Date: Thu, 31 Dec 2015 00:33:26 +0000
From: honey_im_back@hushmail.com
Subject: A Christmas Karol Part 1 By Peter Pumpkin Eater

OK so first the routine stuff.
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when you get a 6am visit!
This is a story inspired by recent events, it is fantasy,
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Anyone looking for a quick thrill, you might be
disappointed with this story, it is about the love between
a man and 2 brothers. Please take a moment to email me
and let me know what you think, I am aware that there are
some geographical errors, it's fiction, so get over it!
So with a nod to a local author here is my version of;

A Christmas Karol

Stave 1: Christmases Past

Although I am not a Scrooge character, in the financial
sense, I am, or should I say WAS miserly with my
feelings. Love was something I seldom shared any more,
since my wife and children passed on, all I had left was
work and my dog, Peter Pan, or PP for short!
Perhaps I should go back to Christmases past, times when
I was not so lonely? OK you asked for it!
I was born soon after the end of the Second World War,
the UK was still recovering, and many luxury food items
were still rationed, oh and homosexuality was a serious
crime! My parents were hard working, middle class, Dad
was a career copper, having served in the RAF Police
during the war, he had a strong influence on me. Mum was
a Dental Technician at the end of the War, and after a
break to have 3 children, became a salesperson in a very
high class shoe retailer, climbing to the dizzy heights
of shop manager before cancer forced her to retire.
Dads work involved moving house every three to six years,
as he climbed the ranks. My siblings and I used to dread
when he went for a promotion board as we had learnt that
it usually heralded a move, new school and new friends.
The only constants in my life were family, and one ex
colleague of my mothers, who were so close to us that we
called them Uncle and Aunty! My fathers' brother was a
bachelor, a teacher in an all-boys school. He seemed to
pretty much ignore my older brother and sister but always
had time for me. He taught maths, PT and music, an odd
combination but there again, he was an odd man! I
remember he kindled 3 of my life long passions, Cycling,
Swimming and playing Brass instruments! Well he kindled a
fourth passion in me too, but back then no one talked
about relationships between men and boys! Oh he never
harmed me, but after swimming he would always insist on
drying me off, paying special attention to my nether
regions! We never did more than that, much to my chagrin,
but the closeness of his naked body, and the feel of him
manipulating my bits made me feel, well, funny!
On more than one occasion my father was seconded to the
Royal Ulster Constabulary, causing my siblings and me to
be farmed out to various relatives, and in my case to the
family of my mothers ex colleague. Uncle Eric's family
were Catholic and with 9 children things could get a
little chaotic, but on the whole it was a good time.
Except Friday evenings! After supper on a Friday all 10
of us, his 9 kids and me, had to line up in just
underwear with all of our school books for him to check.
He also had a bid red book, an accounts ledger, in which
he, and his wife used to note good and bad things that
had been done by the kids in the week. Below average
marks in school books went on the naughty side of the
ledger, above average went on the good side. How well we
had done chores, whether we had remembered to wash
properly and so on, it was all taken into account. Good
things meant pocket money, bad things meant a spanking
all of us got some pocket money, most of us also got
spanked. One of the things I got spanked for every week
was popping a boner every time I saw one of the other
kids getting spanked. My "Uncle" also introduced me to
many aspects of Man/Boy sex, but that's another story!
