A Family Christmas Ch. 01

WARNING TO NEW READERS TO THE SERIES - This is a long, rambling story and VERY British which has been divided into several parts for ease of editing and reading. The individual parts will make more sense if read in sequence as they follow straight on chronologically. Whilst this is a stand-alone story some readers may recognise some of the characters from my submissions from a couple of years back entitled 'The Touch' which can still be found in the Novellas section of Literotica. Interested readers should start reading at NOVELS & NOVELLAS > The Touch> Chapter 1 -- Jamie's Story. These new tales were put together whilst I was recuperating after an operation and follow the fortunes of some of the characters a few years on.

Most, but not all chapters contain some sexually explicit sections and the story has a strong incest theme which some readers may find disturbing and might wish to cease reading now.....

GF

Part One: CORA

My name is James, although my mother has always called me Jamie. The only time that I asked her about the nickname she smiled that secret smile that mothers do and simply told me, "You are named for a very special person I once knew who was called Jamie." She kissed me on the forehead and then added, "One day when you are older perhaps I will tell you the story..." She never mentioned the subject again until many years later and I was bright enough to realise that I was not intended to ask and so I was Jamie to Mother and James to everybody else.

Everybody that is except for my sister Coralline who usually called me Jim. Coralline, who is always called Cora, and I are twins. Not identical twins; we were born on the same day but an hour apart, Cora led the field and so is technically my older sister, but we are enough alike to have confused strangers when we were very little. As we got older, Cora got prettier but I like to think that I got the brains and strangely as we entered our teens my hair stayed blonder and my sister's hair became a darker mid-brown like Mother when she was younger and so we now look less alike. By the time that we reached our mid-teens we had both topped out at about 5'7" and were still teasing each other as to which of us was a half inch taller than the other.

There was only the three of us, and it had always been that way. My mother was never married to my father and we were registered with her maiden name, as James and Coralline Watford. Mother was open and frank about her reasons for remaining single "I wanted to start a family," she told us when we asked, "but I never found a man that I could spend my life with... I am happy just having you guys..." I really believe that was true. She never discussed my father, who he was or how they met, except to say that he was a good man who we would be proud of.

Perhaps some might consider it unfair or selfish to deprive her children of a father figure but she is a wonderful, loving, caring mother and as children we never lacked for anything and our childhood was a happy and fulfilled one. I for one never missed having a man about the house, I never missed out on any of the boy's activities which fathers usually took part in, Mother was always there on the side lines when there was a school rugger game, and for a time she was the commanding officer of our Army Cadet Troop, not just that but a really tough one and most of my friends found her really awesome. She could keep up with anyone on the assault courses we attended and would round off the day with her party piece... pulling a perfect score on the rifle range.

Mother never married, or even seriously dated anyone as far as I ever knew, she worked from home and so was there for us all the time when we were growing up. I cannot remember her ever bring a date home although she would occasionally go out to dinner or the theatre with a male friend or colleague but never stayed out overnight. Later as young teenagers, Cora and I did speculate about whether or not she had some sort of sex life, she was still very attractive with a good figure, horribly fit, always dressed well and probably did not look nearly fifty. I think that my mother's sex life or lack of one fascinated Cora more than it did me; but then teenage girls are always far more sexually and emotionally aware than boys of the same age. Naturally, like any teenage boy, I thought about sex a lot and talked about sex with my mates but in truth I was really more interested in sports than dating girls, and I found it vaguely disturbing to imagine my mother being sexually active. At least we were never made to suffer a train of transient 'uncles' as did some of my friends whose mothers were divorced or widowed and constantly looking for a new husband.

The family home is a large detached house close to the River Thames at Old Windsor which Mother had bought for a song in 1990 with her army severance just before Cora and I were born and was the only home that we had ever known. Both of us were now finishing sixth form and there was a real possibility that this would be the last Christmas that we would be spending together as a family. By next year Cora would be at University at St. Andrews in Scotland reading music and languages and I would hopefully be enjoying the sun and surf of Australia with a bunch of friends also taking a pre-university year out. I knew from the other under-grads I was acquainted with that once you left home to go to Uni there was virtually no chance that you would ever return.

