1st Friday

We had run out of conversation. Shirley, my client, sat with her arms folded, scowling at the door, which resolutely failed to open. I pretended to read my case notes for the hundredth time, and glanced at my watch - 2.45 for a 2 o'clock meeting - he was unreasonably late and stretching my patience as far as it would go.

It was a straight forward divorce case - Stewart had been caught with his pants down, and Shirley had decided she could not put up with it this time. I was her solicitor, and, as has become standard practice, he had employed a female solicitor from the only other practice in Stourton. Shirley and I had met several times, and agreed a proposed settlement. Today's meeting with Stewart and Gwenda, his brief, was intended to start the negotiating process - but they were late.

It wasn't even as if the proposed terms were punitive! God, I wish I had got away so lightly at my divorce. Mentally I began to toughen up the demands on behalf of Shirley - I would make Stewart pay for wasting my time. An extra £500 a month in maintenance? Maybe go for control of both his pension funds? Or get him where it really hurts and grab his vintage Lotus?

I was just clearing my throat in preparation for raising these ideas with Shirley, when there was a nervous tap on the door.

"Come!" I called - it came out much louder than I expected.

Sharon, the latest secretary at Crook, Hadham and O'Fyle, inveigled her way into the room, and coughed apologetically.

"Sorry Mr O'Fyle, but I've had a call from Miss Dyke - Mr Stougham has been unavoidably delayed and can't make the meeting today."

"Damn!" I muttered

"The Bastard!" exclaimed Mrs Stougham.

"Thank you Sharon, did they offer a new date?"

"No Sir. She said they would call to arrange something next week."

"Thank you Sharon, that will be all."

She exited cautiously, and Shirley and I discussed events for a few minutes. It was clear she had got well wound up in advance of this meeting, and was now very angry at being stood up. It certainly looked as if Stewart had just cost himself a pretty extra penny or two.

Half an hour later, Shirley had left, and I was back in my office. A check of the diary and the work pending showed there was little useful I could do with the spare few hours of a Friday afternoon. I wrestled with my conscience for a few seconds, and then decided I could give myself an early finish for the first time in months. I grabbed the Stougham file, and made my way out.

"I am taking the Stougham file home to do some work," I called to Sharon on the way through. "You know how to get hold of me if I am needed urgently. I'll see you Monday."

"Tuesday Mr O'Fyle" she whispered back, "It's a bank holiday Monday." Why did she always look so scared when she spoke to me? I'm sure I had never said a harsh word to her.

It was a lovely day for a drive in the country. I dropped the soft top on my old MG, and headed out, taking the back roads to my flat on the outskirts of Stourmouth. As I drove I reflected on my life as it stood: mid thirties, divorced, living alone in a small but comfortable apartment, earning reasonably well - getting by. Not for the first time, I wondered where my life was heading - there did not seem much point in just "getting by". Surely there ought to be someone else in my life to make it all worthwhile? But every time I thought of starting a new relationship, the trauma of my divorce and the break with my ex, filled me with a profound fear of ever letting anyone get that close to me again. Not for the first time, I resolved only to "keep on keeping on" and hope that some day soon, something would come along to give me purpose.

I parked the car in the garage, dropped the door, and trudged up the stairs to the first floor entrance, the file clenched under my arm. My flat forms the whole of the second floor to the building - a decent sized detached house with a large garden. The ground floor is occupied by a little old lady - deaf as a post, and my landlady. She and her husband had lived in the whole house, but after he died, and she became more infirm, she had it converted, and now my rent served as a useful addition to her pension. It suited me - I had all the room I needed, and a lovely view across the back lawn to the woods beyond. And the garden was her problem, not mine. She employed a man to keep it tended once in a while.

You know how one can immediately sense something has changed when you enter a familiar room? That was how I felt as I let myself in through the door, which opens straight into the main living area. My eyes darted around the room, trying to locate the source - had something been moved on the coffee table? Was the half light window at the back off its latch? Had there been a robber in my precious haven? Then my ears picked up the sound of running water from the bathroom - Shit! Had I left a tap running all day? I strode towards the bathroom door, but just as I reached for the handle:

"No!" screamed a small voice.

As I turned towards the source of the sound, a small boy stood up from behind the sofa and glared at me, his red face filled with fear and anger.

"Wha.. What are you doing in here!" I stammered out. I wanted to be angry. I wanted to be filled with righteous indignation at this little thief caught red-handed in my home, but he seemed so small and scared and non-threatening, that I could not maintain that chain. He was a skinny dirty blonde haired waif in tatty clothes - he needed help, not shouting at. More calmly I repeated myself: "What are you doing on my property?"

He shrugged a non answer, but kept watching me from beneath knitted brows. Every few seconds his eyes would dart to the bathroom door, and then back to me.

"Who is in there?" I demanded.

