked.
“It was hot and stuffy in there,” I said, “and I couldn’t breathe.”
“Laura’s not red.”
I look at Laura, and she’s laughing at me. “Yeah, Dan, why are you so red?”
“I was facing in,” I said, “there was less oxygen.”
She sighed. “I’ll believe you, but thousands wouldn’t.”
Georgia gave me the distraction I needed. “We found you anyway,” she said. “Now you have to find us.”
Laura shot me a sardonic smile and let the kids head downstairs before she stepped close and said, “That was more fun than I was expecting. Was it the same for you?”
“Just a bit cramped,” I said.
“Oh,” she put a look of disappointment on her face. “Would you rather have been in there on your own?”
Our gaze locked. This time, Laura laughed out loud. “Thought not.”
I was sixteen. I didn’t know how to act or react. I didn’t know what to say. She was nineteen, and at that moment, the three-year age gap felt like thirty. Laura was a full-grown woman, and I was like an innocent child.
The next day was another beach day, and this time, Laura surprised everyone at breakfast by announcing she wanted…
