When Sam finally discovered the house where his mother lived and died, he thought it would be the end of his search. He little realised that events would soon plunge him into the search for his mother's murderer. Even less did he realise he would have to stand in for her in the re-enactment.

The complete story has been serialised into five parts which will be published at approximately daily intervals.

PART FOUR - FRIDAY

Sam's hopes of learning who his father was were demolished early Friday morning, when the email came. It gave him the answer he didn't want to know:

More than 90% confidence that Samples B2 and B3 are full brothers (ie both parents common).
100% confident that neither B2 nor B3 is the father of Sample SAM.

In response to your additional question, a lineage test shows there is a greater than 98% confidence that sample SAM does not share male lineage with samples B2 and B3 (thus the father of B2 and B3, or any of the father's other sons, cannot be the father of SAM).

So, he surmised, he was back to his father being some pick up in London on his mother's day off! But then, that didn't line up with Luke's statement that Sally went to Charminster Cathedral on her Mondays off to arrange the flowers.

The thought came from nowhere and hit him in the stomach.

The photograph of some gathering which included a shot of Sally, laughing with the bishop. He went upstairs and found out the photograph, and stared carefully at the pair of them. Were they simply sharing a small joke, or were they really lovers?

***

"Your husband obviously got on very well with the bishop."

Emily turned towards him, rather surprised. "Why do you say that?"

"The bishop must have been invited here a lot," Sam said. "He was in all three photographs where my mother was serving. You also told me your husband was the person the bishop chose to take over all the other churches when congregations dwindled."

Emily shrugged. "You need to look at it the other way round. The photographs were from the newspaper archives - the press only came when Bishop Michael visited. Remember at that time, Archbishop Runcie was making such a mess of things, it seemed only a matter of months before he resigned. Michael was being tipped as the next Archbishop of Canterbury. However, you're probably right that if Michael had become Archbishop of Canterbury, there'd have been a role for Richard somewhere."

"It was obviously all before my time," Sam said. "I didn't realise Bishop Michael was in such a powerful position within the church. But surely, the fact that he came here a lot meant he must have got on well with Richard."

Emily shrugged. "We all got to know each other in our final year at university - Cambridge in 1962." Her eyes lit up as she thought back almost fifty years. "It was the most marvellous time of my life. Richard, Michael and I were a threesome - we were always together. After we'd completed our finals, both Richard and Michael proposed to me, and I had to choose one or the other."

Her eyes twinkled as she looked at Michael again. "There's no doubt Michael was the more handsome and personable. But he was so relaxed, it seemed he'd never get any job. Richard was the worker, who held strong opinions and spoke in the university debates - and often persuaded opinion. And physically, he may have been shorter than Michael, but he made up for it in other areas. When he got a Double First, compared with Michael's Lower Second, my mind was settled. We married and Richard got an almost immediate posting here." Emily shrugged and sheepishly smiled. "Within a few months, Michael got a better parish than this, and eventually became Bishop of Charminster. I guess that's the luck of the draw."

"I've never seen Charminster Cathedral," Sam said, "but I've been thinking I might go over and have a look at it. Why don't you come and show me around?"

Emily shook her head. "There are voluntary guides there on Friday mornings, and I might put their noses out of joint if I went with you. Incidentally, there's a good pub just up the road from the cathedral which does excellent lunches. So you go and enjoy yourself - you can work your hours off tonight."

Sam sheepishly had to admit he'd thought working for Emily would be money for old rope. Instead, he was earning every penny of his one thousand pound salary.

***

The cathedral was not one of the classic cathedrals that draw in thousands of visitors every day. In fact, that Friday morning, there were no other visitors and Sam had to wonder around looking for anyone. He found a woman changing the flower displays, and he asked her where he would find the guide.

She smiled at him. "That's me," she said. "Jack of all trades. We don't get many volunteers nowadays and we all have to fill in as and when we can." She wiped her hands on a cloth, and then went into her guide monologue.

"OK, if you like to come over to the entrance vestibule, I'll show you..."

"There is a question I'd like to ask..."

"If you don't mind, I'll take questions at the end. Now, the entrance vestibule was built in..."

***

"...Now, do you have any questions?" she asked him, forty minutes later.

"Is Bishop Michael still here, or has he retired?" Sam asked the one question he'd been unsuccessfully trying to put since the tour started.

