The Old Country

“I think it would be best if I head home, sir. This has been an amazing trip. I’d never been out of Western Australia before and now I’m here. It’s not even that different. If not for the signs I could be two hours up the road from Perth. But I don’t speak the lingo, I’d be lost in the city, mate.

“Don’t make her come and talk to me, Mr Martin. That was a proper meltdown tonight, I was really worried for her. If she wants to, fine, but don’t force her. Give her space to make some better decisions. Give her my best. Tell her I did love her, for what it’s worth. Make sure she gets well, please. She’s special.”

Jorge looked at the boy. That’s all he was, even at twenty-three.

I misjudged you son and that’s not something I often do. I took you at face value, I didn’t look for the real you. That’s a lesson that even an old fart like me can learn.

“Thank you, Angel, I appreciate that. It’s a tremendous responsibility to bring up a girl like Frankie. Especially for an old codger like me. I hope you get to experience it for yourself one day. I think you’ll do well,” Jorge finished, almost. “But lay off the booze lad, that’s a slippery slope and it only gets steeper.”

They had arrived at the convent and bade each other farewell with a firm handshake. As Angelo knocked on the door, Jorge turned for home, anxious to find out what had happened.

++++

“He’s going to tie up in Sines and stay there,” Nelinha told Jorge when he got back. “He radioed the harbourmaster, who called Matilde, who called me. He didn’t want us to worry. Typical of the boy, always more concerned about everyone else than himself.”

“And…?” Jorge asked with a shrug.

“The Antichrist? Asleep upstairs,” she said. “I put her in Mateo’s bed, and she was out like a light. I just checked, she’s smiling in her sleep. Now, are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”

“I wish I knew, mother,” Jorge said with a sigh. “Sit, I’ll tell you what I can.”

++++

They had four more days in Punta del Arias. Francesca volunteered to speak with Angelo and rode with Papa and him in a taxi to the airport. She had apologised for her behaviour, but Angel had repeated what he’d said to Jorge. That he had loved her and that he had enjoyed knowing her. He had wished her well as they waved off at the Departures area.

On the way back to town, they alighted at the cemetery. Jorge and she repeated the ritual that he had carried out with Mateo the day before. Jorge breathed in the crisp, salty air and looked skywards.

I think you’re getting old and sleepy, Maria. Too much Christmas wine up there yesterday? Hehe, you missed a real adventure, and there are many bridges to rebuild now. I could use your help, my love.

Francesca didn’t think she would be able to talk with her mother. She was here for her father’s benefit, mostly. But as they stood quietly admiring the beautiful white stone, she reached out with her mind.

Mama? Can you hear me? I wish I had known you. They all talk of you with such love and reverence, Papa, Mateo, and Grandma I mean. I am ashamed of my life, Mama. Not all of it, just the last bit mostly. I got caught up in my own silly feelings. I was selfish and self-centred. Papa says you were a selfless person, that you only really existed for other people. I think I’d like to be that sort of person. Could you help me, with that? Nudge me back into line if I mess up?

Thank you, Mama, for my life and for the people I love. For Papa and Grandma and Mateo. I want us to be a family again, like when I was little. I think it’s my fault that we’re not. I want to try to bring us back together. That’s where I need your help, I think. If you can.

It’s nice that I have this place to remember when I think of you. And I shall. I shall think of you often and talk to you. Not too much, I know you’re busy with the boys. I love you, Mama. Always.

She opened her eyes to find her father staring at her. He smiled, she nodded, and they hugged, saying nothing. It was going to be OK. Mama would make sure of it.

++++

Time passed. Jorge and Frankie went home to Perth. She talked to him on the plane about her degree and the money and moving out. He smiled and agreed with every word.

When the paperwork was signed and the bills paid, he helped her move into an apartment in Mandurah. Her roommate was an aboriginal girl called Alinta. The housing committee had paired them up and they soon became fast friends.

Once her classes began, Francesca’s nerves and worries melted away. She was at home here. This was who she was, a writer, a describer of life. And now she was learning how to do it properly.

She pined for Mateo, but she didn’t let it affect her anymore. There was a constant ache in her chest, just a little one but she almost liked it. It was a constant reminder that he was still out there, in a boat named after her. Someday they would talk about their feelings. About the regrets in their lives and what might have been. But that’s what life is in the end, she thought. A series of rash decisions, near misses and unknown potential. You could try, but there were too many decisions to get them all right. There was no point worrying about it, Francesca thought. She was just going to do her best. Mama would see to the rest.

++++

January 1997

Mateo couldn’t believe it. He and Matilde had just finished a meeting with their lawyer Fernando Meira in Albufeira. They had been discussing the accounts for the year just finished.

It had felt like a busy time, and they had even talked about trying to buy another boat. Not seriously, because it would take tens of millions of escudos. But they had turned away business last summer because they were just too busy.

The true picture, however, had been shocking. They had made a profit of 130 million. And Mateo knew that it was in large part due to Matilde’s efforts. So there and then he asked Fernando how he could incorporate the business and give her a quarter share. Matilde shrieked and told him in no uncertain terms that he was mad. But Mateo told her the story of Mike Ritchie. Of how his friend had demanded all of his money and then ruined him.

Mateo explained how that experience had changed him. How revolting he found it when people were used and exploited. How he wanted to recognise her help and contribution in a permanent way. In a way that would benefit her and Emilie for the rest of their lives. More than any mere bonus payment could do.

A year before, such a gesture would have worried Matilde. Her assumption would have been that Mateo would expect something in return. But they were friends now and she had confided her secret to him. The divorce had been her fault because she was gay. She had tried to hide it in marriage and by having a baby, but she was who she was.

She loved her daughter, and, in a way, she still loved her ex-husband. He had been nothing but good to her and Emilie. But she was happy at home with her partner Sofie. And now Mateo had given them the sort of financial security that she had never dreamt of before. They shook hands and embraced, agreeing to come back in a week to sign the papers.

++++

Mateo finished telling his grandmother about the day’s events and she smiled.

“So, now that you’ve solved everyone else’s problems,’ she said, “it’s time to look at your own. Go home, Mateo. Heal this rift between Francesca and you. It’s hurting your father, and that’s not fair. And I need them to come back, my boy. I can feel it, the hill is calling to me.”

Mateo rose out of his chair, concern writ large on his face, but she waved him back, continuing.

“Don’t worry, little one. I don’t mean tomorrow, but it’s coming. You just know when you get to my age. My interest in things is waning, my drive diminishing. Days are becoming a chore and there is little to delight me. I’ll hang on of course, to every single second I can. But they are numbered now, counting down. So, I want to see my family here, together. Can you do that, Mateo? Will you try? For me?”

“You know I will, Grandma. It weighs on my mind constantly. It’s like a lead weight in my chest every morning. But I go to work thinking, tomorrow, I’ll sort it out tomorrow, over, and over. I’ll get Matilde to book my flight… tomorrow!”

They both laughed and the old woman poured him another glass of wine. Life didn’t have to be complicated she thought. It didn’t have to be anything other than this. But hers was coming to an end. These moments of laughter and joy were fewer and farther between now. And much more poignant as a result.

But if I can live to see this one thing, then I can leave with my head held high.

++++

The house in Bickley was much as he remembered it. The garden was a little more overgrown, the paint peeling from the walls. But it was nothing they couldn’t fix in a week.

He had called ahead, not wanting to give his father a heart attack. And the porch light came on as soon as his hire car turned into the drive. He had done rather better this time, with a BMW. He was laughing as he got out of the car.

“I was just remembering that old Ute,” he said to Jorge who stood at the door.

“Yeah, it’s funny the stuff that sticks in your mind, isn’t it?” his father replied beckoning him in.

They hugged and ate and drank a beer, but they had to talk, they both knew it.

“I love her Papa, I always have,” Mateo said.

“I know,” Jorge replied, nodding sagely.

“But ever since Sydney, when she came to visit that time, it’s been more,” Mateo went on.

“I know, son,” Jorge said.

“It’s all-consuming, Papa. Every moment without her, it claws at my heart, it rends my soul. I have tried. I have stayed apart from her. I’ve been with other women. I’ve run away across the world, and I’ve cut myself off completely. But it’s no good. I’ve tried everything and only the truth will do. I’m sorry father but I’m in love with her, with Francesca.”

“I know, my boy. I’ve known it for much longer than you, I think,” his father said softly. Mateo’s face was one of utter shock.

“Don’t look so surprised, Mateo,” Jorge chuckled. “I’m not completely senile yet. I’ve never known someone as devoted to another as you. Well, perhaps one. But the question is, what are you going to do about it?”

Mateo had thought about this conversation for years, dreaded it, yearned for it even. But he had never envisaged it going quite like this. His carefully plotted arguments had all been rendered moot. His father knew and wasn’t pointing a gun at him.

“Well, to a large extent that depends on you, father,” he said.

“How so?” his father asked.

“Well, I never actually got this far in my head when I imagined this conversation before. You had usually bludgeoned me to death by now. But what I want to do is to ask your permission. To get your consent, to tell her I mean, and to let her decide.”

“I see,” Jorge mused. “And you think that is something I am likely to give you? That consent?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Mateo replied, his mouth dry now, pulse racing. “This is the most important moment of my life. It will decide my future, possibly all of it. I know what I ask is appalling. It’s beyond the pale for me to even consider it, but that is all I have done for the last few years. Think about this day and what its outcome might mean.

“Grandma talked to me about getting old. About only being able to look back and not forward. About not being able to change anything or fix anything anymore. And she said that is when true regret begins. When it is too late. She said that if she had known that when she was younger, she would have done things. She would have taken risks.

“And this is my risk, Papa. This is the one thing I don’t want to look back on and still be wondering. The one thing I don’t want to regret. The one thing I want to change while I still can. Do you understand? Can you help me?”

Jorge closed his eyes and asked his wife.

Maria, my perfect angel. It is time. I have talked with you about this often. About how I think it could be beautiful. And about how I think it could be a disaster. Did I ever tell you how nervous I was on the train that day? When you sat down? I peed my pants a little, Maria. I couldn’t breathe. I knew, with every fibre of my being that I was at a junction. The most important decision of my life was right there, and it had to be made. And do you know how I made it?

I said to myself if the next person who walks past is a woman, I shall speak. And if it is a man, I shall go and clean my pissy pants and leave her alone. And then an old woman struggled past, chuntering under her breath. Looking back, I should have given up my seat for her, but I was too busy getting ready to fall in love.

