Dirty Old Man (A True Story) (2 page)

     “Look Jim, I don’t know what you expect me to say,” he said in his nasal tone, “if you’re going to call the police then do it sooner rather than later,” his gaunt face was as white as a sheet, and I felt invisible because he hadn’t once looked in my direction.

     “I’ll do it in my own time, not because you say so. You can’t manipulate me Bernie.” he said.

     I found myself lost in adult conversation, and didn’t understand why the police had been mentioned, I didn’t think a crime had been committed, I’d been led to believe it was all perfectly normal. If it were a crime, then I was directly involved and in big trouble. I chewed my nails nervously, and wondered if I’d be sent to prison. I was nearing my GCSE’s and couldn’t afford to be locked away.

     “You’ve been having a disgusting, secret; not to mention illegal, relationship together and it sickens me to my stomach. She was twelve years old when you set your sights on her. I want to know what was going through your mind, and why you can’t find a woman your own age.”

He mocked as he spoke and appeared more interested in humiliating Bernie, seemingly pleased with his new air of authority.

     “My personal life is none of your damn business Jim,” said Bernie, as he rolled his eyes, “I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve helped her and been there when she needed somebody to talk to, if anything you should be thanking me.”

     “So you’re playing the responsible adult now then are you?”

     “She needs someone responsible around her don’t you think? You’ve hardly been a role model have you? I’ve heard stories about you Jim; you can hardly go around calling me a pervert can you?”

     The conversation had been brought to stalemate and Dad was crestfallen momentarily, so he tried to change the subject. Bernie beat him to it, taking the power away.

     “She will be sixteen in two weeks; she’ll be legally old enough to do as she pleases then.”

     “And just what do you think she’ll want to do?” Dad raised his voice again, and I sat quietly watching as they verbally sparred back and forth.

     “Well it’s evident she can’t carry on living here. She’ll have to move out. I’m moving back to Peterborough in a couple of weeks, if she wants to move in with me then that’s up to her.”

I felt as though I’d been slapped around the face, I didn’t know Bernie had plans to move away; he hadn’t told me. I felt deceived and lost. Not for a moment did I suspect that it may have been a premeditated move to get me to run away with him, I knew nothing much of life beyond school or my own front garden really.

     “Is this what you want then?” mocked Dad, “to live with your paedo martial arts teacher in Peterborough?”

With my head in my hands, I prayed it would all just stop, I didn’t know what a paedo was really. Well I kind of knew it had something to do with kids but as a child myself, I understood nothing of the horror.

     “Well answer then, it’s the least you can do after everything you’re putting us through.” 

The room was deathly silent, and I began to wonder if my brother and sisters were able to hear what was being said. I knew they’d be trying their damnedest to listen to every word, and it was humiliating. I hadn’t considered the prospect of moving away, but giving it thought now; I knew I couldn’t stay at home much longer.

I’d exposed my relationship with a family friend my dad looked up to, and my mum probably had a secret crush on.

     “You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place now, aren’t you?” he mocked, “and it’s all your own doing; there’s nobody to blame but yourself.” He turned back to Bernie.

     “And you should know better, your own daughter is a year older than her. Why aren’t you allowed to see your daughter again?”

     “It was a personal choice, I don’t get on with her mum, it’s none of your business anyway so keep your nose out. I’m trying to be the responsible adult here and offer a roof over her head.”

     “I know exactly what your intentions are. Hang on a second, that day she went missing and you came to look for her with us; you’d been with her hadn’t you? Yet you still pretended to look for her with us.” Bernie looked away.

     “Say and think what you like, but I’ve done nothing wrong, if you think I have then call the police.”

     My parents must have known deep down that the situation was wrong, there was a huge fluorescent elephant in the room; manically waving a red flag but they ignored it. An unhealthy relationship had been developing for year’s right under their own noses, and often in the next room.

     “The only way this girl will be leaving the house with you, is in a body bag.” Dad said with a smile, pleased to have come up with that sentence by himself.

     “You’re an absolute psychopath,” said Bernie, “you have a draconian view of the world and one day, you’re going to end up a lonely old man.”

     “I don’t care about your long words Bernie, but I know the two of you disgust where words fail me. You’re not taking her anywhere.”

     “In two weeks you won’t be able to stop her leaving.”
said Bernie.

     “He’s right,” my mum interrupted. 

     That was it - m
y heart sank. It was at that moment, I could feel my mum sever her ties that were barely there to begin with. It seemed everybody had decided that I was going to leave home the day I turned sixteen.

     “Let her move out,” she said, “she’ll soon come crawling back home. Let him see what kind of person she truly is and the heartbreak she causes. I want nothing more to do with her; she’s no longer a part of this family. Let him have her.”

     It was these last four words that made me want to go back to the blameless beginning, the very beginning before I could even walk, a time when I would have been unaccountable for anything. As I began to ponder this, it hit me that my mum never really cared for me anyway. She had never really been there for me, never on my side, barely hugged or kissed me or showed affection like she did the others. Come to think of it, I’d never owned a single teddy bear in my life, and as insignificant as it would seem to some; those people grew up with stuffed animals to tell their problems to. I realised there was nothing left for me at this address.

I choked on the tears but spoke purposefully in a stern voice.

     “Yes, I’m going to move out on my sixteenth birthday.” I could barely believe my words as they dripped from my own mouth. I don’t suppose I really knew what I was saying.

