Dirty Old Man (A True Story) (15 page)

Bernie had been offered some factory work, in spite of his engineering degree, he took a production line job; packing electrical components into boxes. He despised it.

     “You need to either get a job, or you need to get yourself into school. The choice is yours.” He said.

He picked up the yellow pages and threw it at me. “You’d better be enrolled by the time I get home else there’s going to be trouble.”

He slammed the door as he walked out and the walls rattled.

I didn’t know what to do; look for local schools in the yellow pages and ring them up? I’d never had to do that before, my mum dealt with those things.

I searched under schools and found one that was relatively nearby; a couple of miles walk at best. I picked up the phone and dialled the number.

     “Hello, Hereward Community College?”

     “Oh hi,” I cleared my throat, “I’m looking to enrol myself at your school. How would I go about doing that?”

     “Enrol yourself?”

     “Yes.”

     “Well, erm, how old are you?”

     “I’m sixteen.” I said, crossing my fingers, thinking about having to endure the wrath of Bernie if she couldn’t sort it out for me right at that moment.”

     “And what’s your name dear?” I could hear her tapping away on her keyboard.

     “Moll.”

     “Okay Moll, could you put your parents on the phone please? It’s just that I’ve never heard of a pupil enrolling themselves before.”

     “I moved out,” I said, “I don’t have any contact with my parents anymore.”

     “Okay Moll, give me a minute, I’m just going to see if I can get hold of the head teacher. I’m not sure how to handle this. Won’t be a moment Okay?”

     Ugh, I didn’t like head teachers. The only time I’d ever spoken to one was when I’d been in trouble. I associated them with my wrong doings.

It sounded as though she’d transferred my call as I heard another ring. The cheek! Why couldn’t she have just dealt with it there and then for me? Why did she need to put me through to the head?

My heart began to race again; I didn’t know how to talk to adults. What the hell was I doing?

     “Hello?”

     “Erm hello,” I said, “I’m looking to enrol myself at your school.”

I didn’t feel confident anyway but speaking to the head teacher made me incredibly nervous. I was expecting to be told off again. I prayed he wouldn’t dismiss me.

     “This is quite an exceptional case Moll; I’ve never had a student enrol themselves before. Though they’re around thirteen when they start at our school so I suppose that’s why.”

     “So can I join your school?” I asked.

     “Look, I really need to meet you first. Are you living on your own?”

     “No, I’m staying with a friend.”

It was all I could think of, had I said ‘my fiancé’ it would have raised questions. The term ‘fiancé’ turned my stomach anyway.

     “Okay, are you free to come in today? I’ll be available until about half past ten, come any time before then.”

I said goodbye and hung up the phone. I’d forgotten to ask for directions. I felt sick. How on earth was I supposed to get there by half past ten when I didn’t know where I was going? I didn’t have access to the internet at the time; it wasn’t as widely used by my generation at that age.

     I went into the bedroom and started to look through Bernie’s things, surely he had a map of Peterborough somewhere? Then I thought, why would he have a map of Peterborough? He grew up here, even if he did have a map it would be in the car.

There was a petrol station down the road, I decided I’d have to go there but Bernie hadn’t left me any money so I couldn’t buy one.

I got myself dressed into the same outfit I wore when I’d met Bernie’s parents; it was all I had that made me look presentable. I tied back my hair again and found myself a pen and paper.

My shoes were beginning to look tatty and there was a heel too that would cause me some problems.

I got myself together and walked towards the petrol station, I’d just have a little look inside the maps, I told myself; I had no choice.

I’d taken a notepad and pen with me so I could write down the directions to the school. After a couple of minutes of browsing, I began to take notes.

     “It isn’t a library you know love. If you’re not going to buy it then don’t touch it,” said a greasy man who sat at the cash register.

I was hideously embarrassed and legged it out of there.

     “You’re a stray aren’t you?” He laughed as I let the door swing behind me.

I’d taken enough notes to get me a couple of streets in the right direction, I would be in the right area at least, I thought. The streets were full of council houses and I was a little lost. The sound of a dog barking distracted me.

Because my eyesight was still terrible, I had to walk right up to the street signs to read them. I must have looked very strange constantly crossing over the road.  I didn’t want to look lost, not in that area. I’d heard it wasn’t a good one.

By ten o’clock I’d found the school. It looked run down and shabby, the theme of everything in my life at the time.

This is it, I told myself. If you walk through this door, you’ve made a life for yourself here. There’ll be no turning back once you’re in school again.

The reception area was marginally warmer than outside, a young looking lady sat
in reception. I hated the smell of schools.

     “Are you late?” she said with a stern voice?

     “I’m not a pupil here; I’ve come to enrol myself today. The head teacher told me that he’d see me before half past ten.”

She looked at the clock.

     “You should have been here ages ago then shouldn’t you? He might not be able to see you now. Take a seat.”

She gestured towards a very formal sitting area, a couple of students sniggered as they walked past. I didn’t look very old at all, yet I was dressed in these adult clothes. I felt very self-conscious.

     “You’re lucky, he’ll see you now. Please wait there and he’ll come through to get you.”

The only thing that stopped me getting up and walking
out was the thought of having to tell Bernie that I couldn’t find a school. It would be over soon enough, I told myself. I estimated how long the meeting should take. Twenty minutes at a push perhaps? In twenty long painful minutes it would all be over and I could walk out of the building, back to the safety of my own company.

