I have always been a little in awe of my grandfather but today, he surpassed himself. I am still in a state of shock.

He does not have all that much longer to live: the dementia is worsening more quickly and though he is usually fine, there have been some weeks recently when he seems to struggle even to recognise me. Not so today, though. He was as lucid and sharp as I had ever known him, and his ailing brain brought up a lot more memories than I was prepared for.

A self-made man, he has lived in this small seaside town his entire adult life and over the years, seemed at various stages to have owned half the properties in it! Back in the early 1960s - when he would have been about my age now - he was the youngest mayor to have been elected and throughout my childhood, I would look forward to long summer holidays exploring his grand house in the woods, and riding in his 'aircraft carrier', which was how he referred to whichever was his latest top of the range Jaguar. Not surprising then that when my Nan passed away just after his 81st birthday last year, and he no longer wanted to shuffle round the big old house on his own, he sold up, bought a majority stake in a very upmarket nursing home on the North Cliff, and moved in. A shrewd move, so typical of him, as his health was already beginning to fail.

I am the only blood relative he has now, and when I returned from the Gulf, I requested a posting to East Anglia, to be near him and I try to drive over to see him at least once a week.

It had been such a warm day, and he was most chipper, and I decided to wheel him down to the promenade. It might be a very posh care home but it still always seems to smell of pee and so any excuse to spend this week's visit somewhere else seemed like a great idea. We sat outside the cafe next to the putting green and watched the world go by.

"They're definitely at their best, at that age," he said, out of the blue.

I looked puzzled, then realised that he had noticed me 'casually' observing the two slim pre-teen girls in tiny bikinis, queuing at the hatch for an ice cream. I nodded and smiled politely, a touch embarrassed at his having caught me.

"Best fuck you'll ever have. Tighter than a glove."

My jaw dropped. Had I heard him correctly? Thankfully there was nobody within earshot.

He chuckled mischievously. "Mind you, it was so much easier in those days," he winked.

The old rascal had hooked me, and began to reel me in.

"Wheel me over there, where it's more private and I'll tell you a little tale."

When we were settled in a more secluded spot, he took a slurp of tea and continued. Grandpa had always been a great storyteller and I had always loved to hear his tales, but this was no light-hearted nostalgia - his pale eyes stared back through half a century and he was deadly serious.

"You won't remember George Kelly. No you're much too young, but he was like a father to me. He ran a big haulage business and took me on as office boy at the start of the War. Anyway, he lost his only son at Tobruk and somehow he took a shine to me and over time he steered my career and when he wanted to retire in 1959, he let me have the business for half what it was worth. He introduced me to all his contacts and got me into local politics too. Bless you, George, wherever you are, you old sod! I modelled myself on him and I'd like to think I did him proud."

I nodded in agreement. He had told me that before on numerous occasions, though I chose not to mention it. I knew that letting dementia sufferers exercise their memory was the right thing to do, even if it meant hearing the same stories again and again.

But what about the previous dirty remark - 'Tight as a glove' - what had that got to do with anything? I hoped it wasn't a sign that his mind had finally short-circuited.

"He always said that it wasn't what you know but who you know and he taught me to put myself about, get involved in the town, get to know and be known. He helped me get on the Council, and into Rotary, the Lions, all that sort of thing. And other local charities."

I remembered how busy Grandpa always seemed to be when I was young, forever off to attend business lunches and committee meetings. Nan was too, as the wife of a local bigwig. She revelled in it.

He swung round in his wheelchair and pointed along the cliff.

"See that big old building right at the far end?" he asked. I peered and vaguely recognised the outline of a cluster of Edwardian villas which lay at the extreme end of the seafront.

"Back in the day, that was a children's home. Council-funded. That place up there was the girls' home, St Cecilia's, and there was another for boys further into town, by the park. George was Chairman of the Governors and when I won my seat on the Council, he made me a Governor too. I wasn't exactly enthusiastic but then he said the job came with 'perks' and it wasn't long before I found out what they were."

He gave an earthy chuckle, that unfortunately developed into a coughing fit and I had to get him to sip the rest of his tea before he could proceed with his recollections. I have to say, I was intrigued and had a funny inkling of where this was leading, as there had been some recent scandals unearthed by the papers. Surely he wasn't going to confess something like that?

"It was a Thursday night and our meeting was over by nine and George said something like 'That's work over with, now how about a bit of R&R?' and I thought he was taking me for a nightcap at the Grand Hotel. You can imagine I was surprised when he drove through the gates of St Cecilia's and parked around the back, by the kitchens. 'Poor little girls,' he said, 'no parents to look after them, so it's lucky for some of them that we Governors are prepared to devote some of our time to provide them with some extra-curricular activities'. He led me through a maze of darkened corridors and we arrived at this big dingy room that was actually the original gym and I was amazed by what I saw.

"In the middle of the room sat two girls on a thick padded mat. Bright-faced, and no more than 13 or 14, they wore identical white nightdresses and were paying no attention at all to another girl behind them, who was spread-eagled, naked, on her back over a wooden horse, being frigged enthusiastically by one of my fellow councillors. Only when I heard a grunt and breathless squeak did I then notice a fourth girl. Blow me, on the far side of the room, a chubby little tomboy no more than about 10 was on her knees, her hands tied to the wall bars, and who should be pumping away at her backside but our very own Chief Superintendent! His uniform was draped over the bars next to him and I could hardly see the girl beneath his hairy arse bobbing up and down.

"Looking back, I'm sure he would have preferred doing that in the Boys' Home, truth be told, but he was clearly enjoying himself with the next best thing

"The two girls in their nighties leapt up and I swear they curtseyed! 'Hello Uncle George,' they said and they had given us both great big hugs and kisses before he had even introduced me as 'their new Uncle'. I couldn't believe it. George added 'they need to be back in the dorm by ten, so you'd better a move on' and took one of the girls to the edge of the mat, got naked with her and immediately shoved his face between her legs.

"Well, what could I do? There I was with this tiny girl, who obviously expected me to do something similar. So I did."

I was staring at my grandfather in astonishment. My God, I had been right - it was a confession!

"Now, now. Don't judge me, lad," he grinned, "I saw the way you were looking at those two little sweeties and I knew what you were thinking. Don't forget we share the same genes. Oh yes, and everything you were thinking about what it would be like? It's true!"

At that moment, as he roared with laughter, the bikini girls walked slowly past, licking their vanilla cones, and I paid close attention to the tiny bumps barely filling the twin triangles of their thin fabric tops and easily pictured what lay beneath. The younger one was outgrowing her bathing costume and the crotch of her pants was deliciously tight between her legs.

"Exactly," said my grandfather in triumph. "If you had the chance to screw the pants off either of those, with no risk, you would, wouldn't you?"

I admired the pair of slim little bottoms, heading back to the beach, and grinned. Grandpa always could read me like a book.