"No one!" he lied unconvincingly. I reached for the handle again and he shouted "No!" and rushed towards me, to try to block my progress. He was too far away, and I pushed the door open and stepped cautiously in - after all, it could have been his big bad brother in there!

The scene that greeted me was not what I expected. The room was full of steam, and the bath taps were pouring even more hot water into the tub, in the middle of which sat an even smaller child - a girl with mousy blond hair and a pretty elfin face. As I stood dumb-founded, her initial wide mouthed surprise dissolved rapidly into twisted, red-faced tears as a wail of utter desperation escaped her lips.

"Oh! Sorry!" I managed to say. I became aware that the boy was now in front of me, trying with all his might to push me back out of the door.

"You can't go in there!" he was shouting, "My Sis is having a bath!" When I didn't move, he started beating my chest with his clenched fists.

I grabbed his hands to stop him hitting me, and easily over-powered his efforts to get free. "OK - OK" I said, more calmly than I felt. Still holding his hands I backed out of the room, then I released him, and pulled the door closed.

He stood glowering at me, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. "I told you you couldn't go in there!" he growled.

A snort of suppressed laughter escaped my nose. "Its my flat! I think I can go where I like in my own house."

He grimaced, and continued to glare at me.

"OK - suppose you tell me what is going on here. Is there anyone else in the flat?"

"No" he grumbled, but truthfully this time. "Are you going to call the police?"

"That depends. Have you stolen anything?"

"No!" he shouted. "We only came in so Sis could have a bath. Its her Birthday," he volunteered.

"OK - then I don't think I need to call the police." I could see him visibly relax at that. "I take it you don't have a home?"

He winced. "We got a camp in the woods" he stated with defensive pride.

"How long have you been there?"

"A few weeks" he shrugged uncertainly.

"Where were you before that?"

His brow clouded again. "Mum's place" he muttered "but we ran away 'cos she was always drunk." His face worked as he thought - then: "You ain't going to call the social are you?"

He was not slow - that was indeed what I was thinking. "Why not?" I asked.

"Cos they'll put us in care, and I wont be with my Sis any more! Please don't call the social!" For the first time he raised his head and looked me straight in the face, his eyes pleading his case. For the first time, I realised that he had attractive features - a well proportioned face, wide blue eyes and a fresh complexion behind a little grime. I think it was at that point that my infallibly logical mind came off the rails.

"You can't go on living in the woods for ever. Its not safe - and anyway, the weather will get much colder soon..."

"We'll do OK! We done alright so far!"

I paused to consider. This guy - he couldn't be more than nine - had already got under my skin. It would feel like a betrayal to call the police or the social in the face of his desperate pleas. I didn't want to disappoint him. Hell - I wanted him to like me! Where did that come from?

"OK - I wont call the police or the social - at the moment." He smiled for the first time. "But I am not sure about you staying out in the woods. We will discuss it later - but in the meantime, I think we need to rescue your sister - what's her name?"

"She's Amy. She's seven today - and you spoilt her birthday present!"

I felt a complete cad! Even if it wasn't really my fault. "OK - you'd better come in with me, and we'll try to make it better for her."

He shrugged and followed me passively into the bathroom. Amy was sat just where we had left her, tears still running down her face, although the twisted bitterness had been replaced with a look of dismal desperation. The water was still pouring into the tub, but the level was way past the overflow. I stepped past her and turned the taps off. I crouched down beside the bath.

"Hello Amy" I said in a reassuringly calm voice. "I'm sorry I came in on your bath time. Were you enjoying it?"

She sniffed hard, and nodded tentatively, her eyes fixed on her hands. "Did you call the police?" she whispered.

"No, I have had a chat with your brother, and I don't think I need to do that."

She looked up briefly, a fleeting glimpse of relief on her face, and then cast her eyes back to her hands. "Are we in trouble Mister?" she enquired quietly. She cast an accusatory glare at her brother - in her simple view, it was all his fault that her treat had been spoilt. He stood with his hands twisted between his knees, the picture of guilt.

"Maybe a bit" I replied "But I have decided I am going to help you as much as I can."

"Really?" Her face shot up to stare at me, the first hint of a smile across her lips. A grunt of surprise escaped the boy's lips.

"Yes, really" I smiled back. A tide of warm good feelings was flooding through me - I was already feeling happier than I had in years. "What I would like you to do now, is enjoy the rest of your bath. Would you like some soap or shampoo?"

Her mouth hung open in indecision.

"Or maybe bubble bath?" I added.

That did it - a huge grin spread across her face. "Yes please!" she affirmed happily.

I reached a bottle down from the top of the cabinet - it had been there for years, and I had no recollection of where it had come from. I poured a healthy dose of the green liquid into the bath, rolled up my sleeves, and used both hands to give it a good stir. Soon a raft of bubbles was spreading across the bath, and a pleasant piney herbal aroma began to fill the room. Amy giggled with delight and helped with the stirring.

