Date: Mon, 8 Jan 2007 00:00:59 +0000 (GMT)
From: Nathan Me <nathan7new@yahoo.co.uk>
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....