"Bishop Michael?" She gave him a strange look which he had trouble interpreting. "He became ill - to be honest, he went rather doolalley. He was retired about five years ago, which was just before I began here. Several other volunteers who had known him decided to go at the same time, and the new bishop was desperate for replacements, so here I am."

"Do you know where Bishop Michael lives now?"

"He's in a nursing home the other side of Charminster. Sunny Pines, it's called."

***

"He's in Room 66," the nurse said, and added with a wry smile, "Mind, it should be 666, with him. He may have been a bishop when he was compos, but he's a real devil now. I guess he suppressed it for too long."

"Oh?" Sam said.

She smiled cheerfully. "Don't sit too close to him or he'll have his hand up your skirt. Even if you keep three feet away, he'll probably get out his dongle and wave it at you."

"Well no one's done that for several days," Sam said, "so it'll make a nice change."

The nurse laughed. "That's the only way you can deal with it, because it's almost the only part of his body that still functions - and his mind has only one track. Don't say you haven't been warned."

Sam found the room without problem, and knocked gently on it before entering. It would have been hard to recognise the old man from the photograph taken all those years ago. But the bishop knew her, or he thought he did.

"Sally!" he said. "Sally Brown. I wondered if you'd come to see me today."

Clearly, Sam thought, he had more of a mind than the nurse gave him credit for. He could still remember Sam's mother from twenty-five years ago, enough to confuse her with Sam.

"That's right, my Lord," Sam shamelessly said. "What can I do for you?"

Twenty minutes later, Sam left Room 66 with a plastic bag containing a semen-soaked tissue.

***

As Sam took his first sips from his large glass of Sauvignon Blanc, which he felt he thoroughly deserved, he couldn't help grinning. He had calmly walked into a nursing home, wanked off a retired bishop, and just as calmly, walked out again. And not only that, but...

"You're looking very pleased with yourself."

Sam looked up and was surprised to see Matthew standing above him. "Oh! Er..."

"It's all right," Matthew actually looked embarrassed. "Mother told me I would probably find you here. She also told me to apologise to you. I'm not here to make more trouble."

"Er, right," Sam said. He waved to a seat. "Would you like to sit down?"

"Thank you." He sat down and then paused a little before continuing. "My problem is that I'm a terrible coward. I've never been able to face up to the consequences of my own actions. Mark was right: I kicked the football through the church window and blamed him for doing it."

"And you think I'm another consequence of one of your actions you haven't been able to face up to?"

Matthew didn't answer for several seconds, before he said, "It's possible. Yes.

"You see it was because I was the oldest child," he continued. "It was always me who was to blame if the other's misbehaved, and I couldn't control them. Mother and Father were so strict, I had to do everything they told me, and Mark took no notice."

"Emily doesn't appear strict to me."

"That's because you're only seeing one side of her, and she's trying to be nice to you to make up for one of her sons making Sally pregnant. And I think it might be me."

"You're wrong," Sam said. He had been considering keeping quiet about the DNA results, but he simply wasn't that mean.

"Wrong?"

"I sent DNA samples from Mark and Luke to the laboratory for testing. They told me that neither of them was my father, and that my DNA was so different to theirs that their brother could not be my father."

His face lifted. "I can't? But... you see, the condom burst several times when I... and Sally's doctor had told her to go off the pill. I was convinced it had to be me, but was too terrified to admit it when Mother grilled me."

"The DNA proves you didn't make my mother pregnant," Sam said, "but what did you do?"

He shrugged. "I might as well tell you everything, I suppose. I mean, it all happened because Mark had got Rachel pregnant and he had to marry her. Mother and Father were so ashamed, they insisted on me getting engaged to Fiona, as she had quite openly made such a thing about remaining a virgin until she was married."

"And you did as your parents told you?" Sam couldn't believe Matthew could be such a wimp.

"Of course. I've told you, I have no courage."

"But how did that lead to... later events?" Sam phrased it carefully, not wishing to break the mood that seemed to have grown between them.

"I was a young man. I was desperate for sex. Sally could see my predicament and she came to my aid. She was so wonderful and... she never refused me. It wasn't just in bed, we'd have sex in the garden, or in the kitchen whilst she was cooking a meal. When she got pregnant, I immediately proposed to her and didn't care about Fiona - my one act of bravery in my life. But she told me the baby wasn't mine - that the timing was all wrong. I never believed her, of course, I thought it was just an excuse not to marry me. Afterwards, I felt relieved. Then, I felt guilty that I had felt relieved."

