Eventually, Mrs. Kinnison left us to hold each other, Georgy had calmed and seemed almost ready to sleep again, but her arm though mine kept me there, and I wasn’t going to be so churlish as to disengage her; if she needed to hold me close to scare the demons away, then that is what I would let her have.
*****
I woke with a start, something had triggered me, and that was when I realised Georgy was still clutched on to me, fast asleep, her features in repose the girl I used to know; that hunted, haunted look that had become normal for her was gone, and my pretty little sister was back, her fine features rested and finally at peace.
As I studied her sleeping face her eyelids fluttered open, and she smiled sleepily, and it was Georgy smiling at me, not the pallid, expressionless ghost I’d been living with.
“Hi Will…” she murmured, snuggling deeper into my arm.
“This feels nice,” she whispered, yawning prettily. “I like it, please don’t leave… ”
“Don’t worry, Georgy, I’m not going anywhere. Go back to sleep,” I murmured, patting and squeezing her hand reassuringly. “I’ll still be here when you wake up. Now get some rest, kid.”
*****
The bright morning sunshine on my face woke me, and for a second confusion reigned as I felt someone huddled tightly against me before memory clicked in and I remembered Georgy’s nightmare and me calming her down. She’d turned somewhat on her stomach, and kicked the bedclothes down during the night, but what I wasn’t prepared for was how her sleeping T-shirt had ridden up to her waist, displaying the most delectable bottom I’d ever seen, only the slim string of the flimsiest of thongs bisecting her cheeks preventing her being entirely naked from the waist down.
I had always been aware, without really being aware, if you follow me, that Georgy was beautiful; roommate after roommate at Sandhurst had commented on the hot girl whose photos were on my dresser, but I’d never seen her that way myself. She was just my kid sister, my best friend, and the one who always took the blame because dad was incapable of punishing her when we were younger.
Now, seeing her so innocently displayed I realised just how alluring she really was, had always been, and I’d never noticed, because I was only ever seeing her as “kid sister”. Suddenly I was aware that she wasn’t just my kid sister anymore; she was a beautiful young woman, and I didn’t know how to shut off the thoughts that had arisen unbidden at the sight of her innocent near-nudity.
If that wasn’t enough, I saw, really saw, unencumbered by jeans or jodhpurs or more formal clothes, just how shapely her legs were, long, perfectly proportioned slender yet with that smooth, rounded muscularity of perfect muscle tone, the legacy of her equestrian hobby.
Georgy stirred and mumbled “Will, move over,” before hugging my arm closer and lapsing back into deep sleep again. All I could do was freeze, desperate to not disturb her, because I knew if she woke and realised her state of undress with me there she’d be mortified, and so would I.
I was stymied; I didn’t know what to do, whether to try and surreptitiously ease her sleeping-shirt back down to a more modest length, or slip her arm out of mine at glacial speed so I didn’t disturb her and make a dash for the door, or just do nothing, pretend to be asleep, and hope she didn’t wake and catch me ogling her.
I was still debating what to do when she giggled at me.
“Quit staring at my bum, Will, you must have seen a bare bum before!”
My face instantly grew hot, and I knew I was blushing fiercely. Georgy giggled again, an amused little chuckle that for some reason sent icy-hot shivers racing up and down my spine.
“You should see yourself, Will, you look like a traffic light!”
I tried to disengage my arm from her so I could get the hell out of there and try and live the embarrassment down a little but Georgy wasn’t having it, rather she held on tight and jiggled her bottom as she smirked at me.
“You can look some more, if you like, you know! Maybe you can tell me if it’s any better than all the other girly-bums you must have seen while you were off out there shagging around with your hunky soldier mates and being one of our fearless defenders!”
She was obviously having a high old time embarrassing me, but she’d struck a chord; her bottom was the best one I’d ever seen in my regrettably limited experience of sampling hot girls’ delectable bottoms, but there was no way I was telling her that; she was my kid sister, for fuck’s sake! I had to head this off somehow, this was just wrong!
“Georgy, stop it, make yourself decent, please, just don’t… ” I begged, ostentatiously turning my head away so she could see I wasn’t staring at her naked bottom, much as I still wanted to.