"Yep," I admitted, with a chuckle.. That seemed to encourage him. He was talking to me not just as his grandson, but as another guy who shared his own predilections. Actually a great deal more than I would ever dare say, but that's another story.

"So you'll understand that whatever I did, I still loved your grandmother, God rest her soul? Having those girls was not like taking a mistress. And I never stooped to that. She had not the faintest suspicion and that went for all of the Governors and their wives. It was a secret arrangement that didn't really do any harm - and we always saw the girls right in the end, when they were older. What took place at St Cecilia's stayed at St Cecilia's, to borrow a modern expression."

That made me smile. The old chap was as sharp as ever today.

And watching those girls with the ice creams had only served to heighten my interest. You sly old dog, Grandpa.

"So you actually screwed this kid?" I prompted.

"Too damn, right," he smirked. "And she was good. Tight as a drum and shaking with nerves throughout. No matter what position I put her in, she took it, and I was quite well-endowed in those days. I'd never enjoyed it so much. This warm, smooth young body in my hands, to do what I wanted. Unless you've cradled a tiny girl against you, smelt her hot body and smeared your fresh spunk over her tired little cunt as it oozes back out of her..."

"Fantastic," I agreed, uneasily cutting short his too-graphic details, "but risky surely?"

"Nah, not really. That's what I meant about it being so much easier then. Couldn't do that sort of thing today, of course. Not in this country at least. But people minded their own business fifty years ago. Authority counted for something and it wasn't questioned like it is today. Kids were so much more innocent and back then, they still expected firm discipline and most of the time did what adults told them. It was normal, all part of growing up and frankly I think everyone was better for it."

For a moment I feared he was heading for a grumpy old man rant, but he checked himself and returned to the story.

"The old bull-dyke of a Matron who ran the Home, Miss Burdon, had a fondness for single malt and lame gee-gees and wasn't averse to keeping her bed warm with some of the youngest girls, according to George. So the Governors covered her bookies' tab every now and then and turned a blind eye to her weaknesses and she returned the favour, selecting carefully the ones who were most likely to cooperate and keep their pretty mouths shut. She was a battleaxe and the girls knew they had to do what they were told and after all, if they didn't like it, who could they tell? Matron? The Governors? The Police? Hah! It was just so perfect."

I envied him the experience. For years, I had secretly fantasised myself about having some excitement with an underage girl, but of course had never acted upon it. I had had my fair share of girlfriends but none could satisfy that particular urge. This was the weirdest chat I was ever likely to have, undoubtedly, but it was such a relief to be sitting here, with a regular bloke like Grandpa, and discover that my shameful fantasies were not an aberration.

"So that took place every Thursday?" I asked in amazement.

"Mostly," he replied. "The Governors' weekly orgy! No week the same as the last. Sometimes she would rotate the girls, sometimes there would be only a couple of us could make it and so we had two girls each. Twice a year or so there would a new girl to play with. Miss Burdon would bring her there, on her own, some time around her 12th birthday, and we would organise a cake and then when she had blown out the candles we would all gather round and have her at the same time and make a party of it and Burdon would stay and watch for a while, in case the girl needed additional encouragement. We'd draw straws to see who would take her cherry but by the end of the evening, we would all have pretty much fucked all three holes thoroughly and then she would be properly broken in and Matron would take her away and clean her up. Talk about depraved!"

I shook my head in utter disbelief. Here was my ancient and highly respected grandfather speaking so casually about abusing underage girls, his rich voice expressing describing it in such fruity language, and I was struggling to get my head around it all.

"I preferred to get them on their own though," he announced. "Your grandmother was so busy living it up in the ladies circle that I started wanting a bit more. The Business had taken off by then and I had started investing in property and so I had this handy little cottage where I could take them.

"I took over as Chair of the Governors when George retired but he stayed on the Board and continued to enjoy the 'perks'. That meant I had to deal with Matron, but I found that a case of Bushmills made her agreeable to just about anything and agreed that I could play a more active role at St Cecilia's. Smartest move was to get your grandmother to present the prizes at Sports Day and every month she would have a bunch of girls over for tea at our place, to teach them some social graces I suppose. There was no hanky-panky on those occasions of course and it was all good for the image, to be seen to 'do our bit'. And I didn't have to keep telling her white lies then, when I wanted to visit the Home. As for me, I played the conscientious Chairman and made regular trips to 'inspect' the Home and Miss Burdon was a good sport and obligingly ensured that she brought me into the changing room just after a PE lesson had finished or visit the dormitories and washroom just as each Year was changing for bed. Ranks of firm little bodies, all lined up for my delight. Great fun it was - and they really did bob down and call me Sir, even if they were under the shower! And it meant I was able to pick my favourite, but I'll tell you about that if you get some more teas in."

I was beaming with delight. What a cracking tale! Returning from the cafe with fresh cups, I was itching to hear more.

"One day I was in Miss Burdon's study, talking budgets, and one of the older girls tapped at the door. Her teacher had sent her to be punished as other members of staff were only permitted to tap a girl's hand with a ruler for minor misdemeanours. Anything more serious, the old hag kept for herself.

"The Home had girls from 8 to 16, and this one was probably in her final year as she had a full bush. I could see the old dyke liked having to punish them, as she took her time and made them sweat. Once that girl had handed over the teacher's note and been made to explain what she there for, Burdon was in no hurry. I was fascinated by the whole performance.

"She took the cane from her drawer and sat with it as we continued our meeting, tapping it in her hand for ages whilst the girl stood nervously with her knickers round her ankles, holding her skirt up around her waist and displaying her wares. She wasn't one of our 'special' girls and had gone beetroot red at having to show herself off like that, especially with the Chairman of the Governors in the room and taking a keen interest. Eventually Burdon apologised to me for the interruption to our conversation and quickly cast aside the girl's platitudes and pronounced sentence.

"I sat back and enjoyed the spectacle, as Matron administered ten slow, deliberate thwacks across the girl's backside. She made her bend right over the end of a daybed in such a way that I had a splendid grandstand view. The girl spluttered after the first three or four and was sobbing her heart out by the end, but Matron made her remain bent over for another quarter of an hour whilst she and I went over the books and I could surreptitiously monitor the girl's hard young cheeks darkening and the welts starting to swell.

"I was stiff as a board, I can tell you. 'You enjoyed that,' I joked to Matron once the girl was dismissed and she winked and said 'I have the distinct impression that so did you!' Miss Burdon and I actually got on really well, all things considered, and it was she herself who suggested later that if a girl had been especially disobedient, she could call me so that I could go over there and help administer the appropriate punishment."

"Bloody Hell," I spluttered, speaking my mind, "you lucky bastard!"

Grandpa chortled.

"Haha, I knew that would appeal to you. You're such a chip off the old block."