"Yes but, apart from having sex with my mother," Sam broke in, "what else did you do? Like when your father changed his will."

"Oh, you mean that." He shook his head. "I was so ashamed of my greed. I tried to get Father to change his will back to us, even though he was absolutely right; Sally did have nothing except two small babies, and nowhere to live if she stopped working for us."

"And when she wouldn't change her will?" Sam asked.

Matthew looked puzzled. "Well, there was nothing I could do, was there? Secretly, I still hoped she might marry me before I got married to Fiona. But she was killed and my dream along with it."

"And that was it?" Sam said.

"Isn't that enough?" Matthew replied. "The one woman I ever loved was dead."

***

They both had a pub lunch, and then Matthew gave Sam a lift home.

"Do you want to come in for a coffee?" Sam asked him.

"Really?" Matthew replied, his eyes wide with astonishment at the offer.

Too late, Sam realised the ambiguity of his offer. He knew he should have explained he really had meant just coffee, but Matthew had been more than generous in the pub, and had listened carefully to the rigours of Sam(antha) growing up. They had gone into the pub as enemies and had come out as friends.

So Sam smiled back and said, "Like mother, like daughter."

***

"You put that inside my mother," Sam gasped, staring at the monster which lurched up from Matthew's groin. He'd been rather proud of his own tackle until he saw what lurked down Matthew's trouser leg.

"I know it's obscene," Matthew said, "but Sally loved it. Right from the first time she saw it, she simply couldn't get enough of it."

"Christ!" Sam said. "Did it er... did it... all go in?"

"Oh yes," Matthew said. "All the way."

"Bloody hell! Look, er... well it's..."

"You don't want to have sex with me," Matthew said, biting back his frustration. "That's all right. I mean I understand."

"How does your wife manage?" Sam could not help but wonder.

"We don't have sex."

"No." Knowing Fiona, Sam could understand that. "But you must have had it sometime. I mean, you have children, don't you?"

"She would milk me and then squirt it up her vagina. Hers was the second virgin birth."

"You mean that you haven't had proper sex since my mother..."

"No," Matthew said. "It's... frustrating."

"Frustrating! It's enough to drive anyone insane." Sam eyed the monster, trying to assess its size. It actually was not that wide - not like some of the huge cocks he didn't look at on the internet - it was just the length that was so terrifying - a good twelve inches long. "Look, I have a very small vagina so there's no way much of it will go inside, but I'm prepared to give it a go, for the sake of family goodwill, OK?"

"You will?" He was like a little boy - and no wonder.

"Only I have to be in control," Sam said. "I'm not going to let you see how far you can force it in."

"Of course not. That's just what your mother insisted - at first anyway."

"What position did you use?"

"The first few times, we did it in Father's study," Matthew said. "She'd sit on the chair at his desk - she never wore panties so she could keep all her clothes on. I lay on the floor beneath the chair and she simply lowered herself down onto me. Once, Father came in and I had to pull myself right under the desk whilst she pretended she was dusting the desk." He smiled. "If only he'd known the debauchery that was going on at the very desk at which he wrote his sermons. He'd have died of shame."

***

So that's exactly what they did. Michael lay on the floor, slid his legs beneath the desk and then slipped his trousers right down so that his monster lurched upwards. Sam was surprised to see he had a condom ready - so he'd obviously been hopeful of more than a coffee when they left the pub. After he pulled it over his knob, Sam took over rolling it down the length of his shaft, making Matthew grunt with excitement.

Matthew was quite slim so Sam was able to pull the chair right over his torso, the chair legs fitting astride him. Sam took off his panties and sat in the chair.

Such was the length of Matthew's prick that it wasn't so much a case of lowering himself down, as sliding forward to meet the monster. All the same, Sam kept a careful hold of one arm of the chair as he manipulated the cock towards his own opening. He had a sudden vision of slipping off the chair and being impaled on that enormous prick - except of course that in his case, his artificial cunt would probably get torn to shreds!

As the prick slid inside, once again Sam felt wonderful feelings sweep through him. He managed to get a good four inches inside whilst Matthew continued to make little grunting noises, which Sam felt incredibly arousing.

"It's funny," Matthew said, after a few minutes, "but your vagina runs at a different angle to Sally's. I get the impression I'm going to come bursting out your bum if it goes in much more."

Of course, Sam realised, with this position, Matthew had a unique vantage point and he was in danger of twigging that Sam's cunt was not real. Sam couldn't take the risk of exposure - he had to call a halt.

