" She stuck out a hand, and with a huge grin, said, "You might like my full name: it's Penelope Elizabeth Fire Backman".A bolt of lightning went through my chest when I heard her full name. 'Elizabeth' was Mrs. Ball's first name. I had seldom used it because I always called her 'Princess'.I finally found enough of my voice to be able to croak out, "Your mother ... she's Elizabeth?" Yes, she is." She paused, nibbling on her lower lip in a gesture I knew so well. "And ... and I think you're my father."There it was, out in the open. All the years I had spent trying to find Mrs. Ball, wondering about the possible child that Debbie Wilson had told me about. Here she was. She was standing in front of me, and I was twenty years younger, seeing Mrs. Ball for the first time. I stood up and took her hand in both of mine, gently holding it, feeling its warmth and the silken feel of her skin. I locked eyes with her, and just stared for a long moment, trying to connect with her, not knowing if I. “You do, do you?” she asked Cee, ignoring me.“Mmmm. Nobody will see you. I’ll go first if you like?” Cee replied, focusing on my wife and I now knew only too well what that focused look of hers meant. The spider, as they say, was beginning to weave its web.There was definitely now a change in the atmosphere – a hint of tension, of nervousness; like the minutes before a storm. I was, momentarily, forgotten as Shy and Cee played out their teenage-like scenario. “Nobody can see us,” Cee repeated. “Anyway, who cares if they do?”Shy didn’t glance my way. With her free hand she adjusted the neckline of her loose, linen dress in what I construed to be a nervous gesture, or was it a pre-emptive one? “Okay. You go first,” Shy said and sipped from her glass, her eyes not leaving Cee’s face as she did so. This little duel was beginning to titillate and frustrate. Cee unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off, revealing the swell of her bosom entrapped in the confinements of a lacy brassiere..
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