"Naturally I was delighted to help out like that and assist such as I could, in the efficient running of St Cecilia's. Don't get me wrong - it wasn't like some Dickensian workhouse where Matron thrashed the living daylights out of the girls all the time. Far from it. Miss Burdon ran a very tight ship and by and large the very threat of a being sent for a caning was enough to keep them in line. But of course, every now and again, one of them would go too far and had to be taught a lesson. Step forward your Grandpa to help out!

"The younger ones, ten and under, they would be beaten with an old slipper and the older ones got the traditional cane. Canes, actually, because Matron suggested that it would be most effective if we did it together and once the guilty girl was suitably bent over, we stood either side of her and took turns at swinging our canes. Slowly, of course, to make the ordeal last as long as we could. Burdon was an expert - she knew that half the effect is in the anticipation and the humiliation. That I was involved always made that so much worse for a girl. It was pure theatre. I perfected a corny little speech about how disappointed I was to see one of 'our' girls having to be chastened and how important it was for the common good of St Cecilia's that bad behaviour could not go unpunished. Some bullshit like that, and how I managed to deliver it with a straight face I'll never know, bearing in mind that when I spoke it, I would be staring straight at some girl's cute little pussy as she quivered before me with her dress held high.

"In fact even though Matron had been doing it for donkey's years, she admitted that she never tired of that particular duty.

I too could appreciate that.

"And you used the slipper as well?" I asked, my legs remaining firmly crossed as I held on to the mental images as long as I could.

"Yes and no. And only a few times. I preferred older girls, but it was by no means unpleasant when a little one had been naughty! Burdon was the opposite of me in that respect - she liked the smallest ones - and I didn't want to deny her the pleasure but sometimes you just have to do what needs to be done," he smirked. "With the little ones, she made them stand in the corner of her study first, fully naked, until she was ready. There was only one ceremonial slipper, so she had them lie across my lap and I would give them a couple of smacks with my hand to warm them up and then hold them steady whilst she gave them the remaining whacks with the slipper across their arses. Made a great noise! No idea how she did it to them before I invited myself to assist her but she had no complaints about my contribution.

"Dear oh dear, yes that was a highly unusual experience, holding a wriggling, yelling, naked little eight-year-old down into my lap, crushing my enormous hard-on, whilst this leering old lesbian slowly tanned her tiny hide!"

Grandpa croaked with laughter but no wonder - that must indeed have been quite some experience.

"So what was that about picking a girl and this cottage place?" I asked. "You said if I bought the teas, you'd tell me."

I was keen to know every part of his arrangements. How incredible it must have been to be able to do all that with almost guaranteed impunity. I had been born in the wrong era.

"Oh yes, the cottage. It was only for my personal favourite. I'd decided that I wanted to have my very own young friend, separate from the Thursday night girls. I told you that Matron sometimes took me round, like an official tour of inspection?"

"You did," I replied, patiently.

"Well that meant I could keep my eyes open, with a view to selecting the one I wanted, provided Matron thought her suitable, that is. Can you imagine that, selecting from a hundred or more little girls? Knowing that you would be shagging her every which way two or three times a week until you chose the next one? For me, that was possibly even more exciting than making my first million."

He licked his lips and his eyes twinkled with delight at recalling all this.

"The first one was Helen. In fact, I didn't directly pick her myself because she was the same girl I had screwed on my very first visit to the Home and I was very fond of her and asked Miss Burdon to keep her aside for me. You know, I still kept in touch with her for a while after she grew up and left the Home. I got her a job in the Corporation typing pool and fiddled her a council flat, for which she kindly showed her gratitude once or twice," he winked, "for old time's sake."

Incorrigible. I had to admire the man. He never did anything by halves.

"On her own, she was such a quiet little girl. Matron would sign her out for me when I wanted her, putting it down as 'music lessons in town', and I even gave her clarinet case to look the part when she went out of the gate! I'd be parked around the corner and I'd drop her back a couple of hours later with a nice sticky wet little cunt. Often if I was on a tight schedule we didn't even make it to the cottage and I had her in the back of the Jag. We had this silly ritual: when she got in, she had to wriggle out of her knickers and hand them over to me, all shy and innocent, and say 'Could you please look after these for me, Uncle Graham?'. She'd be sitting next to me, so cute in her Sunday Best uniform, blazer and beret and no pants, and I would be struggling to keep my hands on the wheel! She'd only get her pants back when she had performed to my satisfaction, and that didn't mean playing the clarinet."

We both giggled at that. I tried to put myself in Grandpa's position and wondered quite how much self-control I could have mustered.

"Helen was quite sweet and a fast learner and it was great, shagging her little body in a big comfy bed. Much more satisfying than Thursday nights, when it was more about getting your end away as much as you could rather than making it last. Though I say Thursdays could be fantastic if we decided to buddy up and two of us would do a girl at the same time - you really need to try that too, some time, my boy! Blows their minds, with a couple of cocks inside them at the same time. But it was time alone with them I preferred more. It was a privilege to have these girls at such a tender age and for me, it became much more than just a purely physical thing.

"That's why second one was even better. A truly special girl. Not the very best, it turned out, but very close."

The old so and so was teasing now - he could sense how much I was enjoying his story and was milking the moment. I had to play his game.

"Oh, why was that?" I asked, trying unsuccessfully to mask my impatience.

"Small. Like I said earlier, you haven't lived till you've fucked a really little one. Not too young I mean - there would be no fun in that, but definitely small is good. And definitely girl-shaped not all padded like a grown woman. Light enough to pick up and put under your arm, or hang off your shoulders for a knee trembler. Pam was 14 but really quite tiny for her age. And she genuinely loved it after the initial surprise, loved being chosen as my very special girl and she would do absolutely anything I asked of her."

If my grandfather was trying to make me envious, he had more than succeeded. How on earth did he manage to keep all of this secret from my Nan and my mother, the devious old codger? I supposed my mother would have been away at boarding school at that time and Nan, well she was lovely but never the sharpest tool in the box, bless her.

"Helen looked a bit like that girl we saw just now - the shorter one in the pink bikini, only browner-skinned. Girls developed later back then. She had no tits to speak of and the softest, smoothest little cunt you can imagine. Bulged right out when she stretched. She even tasted sweet. She had a touch of the brush about her: you know, half-caste, so she had these big brown sparkly eyes and a mop of tight dark curls and her skin was the shade of strong tea.

Truly lovely.

That summer, The Lions had funded a week's holiday at a Girl Guide centre for the whole Home and your Nan and I visited them for the last day, to present prizes and show our support as usual. Pam was a relatively new girl but I had taken to her the moment I first saw her back at the Home and seeing her again, dashing about in the sunshine in baggy shorts, I simply had to have her. Before we left, I had a quiet word with Miss Burdon, and not long after, she rang to tell me that she had had a long talk with the girl and she was ready to have her first private time with her new 'Uncle' before term started. Helen resumed her Thursday night duties but now Pam was all mine. My new personal plaything."