For now our intention was to enjoy our Christmas holiday together the way that we had every year since Cora and I were seven. Our itinerary never changed and we all loved it that way. Christmas Eve we would drive into Windsor and attended the Carol Service at St. George's Chapel at Windsor Castle. It is one of the top local social events of Christmas and is always packed with visitors and tourists but each Christmas my mother received a special guest pass which got the three of us into the chapel and guaranteed a seat in the pews; she had been an army officer herself before we were born and now worked as a freelance consultant for the Ministry of Defence designing training modules for the British armed forces. After the service we had a standing invitation to Combermere Barracks, the home of the Household Cavalry for drinks and mince pies at the officer's mess with the regimental families. Cora and I knew lots of the army kids as both our schools were close by and were attended by many of the children of army officers based in Windsor and London.

Christmas Day and Boxing Day were always spent at home, doing the traditional seasonal things, a full cooked breakfast, something of a rarity for the rest of the year, followed by opening of Christmas gifts by the tree then helping Mother to prepare the dinner before going for a walk in the park. We would have an early dinner about 4pm and then spend the evening watching movies before having supper of hot chocolate and mince pies then turning in for the night. Once in a while we would have a house guest for Christmas dinner. Every couple of years my mother's elder sister Aunt Julia would visit for the day and sometimes Uncle Ted from Dublin who was my mother's cousin and our only other living relative would invite himself over for Christmas dinner if he was in England but most years it was just the three of us and we liked it that way.

The day after Boxing Day heralded the start of what we kids had dubbed "The Great Christmas Adventure". The three of us would load up Mother's ancient 1970's Volvo 245 estate car with bags and kit and then take off for Heathrow Airport to fly to Austria for a short skiing holiday, returning a couple of days after New Year. Cora and I could both ski pretty well by the time we were 8 or 9; we both loved the sport and looked forward to our Christmas break every year and New Year in the Austrian Alps was fantastic. Mother had been a really keen skier when she was younger and had initiated us into her obsession at an early age.

That was how the Watford family spent the Christmas holidays and that was how we expected to spend this one too....until everything went Ape-Shit.

Christmas week had started well. Cora and myself had very little to do at school and we had taken some time out for 'revision' which meant that we had managed to help to get the house decorated, do all our last minute shopping, check the ski gear and pack the car ready to go to the airport and there was still a couple of days to go before Christmas Eve. Mother had been out with Cora and had brought home a really nice six foot Christmas tree and put it up in the corner of the sitting room and Cora planned to stay home and do the decorations, whilst Mother was in her study working.

I spent Monday morning out in the garden raking up leaves and twigs and ferrying them down to the compost heap in the barrow. It was a cold day but the first dry one that we had had that week and so I was comfortable in jeans, walking boots and a gilet over an old school rugby shirt but it was a welcome sight to see Mother coming down the path from the kitchen with a steaming mug of coffee in her hand... unfortunately she was also the bearer of the first piece of disappointing news. She had been shut up in her study on the telephone all morning and the look on her face told me that she had something to say that would not bring me joy. She was wearing one of her smart business skirt suits and that should have given me a clue.

She handed me the brimming mug, slipped her arm around my waist and ruffled my hair with the other hand, "Are you happy, darling?" she asked. Actually I was.

"Yeah, I needed to get out in the open air, all the extra studying this term has seriously reduced my sports time and left me stir-crazy..." I grinned and tried winding her up, "I really enjoy raking up leaves.... Maybe when I get back from OZ I'll ditch university and a career in the army and become a gardener instead... maybe one soldier in the family is enough... a gardener would be different..." She didn't bite at my attempt to tease her and provoke a protest over my career choice. Instead a strange look passed over her face, a mixture of mild surprise, amusement and something a touch wistful. My mother has one of those beautiful expressive faces that can show a hundred emotions all at the same time, and right then she looked everything from amused to frightened, to desperately sad which made me just want to hold her and make everything good again, I slipped my arm around her shoulders. "Sorry, Mum... did I say something wrong?"