An alarm bell went off somewhere in my legal brain. Here was I with my hands in a bath with a naked 7 year old, who was no relative or concern of mine - I could picture the charge sheet already. I stood, and dried my arms. "Here - you better take over," I called to the boy. "What's your name by the way?"

"Nathan," he replied as he stepped over to take my place rolling up his sleeves as he did. He stirred enthusiastically for a while as I watched. My heart was thumping from the fear engendered by the alarm bell, but I could not help but enjoy the innocent scene in front of me.

Amy grabbed a handful of foam, and threw it at Nathan. "Oy!" he squawked as it landed in the middle of his face. Retaliation was inevitable, and he splashed her back. War escalated rapidly - Nathan's tatty tartan shirt quickly becoming soaked.

"Whoa!" I called with a laugh. "You're going to flood my bathroom!" They stopped, and stared at me, impish grins hiding in the corners of their mouths. "Why don't you get in with your sister?" I asked.

Nathan looked embarrassed, and glanced at his sister.

"With your sister's permission of course," I added quickly.

Amy nodded happily, but Nathan still looked embarrassed as he glanced at me. Clearly the idea of disrobing in front of me was too much.

"Its OK - I will go away and find some more towels. Just try not to get too much water on the floor." I left the room, and eased the door closed behind me.

It took me only a few seconds to find a couple of extra towels in the airing cupboard, but much longer before I felt I could approach the bathroom again. My heart and my brain were in battle: one that screamed of the danger to my reputation and future of having strange children naked in my flat; the other that basked in the warm glow of paternal responsibility. Several times I resolved to bring things to an end as soon as possible, and chase the little monsters away, but each time my treacherous heart eased in a 'later' to the plan. Eventually I approached the door again, and tapped nervously on the woodwork.

A loud and happy "Yes!" from Nathan chased away the last of my resolve. I entered to a cheerful scene - they were facing each other down the length of the tub, a great wall of foam between them. Nathan was using both arms in a whirlpool motion to generate more, whilst Amy gathered great dollops of whiteness to pile on the top of the wall. Other dollops adorned their heads, and the walls, and various spots across the lino floor.

"Looks like fun!" I ventured as I placed the towels on a stool by the sink.

"Yessss!" they hissed in unison.

Beside the stool was an untidy pile of discarded clothing, and I was close enough to it now to get a lung-full of its reeking mal-odour. "Tell you what guys, I'm going to give your clothes a bath as well," I announced "so you can have something clean to put on when you are done."

"But what will wear when we get out?" asked Nathan.

"Its OK - I will find you something."

I gathered the smelly heap at arms length, and headed towards my utility room. I quickly checked the pockets on the two tiny pairs of jeans, and removed a rusty penknife and some small coins from Nathan's, and a few brightly coloured stones and a sweet wrapper from Amy's. I dumped the whole lot in the machine, and set it under way - the whole lot barely made a half-wash, and all would be clean and dry in an hour or so. I returned to the airing cupboard, trying to work out what I could get the kids to wear while we waited for their clothes to dry. I found an old towelling robe I hadn't used for a while - it was dark blue, and knee length on me. I guessed it would be at least full length on Nathan. For Amy I found an old sweat shirt - it had been white once, but had got over-cooked in a wash with some red socks, so it was now both pink, and too small for me. Perfect colour, if probably still too big for Amy. Pleased with my choices, I took them to the bathroom.

"Mister! What's your name?" asked Amy as soon as I entered. They were both still in the bath, but had now settled back peaceably in the bubbles. Both smiled easily as I approached the tub, and I felt my heart swell again with the happy acceptance of my presence.

"Peter," I replied as I set the clothes on the sink. "Here are some things for you to wear when you get out." I headed back towards the door, intent on leaving them the privacy to dry and dress themselves in peace.

"Peter - can you help me wash my hair?" piped up Amy again.

"Amy - you can't!" Nathan butted in.

"Can't you do it yourself?" I asked. I had returned to the tub and crouched down beside Amy.

She shook her head slowly, and pleaded with me with big soulful eyes. A part of me knew she was spinning a line, but by now I could refuse her very little.

"OK" I surrendered, "Sit still." Her triumphant grin confirmed the line spin, but I was committed now. I ran out the shower extension, and set the water running, adjusting the temperature to a comfortable warmth. Then I doused her head, carefully avoiding her eyes. The only shampoo was a cheap all purpose one - probably a bit strong for small children, but all I had. I tipped a little onto her head, and began to work it in. It felt wonderful to touch her small head, and run my fingers through her soft wet hair. At first I couldn't get much lather up - it must have been very dirty - so I rinsed off once, and started again. This time I soon had a good head of foam to make shapes with.

I glanced towards Nathan - he was lying back with his shoulders just beneath the water, and his legs stretched out either side of Amy. As you probably realise, shampoo kills bubble bath, and the result of the first rinse was that now there were virtually no bubbles left. Through the grimy water I could make out the slender naked form of his young body. I felt myself blush, and I returned quickly to Amy, hoping my embarrassment hadn't alarmed Nathan.

