Your erotic stories

CHAPTER 1

Kate Scott, a curvy brunette and associate editor of the Evening Herald and judge of the newspaper’s story competition, smiled when she read the covering note attached to the thick manuscript.

My name is Harry Blackwell. I submit this story as my entry in the Evening Herald’s Annual Best Story Competition. I don’t believe I have much chance of winning the $100 prize and have to admit my entry is many times over the 800-word limit but there you are.

All I can tell you in this covering letter it’s a story that needs to be told because it happened during my youth and the principal character was my late mother, Emma Blackwell.

Kate came from the village of Peakville, twenty miles east of the city, and knew Harry Blackwell as did everyone in the village and for miles around.

Harry had been confined to a wheelchair since he was seventeen in a bout of foolishness when drunk, he fell off the head and shoulders of the statue of Silas Peak in the village square. Harry landed on a very solid wheelbarrow at the base of the statue that had been used in Peak Coal Mine a century ago. He suffered spinal and severe pelvic injuries and never walked again.

When Harry came home from hospital his parents encouraged him to live as normal life as possible and he enrolled at an agriculture college and gained a degree in farming practice. The then editor of the Evening Herald, acting solicitously, agreed to Harry becoming agricultural for the eastern sector of its circulation area. Harry excelled and when the newspaper’s farming editor retired, Harry was appointed to the position. He’d retired four years ago, aged forty, and became Radio Rural’s ‘Farming Notes’ broadcaster for two hours every Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings and his ‘Gardening Notes’ hour on regional television on Sunday mornings had a huge following and the show was syndicated to other TV stations.

Kate knew Harry was a very likeable guy. Over the years several caregivers had lived with him and her widowed mother Helen was currently Harry’s live-in housekeeper. Rumor was he was sensation in delivering cunnilingus. Kate wasn’t sure that her mom was into that at her age.

Sighing although hardened by the work of her judgmental career, Kate tossed the manuscript aside because the entry failed to keep within the 800-word limit. When going home that evening she pulled the manuscript from the pile marked ‘return to sender’ and took it home to read. Her engineer husband Noel, whom Kate suspected had a girlfriend he’s so far had managed to keep secret, was away on a consultancy project and so she had plenty of reading time as their two young adult children had long left the nest.

Kate knew a deep secret, that she was Harry Blackwell’s half-sister and believed even Harry didn’t know that truth.

She read for hours, hugely fascinated to learn about her real mother and finally fell asleep sometime in the small hours, having wept at times because she’d not been allowed by her foster mother to even talk to the fascinating Emma Blackwell.

Until Helen confessed, Kate hadn’t known Helen was not her real mother and that when she was a child she was unaware Emma was simply enquiring about young Kate because she always took an interest in her eight illegitimate children that had been ‘adopted out’ to overcome legalities

In reading the manuscript, Kate had learned far more that what her mom Helen had confessed to her when Kate turned twenty, that Emma Blackwell had been Kate’s genetic surrogate mother.

Kate finished reading Emma’s story next evening and was left emotionally devastated.

Emma had died only a year ago. Why had she not contacted Emma? Just because her legal mother made her promise not to was no excuse.

Kate wept, unable to accept she’d been so weak. She’d always loved her mother Helen but now she realized she should have also loved Emma for making her birth possible. Kate thought of seeking counseling but gritted and scolded herself, “Don’t be such a wet. Go to Harry and ask is it all right that you love the memory of his mother because she was also your mother.”

Feeling a little better about it, Kate decided she must keep this secret intact from everyone but Harry.

Then she thought why hide it? She was proud of Emma Blackwell. She should tell her husband Noel and then Jenny and David. Oh that would really place her in the thick of things.

So what?

Yes so what?

Then another thing hit Kate. Harry knew then names of his eight half-siblings. Although it was clear the names being used were not the real names of the couples and babies, Harry knew so much, enough to write a book? Yes Harry did that because he knew everything. That meant Harry knew she was one of the eight, that he was the only legitimate child of Emma Blackwell!

God what a mess.

Kate felt quite sick but went to work just before 8:30 am as normal and after the editorial conference, wrote the day’s editorial about community litter being a sign of poor civic management and untidy people who were the thoughtless or willful members of a consumer society. How fucking banal, Kate fumed, as she collected her thoughts about litter to add to the editor’s waffling comments and other options tossed around by other senior editorial staff who gave the impression they would never litter the landscape.

Kate knew she’d much prefer writing a tribute to the great and loveable Emma Blackwell.

She banged out the editorial and emailed it to editor Guy Watson so came in grinning and said, “What’s got into you today Kate, all the fire and brimstone about people engaged in littering.”

“Then edit it. You usually do.”

“No it’s about time that bastards received a good tongue lashing,” Guy said, picking up a piece of screwed up paper off the floor.

“Guy are you going out to lunch today?”

“No I have Peggy bring in something for me.”

“Then order me a chicken sandwich a cappuccino. I’d like to spend time with you and give you something to read.”

“My wife forbids me to read porn.”

“Guy!”

“Oh sorry, yes come through at 1:00.”

Munching a thick bacon and egg sandwich, the florid-faced 51-year old Guy Watson began reading.

“So Harry has written an excessively long obituary about his mother?”

“It’s more like a memorial essay.”

Good-natured Guy eyed her, brushing around crumbs to litter the carpet.

“But it was good enough for you to read right through.”

“Yes.” Kate confirmed uncomfortably, knowing Harry had been acknowledged as the best investigative reporter in the newspaper’s 162-year history before he was appointed its current editor. She braced herself.

“So you know Harry, as we all do, but you read on looking for something you’ve always wanted to know?”

Kate couldn’t believe it. She’d doubted the dubious claim that Guy was the newspaper’s best investigative reporter ever and knew he had an acutely active mind but that question had virtually floored her.

“Read the preamble and Chapter 2,” she choked, and ignored Guy’s fucking know-all grin. The editor read the preface and then said, “Chapter two eh? Pour two glasses of wine and start on yours darling. You look as if you need it.”

* * *

Accompanied by her best friend Nellie Stott, heavily pregnant Emma Blackwell waddled in late for Sunday morning’s church service. The central core was packed because the side pews were closed off while the stone exterior walls were being strengthened from inside the church in compliance with new codes for public buildings.

Stopping reading, Guy said, “My pick is Nellie Stott will be your mom Helen Scott. Nellie is a derivative of Eleanor and Helen.”

Kate cringed and gulped her wine and was told to pour herself more.

Craning her neck, the taller Nellie said there were two spare seats in the front row.

“Let’s take them.”

“But everyone will see that you are pregnant and know that your husband died just on a year ago.”

“So and who cares? I was born to be continuously pregnant.”

“Rubbish.”

Emma said, “Be lovely to me darling. This little one shortly due is for you.”

They walked down the aisle, Emma swaying proudly and Nellie trying her best to blend into the background as the minister and congregation began singing the first hymn. Nellie needn’t have bothered to worry because all eyes were on Widow Blackwell as people attempted to guess who the father was and some females looking sideways at the males around them, including their own man.