He stopped. I looked up, but he was merely assembling his thoughts.

"You know, I really shouldn't feel aggrieved that she went back to live with her mother, but I always wished I could have kept Pam for longer. Quite a few girls were sent to St Cecilia's temporarily because they had unmarried or separated mothers who had been made homeless for some reason but then when Mum got herself sorted out and found a place to stay, the girls would be returned to them.

"That's what happened to Pam, more's the pity. I've no idea where she ended up in the end, though I suspect that when she grew up and eventually found herself a guy, he would have been pleasantly surprised at quite how well she performed in the bedroom!

"She seemed so cute and innocent when I took her out the first time. Matron had explained to her in no uncertain terms that although she had been picked by the Chairman of the Governors as his very special girl, she had to keep it a huge secret or else the other girls would be jealous and bully her. And Burdon must have told her equally effectively to do whatever I said, because she never complained or even stopped to think.

"So she was a real treasure in every way."

"I think she must have had a pretty bad time before coming to the Home, as she was terribly skinny and withdrawn in my company at first. When she opened up to me, I could tell that she was delighted that a grown-up was taking a genuine interest in her, for once in her life. That I had an ulterior motive did not matter. The smallest things made her happy as Larry. I remember when I got her to the cottage and was still smooth-talking her, she just stared around and whispered that it was like a palace. I asked her to change into a little silky nightie, to be worn when she was in the cottage, and her eyes lit up and she skipped around in it, laughing her head off. I could almost feel the glow of pride when I told her how beautiful she looked in it."

Grandpa's watery eyes stared out to sea. He was lost in his memories and I was quite touched that he clearly had more than just lust for this young girl.

"She kept saying 'thank you, Uncle Graham' and feeling the hem of the nightie, as if to check that it was real and she wasn't dreaming it all up. And you know, I couldn't bring myself to fuck her after that. Not that first time. I wanted her to keep that first memory pure. We just spent the afternoon together as she revelled in my attention. OK, so I got her naked eventually, and we had a little hug and kiss, but just seeing her so happy was more than I needed that day."

He was embarrassed and looked away. Today was turning out to be a most extraordinary day too, and I was seeing several completely unexpected sides to my grandfather - he was not just a lucky, randy bugger, but one with a well-concealed soft centre.

"The irony was that when I did take her to bed the following week, I found out that I wasn't her first! She knew exactly what I was going to do with my cock! Poor kid had been abused by her mother's boyfriend since she was small, apparently. I felt terrible, subjecting her to that all over again. For about two minutes, that is! Sure, it seemed so low to be using her myself after what she had gone through, but she was more than up for it. In fact she was actually astonished that I wanted to hold her and kiss her and tell her how wonderful she was and do gentle things to make her body feel good inside and not just merely hold her down and poke my dick in her for a couple of minutes. I believe she genuinely liked it."

"To little Pam, being intimate with me was proof that a man could love her and enjoy being with her for who she was, rather than just for the convenient hole between her legs.

"I discovered that she loved playacting. I'm not into all that psycho-nonsense but I suppose that was her way of dealing with whatever had happened in her previous life. She told me that she used to hide inside her head and tell herself happy stories and I found she also had the knack of being able to do 'voices'. She could do a great one of Matron, which would have me in stitches. So that's what we did, when we were in the cottage: we played games. She loved being touched affectionately, which suited me fine, of course. I spent ages finding her dressing-up clothes and she would throw herself into the part, giggling non-stop, and not caring that every game would end up with my cock buried deep in her pussy. That anyone would want to play with her just seemed so amazing that she lapped it up. Literally, haha (great mouth, she had too)! Nothing fazed her, no matter how kinky I got! I would tickle, tease her, lick her, even put things inside her, but she took it all with a smile. One time I forgot I had a big call to make and only remembered when we got as far as the cottage and so I had to dash back quick and I ended up making a big-number deal on the phone with her naked under the desk in my office, sucking me dry!"

He smiled wide at the memory. No wonder!

"Come on," he said, "I need to take my pills."

Reluctantly, I wheeled him out on to the prom and headed for the ramp back up the cliff. Damn! There was much more to tell, I knew, but he was beginning to tire. But I gave it a shot when we stopped half way up the steep path, to see if I could prise out some further memories. There was a small shelter with nobody in it and I guided the chair inside and perched on the adjacent bench looking out over the beach.

"Just need to catch my breath, Grandpa," I fibbed. "You said Pam was not the very best: so who was?"

He turned and grinned.

"Ah, so you were paying attention! Well, I have been meaning to tell you something, so this is as good a time as any," he added, slightly mysteriously.

But Grandpa's face had frozen in a severe frown.

"I was so damned angry when it all had to stop."

I frowned too, empathising with him but also willing him to get on with it.

"In '64 the Government started mucking about with education and the school leaving age was going to go up from 15 to 16, which would have meant keeping the girls in the Home an extra year and having to employ another teacher, and all sorts of other nonsense. By then, the place was only about half full anyway - in the Fifties there were still a lot of orphans from the War but of course they had grown up and left and so there were only about sixty left at the very end. And frankly, it was becoming impossible to justify a local Corporation like ours funding crumbling old outdated Homes, so inevitably we had to close them and send the remaining kids who hadn't been fostered out or adopted to other places run by the County Council. Nasty business all round, but times were changing and even the big charities were starting to close old-style residential Homes."

I shook my head, but needed to lift him from his sudden depression. I appreciated the history lesson but I wanted to know more about those girls!

"Bummer," I said. "That was a disaster, wasn't it? No more Thursday nights in the old gym!"

He sat back in his wheelchair, stared at me coolly, then cracked a broad grin.

"Oh no, lad. Not a total disaster. Not for me, anyway. You know me - always one step ahead of the game," he chuckled. "Before we finally shut the place down, I adopted one."

I was not expecting that. I had stayed with my Nan and Grandpa almost every holiday when I was a boy, through the late Seventies and Eighties, and when I lost my parents in the crash whilst I was at Uni, I had gone to live with them for a year before I joined the RAF. I thought I knew the family history pretty well, but this revelation was completely new. I had always believed that my mother was their only child and now he was talking about another, presumably secret, adopted daughter. Stone the crows! I had so many questions.

"But I..."

He held up his hand to silence me.

"Hold your horses and hear me out," he said gently.

"She was my third one: my new personal 'special' girl, after Pam left.

"Funny, really, as I had not noticed her before. It was lucky she had a naughty streak, or else I might never have.

"Matron had rung to see if I wanted to do a caning and by good fortune I had time in my diary. I was working harder than ever in the Business and slipping away for an hour or three was becoming more difficult all the time.

