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CALL ME BOB [ part 7 ] I arrived back home with Charlene, another of my neighbours had prepared dinner; she didn’t blink as I introduced Charlene to her. “Oh my, well there should be enough for the both of you.” She said smiling at us, and then she turned to Charlene, “Now you take care of him, he needs all the help we can give him. Don’t worry about seeing me out, just have fun and I’ll let the other know you’ve got company.” She said as she left the house. I quickly shared the food between us and got Charlene eating what was, I found out later, her first hot dinner for years – it seems that her mother was always trying to save money and so fed Charlene scraps, enough to keep her alive and looking normal but, as I found out later, it did have other effects on her. But for the moment I was happy to see her eating. After dinner Charlene helped me to wash up. I could see the bruises on the arms as she did so, I looked at her, “Doesn’t that hurt?” I asked her. “’suppose so, it’s just that I’m used to it, so it doesn’t bother me.” She said and then looked at me in shock, “I’m sorry Mr. Wilson I forgot myself.” She said in a scared tone. “Charlene, there’s nothing wrong, I asked you a question and you answered it . . . and while you’re here and it’s just me and you I think you should call me Bob.” I smiled at her to show her I wasn’t annoyed with her. She looked up at my shyly, “I don’t think I could ever do that, I’d be too afraid.” She said softly. I smiled again, “Look at it this way, I keep calling you Charlene – or would you prefer Charly? – so it’s only right that you call me Bob.” I said to her. “Why can’t I call you Uncle Bob? I mean that was what you said in the shop.” She asked me, making me wish I hadn’t used that name with the others, but I didn’t want to put Charlene off, so I nodded to her. “Okay Charlene, Uncle Bob it is. Now why don’t you go into the living room and watch television.” I said turning her around. Her face was priceless, “You mean it! I was never allowed to watch it at home!” She said as she ran into the room. I shook my head in shock, I mean I know everyone moans about the number of hours children spend in front of the television, but it was one of the outlets of fantasy that kids have! How could anyone deprive a child of that? I went into the living room where Charlene was almost nose to screen watching the box, I was about to call to her but realised that she might misunderstand what I was trying to say so I awkwardly sat down next to her. “Doesn’t that make your eyes go funny?” I asked her, she blinked for a moment and then looked at me, “Why don’t you sit in a chair over there, you’ll still be able to see the screen.” I said gently, she looked scared, as if she’d broken some unwritten rule but then relaxed and scooted back to the chairs. I managed to get up and went into my ‘workroom’ – just a desk with a timetable of lessons for the class and a ‘map’ of where each child sits. I sat behind the desk and started on the outline for tomorrow. There was a nagging feeling . . . something wasn’t quite right . . . somewhere? I don’t know how to describe it. I closed my eyes. ---- I was standing beside my body, looking around, there was a definite tugging at me, I allowed myself to be pulled along I drifted through the wall, pass Charlene who watched the television without seeing me, out of the house – I wasn’t scared it just seemed that somebody needed me. After leaving my house I was quickly dragged through the town arriving in a house. A child was tied over a chair and an adult was standing over with a cane in his hand. As I looked I realised that it was Michael! The boy who I had made stand on a chair during class. The chair was a very odd design then I realised that it had a soft triangle on the seat and that Michael was bent over it, his hands were cuffed to the legs on one side and his legs firmly tied on the other, in the corner of the room, naked with her hands on top of her head, was a younger girl, of about 8 years of age. Through the door I could hear a woman crying. The man was dressed in clergy type clothes, dark robe with the backward collar, he was red in the face - a look of outrage was etched on it. “SO WHY DID YOU TELL THOSE DISGUSTING STORIES TO YOUR SISTER? YOUR MOTHER SHOULD NEVER HAVE ALLOWED YOU TO ATTEND THAT CLASS!” The man was saying as he swished the cane down onto Michaels’ bum. A red line showed where it had struck; there were a number of lines already present where he’d struck before. Michael was screaming out in pain, “But . . . but mummy said it was alright!” He tried to defend himself. “It’s not alright! It’s an abomination before God! You shouldn’t even be thinking of such things . . . you have to lead a pure life if you wish to enter God’s heaven, and as for polluting your sister’s mind with such wickedness you have to have the evil beaten out of you!” The minister was saying and drew his hand back for another strike. But I struck instead! I entered his mind and screamed into his brain. ‘HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU THINK YOU KNOW WHAT IS RIGHT AND WHAT IS WRONG!’ He couldn’t move – I wouldn’t let him! He struggled but couldn’t break free, I could see William and his sister watching wide eyed as the minister played statues. “WHO ARE YOU? WHAT DEVILTRY IS THIS? RELEASE ME AT ONCE!” He said out loud. I laughed into his mind ‘You think this is the work of the devil? But how could that be? A righteous man is unable to be possessed like this. But an evil man . . . that’s something altogether different!’ I told him. “I’m a minister of the cloth, you cannot touch me! My faith will prevail!” He said blustering away. I sneered at him, ‘What cloth? What faith?’ “I . . . I’m a true believer, my God will protect me!” The minister said. He tried to bring his arm down again, but I held it up. ‘You never had the right’ I told him, ‘But you think you’re working in the name of God? Let’s see exactly how much of the good work you’ve done!’ I entered his mind, mentally pulling his consciousness with me. ---- “Remember, boy, the devil is within us all! The only way to stop him is to beat it out of the body! That’s why I’m doing this!” The voice came from a man who looked just like the minister and when I questioned him he admitted it was his father. “He showed me how to live, the doctrine of good against evil. I learnt how to treat those tainted by their evil.” His words opened floodgates, how he joined the church and the ‘evil’ he found around him. In one church he found a choirboy smoking . . . when the verger managed to stop him the boy was barely conscious. “The church understood and forgave me, sending me to a new parish, but wherever I went I found evil, also most of the parents understood what I was trying to do and didn’t tell anybody, but there were a few . . . misguided ones who, driven by the evil I was fighting, who had to talk. If not to the church then to the newspapers . . . it just meant that it was longer before I returned to the world. But there is always a need for a teacher of righteousness.” He sounded smug, almost happy with what he was saying, but then that was how he’d been raised. I found several more examples of his working. I couldn’t find any redeeming traces in him. I took over his body completely, checking the robes for a key to the handcuffs, but couldn’t find it. I turned to Michael’s sister. “Child, go to the phone and dial 999, call for the police.” She looked at me quizzically, which wasn’t bad for a naked eight-year-old, “Move it! I don’t know how long I can hold him!” I hissed to her. That broke whatever trance she was in and she ran to the telephone. “Yes . . . What? Oh Police . . . please, please help, Minister Jackson gone mad. He’s hitting William with a cane, please hurry . . .” And she gave their address before hanging up and looking at me closely, “You’re not Minister Jackson are you?” She asked me. I shook ‘my’ head, “No, I’m not, but you’re not to tell anyone.” I smiled at her and then sat down, “You’d better stay as you are until the police arrive.” I told her. After a few minutes I heard the noise of a police car outside, I winked at Matilda, William’s sister and then said “Show time!” I got up and went to the front door. I made the minister see the police officers as the children he’d already beaten, they were nothing and he had the cane hadn’t he? I withdrew from him as he walked towards the officers who had pulled out their trunctions. “Sir, put that down.” One of the officers’ yelled. “You spawn of evil I will show you the way . . . turn to receive God’s punishment!” Minister Jackson said as he walked to them, swinging the cane as he approached them – He still saw only children in his path. The officers easily dodged the blows and then acted, one hit Jackson behind his knee bringing the minister down, as he reached back to touch his aching limb the other officer wrested the cane from the minister’s hands. The pair of them managed to pull the minister’s hands behind his back and then the cuffs were applied. The minister was manhandled into the back of the police car. He was still shouting that he was doing the work of the Lord! And that no-one had the right to stop him! “He’s a bleeding nutcase if you ask me.” I heard one officer say to the other and he was answered by a laugh, “Come on we’ll have to check out the house, see what else there might be.” They knocked on the door which was opened by William’s mother the officers nodded to her, “Good evening madam, do you mind if we come in?” He asked her. “Well . . . I don’t know . . . what’s happened to Minister Jackson?” She asked, dazedly looking around. “Let’s just cover that inside shall we madam?” The officer said gently taking the woman’s