"No darling, not at all..." she assured me. "... but seriously, you know the choice of career is entirely yours, I would never try to influence you to do something that you didn't want...." She hugged my waist, "You picked a career in the military the same as I did...but if you wanted to do something else...it is not too late to change your mind you know..." I knew that Mother had concerns about my decision to take a year out before university and go travelling but I think she had equal reservations about my wanting to pursue a career in the army, even though it had been her choice at my age.

I laughed. "I am not sure that I really see myself planting and pruning for a living, as much as I enjoy a bit of pottering about in the garden sometimes.... I am still a little boy at heart and would rather dress up in a uniform and play with guns and tanks and things that go whizz-bang...!"

"Don't mock the humble gardener..." she scolded gently with a smile. "The kindest person I ever knew was a landscape gardener, and a very good one too." My mother had always hated snobbery or prejudice and I know she would support us in whatever life choices we made, humble or ambitious. She quickly changed the subject, maybe a little too quickly but she did not give me a chance to pick up on it.

"I bring good news and bad news," she only paused for a moment to assess my scowl and then carried straight on, "The bad news is... I need to work today.... I have to attend an unscheduled emergency meeting at Bovington Camp this afternoon and probably won't be back tonight... I will stay over at the officer's mess and drive home in the morning..." Her trips to Bovington in Dorset and other distant army camps were quite usual and we had all agreed ages ago that a late night drive home was not always practical even though she had finally upgraded her wheels to a smart new Landrover.

"Oh, Mum! Its Christmas week.... You never go away Christmas week...." I heard myself whining before I could get a brake on my mouth. I took a deep breath "Sorry! That was childish," I added quickly, "of course you must go. Duty calls and all that, eh!" I quipped. We both laughed and the situation was recovered. "Have you told Cora yet?"

"That is the other part of the bad news..." she chuckled and waited for me to finish dramatically groaning and tugging at my hair. "Cora has driven over to Maidenhead to meet up with her friends and has left her mobile charging in the kitchen again. I shall be gone by the time she gets back so I guess you get to tell her." Cora was a total air-head at times and was constantly forgetting to charge her telephone and laptop or put petrol into her car. She had only been driving for a few months and had already stranded herself by running out of fuel and needed to be rescued by the AA.

"So what is the good news?" I asked hopefully.

She paused for a moment and then announced a little too cheerfully, "Auntie Julia is coming to us for Christmas, isn't that nice?" She smiled sweetly and then held up a finger, silencing me before I had a chance to reply. "And.... As she is totally alone this Christmas I have invited her to join us in Austria as well....!" If my mother was expecting a stunned silence from me she miscalculated.

"Oh SHIT! FUCK! And BUGGER!" I exploded. I slapped my hands to my forehead and dropped to my knees on the soggy grass in a display of dramatic adolescent over acting.

"Jamie! Mind your language!" Mum scolded but she was trying desperately not to smile and the tone of her voice held no conviction. In fact I seldom swore around Mother, she did not often swear and never used the F word, at least not at home or in front of us kids, but I guess that as a former army officer she possessed a pretty good vocabulary of strong language which she could call on if needed.

"But Mum...." I almost whined. I could see our happy holiday plans rapidly fading away.

"Jamie, Darling, I know you don't always see eye to eye with her but Julia is my only sister, and your only aunt and she is alone for Christmas and needs our support."

"Ah .... But she can't come to Austria with us" I exclaimed almost cheerfully, my brain frantically searching for cast iron objections, "She hasn't got a flight ticket!"

"Yes she has... I have already fixed that!" My mother is nothing if not efficient and well organised.

"But... there may not be room at the hotel!" I offered weakly. "It's Christmas, there is never supposed to be room at the inn, you know..."