On such tiny things, the momentous events of our lives can turn. Isn’t it funny? I’m wasting time, aren’t I? I know the right answer, the only answer. You taught it to me years ago. Be kind.

“I give you my blessing, Mateo,” he said, surprised at how steady his voice remained. “But there is a condition. You can tell my daughter that you have fallen in love with her if you agree to marry her.”

“Marry her? Legally? But Papa, how can that be? It is illegal to even be together, a crime. And you suggest we marry?” Mateo replied, his voice plaintive.

“It is not illegal in the old country, my boy,” Jorge said, playing his hole card. “It is legal for you to be together there. I suspect that the Catholic Church wouldn’t be doing cartwheels, but I don’t think any of us put much stock in them. I don’t mean you to marry in the legal sense but in the personal one. I want you to exchange meaningful vows in front of your friends and family. I want you to commit yourself to your sister, to her life and her happiness.”

“Noooo,” said Mateo. “It can’t be true. It can’t be that simple.”

“It is my son. It is not common, not worth legislating for. Perhaps in the past where no one moved away from their village, it was more important to stop it. But nowadays? Live and let live. Be kind,” Jorge finished. He fished in his pocket and withdrew the box, handing it to his son.

“This was your mother’s engagement ring, son,” he said, the emotion heavy in his voice. “And it was my mother’s before that. It is a pathetic thing, cheap and tawdry. But it was what I could afford. Your Mama accepted it as if it had come direct from the Tower of London. It is not the thing that matters, but what the thing represents. Offer it to Francesca, give it life and sparkle once more.”

“Oh, Papa thank you,” Mateo said, breaking down. “These are gifts beyond price, your permission and Mama’s ring. I shall treasure them always.”

“I wish I could give you her wedding ring too, my son,” Jorge went on despite his tears. “But it is too precious. It is the final piece of her that I have left. Forgive me but I cannot part with it. But your grandmother will give you hers. It was her idea, after all.”

Grandma? She knew? It was her idea?

Mateo had no words, but luckily none were needed. The two men embraced as the torch was passed from father to son. Jorge felt a wave of peace and tranquillity wash over him. His work was done, it was up to his children now.

“Wait here one moment, son,” Jorge said. “There is one more thing I think you should have.” He got up and disappeared upstairs.

Mateo examined the ring, turning it over in his fingers.

Can I do it? Should I?

Before an answer came, Jorge returned.

“I know you will have questions, my son,” he said. “Your mind will be full of doubts. But I think these will help, they will alleviate some of your hesitancy.”

Mateo looked up at his father’s outstretched hand. In it were a stack of envelopes, tied up with a red ribbon. Looking at the top one he saw it was addressed to him, in Francesca’s flowing hand.

“I have not read them, son,” Jorge said. “I don’t know when they were written, but they are addressed to you. I think you will find your answers in there. And in here.” The old man placed his palm over Mateo’s heart.

“Go now, son. Do not allow any more time to pass. Carpe diem as they said in that movie. Seize the day,” Jorge urged, thrusting a map into Mateo’s hand.

Mateo kissed his father’s cheek, thumbing away a tear before mouthing the words, “thank you.”

++++

Blue door, blue door. Where the hell is the blue door? Ah, there it is.

Mateo pulled in and parked several houses away. He had driven for an hour to arrive at the address his father had given him. Then he had sat petrified in the car. Finally, he had teased open the first letter from the be-ribboned pile. After two paragraphs he knew he was in the right place, doing the right thing. He put the paper down on the passenger seat and decided.

Carpe diem, Mateo. Carpe fucking Diem.

After one deep breath, he got out of the car and marched to the door in question and knocked.

It was opened by a black girl who said a polite hello.

“Hi,” said Mateo. ‘Is Frankie home? I mean Francesca?”

“Sure, who are you?” she asked.

“I’m Mat… I’m… a friend,” he answered.

“Come on in,” she said. “The kitchen is through there. I’ll tell her you’re here. We’re watching a movie. That’s why you’re in here, sorry.” She shrugged apologetically and left the room.

Mateo fingered the ring box, rolling it between his fingers and from palm to palm. As he did so and as his wait went on, two things happened. His nervousness went through the roof and his conviction went through the floor. As five minutes stretched into ten and beyond, he got up and began to pace.

This is mad, Mateo. She’s just a kid. She has at least one year of uni left. She can’t get engaged to her brother who lives halfway around the world. We need to reconcile first. If I lay this on her now, she’ll freak, and I could lose her forever. Think, Mateo. Think hard, you must get this right.

He levered open the box and stared at his mother’s simple ring. Touching it, he heard a gasp. His head snapped up as the box snapped shut. Francesca was standing there in the doorway.

“Hi, baby,” was the best that he could do. “Surprise!”

“Mateo,” she whispered. “It’s really you. Alinta said it was Mat, but he’s just a boy I like in my class. I was afraid to come in, as we were watching a movie, in our PJs. I went upstairs to get changed, I’m sorry I made you wait. What are you doing here?”

“Honestly, Sis? I have no idea,” Mateo replied. “I came here to do something brave and mad and silly, but I chickened out as I waited. It was a Dead Poets moment, carpe diem and all that, but it has passed.”

Francesca’s hand flew to her mouth as her eyes watered. Mateo managed to continue, however.

“But I’m still going to do something,” he said. “Not what I planned, but I’m not bailing either. I need to tell you something, Frankie. Here, sit, hold my hand, could you?”

She slid onto a stool at the kitchen table, her hand feeling cool and slight in his weathered paw.

Do it asshole, what’s the point of waiting any longer? It’s now or never.

“I love you, baby sister. Like the moon and stars. You are my sunrise and my sunset. Your face fills my every waking thought, your lips my every fevered dream. I love you like Papa loves Mama, as a man loves his woman. I know it’s wrong in here,” he said, tapping his forehead. “But I feel it’s right… in here,” he finished, placing his hand over his heart.

“I am as deeply in love with you as a person can be. I have been ever since that night in Sydney, on the boat, perhaps even before. That’s all, I just wanted you to know. You were right, at Grandma’s, what you said. I tried to run away. Not from life and responsibilities but from my fear of losing you. I was afraid of being with you, but I can’t bear to be without you.”

He set the ring box on the table and slid it towards her.

“Papa gave me this,” he said. “It’s Mama’s engagement ring. It’s not Tiffany or Cartier, it’s way more precious than anything they’ve ever made. I’m giving it to you so that you can choose what to do with it, who to share it with.”

Francesca’s hand fell away from her mouth as she tried to conjure up the right words. But Mateo put a finger to her lips.

“Hush little one, I’m not ready for your answer, and neither are you. Papa gave me the ring, he knows, and he approves. Grandma too if you can believe it. My life is in the old country now, and it always will be. This ring, my question, that’s what it entails. Me and Punta del Arias. You are young, and your education is far from finished. Take your time, finish up here and follow your dreams.

“You know where I will be, on the rusty boat that bears the name of my forever love. Shush, don’t talk my darling. Live your life, find yourself. The self that I know and adore beyond all others. And if, after all that, your answer is yes, I shall be waiting.”

He rose, kissing her forehead and left. The door slammed behind him, and he sprinted to the car. As he fumbled for the keys he vomited on the street. A great spray of stinking, acidic foulness splashed across the door and front wheel of the BMW. Wiping his mouth, panting like a champion sprinter, Mateo Martin got in the car and left. He knew he could never come back. His future lay far to the west, inextricably entangled with his past. He was leaving behind his most precious possession, in the hands of his most precious person. He did not know if he would see either of them, ever again.

++++

December 1998

Christmas was coming and Mateo was in dire straits. His business was at a tipping point. He had three boats now with seven full-time employees. He even had an opportunity to obtain more. His main competitor, Sunshine Charters was in receivership. He was negotiating with insolvency lawyers to buy their fleet. Ten boats, each one more modern than any of his. All with scuba gear and a pair of jet skis. But the price was astronomical, way beyond Mateo’s wildest dreams. He and Matilde had worked out that they could afford half, but the lawyers would only sell the boats in one lot.

It was tantalising but infuriating at the same time. The banks were listening, but they weren’t interested, yet.

In the two years since he had returned from Australia, much had happened. Matilde, Emilie, and Sofie were living openly together as a family in the village. They didn’t go to church, but otherwise, they were part of the thriving community like everyone else.

Mateo’s grandmother was in declining health. She had lived at home until a week before when her respiratory system had begun to deteriorate. She was in the hospital in Albufeira now, comfortable but critical.

Mateo had kept in touch with his father and had just called him to tell him it was time. He told Jorge that he needed to come home, his mother was about to leave them. Jorge was at Francesca’s graduation ceremony when Mateo called. It took him thirty seconds to answer the loud ring of his new cell phone. He hissed his displeasure at the interruption until Mateo explained the situation.

His father agreed to organise flights as soon as possible. He didn’t confirm if Frankie would be coming. Mateo had been as good as his word. He was the most eligible bachelor in Punta del Arias and was never short of interested women. But he politely demurred, citing his mystery lady. The problem was that the more he put them off, the harder they tried. It was a fun game and someday he might have to begin playing for real, but not yet.

He was working on the fishing fleet, diving to inspect shaft bearing seals. It was exhausting work and the days passed in a flash. Sleep was a haven, but it seemed to last mere moments.

After three more days he got a call from the hospital. Grandma was dying. He left a message for Jorge’s incoming flight at the airport, telling him to go straight there.

When he arrived, he was ushered into her room. Her cheeks were pale and sunken, but her eyes were bright. She wore an oxygen mask, so he shushed her when she tried to speak.

“Hush, old woman,” he said with a smile. “I have heard all that you have to say. I love you too and have cherished our time here together. You made me fall in love again with the land of my birth and my life amongst its people. Jorge will be here soon, and he will hold your hand too. Mama is waiting for you Avó, she will take you home.

“Watch over us as she has, Grandma. Keep us safe, me, Francesca, and Papa. Your wisdom and fortitude have steered us right all these years, please let it continue. Thank you for everything, for just being you. I love you, Grandma.”

Her eyes closed and her face and throat relaxed. For a moment he thought she had passed, but the machines continued their steady beeps. He needed to urinate, the urge becoming ever stronger. He laughed as he always did when it happened, thinking of the night as a boy when he had waited up for his father.