"The girl was quite freaked out when Burdon told her take off her knickers and hold up her skirt. She looked at me and looked at Matron and looked at the pair of canes on Matron's desk and then back at me and I was sure she was going to be stupid enough to answer back, but in the nick of time, she came to her senses and coyly peeled them off, keeping her back to me. I can't remember exactly what terrible crime she had been judged to have committed but it was enough for Burdon to award her six of the best from each of us, which we duly delivered in our own special way. She sniffed and grunted and made little wincing noises but unusually, did not cry. Girls invariably did after just the first stroke.

"But not this one.

"This particular girl was somehow different, but I could not figure out quite why. After she had received all twelve, she was slumped face down over the end of the daybed, rubbing her throbbing little arse and heroically still not bawling her eyes out, but I noticed something definitely not the usual. I don't know if Matron saw but the light caught it and when I looked harder, I could see the little tart's crack was definitely wet! No mistaking it.

"When she had been dismissed to go back to class, I suggested to Miss Burdon that she might be a good candidate to be my new girl and though Burdon tried to talk me out of it, I had made up my mind. A week later, carrying the famous clarinet case, she trooped out of the gate and into the Jag, for her first trip to the cottage.

"She was quite the opposite of Pam. At first I was almost ready to concede that perhaps Burdon had been right and she was not the 'right sort of girl', but I stuck with it. She was a challenge, this one. Though she was still only 13, she was not a cute girly girl like Pam. Her body was nice and slim, with fabulous legs, but she had this awful sort of bob cut, with a straight fringe. Much worse, she had what they call these days 'attitude'. Back then, it was known as 'dumb insolence'. And I had little choice but to get tough with her.

"She didn't dare actually disobey me - Burdon and probably that caning too had done a good job of scaring the shit out of her, and she was under Matron's no-nonsense instructions to do anything I wanted - but she made it plain with her body language that she was not doing so willingly. A lot of the girls had been shaped by their past, like poor little Pam, and something in her previous life had turned this girl into a sullen automaton. She wasn't going to do anything without a direct order. 'Right then, young lady,' I thought, 'two can play that game.' And so in complete contrast to the giggly role-play with Pam, I set myself the task of becoming this girl's master."

I raised an eyebrow at the word. Perhaps I was reading too much into the inference, but as I was to hear, my grandfather was as deliberate as ever in his choice of expression.

"Yes, I did mean 'master'," he winked, yet again displaying his disconcerting ability to read my mind. "She needed a firm hand right from the start. No sweet talk with her, no playacting. I took a leaf out of Matron's book and made it quite plain just why she was there and what I expected of her.

"I remember her standing there, defiant but unable to disguise her shock, as I ran my hands all over her and explained that she belonged to me and that I had the power to make her young life very unpleasant if she displeased me. I slid my hand up the insides of her legs and touched her up and I could feel her shaking. With anger as much as fear, I am sure. Girls were much less savvy at that age, back in those days, and she had no real clue until I spelt it out, that I had brought her to the cottage to have sex with her - though to her, sex was still some abstract and vaguely naughty activity that adults did in private and girls hid their ignorance by sniggering about it.

"But you know, the more I intimidated her, the better it felt. I'd never had much inclination towards rough stuff - all that caning business for me wasn't really about making the girls hurt, it was much more of a cheap comic-book thrill, a male fantasy come true - but piling the pressure on this stroppy young girl was turning me on in a big way. 'Now you'll find out where your bad attitude takes you, missy,' I thought to myself."

I leaned out of the shelter, to check there was no-one near. I had a feeling that this was going to be part of Grandpa's tale that I would especially enjoy, and I daren't risk his being interrupted. I gave him a smirk: I knew precisely how he would have felt.

"I slipped the tip of my finger under her knickers and into her crack and watched her face turn white when I explained to her in graphic detail that she would soon find out how it felt when my cock replaced it. I undressed her slowly and deliberately, touching her all over and talking about her body in the crudest terms. She barely moved but I could sense the fear and her eyes flickered as I used words that were intended to shock her even more. She had great little breasts, even then, tiny but beautifully firm, with hard little nipples that shrivelled up when I rolled them between my thumb and forefinger. The more she trembled, the more I felt her up.

"It was exhilarating and the beginning of a whole new experience for me too.

"She clearly hated being naked, hated even more that I was touching her so wantonly all over her body. I took her to the bedroom and made her display herself to me, opening her legs very wide and pulling her fanny apart so that I could examine her carefully. Virgo intacto. Excellent. Her eyes almost popped out of her head when I put my fat cock in front of her face and for just a moment I thought I was going too far, too soon, when she took a moment to decide that I was indeed being utterly serious when I told her to lick it all over.

"Hah, the look of disbelief on her face!

"I taunted her, saying how disobedient she was and needed to be treated harshly. And I made her feel ashamed, suggesting that she was aching to offer her body to me like that. When the tears of humiliation finally flowed down her cheeks, I just couldn't wait any longer, so I rubbed some K-Y on her and fucked her hard.

"Yes, I was quite rough, considering it was her first time and she was only small. I did want to make her feel some pain. But, you know, despite my acting like an utter shit, that was almost certainly the very, very best fuck I've ever had. I took her several times, hardly needing any time to recover, and my spunk just seemed to keep on pumping and the sheets were a right mess, I can tell you! What a revelation for me - being cruel wasn't half bad, I had discovered. There she was, curled up and snivelling on a sticky, bloody sheet, pressing her hand over her sore little cunt, and I still had to make her feel small, making her thank me for fucking her and tell me how nice it felt and how much she wanted me to do it to her all over again."

He paused. Shaking his head, he added, "Not my finest hour, but perhaps you might understand."

"You won't find me judging you, Grandpa," I smiled and with a spontaneous candour that took me by surprise, I added sotto voce, "To be honest, that could well be my own idea of Heaven!"

"Aye, that's what I'd decided - highly wrong it may have been to treat her like that but she was so different, a one-off. When I saw her cunt get wet that time she was being caned, I just knew there was something exceptional about her. And she continued to prove me right.

"Every time I took her, she was the same: silent yet compliant, defiant but always completely obedient. It was as if she were punishing herself, letting me use her in any way. It drove me wild. I kept wanting to go a little further each time. Her sweet little face would go pale and her cheeks flush. I would test her and humiliate her, to see if she really would put up with anything. Bloody silly, some of it, as I became more and more addicted to her. Dear me, I could so easily have ballsed it up and got careless, such was my desire to test her. But it was just so much fun!

"I broke all my own rules, on a blistering hot day taking her to the house rather than the cottage and screwing her in the pool when your Nan was out. Late one night, I had Matron haul her out of the dormitory so that I could have a quickie, but first I made her strip in the front seat of the Jag and finger her fanny in plain sight as I drove up and down the seafront. And I started smacking her.