So I grew up in an ever changing world, TV was in its
infancy, space flight was moving from Science Fiction to
Science Fact, real war had given way to "Cold War" and
Gay sex was becoming (slightly) more acceptable. After a
"good" education, both in school and in bed, I tried my
hand at a couple of things before realizing that the Army
was where I wanted to be. My Dad was disappointed that I
chose the Army, rather than the Air Force, or the Police,
but I signed up in the Royal Army Veterinary Corps, as a
dog handler. After training at Melton Mowbray I went on
to serve all over the world, in both combat and guarding
duties. Whilst I did not recognise it, my time on
detachments in Africa and Burma awakened an interest in
boys, and there was nothing nicer than to allow some of
the local kids to "rough and tumble" with my dogs,
enjoying the beauty and innocence of the often scantily
clad or even naked boys. Towards the end of my Army
Career I was privileged to serve in Operation Paraquet
and Operation Corporate in the South Atlantic and after
leaving the Army was recalled to serve in Operation
Granby. During the Falklands conflict (Paraquet and
Corporate) I was used with both explosive detection dogs
and guard dogs, and still see the pathetic image of
groups of 13 and 14 year old, frightened Argentinian kids
who were forced to serve as "Soldiers" during that
madness. Guarding them, as prisoners of war, was more a
task of protecting them from the harsh weather and the
even harsher "officers" who led them. I recall one
incident when we were searching for explosives and came
across a squad of youngsters, many of whom were unable to
cock their FM FAL rifles! We captured them without a shot
being fired, or a word being spoken, until my dog, Sooty,
indicated on the only tent at the location. I burst in to
find the "Officer" balls deep in the butt of a cute,
prepubescent, boy, who was gagged and bleeding from
several obvious whipping wounds, and his ass. I pulled
the kid out and called for a medic for him, wrapping him
in my parka to protect his almost lifeless form from the
bitter cold. The officer reached for his pistol and Sooty
lunged at him. Usually the dog was trained to go for the
hand holding the weapon but in the confined space he
ended up clamping down on the scum bags balls, dragging
him out of the tent. While the other guys in our patrol
were dealing with the collecting of the kids weapons, and
setting up a small fire to cook the starving kids some of
our rations I took my time in calling the dog off the
screaming , naked, slimeball. Once I did call him off it
was obvious to me that he would lose his nuts, and most
likely his dick as well.
 I drew my side-arm to dispatch him but one of the kids
said in broken English "No Pleez, we do him?"
The kid picked up a shovel and in my revulsion at what
this "officer" had done I pretended to see to my dog as
the kid started to batter the shit out of his former
torturer. Those kids who had boots on, many had been
wearing trainers, some even barefoot, also started to
kick him and stamp on him. Shortly after a medic arrived
along with a couple if RMP and Intelligence officers and
I was asked how the officer became so badly beaten,
before I could answer one of the Argentinian boys told
them that because the officer tried to kill one of their
comrades from wanting to surrender the kids ganged up and
killed him. I added that he must have been raping the
boys, as shown by the badly injured, naked, boy being
cared for by the medic.
Enough to say Sooty and I were part of the detail
guarding the under aged POW s, we kept them segregated
from the adult soldiers, who had hardly been treated
better, many of them needing medical treatment for
torture wounds. I was in fact the only member of the
guard detail who was not a parent, while we were waiting
for the Army to provide some Spanish speaking teachers we
did what we could, my basic holiday Spanish helped and
slowly I built up a rapport with many of the kids,
encouraging them to play soccer and to forget the trauma
of the war. Several of the kids were obviously scared of
us, despite the kindness and compassion we showed them
and I asked one of the more fluent English speakers why.
"In training we were shown films, told how all English
soldiers fuck little boys, that's what we are all afraid
of, waiting for you to start fucking us. Will you be
gentle or will you be like our officer?" he asked.
I grabbed him by the arm and took him to the Intelligence
Officer. "Sir" I started, "this lad tells me that they
were indoctrinated that we would rape them if we caught
them, we need to re assure them that this is not true!"
"Yes, I had heard the rumour", he replied, "you have a
good rapport with them, perhaps we should call them
together and try to reassure them?"
"Yes Sir!" I replied, "The mobile Shower unit is due to
arrive later, so perhaps I should talk to them before
they get the wrong idea, when we tell them to strip!"
"Yes, Yes, Carry on!"
We called the kids together, and with the help of the few
who speak English we explained that no one was going to
harm them, and that they needed, for reasons of health,
to shower and would be provided with fresh clothes. Most
seemed reassured, though one or two appeared more
frightened by the prospect of having to strip for the
shower.
Along with the QM staff we issued each boy with a large
towel and soap and escorted them in groups of 10 to a
changing room I was going to wait outside but a couple of
the boys who seemed to trust me begged me to come in and
keep them safe. Sooty and I took a seat in the changing
area as the kids stripped and went into the steaming
shower. One of the boys came dashing back out to ask me
in broken English to help him wash his hair, which I did,
though I was concerned by the stirring in my combat
trousers!
