Date: Mon, 21 Aug 2006 11:55:11 +0000 (GMT)
From: Nathan Me <nathan7new@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: James chapter 25

'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 25


It was 10am when Mr Spiller went round the various classrooms to collect
the six children. He had known that the police would want to interview them
again, but usually the school was given a few days notice, so they could
arrange a suitable person to be present and, if necessary, a solicitor.
This morning, Mrs Daniels had turned up with a minibus insisting the
children would be interviewed not in the schools own interview suite, but
in the family unit at the local police station. Mr Spiller had no problem
with that per say, just he had no one to spare to go with them. Mrs Daniels
was adamant that her staff would fulfil their legal responsibilities and
provide the appropriate adult the law required to be present at the
interviews. He had no real power to object. They worked much closer with
other Social Work offices, but Mrs Daniels had never taken to the home or
the staff and always seemed to be working against them. He wasn't sure what
her agenda was, he just suspected that what ever it was, it was more
important to her than the children's welfare. He let out a big sigh as he
reached out to open his office door. She was sitting in there waiting for
the children. They followed him into the room. She was all smiles.

Andy saw her and winced. His experience of Mrs Daniels made him wary.

"What do you want?" He asked gruffly. She seemed to recoil slightly, not
expecting any challenge to her authority. She obviously had no idea who he
was or that he remembered her.

"I'm here to check up on you all and make sure you are all ok and to take
you for your interviews." She stood up and threw back her shoulders.
Instead of giving her the air of authority she thought it did, it merely
served to accentuate the woman's huge breasts. Like many larger women, they
were generous when not thrust out, but throwing her shoulders back only
made them more prominent, weapons that would knock you over if she turned
round without warning. Sam and James had that very same thought and James
saw Sam biting hip lower lip to hold back the giggle. A single guffaw
escaped James and he tried to disguise it as a cough. He wasn't sure if it
had worked because Chris winked at him. Maybe Chris had thought it too.

"So, boys, if you will follow me."

The journey to the police station was a quiet one. None of the boys wanted
to go through another interview and little Danny was gripping Chris's hand
so tight, Chris thought it might drop off. This wasn't the same station
they had been interviewed in before. The waiting room was fairly bland: all
greys, earthy greens and off white walls. There were a few toys and
magazines littered about, but it lacked warmth. The boys were shown in and
asked to wait. One by one, social workers came and took them away until
only Chris and Danny were left. Two more Social Workers came in with a
female police specialist who was also dressed in plain clothes. They led
the boys down the corridor to two interview rooms. Danny did not want to be
separated from Chris, but they insisted and told him that his brother would
be just next-door, so he went with one of the Social Workers and the police
officer. The female police officer was specially trained to work with
children. All the sessions were videoed and she worked not just through
direct questions, but also through guided play. Often, young children would
reveal more in their play than they were comfortable discussing with a
stranger. Anatomically correct dolls even allowed the children to
demonstrate sex play without any prompting. The room she led Danny into had
a mural painted on two walls showing green hills and trees and fluffy white
clouds. There were a couple of sofas, shelves full of toys and games and a
low table surrounded by four differently coloured chairs. The Social Worker
sat on a chair in one corner of the room. With so much other furniture in
the room, unless Danny stood up and looked straight at her, she would
almost be invisible and was obviously not their to participate, just
chaperone.

"Danny, my name is Stella," then police officer said, " and all I want to
do today is get to know you a little bit, while your brother and the others
have their chats next door." She sat cross-legged on the floor fiddling
with a stuffed toy, an orange hippo. She offered it to him, but he wasn't
interested in orange hippos.

"Why don't you see if there is anything on the shelves that you would like
to play with?" She sat quietly and let him wander, slowly round the
room. He gave her a wide birth, eventually reaching the shelves and
glancing over them to see if anything was worth playing with. A lot of it
was obviously for little kids and he did not believe he was a little kid
any more. Eventually he found a small radio controlled car and pulled it
down. He tried to make it go, but nothing happened. After a few attempts he
was about to put it back.