"Just a little horseplay at first, a couple of taps across my knee in the car if I thought she was late, but then I finally decided to see if my deepest suspicions were correct. I engineered a situation so that I could justify giving her a proper spanking - enough actually to hurt a little bit: you know, not serious because I was not into that but sufficiently hard to make her cheeks nice and rosy pink. Straight after, whilst she was still across my lap, I started to fiddle about between her legs and yep, same thing, as soon as I slid my finger inside, she was already creaming herself. Much more than you'd expect for a girl that age and so I kept on playing with her to see if I could bring her off and it didn't take much as she was already most of the way there. Though I can't be sure, but I think she had a proper full-on climax. Girls that age don't tend to do the full 'When Harry Met Sally' orgasm, at least in those days they didn't, but she certainly had something approaching one, eyes closed, heavy breathing and her little body tensed up and shivered over and over again and I reckon that was the Full Monty, near as damn it. It was a fantastic experience and I simply wanted to hold her there as long as I could, stroking her and watching her flex and moan as she gave in to her body's urges. The spanking had taken her to the edge and I was little more than a passenger. My goodness, that was magical.

"Crikey, I was stunned, I can tell you. Not yet even 14 and this girl was so obviously a kind of natural submissive! I was sure she wasn't even aware of what her body was doing half the time, but to me it was pretty plain. And fabulous to watch."

I was beaming. Enthralled. The lucky old sod had found my idea of perfection! Well go on then, Grandpa - keep talking!

"It was half term and I was able to sign her out on two night exeat without any fuss. I'd never done that before but I desperately wanted to go even further.

"I didn't let her call me 'Uncle' like the others. It was always 'Sir, right from the start'. As the weeks went on, I became obsessed with her, so badly that much of the time I just wanted to be with her more than running the Business!

"On the one hand, she gave amazing sex - no matter what I tried. On the other, she was a fascinating enigma. Her body was so responsive and tactile, yet half the time she seemed to be unaware of it, almost detached from it. God knows what was so mixed up inside her head. OK, every once in a while I might have to remind her that I could get her put away in some evil Approved School if I so chose, and I did play on those fears, but 99% of the time she rarely even hesitated when I demanded something new of her.

"I wanted to try something a bit more adventurous, that would require more than just a couple of hours. So I treated your Nan to a long weekend at some fancy spa, to give me plenty of time to mess around, as it were.

"I always did a variation of the knickers ritual with her, but instead of letting her take them off in the car like Pam, I insisted that she must not wear any underwear in my presence, knowing that in a place like the Home, where privacy is near-impossible, it would be a challenge for her. She would have to decide how and when to take off her vest and pants between lessons and then she would have to find a way to carry them with her undetected until she left the grounds. Making her go around like that for perhaps an hour or two before she was due to have her 'music lesson' I knew would make her acutely uncomfortable. I did love playing the bastard! But the exeat was entirely out of the ordinary - a change from the usual routine, and so she forgot the rules. I always made her lift up her skirt when we were in the car so that her naked bottom was pressed directly against the leather but this time I noticed her freeze and flush as she climbed in and I immediately became suspicious. When I checked, I saw the regulation pair of thick blue knickers beneath her uniform. 'Oh dear, I thought, 'You silly girl - now you've given me an even better reason to see how far I can take you.'

With a lump of anticipation in my throat, I snarled, 'Take them off right now and you can look forward to being punished later. Severely punished,' I warned her. Talk about a gift horse!

"She was already nervous on the way but I hammed it up, pretending to be very angry but in a calm, menacing way. I gave her my growliest growl. 'I would have thought that as I am giving up my valuable time to give you a treat away from the Home, you would have tried hard to behave, but I can see that instead I am going to have to teach you a very harsh lesson' I told her. She was close to tears already and I had yet to lay a finger on her."

"Was this at the cottage?" I asked.

"No, as I had managed to get the house to myself with your Nan away, I took her there. For some reason I had become fixated with the idea of screwing her over the kitchen table, but as it turned out, I had to save that delight for another time. With the scene having been so conveniently set for me, I had the ideal opportunity to push the limits.

"Do you remember my workshop?"

I did. It was a huge shed some distance from the house and as a kid, I was allowed to go in when Grandpa was tinkering and make myself useful by passing tools or holding things steady for him. It was always immaculately neat and tidy and full of the most fascinating tools and half-completed 'projects' under dust covers and I will never forget on my 16th birthday when he offered me an untipped Senior Service and I had to dash outside half way through it to throw up. I never did take up smoking.

"Oh yes - you gave me that ciggy there once and put me off them for life."

"Ah, so I did. Well I never, haha, I had forgotten that completely. Good for you, lad."

I had a sudden anxiety that he might also forget to tell me about telling me more about the girl, so I quickly prompted him.

"Did you take her to your workshop, then?"

It worked. He thought for a moment and resumed his tale, although he had slightly lost track and strained to pick up the thread.

"Er, well, oh yes. I'm sorry. First we put her overnight bag in the small guest room - you'll remember that room of course? Your Nan had made it a room to impress, it was so over-the-top, and the girl stood there open-mouthed. 'Nicer then your dorm? You'd like a room like this, wouldn't you?' I asked her and she was so knocked-out by it, she just nodded dumbly. On the bed, I had laid out some clothes for her, good quality stuff, still with all the labels on. I let her see them, but said nothing.

"The atmosphere was strange - there was a real sense of tension. I mean, unlike anything before - I can't explain it to you. It was as if we both knew the game had changed and that something big was about to happen.

"I took her through the house and out to the workshop and stood her so that she could watch me take this little flogger thing out of a cupboard and unwrap it on the bench. I'd been to London for a meeting a long time before and happened to pick it up in Soho, on the off-chance that I might one day find a use for it. When I decided to bring her for the exeat, I had dug it out, just in case, though I had not decided to do so until that point. It was just a kinky toy really, rather than the real thing - rubber not leather, but it still packed a sting in the tail, hahaha! The end of the handle was shaped like a small cock so it had other uses too. She tried not to look but I caught her eyes keep darting back to it and I wondered if she had figured out what it was.

"In silence, I undressed her completely, taking my time, carefully folding her uniform and piling it up on the bench. I offered no explanation; just let her imagination get to work. Matron would have been impressed!

I had that engine hoist over the pit, if you remember, and I reckoned I could use it to create a bit of theatre of my own. I bound her wrists with strips of rag and slipped them over the hook and hauled on the chain until she was stretched right up on tip-toe. It sounds like some third-rate Hammer Horror now, but it was real enough for her. The only sound was her breathing through her nose - she was pretty terrified but as always, refusing to show it. Standing close in front of her, I cupped my hand over her pussy. 'You know I have to be strict with you?' I asked her and she could not look me in the eye. 'Yes, sir,' she whispered and I gripped her tighter and asked her again. 'Do you want me to be very strict?' I said and I swear she was actually pushing her cunt into my hand. 'Yes, sir,' she repeated, her face was blushing and she was beginning to break out in perspiration.