I rinsed her hair again, carefully shielding her eyes with my hand to avoid any soap getting into them. "There!" I announced, "All done."

She opened her eyes, and smiled up at me. "Thank you, that was nice!" she purred. Without warning, she scrambled to her feet, and I found myself face to face with a small naked seven year-old. Before I could catch my breath from the sudden vision of smooth innocence, she raised her arms in the age-old demand to be lifted out.

"Amy!" moaned Nathan "You shouldn't do that!"

Amy kept her arms in the air, and stuck her pretty pink tongue out at her brother!

Automatically, I lifted her out, setting her carefully on the bath mat. I grabbed the smaller of the two new towels, unfolded it, and wrapped it round her, both relieved and disappointed to cover her nudity.

"Dry me!" she demanded.

"Doh!" cried Nathan in dismay. "You know you can do that yourself!"

"I'll dry your hair," I surrendered, "But you must do the rest."

She pouted, but accepted the compromise. I briskly dried her hair, trying hard not to gape at her beautiful soft frame exposed by the moving towel. Done, I wrapped her once again, handed her the sweatshirt, and stood to leave before I was drawn into further impropriety. Heading rapidly for the door, I said to Nathan: "You'd better give your hair a wash before you get out."

He grunted non-committal acknowledgement as I pulled the door to.

Free in my own sitting room, I struggled to bring my thumping heart and laboured breathing under control. What was going on? Why had I found the close intimacy with a mere baby so disturbing? And it wasn't just the heart and the lungs and the head that had reacted - there had been a very disturbing uncoiling in the nether regions. Was I mad? That would be a very quick route to total annihilation. They would have to go!

I was still pacing anxiously around the room when Amy emerged from the bath house, clad now in my old sweatshirt, which as I feared was way to big for her. The sleeves were bunched up so that her hands could reach the ends, and the neck hole stretched almost from one shoulder to the other, revealing delicately chiselled collar bones. The hem was just above her ankles, so at least she was decent. All together she looked like a pink Michelin man, only much cuter.

"Have you got a hair brush?" she demanded as she shuffled towards me.

"Ah - yes of course." I leapt to my feet and headed for the bedroom. My own brush was too solid, and if I am honest, too clogged with old hair, to offer to the child. I delved in an old drawer that had not been opened for quite a while, and turned up a small brush comb thing - I had bought it on a trip overseas when I had left my usual brush behind, and it had not been used since. Back in the living room, I offered it too Amy.

She gave me one of those withering 'You really ought to know better' looks, and simply turned her back on me. Clearly it was my duty to brush her hair as well. Cautiously I began - I had never done this before, and I had no idea where to start, so I began at the ends. Gradually I began to make progress - her hair was fairly straight, and reached comfortably to her shoulders. It was still quite damp, and this seemed to make the tangles easier to manage. I desperately did not want to pull her hair - I remembered so well how painful having my mother brush my hair had been, she never seemed to worry how much she pulled. I was determined not to be like that.

Bending over was beginning to give me a stiff back, so I moved the settee. Amy followed passively, and stood between my legs as I continued to sort her hair out. I felt the need to converse.

"Did you enjoy your bath?" I ventured.

She nodded an affirmative.

"I'm sorry I gave you a jump," I tried.

"S'OK" she replied with a shrug. This was going nowhere.

"There - all done!" I announced.

She turned to face me. "Thank you Mr Peter" she said seriously, "You did it just like my Dad."

"Is that good?"

She nodded emphatically.

"Where is you Dad?"

Her face clouded, and she whispered: "Mum killed him!"

"Pardon?"

"I told you - Mum killed him. She was drunk and she stabbed him. She told the police he beat her up, but he didn't. She went away for a bit, and we had to live with Mrs Grey, but then they let her out and she came back." She scowled at me - clearly the Mother's return was not deemed a good thing.

"I'm sorry to hear that" I whispered, my mind reeling at the extraordinary revelation just made, and then because it seemed the only consolation I could offer, I hugged her to me. She fell into my embrace willingly, resting her head on my shoulder and sniffing back the tears.

At that moment, Nathan emerged from the bathroom, and I guiltily released Amy from the embrace. He scowled briefly in my direction - clearly he felt very protective of his little sister - but then decided I had not over-stepped the bounds of reason yet, and shuffled towards us both. The old robe dragged on the floor, as I had rather feared it would, and it seemed to exaggerate his smallness and vulnerability. I was relieved to see his head was wet - he had taken my advice and washed his hair. He eased himself on to the settee beside me, and began to peer around the room as if seeing it for the first time.

His eyes settled on the wide-screen TV in front of him. "Can we watch telly?" he asked brightly.