Once showered and dried, for which my help was also
needed, I helped hand out fresh clothes, plain white
underwear, jogging suits and socks and trainers. I
managed to persuade them to empty their old uniforms of
personal effects before they were collected for burning.
The procedure was repeated all through the day and by
evening the kids were all clean and dressed in
comfortable, warm clothing, which fit a lot better than
the "uniform" they were wearing before!
All too soon the process of repatriation started, it
broke my heart that many of the kids were begging us to
keep them with us, and believe me, if it had been
possible most of us would have! I swapped contact details
with many of them, and some still exchange Christmas and
Birthday card with me. I got a number of letters of
thanks from grateful parents who were shocked at the
treatment of their sons at the hands of the Argentine
military.
After returning to Germany at the end of the conflict I
was demobilised and transferred to the reserve, starting
a security business. I trained guard dogs and did all
sorts of security work. I remained "in the closet"
especially as Homosexuality was still frowned upon in
Germany, though I did manage to get a lucrative "live in"
security contract at a Nudist Resort, where my guard dog,
Prinz, was a great hit with the kids. As I had to patrol
the perimeter I was, luckily, dressed when on duty, and
found that re-enforced sports underwear was a huge help
controlling my almost constant erection!
I married a German girl, who was a nurse, and in 1989
became a proud father, with a second child expected in
1990. International events once again interrupted my
life, and |I was called back into the Army to take part
in the Gulf War. Although Islam forbids Gay sex, I
witnessed their way round it, prepubescent boys were not
considered men, and therefore sex with them was allowed,
and was not considered adultery in the same way as sex
with another woman would be. In the course of the
conflict I was once again put to guarding and policing
duties, which included the control and strip searching of
suspects, many of whom were no more than kids. An
orphaned waif attached himself to our unit and became an
unofficial kennel maid, helping to clean up the dog runs,
and despite warning s to keep clear of the War Dogs he
made friends with those most  aggressive animals who's
one function was to enter otherwise impenetrable places
and take out every living thing within.
Once the war was over we left again, after ensuring that
the British Embassy agreed to ensure that the kid would
be given a fair chance in life, for helping us.
After my return to "Civi Street" I met my new daughter
and life returned to normal, though the Nudist Camp gig
was gone. Eventually we decided to move to the UK and set
up home here. I got in touch with an old colleague from
the Army who had been running a Security Dog business but
was selling up due to ill health. Long story short I
managed to come to an arrangement and took over his
business, while my wife helped look after him. When he
passed his family tried to claim that I had duped him out
of his business, even suggesting that my wife had somehow
assisted his death to get control of the company. Luckily
he had foreseen this and in both the sales documents and
his will he made it clear that we had not been guilty of
any fraud. He had the last laugh as, in his will, he left
£100 to each of his relatives, and the rest of his estate
to Army Welfare and Animal Rescue charities.
In keeping with his philanthropic attitude to Animal
Welfare we offered the local pet sanctuary the use of any
spare kennels in out complex in the event of overcrowding
at the rescue centre. At times we had a half a dozen
guest dogs, some of which we adopted as working dogs. The
local secondary school made regular visits to us, to
learn about various aspects of animal care, it was always
refreshing to see the way that kids, who were otherwise
surly aggressive monsters, became gentle, loving
creatures who would do anything for the dogs!
In 2005 my life was turned once more upside down, as my
wife, and all 3 kids were taken from me by a drunken
truck driver. I sank into a deep drunken depression and
it was only the love that my dogs, and some of the kids
who regularly helped out at the kennels, showed me that
got me through it.
I returned to some sort of normality, throwing myself
into my work and taking contracts all over the country.
As the years passed I mellowed slightly and found that my
interest in boys was growing, though fear of the
repercussions was deterrent enough to keep me on the
straight and narrow! I allowed myself an annual holiday
to Europe, seeking out naturist resorts, enjoying the
breath-taking views!