"Can I have a look, Danny? If it just needs new batteries, I might be able
to find some." He walked over to her, because she still had not moved, and
gave her the little car and its controller. She turned the car over and
found a little switch that switched the car on. Then she tried the
controller again and the little wheels revved up, the small electric motor
making quite a racket. She put the car down and held the controller out to
Danny. He took it and tentatively pushed the lever. The car jumped
backwards, turning as it did. He pushed the lever the other way and the car
raced forwards in a straight line. After a few tries he had worked out that
forwards was always a straight line and that the car always turned to the
left as it reversed. He sent it racing round the room, bumping into chair
legs and walls. He slowly walked round after it; occasionally looking back
to see what Stella was doing. She seemed content to watch him play, for
now.

As the car raced through the chair and table legs, Stella laughed and
leaned back against a sofa. Danny reversed the car, running it into her
legs. He dropped the remote, as if he was suddenly scared of how she might
respond. He waited to see what she would do: nothing. She just smiled at
him. He cautiously picked up the remote and started the car forwards, away
from her. Slowly, as he played with the toy, he wandered closer to her.
Eventually even offering it to her so she could have a go. They took it in
turns to send the little car flying round the room. Sensing that he was
relaxing a little, Stella started passing encouraging comments about his
driving and skill. She laughed when the car tumbled over, pretended to try
and catch it when it passed near her and started making comments and
suggestions. Eventually she asked her first question.

"Do you have a car like this at home, Danny?" She waited patiently for an
answer.

"Bigger." He guided the car back away from the far wall, in a controlled
semi circle until it was facing him again. "And Chris has one too."

"Really? What's yours like?"

"Red." He said as if that explained everything she needed to know. She
carefully asked easy, non-threatening questions, slowly building trust.
Eventually she started asking about the games they played as home as a
family. She guided the conversation artfully to other things he and his
brother did with each other, the other boys and the adults. Danny realised
where she was leading him and slumped down onto the sofa she was leaning
against, his chin buried in his chest and his eyes fixed on the floor. She
turned to look at him.

"Are you ok? We can have a break if you want." She watched the little
boy. He was thinking, trying to work out what was happening, trying to make
sense of things that she believed were way beyond his understanding.

"You want to know about sex. That's what all this is about." He stared at
her, challenging her.

"Danny, it is true that I would like you to tell me what you know about
sex, but it is also true that I know it might be hard for you to talk about
it. I don't want to make you sad, so you decide today what you want to tell
me." She was quite prepared to do this interview several times to get what
she needed for a prosecution. Children sometimes needed several sessions
before they would trust her with any information at all. Very few young
children were as direct as Danny. He chewed on a nail. He looked up at her
for a moment and then back at the nail.

"We all do it." He mumbled. She sat and waited. Often the details came out
in play with the anatomically correct dolls, but Danny seemed capable of
talking about it without the aid of the toys. He examined his nails. They
were a poor distraction as he had so many questions but didn't dare ask
anyone. They swam in his mind until, eventually, he blurted out, "Why did
they take him away?"

"Why did they take who away, Danny?" Reflecting back the question helped to
ensure she had understood it, though it was pretty obvious he was talking
about his father in this case.

"Dad."

"Why do you think they took him?" Again, careful to use his own words, she
used his question to elicit more information about how he perceived his
world and the situation he was in.

"Because he loved us." He stared straight into her eyes. It was a
challenge, not just an answer. He believed his father loved him and
couldn't see why they had taken him away. It didn't make any sense to him.

"There are different ways of showing love, Danny. Can you tell me of any
you can think of?"

He offered a litany of ways including hugs, kisses, being nice and
eventually added, "being sexy."

"What does, 'being sexy' mean, Danny?"

He stared at her, not completely sure how to answer her. His thoughts
produced a little hardon and he had to adjust himself. He pulled at the
front of his grey school short, but didn't get it first time so had to do
it again. She noticed. She was familiar with such reactions from children
who had been abused over long periods. Many were confused and a few of the
younger ones didn't even realise that what was happening was wrong. Slowly
he began to describe the acts that had been performed on him, the acts that
he performed on others and occasionally she observed he would rub his
genitals, obviously aroused by their conversation. This showed not only
that he knew the terms he was using, but also that he understood what they
referred to and could even remember what it felt like. Most children didn't
really know what the terms meant till they were ten, eleven or even twelve
and even then, they had little or no physical reaction as they had not
actually experienced the acts and so had no actual mental recollection of
the arousal. Her job was a sad one. She heard so many heart breaking
stories, met so many damaged children. Her consolation was that in some
cases, they were able to intervene and, hopefully, the children would then
go on to live better, protected lives. Not always though.



More to come...