     “Hello Moll,” said the head teacher as he came through a set of double doors, “nice to meet you. Do you want to follow me through this way?”

He let me through a labyrinth of classrooms and corridors, my concerns now became not of the enrolment, but how I would get back out of the building. Even if I could remember the order, my eyesight was terrible. I couldn’t see the other children staring at me, but I could feel it.

     “Have a seat Moll.”

I sat on a chair that was considerably smaller than his. I was facing the window and though it was cold outside, the autumn sun blared through the windows. All I could see was the silhouette of his head. It took me back and reminded me of my dad and my heart began to race.

     “Don’t look so nervous, you’re not in any trouble,” he said gently, “here, let me close these blinds a little, that sun is right in your eyes.” He turned the stick slightly and suddenly I could see his face properly.

     “Now look Moll, I must admit, your case concerns me. You say you’ve left home, yet you’ve only just turned sixteen. You say you’re living with a friend? I find that difficult to believe,” he paused, “so here’s what I’ll do. If you give me your parents home number, I’ll ring them to find out what’s been going on.”

     “Do you have to ring them?” I asked with a dry mouth.

     “Yes. I need their consent if you want to study here. I know you’re sixteen but you’re not an adult yet. It’s our policy. Well, it isn’t but I’ve just made it policy. I’m just looking out for you. I know you won’t like it but I’m a parent myself you know.”

Oh bugger, I hadn’t spoken to my parents since the day I walked out. I tried to weight up the
pros and con’s while the head teacher waited on me. My parents couldn’t do any harm on the other end of the line; Bernie could do far more damage to me if I didn’t get myself signed up.

I looked at my watch, ten minutes to go,
and then my twenty minutes would be up. It was useful knowing that he had to be somewhere at half past ten. My ordeal would have definitely been over by then.

I gave him my parents number and sat back to watch, feeling a lack of control again.

They can’t hurt me from the end of the line, I told myself over again.

     “Hello, is this Moll’s parents? Okay, don’t worry, there’s nothing wrong with her. She’s come into my school today wanting to enrol herself. I just wanted to check that you knew about all of this because she isn’t from around here.”

He paused for a short while and eyed me carefully.

     “I see. Yes I understand.”

He gave them his own personal number they’d be able to contact him on anytime. He hung up the phone and he sighed. It wasn’t a good sigh either.

     “Don’t you think you should go back to your parents?” he asked as he rubbed his forehead, “it’s just that I don’t think your situation is ideal at all.”

I didn’t ask him what they’d said. I didn’t want to know. It was obvious they’d told him about Bernie.

     “Look, even if you think they don’t care, I’m sure deep down somewhere they do. It’s in a
parent’s nature.”

     “Nothing comes natural to them.” I said, “I’m not going back home. If you’re not going to give me a place at your school then say now and I can look for somewhere else. My parents are evil.”

     “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to give you a place,” he sighed again, “you’re not going to fit in well at all. I’m going to put you in the sixth form and you can re-sit your GCSE’s. That’s about all I can do to accommodate you though.”

     “Why do you think I won’t fit in?” I asked.

     “Because you’re living with a reasonable amount of independence, you won’t fit in back in year eleven. It’s sixth form or nothing.”

     “Yes, I’ll take it.” I hadn’t even sat my first lot of GCSE’s.

     “Okay, ask for some forms on your way out and bring them back in with you tomorrow when you start.”

     “Tomorrow?”

     “Yes, you start at 8:45. Don’t let me regret this will you? I just don’t want this type of thing glamorized that’s all.”

There wasn’t any chance of that happening. I planned to tell nobody about Bernie. I was ashamed.

     “I’ll take you on a quick tour of the common room if you like; introduce you to your class. It’ll only be a quick walk through though because I have somewhere to be soon.”

After I’d left I felt a little odd, I’d managed to get back into school which meant Bernie wouldn’t be able to moan at me about it, though the idea of starting the next day terrified me. I wouldn’t know anybody; there was no school uniform either so I had to make do with whatever I could find. Bernie wouldn’t buy me any new clothes; he insisted I didn’t need them.

     “What the fuck is this?” said Bernie when he came in from work. “You know I can’t stand the sight of the stuff.”

Bernie was a vegetarian though I was still a meat eater, I’d made him a casserole but I had something else.

     “Did you carry it all back in the same bag? You did, didn’t you?”

I knew what was coming; I denied it and said that the meat was in a separate bag. They were only burgers – in a box.

     “If I find out you’re lying... I’ll give you one more chance. Were they in the same bag together or not?”

     “No.” I insisted.

He went through the cupboard and pulled out an Asda bag, there was only one left.

     “You lying whore! Why did you fucking lie about it?”

     “I didn’t, the other bag is in the bin outside.”

He sent me outside to get it for him and I looked through the wheelie bin for one.

     “You’d better get back in here now, you’re a fucking liar. I’m not eating this shit, are you trying to poison me.”

     “It hasn’t got any meat in it.” I said.

     “I don’t fucking care.” He picked up the plate of hot casserole and threw it at me. It was my scalp that burned the most, I had a jumper on so other that a little that landed on my hand; I was relatively scald free.

I went into the bathroom and began picking pieces of soft carrot out of my hair, it squashed under the pressure of my fingers which made it difficult to remove, and the gravy was beginning to set hard in my hair.

He stood in the doorway and his tone changed.

     “Get your coat; we’re going out for dinner. Don’t worry about the casserole.”