So we come to the present, and the actual story that I
wanted to tell.
I had a seasonal contract to protect a Christmas Market,
daytime shop, or is that "Stall" lifters? Night-time
security patrols. Santa's Grotto was the focal point of
the market, the usual fake snow, tired reindeer and fake
elves. Santa was, in my eyes, a fully paid up paedophile,
I noticed him taking liberties with boys and girls as the
recited lists of electronics and expensive toys that
browbeaten parents would be sure to go into debt to buy.
Our town, a popular South Coast resort, was also home to
an unusually high population of homeless kids. The Market
owners, as an attempt to reduce the shop lifting, invited
the homeless kids to a pre-Christmas dinner, along with a
visit to Santa and a free present, woolly hats and gloves
mostly. I kept an eye on the kids, and allowed them to
pet Peter Pan (PP), my German Sheppard, as I mentioned
before, kids and dogs seem to be made for each other!
A couple of days after the homeless kids party I noticed
one of the kids back hanging around the bakers stall, and
saw a large fruit bread disappear. I slipped round the
back of the stall and cut the boy off. PP, sensing that
all was not right went into guarding mode and took an
aggressive stance.
"OK son, I think you should go now," I told a very
frightened boy. "You can keep the loaf, but I don't want
to see you here again, got it?"
"Please Sir!" he said in a thick eastern European accent,
"I only took it to feed my brother!"
"Where is he?" I asked more than a little concerned.
"Over there" the frightened boy told me, pointing to a
half collapsed farm building.
Just at this moment I saw my relief drive up, and said to
the boy, "Come with me!"
I spoke to Janet, my colleague, and asked her if she was
happy to relieve me a few moments early. So I walked with
the boy to a couple of the market stalls and bought 2
burgers, hot chocolate drinks and some chocolate bars,
then asked the boy to lead me to his brother. By now PP
had decided that the boy was no longer a threat and after
saying goodbye to Janet and her dog Master we set off
across the field to the ruins of what was once a classic
Sussex flint barn.
As we got there the boy called out softly, "Pawel, Pawel,
to mi brat Karol!"
A smaller version of the boy who I had caught stealing
looked round the corner, and seeing my uniform, and the
dog let out a strangled cry, "Karol, idioto , dlaczego
przyniesc policjanta ? Zamierza umiescic nas w
wiezieniu!"
I understood policjanta and idioto, and, holding up the
food I had purchased, I said; "Pawel, I've brought you
some food, I want to help you!"
"He's not good with the English, my parents dumped us in
Dover and they left us. I think we need to get Police
help!" Karol told me, with a tear in his eye. "On nie
jest Policja, kupil nam troche jedzenia , a nie mnie
aresztowac za kradziez chleba !"
Pawel looked at me, and took the offered burger and
wolfed it in, like he had not eaten for a week, I guess
he hadn't! PP went into caring mode,making himself into a
live woolly blanket around the boy. Then I noticed that
Pawel had shoes on which were falling to bits.
"Karol, my name is Peter, this is Peter Pan my dog, or
one of my dogs. Will you wait here with him while I get
my van? You guys can come home with me while we decide
what you want to do next!"
Karol translated for his brother and they both nodded.
„PP, STAY" I commanded as I turned and jogged back to the
van.
Janet was just walking round as I got there, „What sort
of trouble are you getting yourself into now Peter?" she
asked with a concerned look, and I quickly explained the
situation.
„Do you think he'd be about the same size as my son
Brian?" she asked.
„Yes  about that" I said.
„I'll phone Rob and ask him to drop some clothes and
trainers we were going to take to the charity shop off at
your place, if you like?"
„Thanks Janet, that's very kind of you!" I smiled, „Oh
can you ask him not to come in uniform, the younger lad
seems scared of the cops!"
„Do you have enough supplies in the house? Kids will eat
a horse if you let them! I'll get him to drop you some
supplies too!" She offered.
I gave her a quick hug and said „You're a life saver!"
Then I hopped in the van and drove slowly down the farm
track to the waiting boys.