When he could wait no longer, he left to find a bathroom. When he returned there were people in her room, bending over the bed.

Oh no, she passed by herself. I was not there.

He hurried into the room and skidded to a stop. They weren’t medical staff, it was his father, and his sister. They were each holding one of Grandma’s hands. Beyond them, the monitors blared their baleful, unchanging tone. She was gone.

Hearing the squeak of his shoe, Jorge raised a tear-streaked face to his son and smiled.

“I was here Papa, I spoke… bathroom… bursting…” Mateo stammered, tears clouding his vision.

“I know, my boy, I know,” the old man said. “She took off the mask to speak, to tell us what a good boy you are. To tell us all how much she loved us and how proud she was of us.”

The pair by the bed straightened as a nurse came into the room. Grandma was beyond the reach of any heroic measures and had not wanted them anyway. The woman stopped in the doorway before turning off the machines and leaving them to their grief.

Francesca turned towards him, and time stood still for Mateo. She was everything he dreamed of and so much more. Her Mediterranean features had softened as she matured. Her beauty was now that of a woman, not girlish at all. Her smile was pure joy in his moment of sadness. She came into his arms, and they cried together. Jorge joined their embrace in a shared moment of healing.

Thereafter there was paperwork to complete and phone calls to make, and little time to talk. Jorge had sent their luggage on to the Martin Marine office when their taxi had dropped them off. So, they joined Mateo in his truck for the drive to the village. They said little, just thinking. Of Grandma and Maria, both gone from their lives, both resident in their hearts.

Matilde met them at the harbour, passing on her condolences. Her baby bump was just beginning to show. Jorge volunteered to drive the truck back to the house with their bags, of which there were many. Mateo was panting with the effort of loading them on the flat bed. As their father drove away, he turned to Francesca and said, “That’s a lot of luggage for a funeral, Sis.”

“I’m hoping it will be enough for the rest of my life… husband,” she said, raising her left hand. Mama’s ring nestled on her fourth finger.

“I’ve thought about wearing this every day since you left it for me Mateo,” she said, a single tear snaking down her cheek. “I’ve been carrying that little box with me everywhere I’ve gone. But today, seeing Grandma pass, I realised how much time I have wasted.

“I’ve been yours since my first day at school when you protected me from those bullies. I’m sorry I’ve made everything so complicated and difficult. But I’m here now, with you. Where I have always wanted to be, where I belong.”

Mateo was dumbfounded. In the space of an hour, his life had gone from agonising tragedy to transcendent glory. It was too much, he couldn’t process it, couldn’t even believe it. He sat down on the dusty street, his sister kneeling at his side. No, his fiancée he thought, that simple thought swelling his heart. She held his hand and fanned his face, concern etched across her own.

“I’m fine, Frankie,” he said smiling. “This is what happens to a man when his dreams all come true at once. We just need a moment to take it all in. I love you… wife. Wanna come see my boat?”

She laughed her assent and pulled him to his feet as they strolled hand in hand down the dock.

The “Francesca” had changed since her namesake had last seen it. It was painted pristine white and had a dinghy attached to a davit at the rear. The brass and chrome were polished to a sheen, the deck timbers varnished a rich, mahogany brown.

“She’s retired now,” Mateo said, “I just use her for pleasure these days.”

“Ooh, lucky girl,” giggled Francesca, “should I be jealous?”

“I think she’ll be the one who is jealous after tonight, my love,” Mateo answered with a smile. As he helped her aboard, she came into his arms, and they kissed. This time there were no reservations, no shocked surprise. There was only endless, rolling love. They had arrived at an oasis of calm after a years-long desert trek. They were home.

++++

The scene was reminiscent of their evening on the Intimate Moments, Francesca thought. Except that she was wearing an $80 blouse and skirt combo and comfortable granny panties. But those were superficial differences, incidental things. The real change was notable by their actions. Her kisses were not tentative, and Mateo was kissing her back. He was holding her so tight as if he feared that she might disappear in a puff of smoke. She clutched at his back, seeking the same reassurance.

When they did separate it was only for a moment, a shared instant wherein the next step was confirmed. Frankie took Mateo’s outstretched hand and followed him below. Towards his cabin and his bed. Where she knew that he would make love to her and bind them together forever.

She tried not to over romanticise the moment, but it had recurred in her dreams for as long as she could remember. She had never glimpsed beyond the door though and as he opened it, she stepped into the unknown.

“I have dreamt of this since our little meeting outside my bathroom back in Sydney,” Mateo declared. “That was the moment when I first saw you as a woman, as an object of my desire. You have been the only one since, despite my shameful attempts to banish you from my mind. But that is finished, you are here with me now. You are my one and only, until the end of time.”

“And I am yours, Mateo,” she replied with a shy, delighted smile. “I look a little different now, compared to that day.”

“Yes, I love your long, lustrous hair,” he said running his hand through it. Frankie shook her head however and reach beneath her skirt. With a cute wiggle, she stepped out of her plain cotton panties.

“That is a pity, dear brother. Because some of my long, luscious locks are no more,” Frankie whispered, her lips touching his ear. With a flick of her wrist, she undid the catch on her skirt and let it puddle at her feet. Stepping back, she showed him what she meant.

The girlish pubic hair that Mateo remembered so vividly was gone. In its place was a pristine Brazilian wax. It looked so sexy, so right on her that he fell to his knees at her feet. He kissed her below her belly button, before moving lower, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. His hands came up to cup the cheeks of her bottom. The perfect handfuls of soft, yielding flesh quivered at his touch. Above him, Frankie let out a squeak of surprise.

On and on his lips travelled, across the smooth, barren plain where her hair had once grown. Towards the oasis at the end of time, the source of his Nile, where the waters of his life would flow. Her thighs were tight together in the cramped cabin, so he reached up and pushed her chest backwards. Her knees hit the bed and she fell back, spreading her legs to show him her secrets.

And what secrets they were.

She squealed in delight as he spread her knees apart. Francesca’s pussy was a beautiful thing, her slim inner lips lay hidden beneath her puffy outer ones. Her cosmetologist had done a thorough job on her wax, there wasn’t even any stubble. Further back her wrinkled pucker peeked out from between her cheeks. She had teased him about his desire for anal sex for years. For a moment he wondered how she would feel wrapped tightly around him there.

But for now, it was time to make her cum. The build-up was over, the inter sibling tension had peaked. It was time for his lips to meet her clit. He kissed her there, sweeping his tongue along her groove. Her tart, spicy flavour washed across his taste buds, causing them to tingle. He worked at her clitoris with the tip of his tongue, trying to coax it from its hiding place.

Francesca lay back, screeching at his first contact. He had simply devoured her. There were no tiny kisses on her thighs or fingers on her lips. “I don’t need crap like that,” she thought, as his mouth had latched on to her sex. His tongue worried at her clit, batting it back and forth. The sensations were exquisite, agony and ecstasy all rolled into one.

Then he changed what he was doing, using the flat of his tongue as opposed to the tip. At the same time, a thick finger invaded her body, sliding in against the tiniest resistance. Frankie could feel cool liquid running down over her bum.

What is that? Is that his saliva? Am I peeing? It can’t be my juice already, can it? Oh god, is it blood? From his finger?

Mateo answered her naïve questions, in a way. She realised that whatever it was couldn’t have been too icky because his hot, wriggling tongue licked it up. In one long swipe he went from her asshole to her belly, making a satisfied sound as he smacked his lips. And then he attacked her for real.

Another finger slipped into her, this one meeting no resistance at all. Mateo’s questing tongue was battering her defenceless clit. And Francesca was losing her mind. She wrapped her fingers in his hair and mashed his face to her vagina, rolling her hips to keep him right there. But he was going nowhere, not until she gave him what he wanted.

As his fingers began to move within her, pumping and wriggling, Francesca felt it. Her body was filling with growing, building tension. Like a child’s balloon it swelled, bigger and bigger, the walls thinning. The pressure increased inexorably, until, with a loud bang, it burst.

Frankie’s first orgasm with her brother was an other-worldly thing. They had run this race, danced this dance for years. And now she was crossing the finish line, a writhing ball of clutching muscles and slippery goo. Her vision blurred, stars exploding like fireworks in her eyes. Cramps coursed across her belly, just a hair short of being painful. They served to enhance the explosion of heat and joy emanating from between her thighs.

On and on the waves of pleasure rolled, stimulated by Mateo’s dancing digits. He was kissing her vagina now, she thought, but she wasn’t sure anymore. Then she felt him shift and his kisses rained across her mound and lower belly. When her blouse blocked his progress, he clambered onto the bed above her. Straddling her body, he lowered his glistening face to hers.

Those are my juices. He’s covered in them. I can’t kiss him like that. I’ll be tasting myself. No Mateo…

“Mmpf, mmpf, aah,” we’re the noises she made as their lips met. Her taste was sweet with a tart undertone, but she didn’t care. Mateo had made her cum like nothing before. He wanted his reward, and he was going to get it, no matter what. There was no wrong in this, nothing nasty. They were in love and their bodies were showing each other how much. As she pulled him close and kissed him back as hard as she could, she felt his penis graze her belly.

It was time.

++++

Francesca reached out to palm his prick through his shorts. It was hard but that was all she could tell. Pushing him off she pulled her blouse over her head.

“Get it out, Mateo,” she cried, “I want it in me. You’ve got me on fire here, I’ve never needed anything this much in my life. Hurry baby, it’s time to… fuck your baby sister.”

She giggled at the words. They had formed in her mind hundreds of times, but they had never reached her lips until now. Reaching back, she unhooked her bra and slipped it off. She was naked, except for her shoes.

I’m going to get fucked in my comfy travel shoes.

As the laughter echoed around inside her head, she noticed that Mateo was pulling down his shorts. His cock sprang free, visible to her in all its glory for the first time. She had stolen glimpses of him in the gym years before, but that had been a flaccid slug. She had seen it hard once by accident when she had made a surprise visit to his home. But that had been a confusing, fraught event, memories of which were blurred with tears. Today she saw it for real, she saw him. This was a spear, and she was its target.

“Slide up the bed darling,” he muttered as he moved between her thighs. He bent down and fisted his prick, fitting its tapering head to her hot, sucking hole. It had been years since Francesca’s last time, but there was no thought given to her comfort, by either of them. They both just wanted him embedded to the hilt inside her body. And then with a grunt and a scream, he was.