Meanwhile at Emma’s home, her mother was watching the three-year old Harry pedaling his trike up and down the flat garden path. She was thinking she should be praying for her daughter’s forgiveness for being such a slut but couldn’t because Emma had been such a heroine in agreeing to allow infertile Nellie’s husband to impregnate her and Emma had agreed to hand over the newly born to Nellie and her husband for adoption.

During the boring church sermon, Emma thought happily about the efforts to get Thomas to impregnate her. Thomas would scarcely push his thin long and very white penis into her before he would ejaculate. She’d told him he’d need to hold off and to get her excited through foreplay and then to bang her for quite some time before pumping her with semen.

Emma finally achieved success after delaying Thomas’ almost instant ejaculation by strapping an icepack around his testicles with an indentation she’d made to accommodate the balls. During intercourse, when she began to heat up, she’s undo the quick-release strap on Thomas’ back and his urge to ejaculate began to match her desire to climax through the heat of their bodies warming his balls and signally his brain into believing the time had come from Thomas to fire semen deep into Emma.

Two months and about forty copulations later Emma ended Thomas’ visits thinking it was no use. Nellie reluctantly agreed and accepted the ice ball-bag with instructions on how it should be used to prolong her own bouts of sex with her husband.

“Every young woman expects to be banged for at least two hours ever session,” Emma smiled.

Nellie was surprised to learn that. Her mom had told her ten minutes from the time of insertion was the norm for most males although some lied they could go all night.

And then, twenty days after last being penetrated by Thomas, Emma was more than sure she’d missed her period.

Emma invited Nellie and Thomas around for dinner than night and there was great joy when the couple learned from Emma there had been ‘a lucky strike’.”

Turning a page, Guy chortled, “A lucky strike? God what a mess.”

“You’ve read far enough Guy. Let’s talk.”

“Okay but let’s get the paper out first.”

* * *

Watching Guy open a bottle of wine at 5:30, Kate knew she had to talk to someone and Guy was her best bet. God it could be so humiliating but deep down she knew Guy would come through for her and act as a wise counselor.

“Well what do you think about this mess?”

As managing-editor, Guy was more than Kate’s employer. They had both been reporters on the newspaper, he was ten years her senior, and they had worked their way up. Although Kate had been a brilliant news editor, Guy had promoted to her current position because he needed a deputy he could trust to perform impeccably in his absence. They usually only kissed when drunk and in private and a couple of times she’d bared her breasts to him but that was a far as he got with her. But well he was married. She was tough and he knew he could speak the truth.

“Well I think that baby soon to be born in Chapter 2 was you.”

Kate looked at him almost in relief and said she thought he’d be on to it.

Guy said, “What I can’t understand is why you have revealed this to me. You could have returned the submission to Harry and said rejected due to excessive length and that would have ended it.”

“I feel guilty because I knew Emma Blackwell was my genetic mother and never acknowledged that before she died.”

“Oh Christ,” Guy said, and rose and kissed her and Kate clung to him and wept.

He waited patiently.

“Thanks,” Kate said. “I’m better now; I feel I’ve achieved a great emotional release.”

Guy sat back on their shared sofa and sipped his wine and asked, “What do you think?”

“This is pure speculation.”

“I know.”

Kate said, “I think this is a cry of help from Harry Blackwell. As you well know, he’s not stupid. I think although he had high regard for his mother, he knows we are now into the third generation of his mother’s surrogate children and that his mother’s secret of bearing children for infertile couples ought to be widely known so that youngsters intending to marry should have blood tests to ensure relatives are not marrying one another unknowingly.”

“Or possibly illegally and that’s my thinking as well although damage might already have been done, albeit on a pretty minor scale. People who remained in your village and married locals are particularly vulnerable I’d say although the problem would be far from unique.”

Kate sighed and said that was something of a relief to hear him say that.

“Does Harry know you’re his half-sister?”

Kate swallowed and said, “I don’t think so.”

“But you can’t be sure?”

“No.”

“Then Kate I suggest you first talk to Harry and then I’d like to sit down with you both and talk this through.”

“Thank you. Your support is welcomed.”

Guy looked at Kate and realized she was vulnerable and knew her husband was away.

“Do you want to sit on my knee and be hugged?”

“Yes,” said vulnerable Kate, and slid over to sit on his knee.

Kate jammed her tongue into Guy’s mouth and they were away, Guy having said everyone else had gone and they would be undisturbed because it would be another hour or so before the cleaners would arrive on that floor.

“I’m vulnerable right now.”

Guy leered and said he knew and that’s why he would fuck her to fulfill a desire that went right back to the beginning of their association and to make her feel wanted and admired.

“Then why didn’t you pressure me for it long before this?” groaned Kate, feeling his hidden erection. “Get this out for me.”

“Fish it out yourself,” he teased and at the same time fish out a tit for me.”

She spat: “Go to hell.”

That rather shook Guy’s confidence. “Oh Kate I’m sorry, I was only teasing. It’s best that I get it out anyway.”

They separated while he unbuckled his pants.

Kate pulled her dress up over her hips and unzipped the back and pulled the top down to her waist. She undid her bra and then slid her panties off and finished all of that while Guy, who was slower and a little over-weight, was kicking off his lowered pants and briefs.

“Oooh Guy, that’s a sizeable piece you have there. For some reason I always thought you would be well-stacked.”

Guy looked at the slightly drooping breasts and said, “For some reason I had the same thought about you.”

He sat and leaned back and Kate took the hint and dropped to her knees on the floor. She picked up his erection, wondering if it had been used adulterously before this, and began licking it up and down before feeding some of it into her mouth after playing with the tip with her tongue. She then used a hand to jerk him while sucking.

A girl doesn’t expect a guy to praise her early into fellatio unless encouragement is considered necessary but Guy’s soft groans indicated he was the beneficiary of a woman who’d sucked sufficient dick in her time to become proficient at it.

Kate intended to back off when she’d worked Guy almost to the threshold but too late… he grunted just the once, tensed and warm and slightly salty semen creamed over Kate’s tongue. She pulled away a little disgruntled and while Guy once again threw back his head and closed his eyes, she spat the load down on to her breasts before the next burst arrived.

“That was great, truly great,” he panted and looking at her swollen breasts appeared surprised to see two flows of his semen down one of them. “I was expecting you to back off before triggering me, knowing I was an older guy.”

“Well we never completely know what to expect from sex, even when we get older,” Kate said philosophically and that drew a big smile from him. “Is that it or can you go again?”

Guy looked offended and said, “Christ Kate, I’m only fifty-one and in quite good shape.”

Well she hoped he wasn’t lying about being able to come again. She thought he was lying about being in quite good shape because as far as she knew the only exercise he did was to walk to and from his car… oh yes, and not doubt he engaged in some home sex.

They both watched as Guy fed his thick cock into her and Kate confirmed it was indeed a good fit.

“I feel very full,” she said and that was true. He began plowing her in missionary and that was a little disappointing.

