The coroner recorded a verdict of ‘Natural Causes’ in mum’s death, and just like that her traumatic life and everything my bastard father had done to her was glossed over.
When we left the courtroom, Shari saw the Forensic Pathologist who’d carried out the post-mortem and given evidence, and collared him to ask him some questions. He seemed quite happy to talk to us now that a verdict had been recorded.
“Miss Shahida, there’s really nothing I can add to the report I gave to the court; your mother had very obviously been subjected to a catalogue of historical injuries stretching back several years, but none of her injuries were of sufficient severity to be provably causative factors in her death. I’m very sorry. While I believe that the cumulative effect of her injuries over the years may have been a major contributory factor in her eventual death, I just don’t have any definitive, medically justified evidence that they did; the fact is, any one of a number of things may have caused or aggravated the causes of the cerebral haemorrhage that was ultimately the cause of death, but nothing I found points definitively to any one injury, if I had, I would have testified to that effect.”
He gently patted Shari’s hand, his expression sombre.
“Your mother had a long history of battery and abuse-related injuries, and I’m sorry, I wish I could have helped jail the bastard who did all that to her, but I just don’t have any real evidence that it was the actual cause of death, not enough to meet the burden of proof, anyway. Maybe one day we can gather enough evidence to re-convene the inquest and lay criminal charges, I hope we can, but right now that’s just not possible. I’m very sorry.”
*****
The reading of the will was pretty much as expected, the house was in a family trust, and Shari and Yaz were the sole trustees; what shocked me was that mum split the business, all the properties, and the goodwill equally, a three-way split between the three of us, making us all equal co-owners; hearing the solicitor read out that she’d explicitly referred to me as ‘her son, Richard Brian Davies’ broke my heart all over again. That was the easy part; mum had also sworn-out and deposited an affidavit to be opened in the event of her death, probably that time I’d seen her with all the suits in her office, detailing what my father had done to her, the murder of Barbara, his boasts about what he’d done to Nicky, everything. It was a sickening document, made all the more dreadful because we knew it was true; her final words to us were that she hoped one day we would be able to use that document to finally bring my father to justice; little did we know just how far-reaching and prophetic her words would turn out to be.
*****
The funeral was a quiet affair; none of mum’s family showed up, mostly because of what my father did to them, so apart from the three of us, everyone else attending was a business friend or associate. Mum was cremated and Shari, Yaz, and I took her ashes to Dover, on the Kent coast, mum’s favourite holiday spot when she was a girl, and scattered her ashes from atop the famous white cliffs, something she’d once confided to Shari she’d want done. The breeze was blowing out to sea, and it took mum’s ashes with it, scattering her last remains over the sea as she had wished. I’m not religious, I don’t understand that impulse at all, but something made me pray to whatever or whomever was listening that mum, my mum, would be at peace, and would hear my pledge to keep my family safe for her.
When we arrived back at the house that evening, Shari immediately retired to her room, she wanted to be alone, while Yaz and I drifted around the house, doing nothing much except fiddle with things, and make inconsequential small-talk. I looked in on Shari and she was asleep, the tracks on her cheeks told me she’d cried herself to sleep. I thought sleep was a good idea, so I took Yaz to her room and made her get into bed. I was still wide awake, thoughts and memories of mum chasing around and around in my head and by the time midnight rolled around I was woolly-headed with exhaustion, but still too wrung-out to sleep. My door edging open clicked me back to wide awake, and Yaz slipped into my room dressed in her sleepwear, one of my ‘Metallica’ tee-shirts, which was long enough to reach almost to her knees. I looked my question at her, and she shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks
“I can’t sleep, Ricky, today… she’s all gone now, everything… please, Ricky… I need you…”
She held out her arms so I called her to me, pulling her down to lie next to me, hugging me as hard as she could while sobs wracked her body; all I could do was hold her while she grieved. I was feeling pretty rotten myself, but I had to be strong for her, for all of us; the funeral had shown me the stark reality of our situation; all we had was each other, we were our entire family, there truly was no-one else out there for us, thanks to my bastard father. I don’t know when she finally fell asleep, but she was warm against me, and her slow, steady breathing finally lulled me to sleep.