Mateo adored the feeling of his sister’s pussy. Some men say they all feel the same and it is true up to a point. But once the emotional dimension was factored in? This was unlike anything that Mateo had ever experienced. She was boiling hot and oh, so tight. He suddenly felt a stab of contrition.

Is this her first time? Shit, have I hurt her? I just rammed it in, as if she was a cheap whore. Oh, Frankie, I’m sorry.

But those words never made it to his lips because after her scream and an outrush of breath, Frankie clung to him. Her legs wrapped around his hips and her hands around his neck. She was kissing his throat and muttering some litany. Lying there still, buried in her to the balls, Mateo listened.

“Fuck me, Mattie. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…” was what he heard, and what he did.

He varied his rhythm continually. Long, slow strokes one moment, followed by short, stabbing thrusts the next. This kept Francesca at the pinnacle of arousal. She never got a moment’s respite. In all her solo bedroom fumblings she had taken breaks, allowing herself to cool off. But this was a relentless assault, as brutal as it was delicious. And she kept urging him on, holding him tighter and writhing beneath him. Her words were simple, her message inspiring.

“Fuck me, Mateo… Give me that big, hard cock… Lay it into me… Bust my cherry… Make me yours… Cum inside me…”

The last one shocked them both. Mateo because he had given no thought to protection whatsoever. He had usually used condoms with his partners before. But this time he had been so excited, so desperate to be inside his sister, that it had never even crossed his mind. Frankie’s shock was for a different reason, a much more fundamental one. She wasn’t on birth control, she never had been.

She had never considered sleeping with anyone else since Angelo. So, she had never bothered with any form of ongoing protection. But now her fertile womb was at the mercy of her big brother’s battering prick. His heavy balls which were slapping against her ass were awash with sperm. Her sibling’s sperm, that he was going to shoot into her body, exactly where it belonged. With that thought ringing in her head, she spoke softly into his ear.

“Fuck me, brother. Fill me up with your big, bad cock. I hope you’ve got a big load for me. Lots and lots of creamy cum to spray all over my insides. Gallons of scalding spunk to wash me clean. To fill my womb. To make our baby…”

Mateo thought he was hallucinating now. The pleasure he was feeling in his sister’s simmering twat was short-circuiting his brain. He thought she had said she wanted a baby, his baby. But that was what he secretly fantasised about, there was no way that Frankie wanted that. So, it had to be a dream. No matter, he would be able to think about it in a minute because he couldn’t hold off any longer.

“Frankie, my love,” Mateo growled raising his torso up away from hers. Arching his back he dug his toes into the bedclothes, desperate for any extra purchase he could find. He buried himself inside her as far as he could get and let go.

A fountain of scalding cock cream erupted from his piss hole. Pulse after pulse of blinding joy seared across his mind. He was filling her, cumming in Francesca, seeding her to stake his claim. He had to see her, so he looked down, even as another clutching contraction clutched at his balls. Her eyes were wide, her mouth gaping open in a rictus, halfway between pleasure and pain.

As their eyes met, she nodded, and her face changed into a smile of delight and joy. Looking up, Frankie saw the Mateo she loved. The sweaty face, the sparkling eyes, and the easy smile. She had orgasmed with him when the first splash of his sperm had washed across her cervix. As she felt his love and saw the pleasure in his face, she came again.

Reaching up she pulled him down on top of her, ignoring his crushing weight. She just wanted every ounce of contact she could have with him. She never wanted to let go, never wanted to release him from within her body. But he was only a man, and his biology was craving rest. He rolled aside and flopped on his back beside her. Frankie rolled half on top of him, brushing his hair out of his eyes. With a soft kiss, she spoke.

“I want to do that again, Mateo… a lot.”

“You’re doing the work next time, Sis. And if you’ve still got energy left after that, I’m going to ream that cute little arse of yours,” Mateo replied sleepily.

“I’ll always have energy for that, bum lover,” Frankie giggled. But she let him have his moment, settling herself on his panting chest.

They lay like that until she ran a hand down to his wilted cock. It was slimy and greasy, smeared in a disgusting concoction of their bodily fluids. Which Francesca was desperate to taste. Scooting down the bed she did just that. The dominant flavour was salty, Mateo’s cum she imagined. It was delicious and ever so moreish she thought, as it seared across her tongue.

She licked around the base of his prick, wondering if men could get a wax. She was torn, she loved the hairy manliness of him. But thought that this job would have been much easier on smooth, bare skin. No matter, it was tasty and fun, and it was making things happen.

Mateo’s penis was unfurling, moving on its own. She slipped the tip into her mouth and sucked experimentally. A dribble of sweet cum oozed onto her tongue, delighting her taste buds. She sucked harder but there was no more. But she didn’t care because his cock was swelling between her lips. The more she sucked the bigger and harder it got. Soon it was stretching her mouth wide. She pulled back until only the very tip remained inside. Her suction kept her attached as her hand began to jack up and down on his shaft.

“No,” came Mateo’s strangled cry. With a pang of disappointment, she let his penis fall from her lips.

“What, Mateo?” she asked. “I was only playing.”

“And it was lovely, but we need a shower, come on,” he said rolling to his feet. He led her through a small door into a surprisingly spacious room. There was no shower stall, just a drain hole in the floor, which had a rough, grippy surface. Mateo played with some faucets and water began to spray from every direction. The entire room was a shower, Frankie thought delightedly. And the water was warm and clear.

“It’s time for you to do some work, little sister,” Mateo said with a grin, before pushing her forward. She bent at the waist, and he poked her bottom with his dick. She put a hand on the wall to brace herself as he tried again and slid home.

“Come on, Frankie,” Mateo said, encouraging her. “Fuck me. Push me back through this bulkhead.”

Looking over her shoulder she could see his back was against the wall. He was braced there, buried inside her, and waiting to be fucked. He didn’t have to wait too long. Frankie rolled her hips and glided along his length. Just when he thought he might pop free she thrust herself back against him with a delicious splat. Her ass cheeks rippled with the impact, but she was already beginning her next thrust.

Soon she had built up to a healthy rhythm, slamming back onto him before withdrawing. She tugged at his prick with her insides, trying in vain to keep him buried within her. That futile effort gave her boundless pleasure, as she slammed back onto Mateo’s spear. Splat, splat, splat went her butt as she impaled herself on him.

The powerful jets of the shower made her feel like they were fucking under a waterfall. Then Mateo leaned forward and opened a whole new chapter in Francesca’s life. He palmed her breasts, mauling the soft globes, and pinching her taut little nipples.

Frankie had never garnered much pleasure from her own breasts. Much in the way that she couldn’t tickle herself, she had always assumed that they weren’t that sensitive. She had had the odd moment, of course, a too-tight bra or a silk nightgown, but nothing like this. It turned out that she needed the aggression that only a man could give her. Only her man.

Mateo’s grip on her pointy teats was revelatory. It turned out that they were directly connected to her clit. In an instant, any thoughts of rhythm or fucking were lost in an orgasmic maelstrom. She screamed and squealed, writhing on Mateo’s prick like a sheep stuck on a barbed-wire fence. He held on tight, pulling her back against his body. His only goal was to ensure that he remained embedded in her hot, buttery softness.

As her mind cleared and her orgasm receded, he began to pull on her tits, trying to reengage her movements. It worked, as she took up the baton once more.

The fucker is miles ahead now. He’s only shot once, and I’ve had three or four absolute bangers. Hold on tight, Mattie, I going to drain those balls. Right now.

Frankie slammed herself back onto Mateo’s cock. He was leaning forward, maintaining his grip on her breasts. He was fondling the soft flesh now, her nipples forgotten. Frankie didn’t care. She just wanted his cum inside her again. She had heard that one hit of heroin was enough to cause addiction. Well, her brother’s cum was exactly the same and she was never going to rehab for that.

Slap, slap, slap went her buttocks, driving Mateo back against the wall. Over and over, she thrust herself back against him. Impaling herself on his rock-hard cock. His fingers and thumbs had returned to her nipples now, stretching them out, away from her body. The sensation was confusing, just a hair from causing pain. But it sent a charge into her cunt, which clamped down hard.

Mateo must have sensed it because he crushed her nipples and pulled her against him. With a roar, his spurting prick began hosing her insides once more. Francesca tried to keep her ass moving but he just wanted to be buried inside her, so she fell back against him. Letting him shoot his life-giving essence deep into her roiling core. Filling her to the point where she could feel it squeezing out past his buried meat.

He released his grip on her breasts and she straightened, turning to fall into his arms. They kissed and let the hot water wash away their sins. Mateo reached up to grab a bottle of shower gel that hung from the ceiling. Building up a lather he began to wash her shoulders and back. Holding out her hand, Frankie used a dollop of the creamy liquid to build up her own lather on his hairy chest.

They took their time, cleaning and preening every inch of their bodies. Mateo knelt to wash her bottom and between her thighs. He was careful and had a featherlight touch, massaging her flesh for fun as much as cleansing. He lifted each foot and washed their soles and between her toes. Standing he finished by turning her around to wash her breasts from behind. His movements were calming and loving. They were erotic but not arousing, Frankie thought. But perhaps that was just because she was tired.

When he was done, she returned the favour, marvelling at his powerful thighs and enormous feet. These things that had been right there in the open all her life but that she had never looked at. She washed his thighs before turning to his groin. His powerful phallus had wilted, a shrunken white slug once more. His balls hung low behind it, their sac loose under the hot water. She fondled them gently, making sure she had plenty of the rich lather on her hands. She ran her fingers behind them to feel the muscular cheeks of his ass.

She loved every inch of him, loved to touch and explore him. But most of all she loved his cock. It fascinated her, drawing both her gaze and her questing fingers. She tugged it, before rolling it between her fingers. Before it had responded to her touch instantly. But now it was sleeping, recharging for its next dive within her hidden depths. With a kiss on the tip, she stood and hugged her man.

He shut off the water and retrieved two towels from a sealed cabinet. They dried each other off, first roughly and then more sensuously. When they were done Mateo led his sister back to their bed and they curled up together for some much-needed rest.

++++

“Are you hungry?” he heard someone whisper. Opening his eyes, he saw Francesca peering down at him in the dim light of the cabin. She was on her knees as he lay sprawled on his back.

“For you?” he growled, “always.” He grabbed her around the waist as he rolled onto his knees behind her.