"The flogger made her gasp. Really, they were no more than little flicks that stung briefly, but the whole scary atmosphere did the rest. It was bizarre, full of symbolism and hidden meanings. After three across her behind, I again stood close to her and put my hand between her legs, only this time I held my finger over her clit and she pressed herself against it once more. 'I can help you make something of your life if you learn to be completely obedient,' I told her, 'do you understand what I am saying?'. Again a nod and a murmur: 'Yes, sir.'

"Everything I had hoped for was coming true - I just couldn't believe it.

"Another three across her tits and I asked her again, this time sliding my finger up her. She was properly wet and panting. Just as I sensed she was beginning to respond to the fingering, to feel some pleasure, I stopped and stood to one side for a smoke, watching her dangling there, frustrated. My mouth was dry and I could have drilled a hole in the wall, my cock was so hard! Do you know, it was over an hour before I finally let her down. She was exhausted and her whole body must have felt sore because in between teasing her pussy and repeating my unsubtle mantra about how she could better herself through obedience, I must have flicked the flogger over her entire legs, front and back, her chest, her back, upper arms, backside and then saving the best till last, I snapped a few right across her bald little cunt as she whimpered marvellously. The whole thing was utterly unreal.

"Her skin was glowing pink all over and dripping with sweat. She had snivelled for half the time but only cried out loud once or twice when I was a shade harder then I meant to be. I lost count of the number of times I fingered her or toyed with her nipples, or french-kissed her, stopping cruelly as soon as I suspected her of enjoying it. A few times I pushed the flogger handle up her and my fingers and hands all smelt of her hot little fanny.

"Her head was floppy and she had dribbled down her front. When I let her down at last, she could not stand and I had to carry her back to the house, where I lowered her into my favourite armchair, splayed her legs and ate her sweet young cunt until she was too tender to take any more. There was no doubt this time - she definitely climaxed, quietly and breathlessly, over and over, draped helplessly over my chair."

I peered around the end of the shelter. If anyone had dared to approach and stop my grandfather's story at this point, I might well have pushed them down the cliff!

"Later, I let her bathe and try on her new clothes. To my eyes, she didn't look quite right - she was too young to wear classy lingerie and though I had purchased the smallest sizes, she barely filled the lacy cups of the sexy bra. It didn't matter - she had more than earned her reward and I had to chuckle when she gawped in disbelief at the prices on the labels. But she was in another world. I showed her all around the house and she helped me prepare a candlelit supper and could hardly stop herself from giggling, especially after her first ever glass of wine. We did not need much small talk - just watching her beautiful eyes reflecting the flame of the candles and her utter pleasure at the whole situation - that was enough. It would have been entirely the opposite of anything she had previously experienced and she was loving it.

"After the meal, the wine had gone to her head. I took her back to the guest room and she was so surprised that I did not follow her in and take her to bed that for the very first time since she had become my 'special' girl, she spontaneously threw her arms around me and kissed me. Maybe it was the wine made her do it, I suppose, but, I don't know, it was as if without anything said between us, our strange relationship had at that moment been sealed.

"The next day too, I treated her like a princess, and I had never seen her so relaxed and happy. I took her to the city and bought her a few things and she kept looking at her reflection in the shop windows and skipping along.

"And I sat patiently whilst some poor hairdresser tried to do something with that awful haircut. Late in the evening, when we were back at the house, I let her play the new records she had bought and she taught me how to do the 'Twist'. You'll never see anyone as truly ecstatic as she was, jiggling about, dancing without a care in the world. Even little Pam had not been as blissfully consumed by my TLC as this one was.

"When the music stopped, I simply said 'Strip'.

"I led her to the garage, naked, and she knew exactly what was I was going to do to her again. As soon as I stood beside her, without being told, she held out her wrists ready for me to attach the cloths and that was the moment I made my decision. I wanted her. Permanently."

When he did not continue, I turned, but he was once again thoroughly absorbed in his memories. He had become so quiet, I had had to strain my ears to hear him and I decided to allow him time to relive that moment.

"Adoption was a lot easier then, too, if you had the right connections," he chirped, suddenly emerging from his reverie. "Your Nan and I had talked about it before and it did not take too much persuasion from me this time. You know I can sell ice to Eskimos if I put my mind to it. We had been trying for children for a few years and by then she knew that she couldn't carry."

I leapt to my feet.

Hang on, that was rubbish, because they did have a daughter already - my own mother, for goodness sake, who was away at boarding school all the time he was abusing these girls - why had he not mentioned her...?

Then I sat down, as the penny finally dropped. Jesus F. Christ! It couldn't be...

"Just before the Home closed, the papers came through and I brought her to the house for good. When she saw what a fabulous bedroom your Nan had created for her, she cried with joy."

"Let me get this straight. Are you saying..." I tried to ask, but he once again held up his hand and I fell silent.

"For the first time in her life, she was loved, and she wanted for nothing. Your Nan doted over her and not for a moment did I think she was unhappy with being adopted by us nor what I did with her.

"The cottage was sold but by then I was dealing in property full-time and there was always an empty flat or shop on the books, where I could take her when she needed some proper discipline and a thorough fucking. Otherwise, if your Nan was out, it was great just being able to shag her whenever I wanted, or just have a fiddle under her clothes or have her suck me off. It was a great arrangement - everyone was a winner."

My head was reeling. He was no monster. But how could he talk about this to me? Until now I had been lapping up his exploits with these young girls, fully understanding his attraction to them. It was in the abstract and I was spellbound by it all. But to think that he had done that. To my own mother, for fuck's sake...

"She was such a wonderful girl, my little Princess, but I'm glad to say that I toned it down once she had lived with us for a year or more. Our sessions became less frequent but no less intense. Less is more, isn't that what they say?

"But even then, it was always as if she was never fully aware of her incredible sexuality.

"It was probably for the best that we sent her to boarding school for Sixth Form and then university but she came home regularly and gave not a second thought when I took her aside and had expected her to please me.

"Even then, when she was all grown up and leading a life of her own, she still did her duty. Only a few times a year by that stage, mind, but to be honest that was plenty as I wasn't getting any younger myself of course. Not just to humour me either - she was just as willing as ever and there was no doubting that she enjoyed every minute, still.

"It only stopped for good when she told me she was expecting. That became our last big secret. It was time to draw a final veil over all those great times.

"Sweet, sweet, girl," he mused.

"What? You kept on even after she got married?" I blurted with surprise, my brain scrambling to keep up.

"Of course. She was still my beautiful, obedient Princess. I didn't have to force her," he replied, straight-faced.

I pushed him back up to the Nursing Home in silence. I was too confused to speak. On the one hand, I was blown away by the whole concept of his having a string of helpless young girls, back in the day, but to hear him speak of my own mother like that, to discover that she was not his natural daughter, but some sexually-confused kid from a Home whom he had groomed and continued to exploit into adulthood - no, that was more than I could handle in one go. I said nothing, lest I say more than I should.

