Date: Mon, 8 Jan 2007 00:00:59 +0000 (GMT) From: Nathan Me Subject: james chapter34 'James' by Nathan Email address nathan7new@yahoo.co.uk My stories are archived at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/nathansstories/. This story contains material of a sexual nature and describes sexual acts between adults and children. If you find this kind of material offensive, if you are under the legal age to read such material or if it is illegal in your country, please do not read any further. My stories may contain some factual or autobiographical elements, but they are works of fiction and any apparent similarities of my characters to real people are not intended. This story is protected by copyright. It may not be downloaded, copied, printed or otherwise reproduced in any way other than for your private enjoyment and may not be changed in any way without express written consent of the author, me! I hope you enjoy this story. James: Chapter 34 On the way back to the school, Tom and the boys recounted their misadventure to Nita and the others. As no one was actually hurt, nothing would be done, but Nita took the opportunity to remind Tom of accident reporting procedures and the two girls both yawned simultaneously, causing Andy to roar with laughter. When they reached the school, Mr Spiller was waiting for them. Once again the boys recounted the afternoon's excitement and Tom's heroic leap through the air to save Danny. Once he had established that truly, no one had been injured, he too praised Tom. Then he had a surprise of his own to share. "James, I just got word today that we can go to your house and pick up some of your personal items, if you want, of course." "Yeah, please." "Ok then. Tom, would you like to accompany James and I on a little trip?" He held up a big brown card label, from which a Yale key hung on a piece of string. "I guess. If it's alright with James." He turned to look at the boy. James paused and suddenly everyone was looking at him. He felt uncomfortable, but nodded anyway. How could he have explained not wanting the hero to come along? "Right then. Nita if you can sign everyone else back in, Tom, James and I will take another little trip." He let James and Tom out to his own car, a big Volvo Estate. James had seen him in a little sports car too, so both he and his wife must have shared the vehicles. Maybe he brought this car because it had more room in it. Silly: how would he have known about James getting permission to go home for stuff before he came to work today? James' head spun as they drove out through the school gates and onto the main road. This would be the first time he had been home since his mother died. Had anyone else been there? The Police? Social Services? Would his dirty clothes still be in the wash basket in the bathroom? And what about the food in the fridge? Did he want Tom in his house? Did he even want to go home? Mr Spiller pulled the car round a slip road and onto a dual carriageway. James felt the vehicle speed up and the two adults in front chatted about Tom's first day at school. They went under a concrete flyover, covered with graffiti, and past the shopping centre they had visited earlier. Soon they were flying down the motorway and James sat back and closed his eyes. They were so heavy and thinking was hard. He had so many questions and no answers. It must have been the car slowing down that woke him. They came to a roundabout that seemed vaguely familiar. Left, left and then right and James now recognised the main road to his housing estate. The houses were a mix of terraced, semi and detached. War and regeneration programmes meant that there were some over two hundred years old, many around fifty years old and a few new ones too, that had been built on brown-field sites. One such site had been a disused factory where James and his playmates had pretended to be cowboys and soldiers, until it had been demolished to make way for twenty new redbrick semidetached townhouses. They pulled round into his street and Mr Spiller pulled over to the curb and parked. He twisted round in his seat until he could see James. "Well, James, I realise this is the first time you have been back here and normally we would have had chance to talk about this trip beforehand, but it just kind of happened. How are you feeling about going in there?" "Ok, I guess." "Well, just enough then to say, if you decide you don't want to go in that's ok; if you get in and decide to come straight back out, that's still ok, and if you get in and want to spend a little while in there, that's ok too. If you want to talk about it, we are both here for you, James." "I know." "Ok, then. What shall we do?" "Go in." "Right you are." He opened his door got and got out, waiting for James and Tom to do likewise. The three of them went up the few steps to James' front door and Mr Spiller gave the key to James to unlock his house. James took it by the big brown label and stared at the key for a moment, before putting it into the lock and turning it. His heart came up into his throat. Would she be here? Stupid, stupid thought! Tears welled, but James choked them back. He pushed hard and walked through the door, into the long hall. To the right was the door to the lounge; to the left the staircase and at the other end of the hall was the kitchen-diner. Behind the door was a mountain of mail: at some point that was going to have to be dealt with. He walked, room to room, silently taking