It was a slow grind, an apt term and Kate could see he was becoming red-faced and tiring. She squeezed on his thrusting dick and that made no difference to his pace or his expression and she bit his ear and that only produced a cry of ouch. Finally she intervened.

“Roll on to your back,” she commanded and had to smile when he panted and said was she tiring. Well yes, tiring of going nowhere but that was something you didn’t say to a guy in this situation.

She sat in reverse cowgirl and fed his dick back in and leant right back, taking some of her weight on her hands.

“Oh I mightn’t be long enough in my erection for this.”

Kate frowned and thought if he believed his dick could do anything, he’d not be saying that.

“Keep thinking dirty to ensure it stays hard and concentrate on keeping my butt and your groin as close as possible and I’ll have you off in no time.”

He didn’t reply and she sighed thinking that meant he was avoiding a negative reply.

“Wet your little finger and slide it into my butt.”

“What?” he said, sounding shocked.

Oh fuck, she moaned to herself. She was supposedly fucking a red-blooded editor, not a pious church elder.

She tightened around him and they settled into a rhythm of sorts and then she felt a wet and not so small finger pressing into her butt. That worked and presumably he felt his dick through the thin membrane sliding in and out (well almost out) of her cunt and he was muttering in awe, ‘Oh fuck me.”

“Okay then let’s do it,” she panted and squeezed around his cock as hard as she could.

“Come on asshole,” she yelled. “Full my cunt with your juice.”

“Oh Kate, oh Kate, here it comes.”

She balanced on one hand, twisted and reached over her sweaty thigh and cupped his balls and squeezed lightly.

“Oh shit, oh fuck oh mamma.”

Oh mamma? Kate wondered what that was about and pulling back her hand for balance, gave him two more downward thrusts as he was coming and groaned into a rather good release herself.

She rolled off and sat up panting and to her surprise felt she’d been well fucked.

“God Kate, you are fucking amazing,” he enthused, looking down at his already limp dick. “Do you take it up the butt?”

“Don’t be so foul,” she said haughtily.

“Sorry.”

Then he said belatedly that he hadn’t been wearing protection.

“I know but I trust you Guy,” she said, picking up her panties to deal with seepage.

“Christ that was my biggest ejaculation in years,” he said proudly. “Perhaps some positions are better than missionary. I’ll get some tissues.”

* * *

Kate sighed. Through the window of the café she watched her mother park in the area marked, ‘Disabled Person’s Parking’ and watched her mom get out and open the rear doors of the van and pull out the aluminum ramp and Harry rolled out on his motorized electric wheelchair.

Her mom, Harry’s housekeeper and minder, had performed her role so efficiently, noted Kate, feeling proud of Helen, who was sixty-two, and watched her fold up the ramp against the doors of the van and secure it. She then spoke briefly to Harry, hugged him and then walked off, probably to the library. Kate had booked lunch for three but was glad her mom had decided to give Harry and Kate privacy, as if she knew what this was about. The fact was Kate had not yet told her about Harry’s riveting manuscript. She’d decided first things first, and top of the agenda was to talk to Harry first.

Kate stood and pulled out a chair to allow Harry to move right into the table if he wished. Harry flipped over the top of a tray that came in against his stomach and the side supporting the tray lowered, allowing him to come partly in to be under the table. They’d already greeted one another. Kate decided it was no need to drag it out and so she hugged him and said, “Take this kindly Harry. Are you aware I’m your half-sister?”

“You’ve done some sleuthing.”

“No. Mom told me when I turned twenty. I’m seeking confirmation. I haven’t applied to search adoption records.”

“Yes you are my half-sister. I’m three years and ten months older than you according to what mom always said to me in recent years. There are seven others who were conceived in similar circumstances to you and carried by her to successfully births. You are the second to last of them to have spoken to me about it.”

“I’m sorry and cannot explain my reluctance to do that. I was devastated at the age of fourteen to be told I was adopted although dad was my real father and the secret about who my mother was continued for another six years. I also cannot explain why I then used to watch you mother, my birth mother, in the distance but could never find the courage to approach her. I used to be called a hard-nose reporter but that was crap; when it came to approaching your mother and saying hi mom my courage failed me.”

“Look Kate,” Harry said. “There is no need to apologize because I understand and the reaction of those six others were mixed or as I said in my manuscript, their reactions ranged from being to a little confused to total confusion. I approached all seven after mom’s death last year. Six already knew and the other was devastated. I didn’t need to approach you because your mom, being mom’s best friend, had said you knew.”

“Oh this weighs on my like a burden,” Kate said, almost sobbing.

“I’ll tell you something Kate. What I wrote in that manuscript I sent you was one hundred percent true, mom repeatedly said to me she didn’t regard you eight as being her children. She considered she was only a vehicle that brought about your birth.”

“Emma Blackwell was a remarkable woman,” Kate sobbed and from out of nowhere Harry produced a paper tissue and handed it to her.

Wiping her eyes, Kate said, “Can you tell me the name of person who so far hasn’t spoken to you about it?”

“Mom didn’t want any of you to know who the other seven were.”

“That’s okay and obviously you were reluctant to speak about it yourself.

Harry sighed and drummed his fingers on the table. “Look, if you promise never to disclose the name I’ll tell you.”

“Okay Harry, tell me. My curiosity had gotten the better of me.”

“That young rising star as a TV presenter, Lucy Laurence.”

“Omigod. Well she’d so full of herself I can understand what the shock must have been to her when discovering the truth why she was her parent’s only child. For all we know she may have regarded adopted children as second-rate citizens within a family.”

“That was my suspicious as well,” Harry grinned. “Mom always said it was all in the mind because no baby gets to choose its parents.”

Kate giggled and felt better.

They had lunch and agreed to meet on Friday, same place and same time but with editor Guy Manning joining them.

“You are not going to publish my submission are you?” Harry charged.

“If that was decided we’d not be having these meetings,” Kate soothed. “There are issues to consider and that’s why we need to talk. Why did you submit your manuscript Harry?”

He muttered something and looked evasive.

“See what I mean Harry? We need to resolve some questions.” Alas, Harry never learned the outcome of that publishing dilemma.

Kate reported her meeting with Harry to Guy and that a lunch had been arranged for the three of them to progress the matter. Kate learned that Guy was interested in publishing a story of the truth about the eight children born to Emma Blackwell and that forced her to declare she wanted Guy to agree to publish Harry’s submission in condensed serialized format, but not before careful legal appraisal.

They left that difference unresolved for the time being but then three nights later Harry died in his sleep.

Kate’s distressed mother said that Harry had felt since his mother’s death that his own death could be imminent. He had been advised medically that the blood supply to his lower body was not good because of inactivity and continued to refuse to have regular physiotherapy on his lower limbs.

“Also in recent years he’d developed heart problems,” Helen wept. “He told me he expected an early death because he was dying slowly from the feet up.”

Kate wrote the obituary for the Evening Herald and the city’s morning newspaper used her reference, wording, that Harry was the only child of the late Alec Blackwell and his wife, the late Emma Blackwell.