"There you are Mister Graham, I was worried about you. You are very late taking your medication."

I was pleased, no, relieved - to be able to hand him over to Angelique, the ever-smiling and very chatty Filipina nurse who was my grandfather's principal carer.

I had to clear my head. I excused myself for a few minutes and patrolled the rose garden, struggling to marshal my thoughts and quell my churning emotions.

He was propped up in his easy chair when I returned, looking exceptionally pleased with himself. He indicated for me to sit beside him.

"Quite a lot to take in, my boy," he understated. "But I am glad my old brain could dig all that up before it gives up completely."

I stopped the debate in my own head and remembered why I came to see my Grandpa every week: to enjoy his company before the dementia overwhelmed him. Whatever had taken place in the past, I had to forgive him. It was the least I could do: he was my flesh and blood.

No he bloody well wasn't! Not if my mother had been that girl he adopted! Not if she weren't his natural daughter after all.

Oh my God. No way...

With that uncanny ability he had to read my mind, he answered my question before I had time to pose it.

"Back at the cafe, when we were watching those two little girls, I said we shared the same genes. You were looking at them in just the same way I used to watch the girls at St Cecilia's. Well you need to know that it is true what I said: you do have my genes, lad. Just not quite in the same we you always thought, because now you know that your mother was adopted."

He had that same sly, knowing, spark in his eye as I saw as a kid, when he would pretend to have forgotten to buy me a birthday present and then would produce a hidden train set or the like from behind his back. Only instead of leaping with excitement, this time my guts squirmed into a knot of devastating realisation.

There was no need for him to spell it out any more clearly.

He was nodding. Job done. I finally understood what it was that he had to tell me. But I wondered if I would have preferred not to know, to remain ignorant of who was my biological father.

"I am truly sorry to have kept it from you, lad. There was never any doubt you were mine. That's why I knew you would like to hear about those days. And I also had to make sure you knew the truth, to hear it from my lips before I die."

Still speechless, I slumped back in my chair.

"Angelique," he called to the nurse, who was fussing about in the ensuite bathroom, "be a treasure and bring my son - haha, I mean my grandson of course, a nice cup of tea. Oh, by the way, do you mind if I show him your photo album, please?"

"Sure, Mister Graham," she smiled. Before she returned, he leaned close to me.

"Don't think badly of me. I know what I did, all of it, was morally questionable, and illegal, and some of it bloody disgraceful. But I never let anyone get hurt. Those girls did what they did without being traumatised and we did all right by them. Your Nan, your Dad - they were oblivious and that had to be for the best. Your Mum too, she had a good life, didn't she? Let's leave the past where it belongs."

He was right, I suppose. I rested my hand on his arm. Though it would take much longer for me to come to terms with what he had told me, I wanted him to know that I appreciated his courage wanting to clear the decks.

"Before she comes back, there's one more thing. I always looked after you at arm's length, even though I could never be a proper father to you, and that always did pain me. It is a bit late to start now, but there are a couple of ways I can try to make amends."

He was cradling the album, turning the pages slowly as he spoke. I squeezed his arm.

"It's all right, Grandpa. You don't..."

"No, no. But I must! You know, you'll do well by me when I'm gone?"

I presumed he would leave me something in his will, naturally, but I still did not like to think about such things.

"We don't need to talk about that, Grandpa," I protested. It felt awkward, calling him that, but I had done so for the past 30 plus years and I wasn't sure what else to call him, despite now knowing the dramatic new truth.

"Ah but we do need to talk, lad," he whispered. "That's the point. You'll be well off. You probably have some idea of what I'm worth? Well stick a zero on the end of what you think and you'll be closer to the real sum I've got squirreled away, haha! And apart from some trivial bequests, it's all coming to you. When you leave the Air Force next year, you won't need to look for another job, put it that way. If you simply stuck it all in the Post Office, the annual interest alone would be more than you get now. You'll be able to get about, let your hair down for once. You've been wedded to a wretched aeroplane too long and you need to live a little!"

I was uncomfortable. "Please, Grandpa..."

"But this isn't just about the money. That would be too easy.

"I wasn't there all the time for you, to show you how to make things or help with your homework. Your Dad was a grand fellow but where was I when you needed a leg up or advice? What I told you today, all my guilty secrets, it was my way of saying, 'Don't miss out on life, seize every opportunity to do whatever you want or dream about.'

"I can look back on my life and say that there is nothing I think I missed, no unfulfilled dreams. I've ticked all my boxes."

I grinned - he had some great turns of phrase, even now. It was so cruel that the dementia would soon cripple his mind for good. He flipped more pages then stopped and looked me in the eye.

"And the thing is, I know that you have the very same genetic tickboxes as me and I would hate to think you get to the end of your days having missed out on fulfilling any of them. Being financially secure will help, but there is something important I don't want you to be denied. Something we share. I owe you that. So I've been racking my brains to find a way and now I've had an idea."

I was trying hard to keep up with his line of thought. My God, this was the old Grandpa back - fired up with his latest brainwave.

"You won't be as fortunate as I was with St Cecilia's - Britain doesn't have opportunities like that any more, but that doesn't mean to say... oh bugger, where is that flipping picture?"

I looked puzzled. What did he mean? He had been searching through the nurse's photo album and was finally too distracted to both talk and leaf hurriedly through the pages at the same time.

Finding what he was looking for, he jabbed at the photograph in triumph. I craned to see.

"There! What do you think?" he asked, with a smile.

It was a photograph of Angelique, his nurse, wearing a brightly coloured dress, standing in the doorway of a rather run-down looking shack. Clasped proudly in front of her, dressed in a tight pink vest and tiny denim shorts, was a small girl, ten or eleven years old, her brilliant white teeth lighting up her cute dusky face, which showed a mixed Hispanic/oriental heritage and was quite simply drop-dead gorgeous.

Utterly fuckable.

Just as we heard Angelique approaching with my tea, he added cryptically, before she entered the room, "Remember what I said to you when we saw the ice cream girls? About gloves being the best fit at a certain age?"

Turning to the nurse, he smoothly continued, "Oh thank you, Angelique. We were just admiring this shot of your lovely daughter; how old is she now? She wants to be, what was it, a lawyer?"

Angelique giggled. ""Mister Graham, right now Maria wants to be teacher but she's still just my little baby and I know she will change her mind many times yet, I am sure! Last year she wanted to be a ballet dancer. That's why I came to England and she is living with my mother in Manila until I save enough money for her college, so she will have a chance to better herself no matter what she chooses to do. I could not earn such money at home. I do miss her so very much but it is the only way."

Looking first at Angelique and then at me, secretly shooting me his finest scheming wink, he began, "Not necessarily, Angelique. I think there might be something else we can do..."