Pawel was curled up with Rex and Karol was almost falling
asleep too. I picked Pawel up and placed him in the back
of the van and Rex climbed in beside him, like a
protective fur blanket. Karol climbed in the front seat
and I set off slowly for home.
Just then my radio beeped; "Peter this is Janet"
"Go ahead Janet"
"I told Rob, he's sorting some food out for you, and he
said you guys should come round Christmas Day, no
arguments, it'll give Brian someone to play with!"
"I'll see if they are staying with me that long!" I
replied "Thanks!"
 Karol was quiet most of the way home, I thought I heard
him crying a little. As I turned into my yard he perked
up a bit as he heard the dogs barking and saw my horses
gallop up to the paddock fence.
"You have horses?" he asked,
"Yes, horses, dogs, rabbits a couple of cats, oh and
there are often deer in my woods too!"
"Deer? What is this?" he asked.
"I'll show you later, let's get you comfortable first" I
told him as an unmistakable odour came from the back of
the van. "Peter Pan, did you have to?" I called.
" That is not your dog" a blushing Karol told me, "Pawel
he messes his slipy sometimes"
"Let's get him cleaned up then!" I offered.
I opened the van and Peter Pan jumped out as Karol got in
to wake his brother. "Pawel, Obudz sie mlodszego brata.
Miales maly wypadek" he whispered stroking his brothers'
face.
Pawel looked around him in panic realising that he had
soiled himself in the back of my van and he started to
cry.
"Shh Pawel" I told him gently "It's all right, Karol and
I will help you get cleaned up!"  Karol translated and
wiped his tears away, helping his brother from the van.
The boy tried to walk but folded up like a broken deck
chair, so I lifted him to my arms and carried him to the
door. "Karol, the keys are in my pocket" I said pushing
my right hip towards him. It took him a moment to
understand but then he found the keys and opened the
door. I told him to grab the 2 black bin bags from the
porch, as they were from Rob. I led the boys to the
bathroom and set Pawel down on the laundry bin, which
doubles up as a seat.
"Karol, can you see to him, or would you like me to
help?" I asked.
"You would do that for him?" he asked, surprised that
someone wanted to help.
"Of course" I replied, "I clean up after my animals, and
I used to change my children when they were small" I told
him pointing to pictures on the shelf.
A quick look in the bags revealed an assortment of
clothes, which looked about right for both the boys as
well as an assortment of basic foods. Janet knows my
kitchen, and the lack of nutrition available in there!
There was even some kids' friendly shampoo, which I took,
along with a change of clothes for Pawel.
"Karol, choose some clean clothes for yourself and you
can use the shower in the other bathroom while I clean
your brother up"
"No I stay with him!" he said challenging me.
I looked at the boy and saw a mixture of proud defiance
and painful longing, "Come on then, let's clean him up,
so we can cook some dinner!" I said putting my arm on his
shoulder.
Gently Karol and I lifted the exhausted boy into the
shower and started to strip him. As the layers came off
him so the smell increased, not only the accident in his
pants but also three weeks of living rough without
washing or changing his clothes. Most of the clothes I
dropped into a plastic bag, to go in the washing machine,
the badly soiled underwear went straight into a bucket of
hot disinfectant that I usually used for cleaning soiled
dog bedding.
I gently turned the water on, and making sure the
temperature was comfortable I let it pour over the boys
abused body. I use the term abused as, although there
were no signs of THAT sort of abuse, he was covered in
sores and eczema from lack of hygiene. I got a bar of
medicated soap that I normally used to clean up bite
wounds on the dogs if they had been fighting and gently
soaped his pits, feet and then his filthy bum. Karol was
trying hard not to gag at the smell so I told him to run
water into the bath as I gently cleaned his brothers'
intimate areas. Once he was clean I looked across at
Karol and realised that tears were streaming down his
face, so I held out my free arm and he rushed over to me,
burying his head in my chest and sobbing.
I guess three weeks of responsibility for his little
brother had taken its toll, and I hugged him tightly. I
turned my attention back to Pawel who seemed to be coming
round and as I did the boy held out his arms to me and
whispered "Papa trzymaj mnie"
I don't speak Polish, but decided at that moment I needed
to learn, and fast, but the Papa and the outstretched
arms were international. Somehow I managed to lift both
boys together and placed them gently into the bath tub.