arm and leading her into the living room. They heard a sob from the kitchen area and one officer entered the room, “Jesus Christ!” He said, “Charlie get in here quick!” The second officer, Charlie, quickly entered the kitchen to find Matilda tugging at the handcuffs holding William’s arms to the chair. After checking the cuffs Charlie pulled out a bunch of keys and started to release William. The first used his radio to call for an ambulance. Charlie turned to Matilda, “Why are you undressed darling? Shouldn’t you go and get some clothes on?” Matilda shook her head, “I’m not allowed to Minister Jackson said I was to be thrashed to get rid of the evil I’d been doing, he hasn’t said I can put my dress back on.” She said in a small tone. Charlie smiled at her, “That’s okay darling, you can go now, is that why your brother’s like that?” He added. Matilda nodded, “Yes, he was showing me what he was taught in school today when the Minister said we were being bad and had to be punished, when mummy tried to stop him he slapped her and called her a slut . . . I don’t know what that is but it sounded naughty.” Charlie nodded, “Yes it was, it was very naughty of him to say that . . . what was it that . . .” Charlie started to ask but I decided that he didn’t need to know and so I stopped him. “Never mind, I think that when the ambulance comes you and your mother had better go with your brother, and let the doctors just check you all over.” He said smiling. Matilda smiled at him and then ran to her bedroom to get dressed, I could see that William was in good hands and so I concentrated and returned home. ---- “. . . ilson? Uncle Bob? Wake up! Oh please wake up!” I was being shaken by Charlene. I opened my eyes and looked at her. “Oh thank you, I though there was something wrong, you were just sitting there with you eyes closed and you wouldn’t wake up!” She said her voice showing her concern. “What? Oh, sorry Charlene, I didn’t mean to scare you.” I said to her smiling as I did so, “It just something that’s happened since I had my accident, I just go into a deep sleep now and then.” I explained. She looked, wide eyed, “Does it happen at school too?” She asked me. “Not yet, but it may do, just don’t tell the others, okay?” I asked her with a grin on my face. “Why?” She asked me. I laughed, “They might decide to play tricks on their poor teacher.” I told her, “Now what was so important that you needed me?” I asked. “Well it’s kinda late and I thought I’d better go to bed . . . but you haven’t told me where I’m sleeping.” She said. “Oh Charly I’m sorry, it completely slipped my mind. I haven’t even put the linen on the bed yet . . . unless you want to sleep with me.” I added, I was kidding her but she started to jump up and down. “Do you mean that? Can I?” She asked - which completely floored me. “I was joking Charly” I tried to explain but the look on her face was so heart crushing that I relented, “But yes you can . . . only if you promise not to tell anyone, I could get locked up if people knew about that.” I said “Why? I’ve slept with mummy.” The girl said puzzled. “It’s because grown men are not supposed to sleep with little girls.” I said, “It’s not right.” “Who says?” She persisted in asking. “It’s just something that’s frowned on, it’s not written anywhere but it’s what people believe is wrong.” I said, and then I changed the subject. “You’ve got to put that lotion on before you go to bed.” Talking about the bottled stuff that Jackie had given me. I got up and went to the kitchen to where I had left the bottle, I studied the label, ‘apply after bathing – this will ensure that the ointment will be absorbed into the affected area’. The only problem was that Charlene’s body was almost one bruise and that would have to be treated by the stuff. I turned to Charlene, “I’m afraid that you’re going to have a bath.” I said to her. “Oh goody! Where is it?” She asked me apparently eager to have a bath? I’m never known a child to want to bathe before. I showed her where the bathroom was and started to pour the water into it, I realised that I didn’t have any bubble bath for her – I normally used Radox myself, nice for relaxing but the bubbles aren’t really for playing with. Charlene was watching me as the water poured into the bath. “Uncle Bob? How are you going to give me a bath with your arm like that?” She asked which surprised me. “But Charly I was going to let you bathe yourself” I said – reasonably enough I thought, but Charlene didn’t see it my way. “Oh no Uncle Bob, you’re supposed to be looking after me and so you should be the one to give me a bath.” She said and stood in front of the door, blocking my exit, and started to undress, watching me all the time. I stood impassively as she removed her blouse and then her skirt. She removed her shoes by kicking them off her feet. Then she stood on one foot while she removed her sock from the