in the familiar scenes and the familiar scents, slightly mustier than he remembered them. The place was already starting to smell like no one lived there. He climbed the stairs, looking at the family photos his mother had hung there: smiles and hugs. He went into her bedroom and sat on her bed. Mr Spiller held Tom's arm at the top of the stairs. "Give him a minute or two in there alone. He'll call if he needs us." "Ok. I just can't image what this is like. I was younger when my parents died and I still had family to look after me." "It happens like this all too often. This is my third home visit to an empty house this month. One the gran was in hospital, one the parents had both been killed and now James. Still, he is a remarkable child. He'll get through this and go on to be a great person with just a little encouragement." "You think so, after all that's happened?" "I know so. So often I have felt that I wanted to adopt every child with a hard story like James, but in the end I have to concede that I can't and we just do our best. But James, James has real quality and potential beyond just being cute. He really has an acute intelligence, insight and a caring heart. This young man will overcome whatever life throws at him because that was what his mother did and she taught him well. Most of who we are is developed in our first few years. Our coping strategies and the way we respond to life is all developed that early. It seems she gave him security, love and self-confidence in abundance. She must have been a fantastic woman." "She was." James was standing behind them, leaning against his mother's bedroom doorpost. "I'm sorry, James. I didn't hear you come out. I didn't mean to talk about your mother behind your back." "That's ok, Mr Spiller. What you said was true. She was always happy and full of life and she did love me. I know that. It just hurts so much that she left me." "James, James. She didn't choose that. Life can be very cruel, but just like you said, she gave you the tools to go on, even after she had gone, to go on and live a happy and full life. If you can grasp that and make it happen, then you will be living the life she intended you to have." "I know." A tear rolled down his cheek as he moved round into his own room. Tubular metal formed the frame of his bunk-bed. Beneath it, attached to the frame was a beech desk, holding his PC, schoolbooks and a stereo. A swivel chair on wheels stood between the desktop and a pullout futon style chair that extended into a guest bed. At the end of the bed was a bookcase stuffed with books, CDs and videos. On the opposite wall another bookcase was covered with toys: radio controlled cars, action figures, hand-held games consoles and games, Lego, Mechano and some tools, toy soldiers and tanks. Beside that were a chest of drawers and a wardrobe. He picked a few things up, and then put them down again. What to take? What to leave? This all seemed unreal, from another life or even a dream. It was all so familiar, yet so strange. He opened the wardrobe door and stood looking at his other life. He turned, ran out of the room and threw himself into Tom's arms and wept. Mr Spiller was slightly taken aback by the boy's sudden attachment to Tom, but assumed it must have been the afternoon's excitement that had helped Tom become an instant friend. Tom was a little uncomfortable as he hugged James back. What would Mr Spiller be thinking? He looked over the boy's shoulder and saw the Counsellor nod back at him and silently mouth, "It's Ok." So he continued to hug back. He held the boy for about five minutes, until James pulled back, his face wet and blotched with red. They spent about an hour going through his clothes and deciding what to take, choosing toys and games and, finally, a few photos of his mother and of the two of them together. They had to be removed from their glass- covered frames as the boys weren't allowed glass in their rooms, but soon, James had about half a dozen photos he wanted to take with him. James pulled a large rucksack from a closet and they folded the clothes into it and placed the toys on top. Mr Spiller found a large envelope for the photos and that slid into a side pocket on the rucksack. He noticed that James consulted Tom frequently about what to take and what to leave. The boy had obviously taken a real like to the new volunteer. He thought back to the incident in the tree and decided to have a quiet word in Tom's ear at some convenient moment when there were no children around. The last thing he wanted was Tom to find himself in a difficult situation because of some overtly sexual act by the boy. They moved back downstairs and went through to the kitchen. Mr Spiller opened the fridge door and it was instantly obvious by the smell that no one had been in to sort such stuff out. They got a black plastic bin bag and threw out everything from the fridge and freezer. They filled a second one with the perishable contents of the cupboards. Mr Spiller moved the mail from behind the door and told James he would find out for him who was dealing with the financial arrangements regarding the house and its contents and such like. They placed the rubbish bags beside the curb and locked up again. James stood for a moment, before getting back into the car. It was definitely a hard couple of hours, but James was glad Tom was there to help him. More and more, he was thinking that perhaps it was good that Tom had found him. More to come....