About 400 people attended the funeral that included a large contingent newspaper, TV and radio representatives. Kate looked for TV presenter, Lucy Laurence, attending to say farewell to her half-brother but saw no sign of her. However she did spot two other of Emma’s eight surrogate children and she was glad about that but sad those two were unaware they genetically were half-sisters to Kate.

Kate believed those children, now adults, had the right to know who their relatives were, even that conceited cow TV presenter Lucy Laurence. She decided to really think about that dilemma. Kate had received a call from the Alec and Emma Blackwell Family Trust lawyer to visit her at 10:00 on the morning and she wondered whether the other seven adoptees would be there, or would they be given separate appointments.

The short and severe-faced Mrs Blake greeted Kate politely and Kate accepted the offer of coffee.

“According to your mother Kate, you had lunch with the late Harry Blackwell on Friday eleven days ago.”

“Friday week ago, yes that’s correct.”

“And what was the purpose of that meeting?”

“Didn’t my mother tell you that?”

Mrs Blake said she was asking Kate.

“Well I see no reason why I shouldn’t tell you. It was a preliminary discussion about a manuscript he’d sent to the Evening Herald and it was addressed to the associate editor, and that is my position on the newspaper.”

“Are you presently in possession of that manuscript?”

“Yes I am.”

“Good because I have found an entry in Harry’s diary that says he believes you intend trying to get his manuscript published but he doubted you would manage to achieve that but never mind. You had a real interest in that story and he wanted you to have the manuscript even if publication attempts failed. So it’s yours to keep. I find that statement of intent unequivocal and as the executor of Harry’s estate I would be failing in my duty if I did not carry out his wish to have you keep the manuscript. I have no idea of its value and am not interested in having it valued.”

“Thank you Mrs Blake.”

“Oh that’s not all. In this envelope are a list of the names and last-known addresses of your seven half brothers and sisters. Harry instructed three weeks ago to give you the list as he felt he might pass away in the not too distant future.”

“Why me?”

“Harry said you are the eldest of the surrogate children.”

“But that’s not fair. Harry told me three of his half-siblings had visited him fairly regularly. Should not they share this list instead of me?”

“That is not for me to say Kate. I am carrying out Harry’s instructions and now is the time for me to tell you of Harry’s wish, as that is that you, treading carefully, unite the eight of you or as many as you can managed to bring together. He doubted that you would have any luck in persuading TV presenter Lucy Laurence to join the fold.”

Kate thought for a moment and then said, “Well I have no problem doing this for Harry and I believe I should first approach the difficult Miss Laurence.”

“Ah so Harry told you about her. Well I admire your strategic thinking Kate. Win her over and I would assume the other will be easy to muster.”

“Finally it’s my duty to tell you that all of Harry’s non liquid assets, including the house he inherited from his mother, are to be sold and the net return is to be shared equally by you eight half-siblings. The liquid assets of cash and money on fixed deposit total $38,000 are to pass to you.”

“To me?”

“Yes Kate but don’t get too excited. That money comes with a string attached although I must advise it is simply Harry’s wish and is completely unenforceable.”

CHAPTER 2

Kate had lunch with editor Guy Manning in his office.

Guy said, “I keep thinking of your tits Kate and how you squeezed me into the biggest ejaculation I’ve ever had.”

“Well that was a one-off Guy,” she laughed. “Just remember you are married and so am I.”

“Christ Kate, don’t be so cold-hearted. Are you saying we can never do it again?”

Kate considered that. Her husband Noel had arrived home exhausted and it was three nights before he came looking for sex. The mongrel had probably been banging some bitch while he was away on that assignment. Kate wondered had he taken his young PA with him? When preparing his clothes used on that trip she’d found a pack of five condoms in the back pocket of his sports pants. He never used condoms at home; in fact Kate hadn’t been aware he knew what they were. The sly bastard, cheating on her, she sighed.

“If we can guarantee security, like going away for a naughty weekend, I guess I could be persuaded to roll over for you.”

Guy leered at her and then diverted and asked did she have a successful meeting with Harry’s lawyer.

“Let me get this straight,” Guy said, after listening to what Kate had told him.

“You want to publish a book about Emma Blackwell because that is Harry’s wish but it cuts across Emma’s wishes and so that gives you a tough choice. But you think Emma’s stance was to keep the anonymity until all the children were at least in their mid-twenties so that they should be mature enough to decide whether they wanted exposure to their half-siblings. And you think you should win over the other siblings to consent to their story being told and it’s up to them to get their families onside.”

“Yes.”

“And that this gives me the choice of allowing you to take leave of absence for six months to research and write the book, or for you to work here to noon each day on half pay and then go home and work on the book including negotiating with your siblings and working through legalities or that I accept your resignation.”

“Yes.”

“Kate you are forty. If I accept your resignation I would have to fill your position and the board would be very unhappy about that because you are being groomed to take over as editor when I retire.”

“If I live that long,” Kate said and they laughed.

“At forty you would have a tough time attempting to break back into newspapers in a senior role when the book is published.”

“I don’t care. I need to do this for Emma and Harry, particularly for Emma because she birthed me into the life I’ve had.”

“Christ Kate, did you have to say that. How can I be ruthless when you say soppy stuff like that? If you must know I had sex with Emma Blackwell in the summer after I graduated high school. We both were at a co-ed camp as support staff. Emma was a senior in charge of kitchen staff and output and I worked maintaining and repairing equipment. I was a novice at sex and Emma taught me all she knew and that was plenty.”

“Omigod.”

“Yes well sometimes guys get a lucky break,” Guy grinned. “Let me talk to the chairman about this. He’s due in mid-afternoon to discuss building maintenance.”

“God Guy, you and my surrogate mother. I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah well don’t forget she was young and acted sexy and was three years away from her first wedding.”

“First wedding?”

“Yes and that indicates you have a lot of research to do before you start rewriting Harry’s manuscript darling.”

Guy came into Kate’s office late afternoon and said, “Eileen (the board chairman) believes the best option for us is the one with the least disruption, and that’s to give you three months’ leave of absence on 15% of salary and that is to retain you to come in and cover for me if I’m sick or are away at a conference or whatever. I thought that was good thinking and I agreed with Eileen you already possess a meaty manuscript. You should be able to fill in the gaps through research and complete the rewrite and get the edited manuscript off to her brother within three months.”

“What has her brother got to do with this?”

“I knew Eileen’s brother was CEO of a book publishing company and that’s why I referred this matter to her. She now feels involved. She called her brother while I was with her and bullied him into committing to publishing on the proviso if the manuscript comes up short then we will pay for a professional writer to do another rewrite.”

“What damn cheek. I’m a professional writer.”

“Yes of course but tell me Kate, how many books have you had published?”

“Asshole,” Kate muttered. “Well why’s Eileen Rogers guaranteeing payment if a professional writer has to be called in?”