Mum said nothing, but scrunched her nose up and turned away. Dad looked shocked as though I’d put him in check mate, ending him game.

     “Well then, I guess there’s nothing more to say,” he turned to Bernie, “you stay away from my daughter until she’s sixteen, and you,” he pointed at me, “you’re grounded. You’ll be babysat by Beth, and she’ll make sure you go to school. Everywhere you go from now on, people will be watching you; we’ll tell them all what a dirty tart you are, and that you’re running away with a paedo. You won’t be able to show your face around here anymore.”

He turned to Bernie.

     “To think I let you into my house and family as a trusted friend, let you teach martial arts to my kids and give Moll piano lessons. You both make me sick.”

Bernie got to his feet, and he turned smugly to Dad.

     “You and your family are fucked up Jim.” He said.

Then he left.

     I decided to toughen up to cope with the criticism I received after the revelation, if I were going to be leaving home soon, I had to be emotionally prepared. The family pinned a calendar to the notice-board at home to countdown and tick off every day that I remained in the house. It became a game to my siblings, who took it in turns to leave a smear with a red marker pen. They taunted me; given a free reign to treat me with as little respect as they pleased. My parents didn’t speak to me either; they’d given up; I was somebody else’s problem now.

     Me and Bernie shared a mutual friend, who was our go between whilst we were banned from contacting one another. It was a lad called John who attended the same martial arts class and was also the same age as me. We knew each other originally from the previous school we attended together.  It was easy for Bernie to manipulate John into helping, because he idolised Bernie and had a crush on me.

     The day of my sixteenth birthday arrived, and that morning I went to school as normal; no birthday cards, presents or birthday wishes, no desperate attempt to change my mind to stay. Only dirty looks and name calling from the people I used to call family.

     I needed John’s mum to collect me and my belongings after school, and to let me wait at their house until Bernie could collect me. John’s parents knew Bernie, and thought too that he was a decent intelligent fellow. I don’t know whether John’s mum was aware of an existing relationship, perhaps she’d have declined help if she’d have known.

I needed to ring John but didn’t have enough money, my parents allowed me enough for my bus fare home, but that was all. I put some of my bus fare money in the
pay phone at dinner time, knowing I could make one of the less popular kids replace it later.

The phone rang, and I willed him to answer on every pause. Eventually John’s mum picked up the phone, and I hung up, having no idea what to say to her. I felt incredibly desperate knowing I couldn’t stay at home that evening, so I bit the bullet, and put in the last of the bus fare money. Again it rang, and John’s mum answered.

     “Hello?”

     “Hello, sorry to bother you but is John there, please? I really need to speak to him.”

     “He’s gone out dear, gone to look around a college for a course he’s signed up for. He said you might call Moll. He’s asked me to collect you and your things from your house around four o’clock. Is that ok? Bernie will pick you up from ours around half past four. It’s all been arranged.”

I rested my head on the payphone and smiled; I had handled everything just like I’d expect an adult could, and I felt proud of myself. My deceptive
foolproof plan was in full swing, and my parents knew nothing about it. I just had to face them now, but it wouldn’t last forever. In a few hours, I’d be rid of them for good.

The line beeped, and the display flashed at me to insert more coins, so I quickly brought the call to a close.

     “That’s great thank you, I really appreciate all your help. See you at four o’clock.”

     “Okay dear, see you then. Bye.”

What was incredibly sad though, was the niggling thought in the back of my mind. If only my family had tried in a helpful way to convince me to
stay, then I might have done. If only they’d involved the police, this book would end after this first chapter. If only they’d recognised that this was abuse, and I’d been groomed by Bernie for years.

But they didn’t, (or chose not to).  I guess that is irrelevant now.

     I sat on that damned bench for the last time, and wait
ed for the bus to take me home as I fiddled with a ring on my finger. Bernie had driven over the day before during my dinner break. The school allowed us to go out during lunch, and he’d met me across the road in the car park of a public house.

It just wasn’t the way I’d envisioned it when he proposed to me, pulling a cheap ring out of his pocket. The ring didn’t fit, and he didn’t have anything to say in particular.

It seemed very sudden; perhaps he thought it would guarantee me moving away with him. I even raised the subject but he told me I was being paranoid and started to become agitated.

So a day before my sixteenth birthday, I was engaged to a man twenty four years older than myself. It offered me a little security but I was still dealing with the fallout on my own. I couldn’t tell a soul about the ring until I’d left home, of that he was adamant.

It was Thursday twenty ninth of October 1998. The next day would be a school day, I’d be waking up in another county and the whole school would be gossiping about how I’d left home.

I watched my friends as they behaved like idiots, pushing each other into the road. I wasn’t sure I’d miss them too much, and I couldn’t tell them I was leaving. Bernie said it would just upset them, and I’d feel guilty about it afterwards.

     With all the conflict at home and my connection with Bernie; I’d well and truly cocked up my GCSE’s. I didn’t think there would be any point waiting about to sit them. The mock exams I took, showed evidence that I’d be receiving some very high marks, it was the coursework that hindered me as I rarely did any.

My friends would come to and from school with folders of the stuff, and I had none. I didn’t get any help at home with it; my parents never showed an interest. It just never seemed important to anybody.

     I did envy those friends in an odd way though; they had purpose and ambition. My only ambition it seemed, was to get as far away from there as possible, and my purpose? Well, I hadn’t worked that part out yet, I just existed day to day, looking for an exit.