"Karol, can you watch Pawel for me for a moment I need to
get some towels and heat up some milk!"
"OK Papa" came the whispered reply
I had to hurry from the room to hide the tears welling in
my eyes, as I grabbed a couple of big bath towels and
popped them into the tumble dryer to warm them up. I then
placed a large jug of milk in the microwave and opened a
new packet of chocolate cookies. On returning to the
bathroom I saw, to my horror that both boys were almost
asleep. What if they had dropped off and drowned? I would
never have been able to live with myself.
"Come on boys, I have some nice warm towels for you, and
then we'll have a hot drink and some sleep!" I said,
lifting first Karol and then Pawel out of the water and
wrapping them each in a warm fluffy towel. I carried
Pawel, and led Karol into my living room and parked them
both on my huge recliner sofa, turning on the gas, coal
effect fire, even though it was not that cold. I just
like the ambiance a real fire gives.
I went out to the kitchen and made 3 mugs of hot
chocolate and brought them, with a plate of cookies back
to the boys. Karol scooted to one side and patted the
sofa between them for me to sit on and we sipped our
drinks and munched on cookies. I placed the mugs on the
coffee table and hugged the boys to me.
I was vaguely conscious of Peter Pan curling up at my
feet as we all 3 fell into a deep sleep. We must have
slept almost 8 hours as the next thing I knew was a
gentle tapping at the door, and Janet, Rob, Brian and
Master  tiptoed in. PP looked up and wagged just the tip
of his tail, as if to say `Hush, don't wake them!'
I was glad to see them, and extricated myself from the
sleeping boys, "Hi, thanks for dropping the things off
earlier. I need some advice!" I said to Rob.
"That's why I came over" Rob told me. "Unless you are
unable to I was going to say, keep quiet about the boys
until after Christmas, Social Services won't be able to
place them until the New Year, which would mean a group
home for the next 2 weeks."
Janet tugged on my arm and I turned to see what she was
pointing at. Brian had climbed onto the sofa where I had
been sleeping and Peter Pan had joined Pawel on one side
while Master did the same with Karol on the other! I
choked up at the sight of our dogs and Brian assuming
care of the 2 lonely waifs.
"Oh my God" Janet whispered, pulling her phone from her
bag, that is so sweet I have to have a picture. She took
several and then looked at me as if she had had an
epiphany, "Toms wife is a Social Worker, maybe she could
help?"
"I'm not sure if that is a good idea" Rob told her, "what
if she feels compelled to remove them?"
"Of course she is," I joined in, "and just before I lost
everyone to the drunken ass-hole she had assessed us as
foster parents, we were going to take in some refugee
children from the Thailand Tsunami. I wonder if our
foster carers' assessment is still valid?"
Janet was already dialling, "Tom, Janet here, is Linda
there?" she asked. "Thanks... Hi Linda... and to you too...
A quick question, how long is a foster carers assessment
valid?"
It was agony to hear only half of the conversation, but
Janet was nodding and smiling as Linda explained
something. "No it's not us, it's Peter. Long story but
Peter caught a Polish kid shoplifting to feed his younger
brother, I don't have the full story but they are
homeless, and need some care and love for Christmas!"
I thought, `well this is it. No turning back now!' as
Janet handed me the phone.
"Hi Linda" I said, dreading the possible outcome of the
call.
"Peter, what's the story? How old are they, and how did
they come to be walking the streets?"
"One moment Linda" I said and kneeling by Karol I shook
him gently and asked "How old are you both?"
A very sleepy voice whispered "I am 12 and Pawel is 9
Papa"
"Linda? Karol is 12 and Pawel is 9, I caught Karol
lifting a fruit loaf from the bakers at the Christmas
Market, he led me to his brother, who was in a bad way. I
brought them home, fed and bathed them and they are
sleeping on my sofa at the moment, between 2 dogs and
Brian, Janet's son. All I know is the parents dumped them
at Dover about 3 weeks ago!"