“That’s easy to answer. Anthony Kennedy, one of you half-siblings, is Eileen’s twin sister’s only child and although he’s now thirty-three they both love him to bits. I had explained to Eileen you were committed to this project because Emma Blackwell was your birth mother. Eileen hadn’t been aware there had been other children born via Emma and was absolutely flabbergasted when I told her that Anthony was one of eight. Her response was this book would be a real winner because it was such a unique story. Her brother the publisher thought so too.”

Guy added quietly, “Are you intending to fully expose yourself as one of Emma’s surrogate children in this story?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then when the time comes I’ll talk to Eileen about contributing some cash toward the publisher’s promotion of your book.”

“Thanks and much appreciated. Thanks to your encouragement I’m in a hurry to start.”

“Then finish up here today. I’ll advise HR you are on ninety days’ leave of absence, starting from tomorrow and will remain on 15% of basic salary as a retainer to be standby acting editor.”

“Thanks Guy and I truly mean that. I’ll stay in touch and if you wish to take me away for a dirty weekend give me a call.”

He grinned.

Kate called Mrs Blake, executor of the late Harry Blackwell’s estate, who sounded rather excited that Kate was taking three months leave of absence from her job to commit to writing the book and that a publisher had been arranged.

“Mrs Black may I request that you release to me all of Harry’s diaries, papers and photos on trust as a loan for the duration of this project. Hopefully he would have retained childhood photos and perhaps documents passed on to him after his mother’s death.”

“Yes dear, I’m agreeable to that and all you have to do is to sign a simple document that all the material sent to you under this agreement must be returned to me at the conclusion of this project. My feeling is publication of a book will bring posthumous fame to Emma Blackwell and local museums and libraries could be interested in possessing some of those documents for their archives.”

“I should inform you I’ll have to advise the other beneficiaries from Harry’s estate that they are so named and what the processes are that I must follow as executor. I expect to be in the position to send that letter out to you eight beneficiaries today week.”

Kate’s husband Noel couldn’t believe she was taken three months off book to rewrite a manuscript.

“You are a professional writer and should be capable of doing that in three weeks, not three months.”

“You are an engineer Noel. I wouldn’t expect you to know that a story written by a guy with no writing experience would have as many holes as a sieve and would lack structure, setting and drama that are the elements that make a good read.”

“Yes, yes I can accept that. Engineers are not idiots. But why are you writing this?”

“Because my half-brother the late Harry Blackwell wanted me to upgrade his manuscript about our mother Emma Blackwell to get it published.”

Noel’s jaw dropped.

“But I’ve always believed Helen is your mother.”

“Yes love and you were correct in believing that because that’s what you were told. But the truth is my father impregnated Emma Blackwell with Helen’s agreement because Helen had found she could never become pregnant and Emma was mom’s best friend. Shortly after I was born mom and dad adopted me.”

“B-but why wasn’t I told about this?”

“My deception occurred because at that time I was too ashamed to tell you. But that’s changed now and I’m ashamed I didn’t tell you and so ashamed that I never recognized Emma as by birth mother before she died.”

“Jesus you poor baby,” Noel said, jumping up and going over and sitting beside his wife hugged her. This is such a fucking mess. We’ll have to tell the kids.”

“Yes and I accept that and it will be a relief to me to tell them. Are you mad at me?”

“Um no. No definitely not and I admire you have the guts to answer Harry’s call to try to get the story published knowing that you have to publicly expose yourself as an adoptee if you wish to tell the whole story. That takes guts.”

They sat and talked on for a couple of hours and then Noel, standing and yawning and saying he was off to bed, said and sounded absolutely sincere: “I’m with you stopping work and doing this baby. It’s a story that should be told because it could inspire adopted kids everywhere and other surrogate moms would be extremely interested as well.”

Kate cleared away the coffee cups and left the kitchen tidy, switching off the lights. She arrived in the bedroom just as Noel came from the bathroom.

“Are we going to fuck tonight?”

“Oh yeah,” he said, looking quite surprised that she was in the mood. Or perhaps he was surprised that she had used the F-word when not passionately aroused.

* * *

Early next morning Kate used the phone number from the list that Harry had compiled and TV presenter, Lucy Laurence answered warily.

“Hi I’m Kate Scott, associate editor of the Evening Herald. I need to speak to you urgent. Can we meet for coffee?”

“How did you get this number? It’s unlisted.”

“I’m a trained newshound Lucy, so getting a phone number is pretty elementary. You began as a reporter and you should know that.”

“What do you wish to talk to me about?”

“It’s confidential.”

“Then I’m sorry. I’m too busy to go out for coffee.”

“Well if that’s the way you feel, then fine.”

Kate then waited, half-expecting the pretty Lucy to cut the call.

“Are you people intending to publish something you have about me?”

“Meet me for coffee and find out.”

They met an hour later and exchanged greetings but didn’t touch.

Kate saw herself as being friendly and relaxed whereas Lucy appeared nervous and ready to bolt. Well perhaps this would send Lucy fleeing, Kate thought, aware that after seeing Lucy this close up the youngster was not a genuine blonde.

“Be prepared to be shocked Lucy. Are you aware you are my youngest half-sister?”

Lucy’s face screwed up and Kate almost expected her to scream. Instead Lucy hissed, “Go away and keep out of my life.”

“It’s too late for that Lucy, the ball has begun to roll. You are aware that the late Mrs Emma Blackwell was your surrogate mother but are you also aware you have seven half brothers and sisters?”

“Seven?” Lucy gasped, “But I’ve always been an only child.”

“Yes it’s not been fair has it, having the truth hidden from us all those years? I’m forty and only found out that fact recently following the death of Emma Blackwell.”

“I always knew that I was adopted but Mom only told me when I was eighteen that Mrs Blackwell had been my birth mother.”

“But on learning that, you must have known that Emma had a disabled son Harry and he must be your genetic half-brother?”

“I’m not sure I did work that out. I can’t remember. I tried so hard to forget that I was adopted. Here comes the waitress.”

Their coffee arrived and neither had ordered food.

Lucy said suddenly, “I’ll have to seek legal advice about stopping you publishing anything concerning my background. I’ll do anything to protect my career as a TV presenter.”

Kate was glad this threat had arisen so early in the conversation. It gave her the chance to deal with it while she still had shots to deliver.

“So you are happy to deny the existence of your birth mother?”

“I-I… well no I don’t deny it,” Lucy said, and dabbed her brow with the napkin.

“Look at me Lucy. I’m a brunette. What is your natural hair coloring?”

“Brunette.”

“I have hazel eyes, you have hazel eyes. Emma Blackwell, our birth mother, was a brunette with hazel eyes but don’t expect all our half-siblings to have the same coloring.”

“But I won’t be meeting any of them.”

“Why not?”

“I-I…”

“I wish to call a meeting of the eight of us to discuss the manuscript Harry Blackwell sent me only days before he died in his sleep. It’s good but needs a lot of work done on it before I can submit it to the publisher.”

“Oh god that would ruin my career.”

“How’s that?”

“I would be shunned because many people regard adopted children as second-rate citizens.”

“Is that so? On the other hand we all know Moses was adopted but did you know Aristotle was adopted and here’s a good one, so was Marilyn Monroe?”