“I want you here, Frankie,” he said, voice serious. He was touching her asshole, pink and perfect as it peeked from between her cheeks.

“Will it hurt?” was her only response.

“Did your nipples hurt when I squeezed them? Your ass cheeks when I slapped them?” he demanded.

“It hurt so good, Mateo,” she whimpered, feeling her body prepare itself for him again.

“As it should, little one,” he replied with a smile. “If it ever goes beyond that you must stop me, darling. Just shout out ‘pineapple’ and I will stop. The same must go for you, OK?”

Francesca nodded, a faint smile appearing on her lips.

“So, until we hear that abomination, we can do whatever we like. We can twist,” he said, doing exactly that to her drooping breast. “We can tweak,” he continued, grasping her nipple, “and we can… tickle.”

His fingers fluttered over her ribs as they had so often when she was a little girl. She exploded in squeals of love and hate, mock anger in her voice.

“Stop it you beast. I’ll tell Papa. Oh, Mattie, leave me alone, please. I’m gonna get you, fucker. No, don’t, not like that. Ow, not there you bastard. Pineapple, pineapple, pineapple.”

And he stopped, dead. Apart from a gentle caress across her belly and a chaste kiss on the small of her back.

“Wow, that would have been fucking useful back in Fremantle,” Frankie giggled. “OK, test over. You gonna show me what got poor Jennifer so fired up then?”

“Ha-ha, I never did it with her in the end,” Mateo laughed. “Well, not in that end, anyway.”

He reached over to a storage locker by the bed and retrieved a small, clear bottle. He showed it to her. “Slippy Tin Lube,” the label read. She giggled at the silly pun.

“This is the secret, baby,” Mateo said. “It’s no fun if everything’s dry. But this stuff takes care of that, satisfaction guaranteed. This is as nasty and raunchy as it gets, Frankie. Are you sure you want to? Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Ride ’em cowboy,” she called. “I mean ride it… Erm, I mean me. Oh, for goodness’ sake just fuck me in the ass already.”

Mateo was already pouring lube into his palm, ready to grease up his cock. He held the bottle out to Francesca, but she shook her head. “You do it,” she said, before burying her face in a pillow.

Mateo poured a few drops onto her winking sphincter. He rubbed it around before piercing its tight grip, sending his finger deep inside. He poured more lube on the invading digit, before introducing a second. He wiggled them around as Frankie giggled.

“Ooh, it feels funny, like I’m pooping,” she laughed. Her face was red from embarrassment now, not excitement. Mateo knew that that would soon change.

“Just relax baby,” Mateo said, stroking her back as he worked. “Getting it in is the only step. Once we do that, it’s easy. We need you as loose as we can get. If you’re clutching at my fingers like this, you might bite my dick off when I put it in. Shhh, let it go. It’s not an invasion, it’s a statement of love and affection. I’m going to love your butt, that secret place that you thought was just for you. Now we’re going to share it, but only if you let me in.

“Aah, that’s it, there we go,” he crooned fitting a third finger inside her as he drizzled the slimy liquid over them. “You’re nearly ready, baby. Now, reach back and grab your cheeks. That’s it, just like that. Now pull them apart, spread them for me. Spread that little hole and let me in.”

Mateo smeared lube along his cock and shuffled into position behind her. Fitting himself to her lewdly splayed asshole, he began to push. Frankie grunted then gasped. With a pop, he slipped inside, and she cried out.

“Mattie, it’s huge. Are you sure that’s not your whole fucking arm?”

He leaned forward, hunched over her body.

“No, little girl, it’s not. Not yet anyway. For now, it’s my big hard cock sliding into your nasty shithole. I’m going to push it in as far as I can and then I’m going to rail you. If you don’t know what that means I’ll tell you. I’m going to fuck you as hard and as fast and as brutally as I can. Are you ready?”

He punctuated that last by bottoming out in her hole. He had hoped to distract her with his foul words, and it seemed to have worked.

Francesca was appalled at her brother’s vile turn of phrase. Appalled and disgusted by how hot it made her. It had converted the twinge of pain she had felt at his entry into a raging torrent of sexual excitement.

“Well do it then you bastard, fuck the shit out of me, fill my bowels with your load,” she growled. Her aggressive response lit a fire under her brother.

Mateo withdrew his cock from her slimy shit chute, before pounding back into her, over and over again. He was on his knees and while his height advantage gave him good leverage it was not enough. As he pumped her, he managed to get his feet under him until he was crouching behind her. Now he had gravity to assist on the downstrokes.

He was piledriving into her now. Any delicacy or subtlety he had used while in her vagina was forgotten. This was nothing short of a ferocious assault. He held her by the shoulders, seeking any tiny advantage to aid his attack. He growled with every thrust as his balls battered against her creamy pussy lips. His dick was in a molten vice, being squeezed from every side. The heat was intense and the compression extreme. Despite the greasy lube, it felt like her body was resisting him, trying to repel him.

But that wasn’t true at all. Below him, Francesca was losing her mind. Her bottom which had always been such a nasty, disgusting place was now the centre of her universe. Paroxysms of pleasure were radiating out from it in waves as Mateo hurled himself at her body. She could feel his balls kissing her cunt, cute little smooches that had her cumming already.

Her butthole was out of control, everything was all messed up. It was working backwards, trying to suck Mateo inside and hold him there forever. It was twitching and spasming uncontrollably, desperate for more.

On and on it went, with the two siblings connected on the most intimate possible level. And in the most obscene possible way as well.

There were sounds too, Francesca began to realise. Slippery, slapping noises as Mateo’s hips would crash into her ass. There were wet, sucking gurgles as he withdrew from her bowels too. And sometimes there were revolting farting sounds as he thrust into her. She should have been embarrassed and ashamed, but she was not. She was exultant, she was exhilarated, and she was CUMMING.

Her body froze as a torrent of liquid sprayed from between her legs. Was it pee? Was it cum? She didn’t know or care. She just wanted the incredible feeling to go on forever.

Behind her, Mateo was embedded to the root. His bloated balls were pumping his cum into his sister. Deep into the Stygian abyss of her clutching bowels. He was keening now, the release of pressure in his nuts a palpable relief. Below him, Francesca was crying as gouts of her juice sluiced over his balls.

They had both surrendered to their basest passions. Their bodies had revelled in the simple joy of orgasm. But as it always does, the moment passed. Those passions crested their peak and washed away, leaving two trembling bodies behind.

Mateo withdrew from his sister carefully. Then he lay down beside her, pulling her body close against him. He found a corner of the doona and pulled it over them. He was spooning her now holding her tight against himself. She was still shaking, but her breathing was evening out. She was no longer crying, just sniffling, and snuffling in his arms.

“Is it always like that, Mateo?” she asked in a small voice.

“It’s never been like that for me, darling,” he replied, before continuing. “I’m not sure it’s ever been like that for anybody before. But we’ll get better with practice, just you wait and see.”

Francesca giggled, putting her arms over his so he pulled her closer. “I love you, Mateo Martin,” she said. “Always have, always will.”

“Amen, my darling,” he replied, hugging her close once more before sleep claimed them both.

++++

The next morning, Mateo and Francesca walked hand in hand back to Grandma’s little house. Jorge was up, making a substantial breakfast. His face beamed with pride as they ducked into the kitchen. They all embraced briefly before falling into their familiar morning routine. The homestead rang with shrieks and laughter as they goosed and teased each other. Jorge recalled their apartment in Fremantle as they bumped into each other. The laughter and confusion as they tried to remember where things were.

He watched his children, trying to recall the moment. The precise instant that he had first known that their love was more than that of brother and sister. He remembered an incident when he had received a telephone call from a stranger at work. The woman had been hysterical, hurling abuse at him down the line. Finally, he managed to understand that she was holding his children hostage.

Well, not quite, but not far off. When he had taken a taxi to her address, he had found Mateo and Francesca sitting on the kerb in a suburban street. It wasn’t on their direct route home from school, but it was nearby. A blonde-haired woman in her mid-forties was standing over them. Her arms were crossed as she glowered at his frightened children.

The woman, Myrna Simms was her name he recalled, blamed Mateo for stealing her prize roses. They were priceless she suggested because she was breeding a new variety. They were indeed pretty, Jorge noted, a rich orange-red colour with verdant green stems.

He asked if the boy had trespassed on her property. While she blustered, Simms had admitted that he had not. Mateo held up his hand for permission to speak and Jorge nodded, kneeling beside his son.

“We got separated on the way home, Papa,” he said. “It was my fault. I was in a bad mood about my maths test because I confused Gödel… well I messed it up anyway. Frankie tugged at my arm, but I shouted at her to grow up and leave me alone. I’d never shouted at her before, but I was mad with myself, and I wasn’t thinking. When it was time to cross the road at Harwell Street, I realised she wasn’t with me anymore.

“I remembered what you said. Not to panic, to retrace my steps and call out for her. I did, looking down alleys and checking side streets. I remembered where she had tugged on my arm and wondered if she had seen something interesting there. It was at the end of this street, up there.” He pointed towards the main road.

“When I looked, I saw her sitting here, under the flowers, where they hang over the fence. I ran as fast as I could, and she was crying. I felt so bad because I had frightened her and made her run off. I knew how scared she must be because it happened to me with Mama in Punta del Arias once. But it was such a tiny place that I was able to get home by myself. I don’t think Frankie knew where she was.

“I couldn’t get her to stop crying so I picked some flowers for her, trying to distract her, you know? And it worked, she was calming down and then the lady came out and got mad. I’m sorry Papa, I didn’t mean to mess up, but Frankie is only seven and she is my responsibility.”

“No, my son, you are both my responsibility. Thank you for being brave and keeping calm and finding your sister. That is the most important thing,” Jorge said, squeezing Mateo’s shoulder.

“No, it’s fuckin’ not,” screamed Myrna Simms. “My fuckin’ roses are the important thing. What are you gonna do about them, ya fuckin’ greasy wop?”

Jorge stood and addressed the woman. “Ms Simms, we are from Portugal and have lived here in Fremantle for several years now. We shall take up citizenship of this fine land as soon as we can. I do not know this word, ‘wop’ but I suspect it is not a pleasant one. I see no harm here. You have allowed your roses to impinge out over the footpath here. They are beautiful but they have thorns. I can see scratches on my daughter’s arms. Did you think for one moment to help her with them? I fear not.