"Of course." I grabbed the remote, and hit the necessary buttons. The screen came to life, and we jumped through the numerous options on free-view. It was only 4.30 (I mused for a moment about how much had changed for me in the last hour) so the channels were filled with child-friendly viewing. After a little mild-mannered argument, they settled on some a kiddies game-show, which involved teams answering questions or solving problems to avoid a dunking in blue gunge. Nathan and Amy were transfixed - I found it utterly mindless and patronising.

I sat back on the sofa to do some thinking. Amy promptly scrambled up to sit between my legs, and then wriggled back until she could lean against me, earning a disapproving glance from Nathan. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, and distractedly her thumb came up and into her mouth. The close contact with little Amy drove all possibility of rational thought from my head. The trusting innocence and the warm softness of her body against mine filled my heart with a paternal love, but then I felt my manhood begin to uncoil again in the tight squeeze against her lower back. I knew so well I should get her away from me, but I also knew how much I wanted her to stay right there! What was happening to me?

A few minutes went by, but the inanity of the program was getting to me. My throat had become dry, so I croaked a bit as I asked: "Do either of you need anything to eat?"

Nathan shrugged indifference, but I could see him swallow his appetite. Amy turned in my lap to present me with an excited face of anticipation. "Can we?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.

"What would you like?" I asked, my mind going through an inventory of options. I kept very little reserve in the flat - I found it offensive to have to keep throwing stale food away. Now I came to think of it, I only had the stew I was planning to reheat for my supper, which I knew would not appeal to young palates, or some bread.

Amy shrugged. "What ya got?"

My mind went to the pile of home-delivery leaflets that had grown on the ledge by the door. "Hang on - hop off, I'll see what I can find." Amy scrambled quickly off, and I fetched the leaflets. "Let me see - I have Indian, Chinese, Fish & Chips, or Pizza?"

"Pizza!" squeaked Amy.

"Can we really have Pizza?" asked Nathan more calmly, but there was no denying the hunger in his eyes. "We haven't got any money" he added quietly, his eyes dropping to his hands.

"Yes - I will stand you a pizza supper."

Amy squealed with delight, and even Nathan allowed himself to look excited. I handed them the leaflet, and they were soon debating the options - it was apparent that Nathan read very well, and even Amy could get most of it. These two were neither stupid, nor ill-educated, which was a surprise. Soon they had settled on a choice - predictably bland by my standards, and I went off to make the call, adding one with plenty of chilli for me, and a 2 litre of Coke to wash it down with. When I returned, they were both still watching the TV - Amy occasionally bouncing up, without taking her eyes from the screen, in anticipation of the food. I slipped quietly into the armchair at an angle to the settee - that way I could avoid both the distraction of the awful show, and Amy in my lap.

At last I had a chance to observe the two in more detail. Nathan was closest to me. He had pulled up his legs onto the settee, and was comfortably wrapped in large quantities of dark blue towelling. His hair was noticeably blonder than Amy's, but darker underneath - I suspected it had been highlighted at some stage. Now clean it had a warmth and life to it, and it was long enough to flop around as he moved, occasionally into his eyes, when he would sweep it aside with his hand. His complexion was quite pale, his blue eyes widely set., his cheekbones elegantly high, his chin and nose delicate and slightly pointed. The neck of the robe had fallen open showing a fine neck, collarbones, and a triangle of very pale chest. I could never find a man attractive, but this boy was.

It was obvious that they were brother and sister. Amy had all the same qualities as her brother, if a little less pronounced yet. Her hair, now well dried, was light and wispy, but straight. Her face a little rounder than her brother's, and her lips a little redder and fuller. When she smiled, which she did a lot, she revealed an obvious gap that endeared her to me even more. And when she turned her wide blue eyes on me, I melted like hot butter, and I think she was beginning to realise it.

The program came to and end in an orgy of blue gunge, and switched to adverts. Amy hopped off her seat and headed for the bathroom, already as if she owned the place. I took the opportunity to learn more about my new friends: "Nathan - Amy says your Dad is dead - is that right?"

"Nah!" he replied, his eyes still on the screen. "She says that cos she can't see why he left her."

"Why did he leave?"

"Mum. And her drinking." His brow furrowed in thought. "He always promised Amy he wouldn't leave her, but I guess he gave up in the end." Silence stretched for a few moments as he observed one of the more amusing ads. "Amy cried for days," he added at last, as his eyes flashed out his anger.

"That's very sad," I empathised.

"S'OK" he responded. "I'm going to look after her now." It was a statement of total finality.

As I reflected on the weight of responsibility on those very young shoulders, Amy trotted back into the room. Instead of heading back to her seat, she stopped in front of me. "Can I sit with you?" she pleaded.

I glanced at Nathan, silently asking his permission. He scowled in thought for a moment, and then almost imperceptibly, nodded his uncertain acceptance. I sat back, and Amy scrambled happily into my lap, and wriggled around until she could rest her head on my shoulder. She was very light, and the sensation of her small body curled up against me was divine. After a few seconds she felt herself slip out of position. She simply grabbed my arm and pulled it round her in a childish instruction to hold her. How could I refuse? I happily but guiltily wrapped both arms about her.