“Omigod of course, at least I knew about Moses and Marilyn.”

“Lucy I’d like you to consider supporting this publication project. You all will be described and the circumstances behind your conceptions but this story is principally about what a remarkable woman Emma Blackwell was, serving as a benevolent mother ship to couples who desperately wanted a child but between them could not produce a pregnancy. Before you reply, let me quote you a piece from Harry’s manuscript that I believe is something he must have written down when talking to his mother Emma Blackwell during those months when she was bedridden and in pain and knowing she was slowly dying:

And then, twenty days after last being penetrated by Thomas, Emma was more than sure she’d missed her period.

Emma invited Nellie and Thomas around for dinner than night and there was great joy when the couple learned from Emma there had been ‘a lucky strike’.

“My goodness, that sounds so dramatic,” said Lucy. “Why did you choose to quote that particular section?”

“That’s a good question. They are not the real names but I think they should be and that’s why I want this preliminary meeting to begin the process to get signed authorizations to use real names. That little extract I’ve just quoted you was the how my conception almost forty-one years ago was revealed to my parents.”

“Omigod.” Lucy choked and rushed around to hug her half-sister. That must have been so wonderful (sob) to have read that, to know it was so much about you and your start in life. It must have been somewhat like that for me. My mom would not tell me saying it was something I didn’t need to know and finally I gave up asking.”

“Thanks for sharing your thoughts darling,” Kate said wiping away Lucy’s tears. “Your comments have proven enlightening to me Lucy. It tells me that after the meeting of eight and we all agree to commit without reservation, Stage Two will be a meeting of the eight and their mothers.”

“Oh we best have plenty of tissues on hand,” Lucy laughed, remaining on Kate’s knee. It will be so emotional. Omigod…”

“I know,” Kate said. “It was to be my Ace to win you over if that looked doubtful. You should go to your director of programming and seek to be allowed to produce a TV documentary on this with the proviso that it’s not promoted until the eve of the launch of the book and it screens on evening prior to the day the book is launched.”

“But funding, how will I get funding?”

“Never fear darling. Who did you know in the media who is willing to turn down a good story? Just get it authorized and hope hearts will melt and someone in at your TV station will be able to find a willing principal sponsor. I believe my newspaper company will be willing to chip in.”

“Omigod. I’ll need to handpick a production team.”

“You’ve recorded our conversation haven’t you?”

Lucy turned scarlet.

“It’s okay. I accept that was self-protection because you didn’t know what this meeting was about. I didn’t come down in the last shower and could see you were wearing a broach that concealed a microphone… young women of your age are not big into wearing an imitation flower on their lapels.”

“Kate I’m sorry. I can wipe the recording.”

“Please don’t. Get a transcript made of it and this conversation at this our first meeting can be filmed at a later date.”

“God Kate you are so masterful.”

CHAPTER 3

On Kate’s first day as working to evolve Harry’s manuscript into a publishable book, well hopefully she would succeed in that mission, Kate rose at her normal time and did the normal things she usually did before driving the twenty-three miles to her parking space at the evening newspaper’s offices.

She took the customary coffee and oat biscuit to sleepy and jaded-looking Noel, pleased that she’d brought him to the point of exhaustion last night in their very robust bouts of sex, proving to him that a sex-seasoned wife could be right up there with the fitness-focused bimbo that was his company PA.

Noel said groggily, “Good morning, you look a picture this morning. Sex has always suited you. God I feel totally fucked.”

“Thanks darling,” she said smugly, continuing to throw the occasional endearment his way although knowing the slime ball had a mistress. Well she had decided to continue living with him and she may as well continue with normal patterns because sooner rather than later the infatuated babe would come to her senses and find a guy with a willing dick who was more her own age and handsome to boot.

“I’d forgotten just how good you were at sex.”

Shocked at that concession, Kate almost ripped off her clothes and jumped into bed with the jerk.

He tumbled her back to earth by saying, “Why are you dressed like that today. Aren’t you going to work?”

She had to remind him she began her three-month sojourn that day and would be straight into it. Of course he showed no interest in that comment, clearly believing she was wasting time and effort and should return to proper writing and editing.

An hour later when the revived Noel after breakfast in bed he gone off cheerfully to his job, Kate began setting up the utility room that hadn’t been used since the kids’ had left home as her home office. Well it was only fair because Noel had the study as his home office. She called a childhood friend Alf Simpson at Alf’s Trading Post who yawned and said “Hi.”

“Still thinking at getting that yellow bicycle when you were seven?”

“Huh? Omigod, Kate… Kate…”

“Just Kate will do Tiger. I can understand the memory loss since you will have been masturbating since daylight.”

“Bitch,” he laughed. “It’s a long time since we’ve conversed, though I often see you driving around in that black sedan, always the cleanest vehicle in the village.”

They chatted and at last he remembered her surname had been Mason and was now Scott. Relieved that he had a working brain, Kate asked him if he had a modern business desk for sale

“Yeah three.”

“Then pick out the best suitable for a lady and then have your assistants bring it around this morning along with a proper invoice.”

“Lady? Oh is your daughter back home?”

“Asshole,” she laughed and he chuckled and she imagined Alf stroking one of his red chubby cheeks rather than his penis.

A courier man arrived. “Mrs Scott we have thirty-one cartons for you. Please show me where to stack them.”

Oh god, thirty-one cartons she almost wailed. There will be no room for the desk.

“Please stack them against this wall Rufus,” she said, recognizing him as the son of one of her mother’s friends. “The biggest and heaviest ones of the bottom and rising in rows of next heaviest weight.”

“We’re not laborers, Brian and I are couriers.”

Kate ignored that.

“How are your mother’s roses looking this season Rufus?”

The young man grinned and said they were looking great. “I’ve always thought of you as being sexy and can add being very smart as well. We’ll do what you have asked.”

“Thanks Rufus. I’ll bag some cookies for you and your man-servant or would you prefer a thick ham sandwich?”

“Ham sandwiches and don’t spare the mustard Mrs….”

“Rufus you are a new father now. It’s best you call me Kate from now on. And how are Claire and dear wee Johnny?”

“Both are bonny. I can’t believe you know the name of my wife.”

“I’m a newspaper journalist Rufus and remember this place is only a village although residents pompously call it a town. People expect us to know everything.”

After the two men departed, already ripping into their thick sandwich, Kate called the Electronics Shop.

“Oh hi Mr Walters. It’s Kate Scott.”

She lied, “My mother sends her love.”

Well Kate was aware Bill Walters and her mom had ‘horsed around’ in their late teens and Kate had been quite sure her mom hadn’t been referring to horse-riding.

Mr Walters replying to that sounded pleased and Kate embarrassed herself by imaging him patting his dick and smiling. God were teenagers really that promiscuous in those days?

Kate said she was after a good quality and reliable computer printer that could also perform as a photocopier and fax machine.

“If you want it for heavy duty you should move into the SOHO class.”

“What’s that?” asked the editor who was supposed to know everything.