“The plants are on public property, and you have made no effort to restrain them. The public is therefore entitled to do what they want with them. If the council are informed, they will cut them down completely. I am surprised that an Australian citizen does not know that. Francesca is only seven and from the other side of the world, but she does.

“My children have had two traumatic experiences this afternoon. One accidental and one at your hands. What reparations would you like us to make? Financial ones I imagine. I shall do so gladly because I am happy to find my children safe. I shall of course be calling the police to report their illegal detention here today. And then I shall telephone the council because I believe that you and your roses are a public menace. How much do you want?”

He had watched the woman’s temper rise as he had deliberately controlled his own. When he stopped, giving her a pleasant smile, she looked like she was about to burst.

“Oh, just fuck off and don’t let me catch those little bastards near here again. Fucking immigrant scum,” she yelled before hurrying back into her house.

“Come on children, let’s go home,” Jorge said, picking Frankie up.

“It was my fault, Papa,” she said as they walked. “I saw the pretty flowers and wanted to pick some of them for Mateo. But he was angry, so I decided to get them by myself. I didn’t know they would be all scratchy and hurt my arms. I was crying when Mateo came running down the street. He hugged me and told me I would be OK. Then the lady came and started shouting. Mateo took them from me and told her it was his fault and she hit him on the arm.

“He was so brave Papa, looking after me and standing up to the nasty lady. Please don’t punish him, it was all my fault.”

Jorge assented and set his smiling daughter down. As they turned onto the main road, Mateo took her hand. She looked up at him and grinned, the trauma of the day forgotten.

Thinking back, the look she had given her brother, that moment of complete adoration, was when he knew. His daughter had never looked at him like that. At the time he hadn’t understood, he’d just felt pleased that they were getting along. But with hindsight, that was the instant, which had led them here today.

He looked at Francesca’s hand bearing Maria’s ring. When his wife to be had slipped it on he had felt elated and excited. Seeing it on their daughter’s finger, knowing the significance it had, he simply felt, complete. There was love in the little house again, and it was long overdue.

++++

Grandma’s funeral was very traditional, with half of the village turning out. Unlike Maria’s tragic passing, her long life was celebrated as one of selfless sacrifice. There was stirring music in the church and several delightful eulogies. She was buried beside Maria, with a view down over the village to the ocean beyond. The Martin’s knew that she would live on in their hearts, which gave them comfort too.

Later, enjoying a bottle of Nelinha’s favourite wine, their thoughts turned to the future.

“We shall be together, Papa,” Frankie was saying. “It is not forbidden here, and we can be free. We can even think about having children of our own.”

“You must, my love,” replied Jorge. “They will drive you to the point of distraction. But watching them grow will be the most rewarding thing you could ever do.”

“I have a question, Papa,” Mateo said, “about your future. Are you going to stay in Perth by yourself? We shall be here, I think for the rest of our lives.”

“I retired three weeks ago, my boy. You will find out next week, but your grandmother left me this palace, at my request. The house in Bickley is for sale. It was my home for a long time, but this is my birthplace. This is where I am from, this is where I want to be.”

Mateo and Frankie were surprised and delighted. They congratulated him and asked what he planned to do.

“Very little,” he said with a smile. “Spruce up the garden a bit, swim in the sea every day and spend time on the hill with your Mama and mine. I don’t need a complicated life, the simpler the better I think.”

“And what about you two? You can’t live on a boat forever,” he asked.

“The business is at a crossroads, Papa,” Mateo admitted. “It is too small to be a great success, so we need to expand. A company up in Sines was badly run and has gone out of business. Their fleet is being sold by the receivers. It is exactly what we need but we can’t afford it. They won’t split it either so some big company will buy it all. If they put anyone with half a brain in charge, they will crush us.

“I have money, my son,” Jorge said. ‘You know I never spent much, and I won’t need it here. How much do you need? Dollars I mean.”

Mateo did some calculations in his head. “About seven million, I think. Roughly anyway. It’s too much, I can’t ask you to take the risk.”

“Oh, I see. I don’t even have one million, my son, not even with the house I’m afraid.”

Francesca had got up and disappeared upstairs for a moment. Returning she thrust a piece of paper into her brother’s hand.

“What about that?” she asked.

Mateo looked at it confused, before breaking into a broad smile. It was the single share certificate for his student company. He had sold it to Frankie almost seven years before and had forgotten all about it.

“Does it even still exist, Frankie?” he asked.

“I have no idea,” she said with a shrug. “I never knew anything about it. I kept that in my jewellery box and noticed it yesterday when I got out Mama’s ring. How can we find out?”

Mateo looked at his watch, it was just after ten PM.

“It’s nine in the morning in Sydney. I’ll call Jack Miller, he’s the lawyer I’m using to sue Mike’s estate. I’ll get him to check it out,” Mateo said, moving to the phone. There was a list of numbers on the wall and after a moment’s thought, he punched one in.

He gave Miller what details he could, before handing the phone to Francesca.

“It’s your company, Sis. You have to instruct him,” Mateo said.

Once she was done, Mateo took the phone back. He provided Miller with the phone number of the charter company office. In addition, he gave him the fax and email too. After receiving a quick recap on the other case, he hung up.

“We should know soon, maybe tomorrow. The Feds have seized Mike’s offshore accounts finally, so there might be some news coming out of that too. Papa, I’m done in. Will you be OK here tonight?”

“It’s my home, son,” he chuckled, “I’ll be fine. Go and bob about on your little boat. Maybe I’ll come to you for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Great idea,” smiled Mateo. “Just make sure you knock really loud for all our sakes.”

They were all still giggling as he and Frankie left.

++++

They made love again in the small cabin on the Francesca. The searing tension and passion of the day before was gone. It had been replaced by a delicious sensation of love and affection. They kept as much of their skin in contact as they could, wrapped together in coital bliss. There was much more kissing and many more pauses. These interludes were simple moments of holding and cuddling. Both siblings confirming absolutely that they were truly there, together, finally. Their minds had been attuned for twenty years, their bodies had a lot of catching up to do.

Mateo discovered a spot in the small of Francesca’s back that adored the touch of his tongue. He could see her goosebumps rise as he kissed her there. And he could feel the shivers up and down her spine as he licked her flesh. In turn, Francesca found how important her teeth were on her brother’s body. Certain points responded to a light nip, others elicited a grunt of discomfort. Luckily there were many more of the former.

She was also fascinated by his hair. It was longer than hers and had a thicker, more rugged texture. She was becoming addicted to his smells too. The darker, earthier ones she had only ever imagined before. They were honest, hardworking scents, salty sweat, and his unique, masculine musk. And their sources were fascinating places. Between his legs, she explored his ball sack endlessly. Tumbling the pliant flesh between her fingers, letting it ooze across her skin. Tightening her grip, she would kiss first one ball, and then the other. Her busy tongue would flail across them, licking him all over, to extract every ounce of flavour.

She would nuzzle her nose into the point where his scrotum and penis met. There, at the confluence of his masculinity, she sucked hard on the soft flesh she found. And then there was his penis itself, the core of her lover’s sexuality, her holy grail. She had secretly peeked him before, in the gym at his place in Sydney. But the little worm she had seen then was gone, replaced by a sturdy phallus that filled her completely.

Francesca worshipped Mateo’s cock. There was something primal about it. Something that came from a place buried deep beneath her consciousness. Her hands and lips and tongue weren’t entirely sure what to do with it. But the weeping ache between her thighs had no doubts. When it slid inside her it felt like it was two feet long, as it went deeper and deeper. The pulsating, stretching thickness of it seemed to go on forever. Her internal muscles twitched and spasmed at it passed them by. She tried to clamp them down upon it, to hold it within her, but her man had to move.

And move he did, using her slippery fuck-oils to ease his path. She poured out her juice onto Mateo’s prick, more than any amount of finger play had ever induced. She had been mortified the night before, thinking that she had wet the bed. For an electrifying moment of panic, she had even thought she was bleeding. But Mateo loved it, the more she creamed, the harder he fucked her. This thought made her giggle when she realised something. Her life from then on was going to centre around proper hydration. The price was worth it, of course, any price would be.

She felt protected, loved, and cherished, emotions that she tried to return in spades. But most of all, cocooned in their sweaty little cabin, she felt satisfied. Her orgasms came one after another, sometimes close together and sometimes far apart. She liked the latter ones because she got to urge her stallion on. He could be so many things when he was buried between her thighs. Anything from a mauling beast to a nursing kitten. He could be energetic or teasing, but he was always attentive. No matter what tangent he drifted off on. A word or a grunt from her was enough to have him hammering her into the mattress once more. Or kissing her lips or nibbling her earlobes.

He was devoted to her and to her pleasure, as she was to him and his. Even in the quiet moments in between, when they rested and cuddled, they were each exploring. Discovering new vistas upon the other’s body. New soft spots, new touchstones. Their life together out in the world was going to be an adventure, they both knew. But their adventures in the bedroom were going to be their life. They would never stop trying to raise each other up to new heights of pleasure and satiety.

And they would never stop kissing and cuddling afterwards, either. As their skin cooled and heart rates steadied, they nuzzled. Their lips, tongues and fingertips would caress and clean and enjoy. Because they truly were one, a complementary pair, hewn from the same stock. They had been conceived in the same womb, made there for each other. They had grown up as a pair, two peas in a pod, their differences as important as their similarities. Perfectly matched and perfectly in love, they sailed into the night together.

++++

“Fuck me, mate,” Jack Miller said into the phone. Mateo, Francesca, and Matilde were huddled around the crackly speakerphone in the office.

“You sent me on a right wild goose chase, I had to fly down to Melbourne meself. Long story short, the company is still going. It has moved premises which made things a bit trickier. The shareholder correspondence has been going to a residential house in Carnegie. Care of a… Christine Roberts. She’s passed away so the mail just piled up in the Post Office.

“So, I spoke to the directors this morning. They’ve been growing the business quite nicely. Half of all profits went into the shareholder account, the rest was reinvested. They’ve done pretty well folks. Wanna know how much is in that account? The one with your name on it Francesca?”

“Go ahead Mr Miller,” she replied, “we’re on the edge of our seats here.”

“Right, drum roll please… $9.3 million. And that is the last time you call me Mr Miller, darlin’. It’s Jack to you and don’t you forget it.”

“That’s fine, Jack as long as you call me Frankie. Then we’re even,” she giggled.