I really can't recall what came on TV next. I was too happy in my huddle with Amy. I could feel her little chest rise and fall with her breathing, and inhale the warm freshly washed smell of her. Every now and again she would shift around, and I could feel her small bottom move against my crotch, causing another guilt pang to redden my cheeks - but there was no way I could push her away as long as she wanted to stay there. Then it occurred to me that she must be wearing nothing under my old sweatshirt, and both my desire and my guilt became stronger.

Fortunately, the doorbell rang - the pizza had arrived. Amy was off my lap like a shot, and even Nathan showed eager anticipation at the arrival of food. Cautiously adjusting my dress, I killed the TV, joined them at the door, and took delivery of the meal. I blushed fearsomely at the teenager making the delivery, as if he could read my mind, and see where my guilty thoughts had been only seconds before, but he just sullenly accepted my £20 note, and stomped cheerlessly down the stairs. I also noticed Nathan's surprise at the wadge of notes in my wallet, which gave me pause for thought. I had automatically begun to trust these two implicitly, but I needed to remember they were just runaway urchins, and still might be little thieves if they got the chance.

We carted the booty to the dining room table - set to one side of the living area next to the side window - and unpacked the prize. In no time they were both stuffing pizza into their mouths as fast as they could, while I followed at a more leisurely pace. I hadn't thought of it much before then, but it was probably days since they had had a decent meal, and they really NEEDED food. I broke off to get some glasses and pour some Coke for them and a small beer for me, and the guzzling continued. They finished well before me - it was early for my usual dinner, and I did not feel particularly hungry. They eyed every mouthful I ate, and quickly the pressure was too much for me, and I divided the rest of mine between them. Even with the chilli, they devoured it readily, along with another glass of Coke each, and only then did they both begin to look sated. Their happy, satisfied, tomato sauce streaked faces gave me great pleasure.

"Thank you! That was awesome!" sighed Nathan.

"Yeah!" added Amy, "Thanks Peter!"

"That's quite alright," I replied with a broad smile, "I'm glad you enjoyed it." I gathered the debris, and bundled it through to the kitchen. I returned with a damp cloth, and without pausing for thought, grabbed Amy by the shoulder and began wiping her face.

"No!" she squealed, but with an impish giggle as she tried to wriggle out of my grasp. But it was too late, I had her firmly by the neck of her shirt, and despite her struggles and protestations, I managed to get the worst of the stains from her face. I glanced towards Nathan.

"No!" he laughed, "You're not getting me!" and he ducked under my grasping hand, and shot across the room. It was a clear invite to give chase, so chase I gave. He was very quick! Several times I nearly had him, but even with the encumbrance of the robe, which he had gathered in his hands, he managed to dodge me.

"Amy - give me a hand!" I called. She gladly complied, and soon we were both darting after her screaming brother. She was not much use - the long sweatshirt was too much of an encumbrance, but at least she served to block some escape routes.

The end came suddenly - Nathan was trying to jump over the sofa as Amy and I approached from either end, but he tripped on the hem of the robe. Before he could untangle himself, I was on him. He tried to hide his face under his arm, so I took the obvious action, and tickled him under the arms. He screamed and struggled like a demented ferret, and kicked me playfully with his feet, but he was very ticklish, and soon I was getting dabs of wet cloth to his pink face. Abruptly he stopped resisting, and lay back panting, while I finished the job.

Looking down, I became aware that the struggle had caused his robe to ride right up, and he was now exposed to mid-waist. I blushed even redder than the exertion warranted.

"Sorry!" I breathed quietly, and quickly pulled the robe back to cover his embarrassment, but not before I had glimpsed his smooth white body, and hairless little-boy package. It surprised me to realise, he was not entirely flaccid - I guess the thrill of the chase had triggered some juvenile arousal.

"We saw your Willy!" giggled Amy.

"So!" responded Nathan, "We saw your Foo before!"

Amy crossed her arms in a flounce, and stuck her tongue out, before stomping over to the armchair, and throwing herself in.

I sat back in the sofa, hot and a bit winded. Nathan also sat up, carefully re-arranging his robe to avoid any further exposure. "Thanks," he sighed, "That was fun!"

"Yeah - I enjoyed it too," I added.

He gave me a great big happy grin, and then as I watched, it faded, becoming thoughtful and sad. "I suppose we'd better go soon" he breathed.

"There's no hurry," I answered, with the best reassuring smile I could manage, "You can stay as long as you like.*

"Really?"

"Yes Really. Would you like some more Coke?"

His grin returned with a vengeance, and I went to replenish their glasses. Returning, I settled into the sofa. Immediately Amy was with me, and without even asking, she scrambled carefully into my lap, her half finished Coke still in her hand. To my greater surprise, Nathan, who was sat next to me, edged closer until he could lean affectionately against my shoulder. Automatically I reached my arm around him, drawing him closer and resting my hand on his covered thigh. He rubbed his face against my shirt like a cat, and let out a purr. I could not feel more contented!