Her tinkling laughter echoed in my ears as she wriggled but made no move to cover her nakedness, and when I glanced at her she showed no trace of embarrassment or guilt, just the “naughty-girl” grin I got whenever she’d pranked me when we were younger. She stretched languidly and bounced her tummy on the bed, making her bottom jiggle and twinkle most fetchingly.
“You’re such a dork, Will! But seriously, though, tell me: have I got a nice arse?”
“GEORGY!!” I snapped, “Enough, God’s sake, you’re my sister! Cut it out!”
“Yes or no, Will? I’m going to keep asking ’til I get an answer, you might as well give in!” she giggled, her rippling little laugh making the hairs on the back of my neck prickle and goose-bumps erupt on my arms and legs.
“Alright, since you ask, then no, I think you’ve got a weird, saggy arse, I bet it wipes out your footprints! There, happy now?” I demanded, and ‘woofed’ as she punched me in the side.
As I tried to get my breath back from that sucker punch she swung around and slid off the bed and onto her knees by the side of the bed.
“Okay, then Will, how about these?” and with that, she crossed her arms at the waist and grabbed the hem of her night-shirt. There was no way I was looking at that, and I bolted for the door, her ‘Gotcha!’ laughter ringing in my ears.
As I grabbed the doorknob she softly called out to me.
“Will…?”
I refused to turn my head in case she’d followed through, but the good manners mother and Mrs. Kinnison had drummed into me took over.
“What is it, Georgy?” I answered.
“Thank you…” she murmured, “love you, Tyler Wilmot.”
I grinned to myself; she only ever called me ‘Tyler’ when she was trying to wheedle something out of me, so I didn’t turn my head, just in case she was trying to fake me out.
“I love you too, Georgy, always, now get dressed, I’ll get breakfast on.”
*****
I was juggling grilling a pack of bacon, a string of sausages, and a tray of sliced tomatoes, making toast, and simultaneously frying eggs in one pan and mushrooms in another when Georgy finally came down with Mrs. Kinnison. Mrs K was, as usual, dressed impeccably, while Georgy was still in her nightshirt, looking impish and adorable, all trace of the previous night’s terror gone; now, at last, my beautiful baby sister was back, looking how I always pictured her, no trace or echo of the trauma she’d been going through showing in her eyes or her expression.
At last she was just Georgy again, although I couldn’t help but notice how tight her shirt was, or how short, or how closely it hugged her shapely body (“cut that out, Will, she’s your sister, for Chrissake!” my conscience chimed, but I wasn’t going to; Georgy’s teasing had started something inside me, and it refused to go away).
Mrs. K tried to herd me to the table so she could finish breakfast for us but I wouldn’t let her; she was our ‘Aunt Kay’, the one happy part of my childhood I had left, not chief cook and bottle-washer, and I had no intention of letting her behave like an employee. She was all we had, and I wanted to do whatever little I could for her to repay her for all the care she’d lavished on us, especially Georgy, our whole lives.
To my mind she was family, not an employee, and family did stuff for each other. There were no servants or employees here, now or ever again.
After breakfast we cleared up, loaded the dishwasher, and retired to the lounge, because Aunt Kay wanted to talk to us. While we were settling down, she brought through a tea-tray with teapot, cups, saucers, cream-jug and sugar-bowl. I cocked an eyebrow at Georgy, wondering why such a formal setup; normally we’d just brew a couple of teabags in mugs and drink them while we chatted in the kitchen.
Mrs. Kinnison poured for all of us, then started on why we were there.
“Will, Georgy, your poor mother’s estate is still in probate, I don’t know how long it will take to clear, all I know is it takes a while, but I know, because I witnessed for her, broadly what the provisions were in her will. Children, I don’t know if you’re aware of what your dear mother intended, but in keeping with the terms of the trust, she wanted the care of the entire estate split exactly down the middle between her children, regardless of the fact it’s the Wilmot estate, and you’re technically not a Wilmot, Georgy, with an annuity for me, and the use of the Lodge for the remainder of my life.”
She sighed, putting her cup of tea on the table.