“Good on ya, Luv,” he replied, his smile clear in his voice. “So, is there a finder’s fee or something?”

Mateo gripped Frankie’s hand and shrugged. She nodded emphatically, understanding his unspoken question.

“There’s a fat fee in it for you Jack,” Mateo said. “If you can get it out of Australia without costing us a bunch of tax. We’re trying to fund a big acquisition here and we need about seven million to make it work.”

“Children,” Miller replied in an avuncular tone. “This is Uncle Jack, couldn’t you come up with something a bit more challenging for me? We’ll dump the money back into the company, pretend it was never yours, Frankie. Then the company will make the investment. We’ll have to issue another share to you Mateo unless you want Frankie to become your boss.”

She shook her head, face colouring.

“It might affect your profit share a bit Matilde,” Jack went on. “But it just means a smaller percentage of a much bigger pie. Are you OK with that?”

“I may have a share of the company, Uncle Jack, but I just live to work here,” she said. “With this investment, our business will flourish. Three years ago, I was an outcast, almost destitute. With a little girl to look after, I was happy to have a job at all. Now I have a home with a beautiful partner and another baby on the way. Mateo has changed my life, so whatever he needs, we will do.”

“Sweet,” said Jack with a chuckle. “I’ll email some papers next week. Get your local lawyer… Fernando, is it? Get him to look them over and sign ’em. Then he can get them notarized and I’ll arrange everything else. Pay whatever deposit they want to secure the boats right now, today. They’ll get the rest in a week, ten days tops…”

There was more conversation, but Mateo sat back and looked at his sister. They had done it, personally and professionally their lives were complete. Well, that’s what he thought anyway.

++++

December 1999

Their second Christmas together was a joyous occasion. On Christmas Eve they hosted Matilde, Sofie, Emilie and baby Mateo. Jorge had insisted that he cook the traditional salt cod. He was convinced that his mother had told him all of her secrets.

Some of them perhaps but not all, was the consensus around the table. It didn’t matter, as with all such gatherings it was the people who made it, not the trimmings. There was wine, song and laughter aplenty. Sofie spoke of their new venture, the cannery.

Mateo’s close ties with the Punta del Arias fleet had helped him understand how little control they had. They were told where to fish and for what by the big processing companies. They had to pay for refrigerated transport to the factories, losing profits as a result.

Mateo had petitioned the mayor for land to build a processing factory in the village. He envisioned a cooperative owned by the people and run for them. It meant the fleet could fish how they knew best, only choosing the most sustainable stocks.

Sofie had been placed in charge and had got to work building up the Punta del Arias brand. The fishing fleet’s future was secure, and there was guaranteed employment for the locals. The village had a future, something that had seemed less and less likely in recent years.

Mateo told tall tales of Ernesto’s exploits during the early days of the charter business. From dressing up as a pirate, and running out of fuel out at sea, he had made the company work. He had given them their identity and all completely by accident.

Jorge talked about his building crew. They were a cadre of retired working men who helped local villages with their projects. They had refurbished play areas for children and several concert venues.

Francesca told of her hopes to begin writing full time, and her longing to travel. Mateo smiled and went to his work coat. From the pocket, he produced an envelope which he handed to her. “Merry Christmas, my love,” he said as she tore it open.

Inside it was a cheeky card with Santa screwing Mrs Claus from behind in front of the fireplace. Merry Fucksmas was the title. Frankie laughed, then her hand flew to her mouth as she read his inscription inside.

“With a love like ours, Francesca, anything is possible. Use this to make your dreams come true. Forever yours, Mateo, xxx.”

He was referring to a piece of paper that fluttered out into her lap. “What’s this?” she asked, a hand going to her mouth once more.

“It’s exactly what you think it is darling,” Mateo replied. “It’s an Emirates round the world airline ticket. You get thirty-six flights, as long as you keep going west to east. You cannot book ahead, so you have to travel on standby, but those are the only restrictions. It’s valid for all of next year. I hope you have a wonderful time.”

She leapt out of her chair and landed in his lap. “Thank you, darling, we’ll be able to visit the most amazing places. I can’t wait to show you…” Her head whipped up, staring into his face. “You only got one? For me? Are you mental? We’re a team, buddy boy, joined at the hip. If you think I’d even go as far as the harbour without you, you’ve lost your mind. Cancel it, get your money back. I don’t need it or want it if you’re not coming. Mateo, stop laughing at me. Stop it this instant, I’m serious.”

Then she noticed that everyone else was giggling. Jorge was waving an identical ticket at her from across the room.

“It was his idea,” Mateo cried as Frankie started battering him on the arm. Soon though she was worming her fingers into his hair. Soon after that, they were kissing hungrily.

++++

Three days later, Francesca kept her appointment at the little clinic in Sines. She had had her IUD fitted soon after arriving in Portugal. After their first feverish few weeks together, she and Mateo had agreed to wait to start their family. He had worked so hard ever since to make their business a success. He had started the transition away from game fishing towards conservation. The focus was moving to reef diving and scientific research.

There were even people coming from around the world to surf the waves off Nazaré. These weren’t playful beach rollers. These were towering giants, sometimes thirty metres high or more. They now had four boats up there with powerful jet skis to tow the surfers into the waves. It seemed like madness to her, but as always, the first people there cornered the market. Not forever, but for long enough. That was Mateo’s genius, being just that half step ahead of everyone else. Knowing when to cut bait and move on, never allowing things to become stale.

But now they were taking a year away. To travel the world and explore its secrets. To taste new food and cultures, to experience new and exciting ways of life. And to seed new life within her womb. It was time, Frankie thought to take that chance. To see what life would bring and to see where it would lead.

The nurse waved her into the doctor’s office. It was time.

++++

On New Year’s Day, Mateo and Francesca Martin were married in the little harbour at Punta del Arias. It was a joint celebration as Matilde and Sofie joined them in doing the same thing. The church and state might not have wished to bless their unions, but their friends and family were there to do so. They each made their vows and sealed them with a kiss. Mateo slipped his grandmother’s wedding ring onto his sister’s finger, and it was complete. Brother and sister were now man and wife.

++++

December 2000

Jorge was waiting at the airport in Lisbon for the weary voyagers to return. They had travelled light on their journey around the world, each taking only a small rucksack. They bought and discarded clothes as necessary and posted home numerous disposable cameras. Their friends had eschewed the purchase of pointless trinkets. Instead, Mateo and Frankie sent postcards from their most meaningful stops. The messages they had added were always heartfelt and honest. This made them precious gifts in the truest sense.

The cameras had not captured the true highlights of their adventures though. Those had been private moments, albeit occurring in the most public of places. The first had been outside Buckingham Palace in London. They had been pressed up against the railings to see the famous changing of the guard. Mateo had stood behind Frankie trying to shield her from the press of the crowd.

It was a cold but dry January morning, their breath fogging the air as the crowd jostled them. As they waited, Mateo was nibbling on his sister’s earlobe and neck, nuzzling her hot flesh with his lips. Frankie was squirming in his arms, her bottom rubbing suggestively against his jeans. She had worn a short, pleated skirt and warm, woollen stockings, all covered by a long, leather duster. She turned her head to him and licked her lips lasciviously.

“Are you cold, Mateo?” she asked. “It feels like your peepee has frozen solid. I forgot my panties this morning, dear brother. My thighs are cold, but my little cunny is melting inside. I could thaw you out if you want, here amongst all these people. Do you want me to take it out for you? No one will see, they are too busy waiting for the queen. You could slip it inside and defrost your sausage, right here. I can feel how hard it is. I know your sperm must be bubbling in your balls. Wouldn’t it be better off in my womb?

“Here, let me help you.”

Mateo gripped the barrier in front of them, his arms on either side of his sister. She wriggled around in front of him, rearranging her clothes. Mateo apologised to a woman beside them who was nudged by a stray elbow, but she just smiled. Suddenly he felt fingers scrabbling at his jeans and his zipper began sliding down. Francesca’s questing digits clutched at his cock, easing it out through the opening. It was shockingly cold, but her hot hand gripped him firmly, manoeuvring him into position.

Molten butter caressed the tip of his penis and Frankie let out a delighted squeal. In one smooth movement, he buried himself to the hilt inside his baby sister. The crowd took up Francesca’s scream and Mateo’s head whipped around in panic. Had they been caught? Arrested on the first day of their trip?

No, the queen and some other royals had appeared on a balcony and were waving at the crowd. Mateo relaxed and began to stab his prick into Francesca’s overheated vagina. The people were cheering and waving, but the blissful lovers were lost in their own sweet moment. Waves of movement rippled through the tightly packed throng. The swaying mass of humanity forced Mateo to keep readjusting his stroke and rhythm. Frankie braced her feet and pushed back hard against the barrier. She was desperate to ensure that she remained impaled upon his invading penis.

She looked over her shoulder at him, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. Pursing her lips, she blew him a kiss while grinding her ass back against him.

“The queen is going to see you cumming inside me brother,” she muttered in Portuguese. “Come on, let’s give her a real show.”

Mateo leaned forward and touched his lips to hers, thrusting ever harder into her cunt. Her steaming insides clutched at his length. Her every effort was geared towards keeping him embedded deep within her. The crush of the crowd made it impossible for him to use long strokes. Instead, he stabbed into her like a jackhammer. Over and over, he slammed himself against his sister. Again and again, he used the surging energy of the crowd to fuel his thrusts.

Francesca raised her hands to wave up at the queen of England, screaming incoherently. Amongst the delirious thousands, only Mateo knew that she was cumming. As was he, his sperm surging into her spasming vagina. Rope after rope of his living spirit blasted into her sucking hole. He leaned forward onto her back, the crowd and queen forgotten. He was cumming in his sister, his wife, his forever love. Once, twice, and thrice, his balls clenched tight. With agonising bliss, they expelled their noxious contents into her unprotected womb.

“I can’t breathe, Mateo,” Francesca squawked in front of him.

He had taken his hands from the barrier and allowed the crowd to force him against her. She was being crushed, even as he was still swimming in a sea of ecstasy. He came to his senses and pushed back as hard as he could. Despite her best efforts, his penis began to withdraw from her twitching sheath.

“I didn’t mean it was a bad thing,” panted Francesca, a glittering smile plastered across her face. “Don’t you dare pull out either. Stay in me as long as you can, I love how close to me you feel like this.”