My paternal instincts were soon taking me into anxiety about them leaving me to go and sleep again in the woods. It was dangerous - you never know what bad people they might meet out there. And anyway they might catch cold, or injure themselves. And most of all, I was not sure I could cope with being alone again after such delightful company.

"You know, you don't have to leave tonight. I could fix you up to sleep here if you want to?" I ventured at last.

"Can we?" squeaked Amy with delight.

"Amy!" chastised Nathan. Then to me: "I don't think we should. You've already done lots for us...."

"I don't mind at all!" I reassured him. "I have really enjoyed your company this afternoon, and I will be much happier if I know you are safe tonight."

"You wont try and make us go to the social tomorrow?"

"Definitely not!" He was sat up now, so I looked him straight in the eye as I gave him that assurance. "What I will try to do is make things better for you - not hand you over to the social, or to Mrs Grey, or even your Mum, if that's not what you want. But I don't think you can live in the woods for ever, so I will think what else I can do - if you'll let me?"

He shrugged uncertainly, and his hands dropped to his lap where he studied them glumly.

"Can we stay? Please?" begged Amy. "It would be the bestest birthday present ever!" she wheedled.

Nathan shrugged, and then looked up to face me again. "OK" he whispered quietly, and as soon as he said it, you could see his shoulders relax, and the smile return to his face. For one night, at least, he could drop the weight of responsibility.

"Wheeeee!" squealed Amy, bouncing up and down on my lap, so that I became painfully aware of the fullness of my bladder.

"That's great!" I replied honestly, "Thank you." I struggled out from my prison, and set Amy on her feet. "I need the bathroom!" I explained at their puzzled faces, and they giggled.

In the smallest room, my mind filled immediately with doubts again. Was I crazy? I had just invited two complete strangers to stay in my house, and promised to sort things out for them. Would I wake to find my valuables all gone? What of my reputation if anyone at the practice ever found I had allowed two small children to romp around half-naked in my flat? And what the hell was I going to be able to achieve in sorting things out for them - without involving the police, their mother or the social services? I was definitely crazy.

But the vision of them sat huddled together on the sofa when I returned dispelled all my doubts and questions. I had found a new purpose in life, I would give it my all, and damn the consequences.

It was nearly 6 o'clock, so children's TV was finished, but it was way too early for their bedtime, let alone mine. I proposed a game of cards, and this met with great approval. We started with Beggar my Neighbour, and then Rummy, and then a simplified form of Whist - they learnt quickly and enthusiastically, and were both very competitive. Nathan had a natural intuition for the right play to make, and was soon winning his fair share - always greeted by an emphatic "Yessss!"

Amy learnt quickly too, and was keen to win, but lacked the logic to do as well. She succeeded by luck on a few occasions, and celebrated with: "I won! I won!" as she danced up and down on her backside.

I didn't try too hard: not that I let them win - that has never been my style, but maybe I didn't use all the skills I might. It was very easy to lose concentration watching the joyful enthusiasm of my new friends as we squatted in a circle on the floor. It was a long time since I had played simple games like these, and I had forgotten how much I enjoyed them.

I kept them topped up with Coke, and when they expressed some residual appetite I found some peanuts and crisps, which they snacked at readily.

By eight, Amy was beginning to droop. At my suggestion, she took to the settee, and I found her a pillow and my spare single duvet. She maintained she was not sleepy yet, and for a few minutes she watched Nathan and me playing Rummy with her thumb in her mouth, but when I next looked her eyes were closed and she was asleep. I pointed her out to Nathan, and mouthed a "Sshh". We lowered our voices, and continued the game - which he won.

Half an hour later, and Nathan was also on the way out. He surrendered easily, and took the other end of the settee and the duvet. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

I turned out most of the lights, and cleared away the detritus of the evening. I recovered their clothes from the machine and sorted and folded them carefully ready for the morning. I was fascinated by how small they all were - particularly Amy's knickers, which were pink with little animals all over them, and looked too small even to make a handkerchief. All their clothing was well worn with several holes and tears. I guess they had little else to wear. If I could persuade them to stay with me for longer, I would have to find them some new clothes.

I did the washing up, and then had a shower - carefully taking my pyjamas into the bathroom with me, so that I did not have to pass my visitors in a state of undress. On my way to the bedroom, I stood and watched them again for a few moments. Only their heads were sticking out from under the duvet, and with their eyes closed, they looked completely innocent and vulnerable. My resolve to cherish and protect them increased with every second I stood there.