"That has been fixed as well. I have telephoned Innsbruck and upgraded our booking to a four bedroom suite!" That was a real blow. We always had three separate rooms which suited Cora and I perfectly.

"But..." I tried a last stuttering objection although I knew already that I had been snookered. Game over!

"Enough, Jamie." Mother's voice took on a firmer note, "Accept that it is a done deal and live with it.... Your Aunt Julia is coming with us, end of story!" Once she adopted that tone of voice she took on her professional persona as Captain Gillian Watford, WRAC (Retired) and I knew from a lifetime of experience there was no argument, no appeal, you just knuckled down and accepted her decision. "...and get up off the wet grass," she added, "you are covered in mud and I am not washing your trousers before we leave on Boxing Day!" Game, set and match! She looked at her watch. "Look Darling, I have got to leave or I shall be late for my meeting." She ruffled my muddy hair affectionately then turned and started to walk back to the house. I scrambled to my feet feeling a total muppet for putting on such an infantile temper tantrum and trotted behind her. By the time that we reached the house it was as if nothing had passed between us, I could never stay angry with Mother for more than a few minutes.

I helped load her brief case, laptop and ancient brown leather overnight bag into the rear of her new Landrover Discovery and we hugged before she glanced at her watch again and climbed into the driver's seat and powered down the window. "I shall be back early tomorrow morning..." she assured me, "there is plenty to eat in the 'fridge or you can take some cash from my desk in the study and go into town for a burger or something." She leaned out of the window to give me a final kiss, peeped the horn and turned out onto the road and headed north towards the motorway.

I returned to the back garden to finish off the tidying up and then put away my tools and locked up the garden shed and was still feeling a bit sulky about Aunt Julia coming on holiday with us when I heard Cora's BMW Mini pull into the front drive, the displaced shingle rattling like a machine gun against the wooden fence. I would need to get the rake out again and smooth the drive before Mother got home in the morning.

Cora and I had both started getting driving lessons from Mother as soon as we got our provisional licence, but whilst my sister took to driving instantly and had passed her test first time a couple of months ago, I was still struggling a bit, to the great amusement of my mates, and my test was not scheduled until January of the next year. Mother had bought us both cars for our joint 17th Birthday, a matching pair of BMW Minis; a red one for Cora and a white one for me. My car sat complacently in the garage next to Mother's old 1970's Volvo 245 estate car which she had owned since she was a student and refused to part with, whilst Cora's car was usually just dumped in the drive where it stayed until either I garaged it for her or Mum made her move it.

Although we are twins and share many common traits in other ways my sister and I are completely different. Cora is pretty, excitable, fun loving, and mostly totally irresponsible; but she is also clever, kind, funny and very musical. I guess that I am the other side of the coin, I am probably considered to be steady, dependable and efficient but a bit of a loner and prone to being a bit moody and quick tempered; I am a good all round sportsman but totally lacking in any musical or artistic talent, although I do love listening to classical music. I have inherited many of Mother's more conservative character qualities whilst Cora got her beauty and musical skills; they are both fanatical about traditional jazz.

I think that Mother's prize possession is her collection of French jazz pianist Jacques Loussier recordings on vinyl and disc that have pride of place on her music shelf. There is hardly a day goes by that she does not play Loussier's recordings of J.S.Bach reditions... in the car or on her Walkman so much so that years ago she had copies made of her original disc so that it was not at risk of being damaged. I really believe that disc is her most valued possession....it was a gift from a friend and for as long as I can remember it has lived in the locker by her bed.

I joined the Cubs and later the Army Cadet Force and loved every minute of it.... Cora tried the Brownies and Guides but was never that keen on the less adventurous activities and was finally asked to leave for being disruptive. In the end she plagued Mother until she was allowed to attend extra curricula music lessons and having quickly mastered the piano, the flute and the guitar to everybody's horror graduated to the drums. In fairness she is a brilliant drummer and she and Mother often play together, piano and drums, at the Red Lion Jazz Club on some Friday nights usually with the landlord's wife who is a pretty good vocalist and was once a well-known professional singer.