other leg, reaching out to hold onto me for extra support. Then she changed feet to do the same with the other. She stood in front of me in white vest and navy blue knickers. The dark bruises showing up starkly in contrast with her vest while those on her legs and waist almost blending in with her knickers. “I know I’m not pretty to look at Uncle Bob, but can’t you just pretend that you like me?” She said with tears in her eyes. I joined in with her crying, “Oh Charlene, you’re a beautiful young girl, the only reason I’m not touching you is because I don’t want to cause you any more pain. You’ve suffered enough.” I held out my arm to her and she came to me, hugging me around my neck. We remained like this for some time before Charlene pulled away from me and gave a small smile, she pulled off her vest and then bent down to remove her knickers. She quickly climbed into the bath, sighing as she sank down into the water. “Oh Uncle Bob, a hot bath, it’s been so long since I had one. It was before daddy . . . daddy . . . died, he used to wash me and I was . . . was so happy.” She said and started to cry again. “I’m so sorry for you Charlene, but don’t cry . . . you’ll get you face all wet!” I said and then splashed her with my good hand. She looked at me as if gauging what my reaction might be, and then she splashed out with her legs and feet, soaking my trousers and shirt. I put on a fierce face and growled, “Why you . . .” but I couldn’t finish as Charlene started to stiffen up and her expression changed. She was frightened of me! “Oh Charly! I’m sorry. I didn’t think . . . please forgive me.” I quickly said reaching out to her. She looked at me, tears in her eyes as she studied my face; she quickly stood up in the bath and wrapped her arms around me, sobbing away. “I’m sorry Mr. Wilson, it’s just that mummy would . . .” She buried her head in my chest, sobbing away. I brought my free hand around and gently patted her back. “There’s nothing wrong Charlene, it’s just and unfortunate thing. Now if you’ll get back into the bath I’ll take off this wet shirt and finish off washing you, okay?” I said to her, smiling to show I wasn’t mad at her. She watched me carefully as I struggled out of my shirt, managing to tear it slightly over my cast. Charlene looked really scared as she slowly sat back in the bath. “I’m really sorry Mr. Wilson.” She said. “Charly, if we keep on apologising to each other, you’re going to be freezing in that bath and I’m going to catch a cold.” I said tweaking her nose, which made her laugh. She started to relax and laid back in the bath, letting the water flow over her body. I looked at her and shook my head, “You only did that so I’d get undressed, didn’t you?” I said making sure that my tone was light so that she knew I was kidding. “No I didn’t, it was an accident!” She said and I could see a smile hiding on her face. “Oh I should wash your mouth out with soap and water!” I said, wondering what she would say to that. “I didn’t swear at you! It was my hands that made you wet!” She said sounding indignant. “Oh was it, then your hands should taste the soap then!” I said handing her the bar of soap and a flannel, she soaked the cloth and then rubbed the soap in it creating a lather which she quickly transferred onto her hand, bringing the cloth up along her arm, then back down until she was ‘wearing’ a soap glove, then she did the same to her other arm and hand. Charlene then started washing her chest and face with the flannel before rising off the soapy residue by lowering her back into the water and letting it wash over her like waves on a beach. She came back up spluttering as the water had entered her nose. “Uncle Bob, can you do my back, ‘cause I can’t reach it.” She said and turned around in the tub. I managed to pick up the soap and rubbed it over her back and then, using just my hand, started to rub the residue around her back, feeling her wince as I hit her bruises. Once I declared her back clean she rinsed it off by lying back in the bath, then she raised her bottom to me saying, “And here too Uncle Bob.” I shook my head, “Oh no, I think you’re able to reach that yourself.” I told her in a tone that belied my feelings. “Spoilsport” She said and fell back into the tub, throwing more water on the floor. I must admit I was puzzled over her actions she seemed to be almost throwing herself at me. I had to think about that. “Charly I’ve got some more paperwork to do, can you finish off your legs and then soak for a bit, I’ll be back to put that lotion onto you after you’ve dried off.” I said and made my way to my bedroom. I had to change my trousers and also put on a tee-shirt. I then realised the other problem I’d have that night . . . I don’t wear pyjamas! And I’d told Charlene that she could sleep with me! I chased around the room trying to find something to wear, finally settling on Boxers. They’d have to do. |