“SOHO stands for small office/home office and that class of all-in-one printer is more expensive but the output is of higher quality and the equipment in it is more robust. I can bring in the model I have in mind for you in if you wish.”

“Thanks with delivery soonest please and I guess being my mother’s daughter I qualify for trade discount?”

“Is this a commercial project you’ll be working on?”

“Yes.”

“Well since you are your mother’s daughter, as you so quaintly put it, “I’ll knock 20% off retail price.”

“Oh Mr Walters, you are such a darling.”

He laughed. “You mom could handle guys like you obviously can do when she was young.”

“Goodbye and thanks Mr Walters. I trust Margaret is well”

“You know the name of my wife?”

“Yes Mr Walters. Don’t you?”

They laughed as he said apart from a touch of arthritis in her right knee Margaret was fine.

Kate called her mom and invited her over for coffee and said they needed to talk. “I’m home, not at the office.”

“Oh are you sick?”

“Mom,” Kate said painfully, “You know I’m never ill.”

“Yes well that’s a lie for a start. I can come now.”

Kate, thinking she was so supremely efficient, suddenly had quite a shock: The envelope of the eight names and other details. She couldn’t believe she’d placed that valuable, at least to her, document into her handbag when receiving it and had forgotten about it.

Oh how careless in inefficient she was, she groaned to herself and found it in the handbag she remembered having on that day she’d visited the lawyer’s office.

Hands shaking, she unfolded the list and read the names and occupations and for the moment assumed the occupations and other details would be up to date, the list reading from the eldest down:

Kate Scott (nee Mason), newspaper associate editor

Anthony Kennedy, public accountant

Alf Simpson, secondhand dealer

Kathleen Mellow (nee Armstrong), physician

Penny Laughton, child psychology consultant

John Bishop, computer programmer

Alan Ryan, hospital admissions clerk

Lucy Lawrence, TV presenter

Kate was gob smacked. She knew of them all and the five oldest below her had been at high school when she was still there. She though oh god, where to start?

* * *

Help for Kate came from an unexpected quarter, her own mother.

Helen arrived just as two guys arrived delivering the desk. She said hi to her daughter, asked where the desk was going, and then took over, directing the men not to knock other furniture or to scrape the painted walls.

Despite the distraction of Helen, the guys managed to get the desk into position, and left after handing Kate the invoice and they almost ran from the house.

Kate sighed. She knew her mom could be such a pain but at least she’d probably deliver the fullest and most accurate account of the decision to try to allow Emma Blackwell to carry her husband’s child, at least that making it half hers and Tom’s child post adoption.

“What are all these boxes littering this room?” Helen asked. “Should I call a courier to take them to the dump?”

“No thank you mother. They are on loan to me on trust. They contain all of the papers Emma and Harry left behind when they died.”

Kate saw him mom’s light switch on.

“Omigod, twenty boxes of stuff. What a valuable resource for you if you wish to improve Harry’s unedited draft biography of his mother’s life.”

“Yes mom and I’ve taken off three months from the newspaper to rewrite Harry’s bio. It will take me weeks sorting just to sort what’s relevant and what’s not.”

“Well if you wish I can take charge of that while you begin other research. It doesn’t surprise me you have taken time off work to work on this project; you’ve never been one to do things by half. I call my old club together.”

“What club? You don’t belong to any clubs outside of your hard of hearing club and book club. Oh you mean your book club?”

“No dear. I mean the club that Emma Blackwell formed after three of her surrogate births and knowing more couples would be lining up. When the club finally folded nine years ago I was still inaugural convener and all eight mothers of Emma’s mothering by proxy births were club members.”

Helen looked at her daughter who was gaping like a beached fish.

“What is it dear, I do hope you’re not about to vomit?”

When Kate had calmed she hugged her mom and asked why she hadn’t been told of the existence of such a club.

“Well darling, you just think back. You weren’t told of Emma’s involvement in your birth until you were twenty and thereafter you didn’t like hearing any reference to the fact that you had been adopted.”

“The whole fucking world is a conspiracy even if some of it is benign,” Kate muttered, only to be told her mother preferred not hearing that F-word.

* * *

A date to suit all seven other woman to attend an emergency meeting of the former Emma Club was called at a day and time to suit and it was held the following Sunday afternoon. When everyone was seated Helen said she’d call her daughter to explain what the meeting was about.

“Kate!” yelled Helen.

Kate recognized most of the women and called them by name and said hi and introduced herself to the three other she’d never met.

Kate delivered her short presentation.

“If anyone of don’t wish to participate, I suggest you leave now.”

Pamela Laurence rose and looked apologetic.

“Mrs Laurence I have won over Lucy one hundred percent, the only one I’ve approached so far. Lucy is probably right now trying to seek her TV station’s commitment to allow her to make a documentary about this publishing project. She says early discussion appear most promising. Some of the TV executives are eager to proceed, knowing there is some community bias against adopted children.”

“What will happen if I withdraw?”

“Lucy raised that possibility with me and said she was in, whether or not you were in.”

Pamela Laurence said, “Well since Lucy is in, I’m in. I had only been indicating withdrawal to protect her. Never have I been ashamed to have adopted my husband’s child and I continued my friendly and frequent association with Emma Blackwell until just days before her death. I arrange a roster of care-givers for Harry to relieve the residential care-giver as well you know Helen.”

“Indeed,” Helen said, and led the clapping.

Only Irene Armstrong appeared less than enthusiastic with her applause.

“Everyone please listen carefully,” Kate said. “I suggest you allow me to approach your child first. I possess all the facts about this project including how it will be handled and why I’m doing it and then I will reveal I am your child’s genetic half-sister and believe that ought to entice them to commit to this project, perhaps with them thinking if I have the guts to commit then why not them.”

“My feeling is the launch of the story about this project in the Evening News, followed by the screening of the TV documentary, hopefully that same evening, and the launch of the book next day, ought to create a huge lift in understanding of the trauma that faces the parents of adopted children and of the adopted children and the fact we all appear to be no different to the children of parents who fully birthed their own children.”

Discussion on that followed and it appeared there was no objection to Kate announcing the project to each adoptee. Although Kate didn’t say it, if one or more of the mothers chose to break the news to her adopted child, then so be it.

She then left, hoping the mothers would continue the discussion. It was best to have any issues emerge early.

The weeks went by quickly. The TV station committed to the doco with Lucy being appointed producer and being given a veteran director to be in charge of filming. Members of the Emma Club had 7-day a week roster with two women working the morning 3-hour shift and two in the afternoon sorting material that appeared to have relevance to Emma’s background and her life and to the birth of the children.

A virtual goldmine was discovered, a box three-quarters full of good quality photos and in another carton the diaries of Emma Blackwell and her son.

“Eureka!” shouted one of the research team and that brought Kate running.

Tension was high as the first few photos were flipped over and it became clear all had caption details written in pencil on the reverse side.

“Omigod,” Kate shrieked in glee, sending the neighbor’s dog into a barking frenzy.

Twenty-six days after the sorting started, it was complete and all the relevant material market with ID tags and recorded and grouped in folders.