As I said this it was as if a light went on in Robs head.
He pulled out his phone and went online. With a cry of
"Aha!" he held his phone under my nose opened at a Police
information page with a report of a drugs related
incident in Dover 3 weeks ago. A Polish couple, who had
been smuggling drugs, got into a fight in a bar in Dover
and were killed. The police found them gutted, in a burnt
out car. They had been opened up to extract the packages
of drugs that had swallowed. In the car were the remains
of childrens toys and clothes.
"Linda, the question is, am I still registered as an
authorised foster carer? Oh you're on speaker phone now,
Janet and her husband Rob are listening too!"
"OK, just looking on the computer, yes your permit would
be up for renewal next year, is Rob on duty?"
"I can be if you need me to?" Rob laughed.
"Can I fax you the paperwork to fill in? I have Peters
fax number here. I will be able to grant a temporary
placement until the 4th January, if you can certify the
circumstances of the boys' status?"
"OK will do" Rob replied.
"I'm on my way over then" Linda said and hung up the
call.
"Oh my God!" I exclaimed, "Did that just happen?"
A buzz from my home office heralded the arrival of a fax,
and I hurried to get it. I handed the papers to Rob and
turned back to Karol. "Karol, this man is Rob, he is a
friend, and a Policeman. He has to ask you some
questions, and then a lady will come and make sure you
are OK, so that you both can stay with me until we can
work things out, OK?"
Karol shook his head in a panic "Nie Polijca Papa" he
said grabbing my arm.
"Karol, he is a friend, he wants to help us. He is the
man who brought the bags of clothes and food over for us!
He is Janets husband, and Brains dad"
"What is husband? Who is Brian?" he asked.
Rob use Google translate and said " I am the Maz of
Janet, and Brian, my son, is the boy you are holding on
to next to you!"
Karol looked round and only then realised that Brian was
holding him and Pawel. He reached out and hugged Brian,
causing the towel to slip to the floor.
"I think we should get you two dressed" Janet said
picking up some clothes from the pile on the table.
I was amazed that the boys were not at all shy about
their nudity, Rob commented; "You can tell that they are
eastern Europeans, no hang ups about being nude!"
Once they were dressed Rob asked the boys about their
parents, and what sort of car they had been driving. The
answers Karol gave, including his surname, Poplawski, all
matched up with the Police report of the dead drug
runners. Further questions established that, as far as
the boys knew, they had no other relatives.
Karol whispered to Rob, "Are Mama and Papa dead? After
they left us I heard gunshots and I took Pawel out of the
car and we hid!"
Rob looked across at Janet and me, and seeing our looks
of despair he knelt in front of the boys and took their
hands, "Yes your parents tried to bring drugs into the
country, the people they were meeting to hand on the
drugs hurt them, and they have gone to heaven." He tried
to explain.
"Heaven?" The boy spat, "those pijanych sukinsyny, er
drinking sons of beeches, they should go right to Pieklo,
to Heel?" he said struggling with his words. To underline
his venom he lifted his shirt and showed us his back. I
had not noticed as I bathed him, he was covered in
bruises and welts.
"Pawel and me, we want to live here with Papa Peter!" he
said hugging me tightly.
Janet reached for a tissue to give me to catch the flow
of tears that started in my eyes! "I'd like that boys!" I
choked out hugging Pawel to me too.
With that the door bell rang and both Peter Pan and
Master ran barking to the door.
"PP Aus!" I shouted and Janet called the same to Master.
Rob went to the door and let Linda and another Social
Worker in. Linda went through the introductions and we
all greeted her colleague Leslie Finn.
The next hour and a half were taken up with paperwork,
initial interviews, reports and all sorts of other
bureaucracy. I heard a distinct rumble from the tummy of
Pawel, and he held his tummy and giggled.
Janet excused herself and I heard her drive off, only to
return about a quarter of an hour later loaded up with Mc
Donalds. The boys, Pawel, Karol and Brian all tucked in,
and despite language differences soon became firm
friends. While we adults sat down to plan a strategy for
the weeks ahead.