With a sigh, I put out the last of the lights in the living room, and retired to my room, leaving my door slightly ajar in case of need in the night. I lay in bed trying to read my book for a while - it was still too early for me to feel sleepy - but I could not hold my concentration. I put it down, and focussed instead on the task I had given myself. Gradually a plan began to develop - I could not involve the police or the social services - both those would immediately head down the road of foster care, which I knew was what the kids dreaded most. But maybe I could work on the mother? Get her to let me have some say in their future, without forcing them to return to her? There were various legal instruments that might work, if she could be persuaded...

I felt my eyes begin to droop, so I killed the light and rolled over to sleep - I think I dozed off almost immediately.

I awoke with a start as my bed was being vigourously shaken. I opened my eyes to find myself face to face with Amy. For a few seconds my head swam as I tried to work out who this strange figure was before recollection flooded in.

"Hi Amy, what's the matter?" I whispered.

"Nathan keeps kicking me!" she whispered back.

"I'm sorry. What do you want me to do about it?"

She shrugged, but stood her ground. Then: "Can I sleep with you?"

My head and my heart reeled again. "I don't think that would be a good idea," my head replied.

"Why?" she asked with a pout.

I was struggling to come up with the right way to answer - how could I explain the impropriety of small girls getting into bed with strangers in the small hours of the night? "Cos I say so," was the best I could manage.

"Pleeease?" she pleaded.

My treacherous heart was paralysing my tongue, and the silence extended while my head fought for control. She took my silence for acquiescence, and suddenly she was scrambling onto my bed and crawling under my duvet! I grunted with surprise, but did not stop her - instead I just rolled onto my back and slid over a bit to make room for her. (I have a large double bed, so there was plenty of room.) I needn't have bothered, as she simply kept on wriggling until she could rest her head on my shoulder, and wrap her leg across my hip. I suppressed a groan as her calf rested across my less than dormant member.

"Thank you," she lisped around her thumb, but her eyes were already closed, and she was well on her way to the land of Nod.

Sleep took a lot longer to return to me. It was a very long time since I had shared my bed with anyone, and the proximity of such a small and tender body was making my heart pound, and my manhood express itself in the time honoured fashion. The fact that my sleeping partner was a seven year old girl, and sex was very much off the agenda did not discourage it. I tried hard to think of the most unsexy things in the world to bring it down, but every time the child moved in her sleep, I was back at square one. Eventually I dosed off again to a sleep filled with frustrated dreams.

For the second time that night I awoke with a start. At first, I could not work out what was wrong. I adjusted for the small figure still beside me, rolled slightly away from me now, but it was not that. I moved slightly, and immediately knew what the problem was - I was soaking wet! The blasted little monster had wet my bed! I rued the quantities of Coke I had fed them both as I rolled away from her, and pulled the duvet off - fortunately that had remained quite dry, but the under sheet, my pyjamas and her shirt were drenched. Cursing under my breath, I headed for the bathroom, and returned with a towel. I stripped off my gear, and dried myself off - the smell of warm urine filling my nostrils. Amy still lay asleep on the bed in the middle of a damp patch that stretched more than half way across the bed. What to do?

I shook her gently - she did not stir, far away in the deepest of sleeps. I pulled her upright, but she remained completely floppy. I could not leave her in the wet shirt, so I eased it off over her head, the gross oversize meaning it came off very easily. I was vaguely aware of the issue of now having a completely naked child in my bed, but I was more concerned with resolving the problem of the wetness, so I could return to sleep. I dried her with the towel as best I could, and then lifted her gently onto the duvet, which I had piled on the floor. I stripped off the sheet, and the absorbent under sheet below it. The mattress below was still wet - I used the towel to mop up as best I could, and then gathered all the soiled items and took them to the utility room, dropping them in the sink for later attention. I returned via the airing cupboard, picking up another dry towel, but also checking on Nathan on the way by. He was fast asleep, but now stretched out the full length of the sofa - there would be no room for Amy there.

Back in the bedroom, I spread the new towel over the damp patch, and slipped on some boxers to cover my nudity. With the settee occupied, and no other duvet for Amy to sleep in one of the armchairs, I could see no option but that she continue to stay with me. I lifted her carefully and laid her on the towel, resting her head gently on a pillow. As I stood, I could not help but watch and admire her delicate form for a few seconds - small and smooth, and so so innocent as she lay there on her side, her back towards me.

She shivered, and I felt guilty for letting her get cold. I grabbed the duvet and threw it over her, and then carefully went round to the other side of the bed before getting in, leaving a good foot between me and her.

Again, sleep would not come easily. Both the adrenalin raised by the recent emergency, and the consciousness that a now completely naked person lay just inches from me, conspired to keep morphia at bay. I had to fight the urge to reach out a hand and caress her soft skin, but there at least my head won over my heart. Eventually I must have slept.

A few hours later I came close to the surface again as I felt the contact of a small warm body wrap itself around my arm and press its head to my shoulder. I was vaguely aware that this meant I was in far too intimate contact with a naked child, but now before I could gain enough consciousness to even start thinking of what action I should take, I was already slipping back into the deep.