Kate spent two or three hours away for several days, formally interviewing her seven half-siblings including Lucy.

“God you are capable of getting water out of stone,” Lucy said. “I’d prepared myself for this interview but you pushed me on, making me remember thing I’d had stored in the back of my mind. That was an amazing experience. You are an amazing interviewer.”

“It’s my job darling. Perhaps you’ll now better appreciate your team who feed you what you read on TV.”

“I’m sure it will. Please come to dinner on Saturday night with your husband. Dad wants to meet you and mom wishes to talk to you further.”

“Sure but my husband Noel is away at a conference this weekend. I was invited but was too busy to go.”

“Then bring you lover.”

“Cheeky bitch,” Kate said and they laughed and Lucy said sorry to pry but it was worth a try.

On Friday evening the eight half-siblings met for the first time and Lucy’s camera team was present at the venue, Kate’s home.

Kate was convinced she’d won them all over and they had been informed two TV camera crews would be present. As each person arrived they were filmed and all appeared comfortable with that.

A buffet dinner with wine then followed, Kate’s mom assisting to serve, and that was filmed. The film crew then went to the kitchen where Helen served them food and wine and beer was on the table.

Later discussion on the proposed book was filmed and at the end of that Kate asked each person were they happy with the proposal and all answered yes.

Lawyer Mrs Blake, whom Kate had hired because she was the executor of Harry Blackwell’s estate and already had had written contact with the eight beneficiaries. She produced consent documents where each of the eight half-siblings agreeing to participate in the book project agreed to their names being used in the book and details of their birth detailed and their agreement to be filmed and their agreement of a group photograph to be used in the publication of the book and in its promotion.

All signed and Mrs Blake said their adoptive parents had been invited to her office to sign similar releases.

The film crew packed up and when they left Mrs Blake then described details of the estate at present awaiting probate and that would be divided up evenly into eight disbursements as would the net proceeds of the winding up of the Alec and Emma Blackwell Family trust.

She said there was only one other bequest. Harry Blackwell had left Kate Scott all of his cash and money on deposit, totally $38,000, to spend on getting his draft manuscript up to standard and then to get it published.

“As you all know, Kate has taken three months off work but retained on standby to fill in for the newspaper’s editor as necessary. That arrangement has left her with an 85 per cent salary cut over three months so that cash bequest from Harry will assist to fill some of that salary gap after Kate has met all of her expenses involved in research, payment for original documents, traveling to see her publisher and these legal expenses.”

Everyone clapped.

“Finally I wish to announce to the best of my calculations each of you eight, the only living descendants of Emma Blackwell, are likely to receive cash disbursement of about $52,000. The family home, last owned by Harry Blackwell, has realized a very satisfactory sale figure.”

Everyone clapped loudly and looked pleased.

Alf Simpson, the least formerly educated of the half-siblings, rose and said, “Kate on behalf of your half-siblings we thank you for the tremendous amount of work you are putting into this publication project. I for one agree with your submission that this project could easily raise public understanding on the way adoptees are viewed in society and how parents are placed in such situations. I cannot speak too highly of your commitment to this project Kate, your professionalism and the careful and brilliant way you dropped details of this project on to us. Mrs Blake, thank you for giving us an indication of what is happening with our position as beneficiaries. Finally Kate thank you once again for bringing us together and you did so in this home, your home, as the eldest of the half-siblings.”

Alf then began to sob. “I shall never forget Kate when you told me I have seven half brothers and sisters. I was completely knocked over (sob) by that disclosure because until that moment I had always thought I was on my own. You are (sob) an angel Kate and I’ll never forget you. And guys (sob-sob), all seven of you, to hell with the half; I regard you all as my brothers and sisters (sob).”

Several of the group rose and others followed, some wiping their eyes. They all eyed Kate and clapped and several said “Hear, hear.”

Anthony Kennedy, second oldest of the eight, said: “I agree with everything put so eloquently by Alf. Let’s remain a united group for the rest of our lives and no matter where we end up, keep the occasional group emails flowing. God never in my life have I felt so emotional. Thank you Kate.”

Everyone clapped.

Kate stood and raised her glass. “A toast everyone, to the three people who gave us life, our parents and Emma Blackwell.”

“To my parents and Emma Blackwell,” they all intoned.

Alone in the kitchen clearing away, Helen had heard all of that as she worked away as quietly as possible. Tears now streamed down her face.

Kate was too excited to go to bed after her mom and the last two guests left. The evening had gone better than expected. She sat at her laptop and made of list of things to do for her tasks for the week ahead.

Task one was to organize to begin writing and to identify preliminary points to strengthen the story, namely to fill in gaps, to note points needed to strengthen Emma’s characterization. At present the manuscript left her too skeletal. Exactly what did she look like — photos — and what were her characteristics — closely view the two film clips of her, looking for clues such was she right or left handed, was she overweight, under-weight, did she appear energetic or jaded, what was her coloring, what were her tastes in clothes.

She made a note to look at all the papers filed under ‘Emma’s house’ to locate the main bedroom where presumably she took the husband who would have sex with her to deposit his sperm that would begin the process of fertilization to develop a baby in Emma’s host womb.

Did Emma enjoy this sex from eight different men? (read diaries).

Where were the babies born and did the imminent adoptive mothers attend the birth (damn I forgot that question so ask say three of them).

And so the lists went on.

Kate finally wandered off to bed wondering whether her husband and his PA Kim were still banging away after the conference welcoming cocktail party.

She worked most of Saturday drafting words to fill major gaps in the manuscript, working on developing Emma’s character and then she began writing up her interviews of all eight women. God it had been almost scary interviewing her mom about baby Kate’s birth, before the event, during it and after it.

She then slept for three hours, having started her writing day at 5:00 and then had a bath and got ready to have dinner with her half-sister and Lucy’s parents. She dressed semi-formally expecting Pamela to dress to impress.

Pamela answered the doorbell and was in a gold full length gown and wearing an expensive-looking sapphire and pearl chocker.

“Good evening darling,” Pamela said, kissing Kate on the lips.

Well that was unexpected.

“Lucy won’t be too long. She’d just arrived home. Come through and meet Lucas.

Poor Lucas. He was very good looking, still reasonably lean and his wife had probably insisted he wear a suit. He shook hands with Kate and she whispered there was no need for him to wear a suit when entertaining her. He looked grateful but made no effort to divest.

They began drinks and Lucy arrived from upstairs. Kate stood to welcome her and Lucy rushed and slammed into Kate and they kissed and hugged. Kate could feel the eyes of Lucy’s parents on them.

“It’s so lovely that I have a sister I can love,” Lucy said expansively.

Kate noted with interest Pamela sighed while Lucas beamed. While perhaps that was Pamela thinking there could have been a sister had she not been infertile. Well there was a long way to go before the launching of the Emma Blackwell story. Perhaps in the time leading up to that Pamela would come to accept her daughter truly did had Kate as a sister as well as six other brothers and sisters.

All Pamela had to do was to accept the reality.

THE END