"All vaginas are unique," Sam said, "but you're right, this is very uncomfortable and I'm going to have to find another way."

He could sense Matthew's disappointment, as he knew what Sam also realised - there would be no easier way of being poked by this monster.

Unless... Sam shuddered at the very idea, even though it was incredibly exciting. No! There was no way he was going to do that. It was a repulsive idea - or did he mean compulsive.

"Why don't we try it a different way," he said, pulling his vagina off Matthew's cock and then moving forward until it was nuzzling against another aperture - a real aperture in Sam's body.

"I'm not sure..." Matthew started to say, but then Sam was wriggling around, trying to work his cock inside him. When it went in, it was with the pain of a knife wound. But like a Samurai warrior committing hari Kari, Sam bravely slid down on his sword.

***
Afterwards, Matthew said, a big smile on his face, "I'd never done it that way before."

"You gave me the most incredible orgasm of my life," Sam said, his grin even wider than Matthew's, "and now you tell me you've never done it that way before!"

"Does that mean we're friends, now?"

Sam nodded. "I guess so. It's rather good being friends with a man with such a big cock."

Matthew gave a wry grin. "When you have a cock the size of mine, you don't get many friends. The other boys at school all jeered at me, and the girls all ran away from me. I guess I am what I am as a defence mechanism for not being liked. Even my brothers hated me because I behaved so abysmally. I think the only person apart from Sally who didn't hate me was my father, but hating would have been against his religion."

"Tell me, what was he like, your father?"

"He was one of those old-fashioned vicars who preach hell and damnation. I was always terrified of him, but as I got older, I did respect him more. You always knew where you were with him, and as long as you pretended to follow the Bible, he left you alone. Mark and Luke openly rebelled and there were always rows with those two, but I simply conformed."

And took the easy way out as always, Sam reasoned.

SATURDAY EVENING - PARTY

"Thank you all for coming to my seventieth birthday party." Emily looked around at the people assembled before her: her three sons, Matthew, Mark and Luke, with wives, Fiona and Rachel. Luke's wife was not there, and all the grandchildren had found excuses not to attend. Bishop Michael had been brought over from the nursing home. He'd clearly been sedated so that he didn't keep showing off his erect penis, and he was asleep in his wheelchair, so it was almost exactly the same group as had been there twenty-five years before.

Then there was Samantha, looking just as Sally had done, all those years ago. Just like Sally, Sammie had 'scrubbed up well', and today she could feel for her exactly the same emotions as she'd had for Sally, all those years ago. She beamed at her now, and Sammie grinned back.

"As you know, this is rather a special event because of Samantha's appearance on the scene just a week ago. She had recently discovered that her mother had died at my birthday party, twenty-five years previously and needed closure. We are here tonight to ensure she gets that closure.

"Of course," she continued, "one of the big mysteries surrounding Samantha's life is the identity of her father. When her mother was pregnant, I suspected that one of my three sons had been involved, but with the wonders of DNA testing and samples provided by my sons - admittedly, some of them rather belatedly (and she grimaced at Matthew and Mark) - Samantha told me just before this party began that I am not her grandmother. That is rather a disappointment for me, as I would have loved to have Samantha as a granddaughter, and it means that she must continue to live her life, like many other people, never knowing the identity of her father. I would like..."

"But I do," Sam interrupted.

There was suddenly a deathly silence and all eyes turned to Sam.

"The DNA results confirmed it. I got the final samples delivered express to the laboratory this morning and they were able to run some quick tests. I now know who my father is, and it's really rather a surprise. Sorry, do you think you could all wait here whilst I go and get the results? They're in my room."

Sam went running up the stairs and when he got halfway up, he turned around to smile at all those staring open-mouthed at him and added, "Of course, this is exactly what happened at the party twenty-five years ago, when my mother went to check on us two children." He proceeded quickly up the stairs.

It only took him a couple of minutes to get the folder of DNA results which he'd kept hidden under the mattress. Then he ran back along the corridor to the top of the stairs. Of course, he wasn't so stupid not to check for a fishing line across the top of the stairs before he commenced down.

But as he looked down at the assembled party below in the Hall, all waiting his return, he didn't notice the third stair down, and the line suddenly tautening across it. Not until his right foot suddenly caught in something, and he felt himself tripping forwards, unable to prevent himself falling headlong down the stairs.