I don’t know what woke me, but I snapped awake, instantly going from fast asleep to wide awake. I looked at Yaz and she was awake too, her eyes large and bright in the dim light coming through the curtains from the streetlight across the road.
“What’s the matter, babe, go back to sleep, it’s OK, I’m here…” I whispered, but she shook her head.
“I can’t sleep…” she murmured, snuggling closer to me and turning around, pulling my arm around her and clasping my hand between hers. “Hold me, Ricky, please…”
So I held her closer, spooning her and enjoying the feeling of warm closeness, comforting her on this day of all days, or so I thought, but this was Yasmin, my hot girl, and the inevitable happened. It was involuntary, I wasn’t feeling horny, and I thought it was highly inappropriate, given what the day had been for, but my body didn’t care, and Yaz could feel it too, because I squirmed away from her, trying to not press against her, and I guess she wasn’t that offended, because she squirmed right back against me.
“What are you doing…?” I whispered, “This is not… right, not now Yaz, not today…” I murmured in her ear, but she ignored me, instead turning so we were face to face, literally plastered together.
“I know, Ricky, God, do I know, but life goes on, sweetie; mummy’s gone, but we’re still here, and we still love each other, right?”
Of course,” I whispered, “but there’s a time and a place…”
Yaz slid her hands up inside the back of my sleep T-shirt, her warm little hands gently rubbing up and down my spine.
“Mummy knew, sweetie, she knew about us, but she knew you and I, we were serious, and she knew you’d always take care of me, of all of us; she wouldn’t want us to lose what we have, and I know she loved you as much as you loved her, more, maybe, so I don’t think she’d object if you and me, we celebrate our life today of all days, and go on as we mean to. Life does go on, baby, and I love you so much, and here and now? Mummy had to leave us, but she hasn’t gone, she’ll always be part of us, and she wants us to be happy. Make love to me, baby, I need you so much right now, and you need me.”
Her soft lips on mine ended any further argument and destroyed any lingering resistance on my part. My hands slid down to cup her taut little bottom, grinding her against me as we kissed increasingly wildly. Yaz was the first to break that epic kiss, gasping for breath as she sat up to whip off her top and help me shrug my t-shirt off. She wriggled out of her panties and tugged at the waist of my shorts, so I slid them off, and now we were both naked. I hesitated, even though we’d come this far, and she kissed me gently.
“Don’t worry, Rick, we’re not disrespecting mummy; you love me, and I love you, and I can’t think of a thing I’d rather be doing right now than being with you right now. Life goes on, and we’re still here, let’s live it the way mummy would have wanted us to. No more hesitation, OK? This is about us now, baby.”
Yaz pulled me in for a closer kiss, and I went with it; she made a lot of sense, she ‘d obviously been giving this as much thought as I had, and made her choice, and she was sticking with it.
As we kissed, she squeezed my cock, pumping me firmly, making me ready; she obviously was ready for me, her scent was strong and enticing and just the breath of her was enough to stiffen me to aching readiness.
“Oh Ricky, is that for me?” she teased, fondling my scrotum and making me gasp with need. I slid down the bed, kissing between her breasts, her flat stomach, moving lower with every kiss.
“No Ricky, no need!” she gasped, “I’m ready for you, please baby, you know what I like!”
She slid onto her front and knelt-up, I reared-up behind her and slid my hands around her waist, reaching higher to cup her firm little breasts and gently pinch her stiff nipples. Yaz gasped and pushed back harder against me, letting me know what she wanted me to do to her. I slid into her moist, hot little pussy, hearing her groan of satisfaction as I pushed into her to the hilt.
“That’s… like that, baby, yes, oh yes, oh God yes…” she chanted as I pumped into her, desperately trying not to come as what we were doing threatened to overload my mind and tip me over the edge. I don’t know how long we hammered each other, Yaz was coming almost continuously, and I was literally clenching my teeth as I tried to hold back, all I know is we were drenched with sweat, her body slick against mine as I loved my sweet, beautiful girl the best way I could.
The end, when it came, was as explosive as we could have wished for; Yaz stiffened, clamping tight around me as she groaned out loud, and that was it for me; I came hard, spunk bursting out of me like a firehose, long, endless spurts draining me and filling her.