“But we need to straighten ourselves up, Frankie,” he hissed. “The queen has gone inside, the crowd is breaking up.”

“Just a little longer, dear brother,” she whined, squeezing him with her internal muscles. “I want to take a photograph of us, joined together like this, in secret.” She held up a disposable camera, turning it towards them. Looking into the lens they smiled, hair sweaty and cheeks glowing. It was a moment out of time, a perfect instant of love and joy, then Frankie clicked the button.

“This camera has thirty-six pictures,” she said. “One for every flight we can take. I want to take a picture like this everywhere we go. You buried inside me, your cum dribbling down my legs. Only we shall know what’s happening, they’ll be a secret record of our love.”

“You’re giving new meaning to the term exposure, Frankie,” Mateo laughed. “Just be careful you don’t mail the wrong camera home!”

Laughing they slowly separated, Francesca twisting around in his arms. She produced a wet wipe from within her coat and swabbed his sticky genitals.

“We need a lot more practice at this, Mateo,” she said, kissing him under the chin. “I don’t want to waste our juices like this in the future. I want to slurp them into my belly.” Mateo groaned at the lewd thought, closing his eyes. He felt her tuck him back inside his jeans and pull up the zip. It was just in time too as the crowd was beginning to disperse.

“There, all done,” she said. “Now, what’s next? A blow job on the open-top bus tour, or anal in the Tower of London?” Frankie asked with a giggle.

“Lunch,” replied her brother with a smile. “I need to refuel if I’m going to keep filling your hungry holes all day long. Oh, and I think it should be anal on the bus tour, don’t you?”

With a laugh they scurried off, hand in hand to find a café, dreams of lust and love alive in their minds.

++++

The little cardboard camera filled up with naughty pictures over the next few months. A secret blow job on a gondola in Venice. A languid, grinding fuck from behind, atop the Eiffel Tower. And a gushing, squirting orgasm on her brother’s fingers for Francesca on the Spanish Steps in Rome. These were the naughty highlights of their trip. But most days, the siblings simply enjoyed each other’s company. Holding hands, secret smiles and stolen kisses were the true apotheoses of their trip.

In that time, they grew together as one. Barriers came down and truths came out. There was no subject too taboo nor secrets remaining between them. Frankie told Mateo about the time she had come to visit him in Sydney. How she had sneaked into his apartment with her key, only to find him balls deep in a stranger.

“The threesome?” he cried. “That was terrible. Carol was so in love with Jennifer. She only agreed to it so that she could be with her. It became very clear as that weekend wore on. Jennifer began to feel the same way and quite quickly it became a twosome, with me watching. On Sunday morning I slipped out and left them to it. They were gone when I came back that night and I never saw them again. I often wonder if they’re still together.”

They laughed at the missed opportunities, wishing they had somehow got together sooner. They planned for the future, babies, houses, and their business too.

But most of all they fell deeper and deeper in love with every passing day. They were bonded to their very cores, inextricably connected at the level of their DNA. They would never be parted they knew. They had what Mama and Papa had had, a precious gift that they must not squander.

They had each other.

++++

The last three months had been spent in the USA and Canada. There they had racked up huge rental car mileages and astronomical medical bills. Not for any accident or injury, but for their complicated gynaecological situation. When they arrived home, Frankie was five months pregnant, with twins.

Everything seemed healthy but Mateo had insisted on seeing a doctor in almost every city. Francesca had admonished him for fussing but secretly loved his concern and attention. And now they were back, to Punta del Arias, to work and find out whatever else lay ahead.

They hadn’t hidden their good news and Jorge wasn’t shocked to see Frankie’s bulging belly. He ushered them out into his rusty old pickup truck and drove them home at a steady thirty-five mph. Except he didn’t stop at the house. He drove past it and out of the village, up the winding road past the cemetery. At the crest of the hill was a stand of trees, ash, and alder.

Someone had begun to build a new house there, a modern take on the traditional homes of the village.

“That place will have a spectacular view,” said Frankie as they approached it.

“I should hope so,” said Jorge, “that’s exactly why I chose it.” He pulled his truck off the road and into a paved yard and continued, “I couldn’t help with your business, but this I can do. Welcome to your new home children. I included four bedrooms, I hope that will be enough.” He patted Frankie lightly on her tummy and she clasped his hand.

“Oh, thank you, Papa,” she said through a veil of tears. “We have talked about this ever since we found out I was pregnant. This house looks like exactly what I dreamed of. Wait, Mateo have you gone behind my back again?”

“Why do you think I booked so many spa treatments for you, darling?” he said shrugging. “I was running from Internet cafes to copy shops, sending Papa your latest ideas. The number of post office boxes I had to visit to get the plans he sent back was crazy. And keeping it a secret from you? Phew, I was permanently exhausted. Every time you finished your treatment you looked like an angel. Whilst I looked like I’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. I can’t believe you never noticed.”

“Neither can I,” she said clasping his hand. “Can we have a look around?”

“Be careful,” Jorge said, “it’s not halfway finished. You can see the layout of the rooms, though. We’ll have the roof on by February and it will be watertight by March. I hope to have you moved in before Easter. Just in time for Linky and Dinky here to arrive, I hope.” He placed his hand on her tummy and smiled warmly at her.

Once a daddy, always a daddy, Jorge.

Francesca was astonished to see her imaginings brought to life as she toured the house. It would have a south-facing glass frontage looking down over the village. That would cantilever out over a shaded area by the swimming pool. Their home would feature the latest innovations. Triple glazing, underground heat pumps and solar heating and cooling to name but a few. All wrapped up in a traditional, red-tiled roof. There was a terraced garden below. It wasn’t planted yet, but they would have a lawn and a vegetable garden. Francesca turned to Mateo and kissed his cheek.

“I used to think that your apartment in Sydney was the epitome of modern living,” she said. “Stylish and futuristic with beautiful views and big-city amenities. But this is on another level. This will be our home, where our children will grow, and we will fall ever deeper in love. Thank you, Mateo, for being my brother.”

“Thank you, little sister,” Mateo replied. “For being my soulmate and best friend.” He took her hand in his as they admired the view of the village of their birth. Safe in the knowledge that their roots were burrowing deep into the soil of the old country.

++++

July 2010

Mateo sat on the swing in the garden of their house overlooking Punta del Arias. In his arms was his youngest, Carlotta. She was a rambunctious child, full of energy and mischief, but with a smile that could melt her daddy’s heart. Today though she was content to sit on her father’s lap as he pushed them back and forth.

In the distance, Mateo could see the village, much changed since they had first moved in here a decade before. The main road had come and with it the hustle and bustle of modern life. The old country, like so many around the world, had suffered during the financial crisis. But Punta del Arias had been spared to a greater or lesser degree. Partly due to his own foresight Mateo knew, but largely due to pure luck too.

He was the mayor now, a role he had neither sought nor wanted. But the villagers had insisted, and he had been elected in a landslide. He felt responsible for the people, for their welfare and their futures.

As so often in life, he had been lucky. Jack Miller had pursued his case against Mike Ritchie for years. Even when it seemed hopeless, the dogged solicitor had kept going.

“No win, no fee, my boy,” he would growl down the phone when Mateo questioned his sanity.

And ultimately it had paid off. They had recovered almost ten million dollars from Mike’s various offshore accounts. After Jack’s fee Mateo was left with just over seven. And he didn’t want a penny of it. Instead, he bequeathed it to Punta del Arias.

He set up a charity to help with education and welfare in the region. It offered scholarships and vocational training to local children. It helped with community building projects like playgrounds and parks. Jorge had taken on its running as he got too old to carry on his building work. Of all the things he had done, this was the thing that Mateo was most proud of. Well, almost.

Deep down, his family were the only ones that truly mattered.

The picturesque village was not what held his attention that sunny afternoon though. Below them, he was watching his little tribe. Francesca was busy in the vegetable garden, weeding and hoeing. No doubt planning another book on self-sufficiency and healthy living. She looked up at them, shielding her eyes. Carlotta copied him as he gave her a wave and Francesca waved back, smiling broadly.

He smiled, thinking of how he had surprised her on their tenth wedding anniversary. He had come to bed to find her reading as usual.

“Put that away, little dove,” he had said, taking the book from her hands. “I have something I want to read to you instead.”

From behind his back, he had produced an old envelope, removing two handwritten pages. The paper was pink, and he could still detect a faint scent of lavender. Francesca looked at him quizzically, her head tilted to one side. She understood that she was missing something but could not work out what it was. Until he began to read, and then she howled and leapt from the bed, just as he dodged aside.

“Mateo my sweet darling. How I dream of you and our babies. Of your strong arms holding me tight. And your sweet kisses transporting me through the night,” Mateo read. He had adopted a high, falsetto voice before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

“Give me that you twisted freak,” Frankie yelled. “Where did you get that? It’s mine. That’s private.” Her face was red with exertion and embarrassment, her flashing eyes wide.

Mateo stood still, holding the letter high, well out of her reach.

“It was addressed to me, my love,” he said calmly. “Just like all the others.”

“The others…?” Frankie whispered, aghast. “Where did you get them, Mateo? I was only a silly girl back then, I never meant you to actually read them. No, you mustn’t, they’re awful.”

“Papa gave them to me, kiddo,” Mateo said, sticking out his tongue at her. “He loved them, and I think they’re sweet. So does your publisher – he’s planning to get them serialised in Playboy!”

She went mad, clawing at his arm, desperate to tear the vile thing from his grasp.

“Shhh, my darling,” he said, pulling her into an embrace. “I’m kidding. Papa gave them to me, but they were still sealed up, he never looked. They are a secret for only you and me. You were the one to recognise our love back then and I love that these thoughts come from that time. They are precious to me, not a plaything to torture you with. But they are funny though.”

“Bastard,” she squealed, pushing him away. She bent over and crossed her legs as the laughter took over. Eventually, she stood up then and grabbed him around the waist. She clung to her husband, her brother, her man. Her embarrassment was gone, he had been teasing. It was cute that he had kept her letters and read them. Now she was interested in them too.

“Look, here at the end,” he said, showing her the letter. “You were a very naughty girl back then, do you want to find out if that really works?”

Francesca read her own words, the memory calling to her across time and space. She grinned up at him, nodding as another adventure began.

It became their little ritual, on special birthdays and anniversaries. To bring out one of the old letters and just… remember.