DON'T OPEN THE DOOR!

This is a story of long ago, published in 2009, which illustrates my opinion of our wonderful police force.

Set the scene:

My son and I lived in a very large house, divided into two flats. My flat was on the ground floor, accessible by front and side doors. The side entrance was reached via an alleyway between houses, and through a gate that led to the yard.

As a single Mum I had to work. Arrangements were made for Jon before and after a school day but there were times when he was alone in the house. He was very young when this episode took place. In those days it wasn’t illegal to leave a child alone and I made sure people knew he was there and to look out for him, including the neighbour upstairs.

‘Never open the door to strangers.’ I warned. ‘Always ring the office to check it out.’

One day, the dreaded call was received.

Two men had entered the side gate and were knocking on the door.

Scared boy rang his Mum.

‘Okay,’ I said, trying for his sake to keep calm. ‘So what are they doing now?’

‘They’ve gone down the garden,’ said young son. 

The garden also provided access to the French doors in my lounge.

Panic!

‘Don’t open the door,’ I said, trying not to scare my boy.

Leaving him holding on the phone, I went to the switchboard and rang the police on a different line. Told them a young child was alone in the house and two men were trying to get in. 

On our way, they said, after taking details of son’s name and age.

Went back to talk to my son … and learned that the police had already arrived. Yes, as quick as that. I could hear them calling to him through the door, telling him not to be afraid. I grabbed my coat and ran while switchboard colleague rang the neighbour.

Two men were apprehended.

Milkmen!

They had entered my property to use the toilet.

How did they know it was there?

I didn’t have a milkman!

On arriving home, neighbour in the upstairs flat told me she had seen the men enter the outside toilet, situated further down the yard. She had a perfect view from her window. Apparently, the police arrived as they were coming out.

`

When things were settled I wrote to the General Manager of the Dairy to complain about the men taking such liberties. Had a nice letter back, was assured that steps had been taken to reprimand the culprits but that their excuse was taken as legitimate and they would not lose their jobs.

MONTHS LATER

The mystery was solved.

I discovered that my cousin’s husband had taken a job as a milkman.

Near to my house, his colleague had skidded and fallen onto a broken bottle.

Gashed his thigh!

In order to see to the wound my relative called at my house for help. and, since no-one opened the door, they went to the outside toilet.

‘Well,’ said cousin’s husband, ‘he could hardly drop his trousers in the road.’

I asked why he didn’t tell me about it, but he said he felt such a fool. After the interview with the boss he couldn’t face my wrath as well.

So here’s the point of relating the story:

Our police didn’t waste time then and they don’t waste time now. No matter what people say, when we need help they never let us down.