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Taken for a ride!

The old man I'd cared for wasn't as helpless as he'd seemed...


Published by: Polly Taylor and Amanda Walton
Published on: 20th July 2010

Struggling under the weight of my shopping, I weaved in and out of the crowded high street. But jostling towards my bus, I stopped dead in my tracks.
An elderly man in a mobility scooter was sitting in the middle of the pavement. Shivering, with woolly hat pulled over his ears and anorak zipped up to his chin, the poor love looked so lonely.
‘You okay?’ I asked.
‘My scooter’s broken,’ he croaked. ‘Can you help?’
‘Of course!’ I replied.
I gave it the once over. ‘I’ve no idea how to fix this,’ I told him. ‘But I could push you home?’
Wheeling him back to his bungalow five minutes away, we got chatting. His name was Brian Laney, 65, and he lived alone. ‘I struggle sometimes.’ he admitted. ‘Would be nice to have some help.’
‘I could give you a hand,’ I offered. I’d been looking for a part-time job to fit round my two kids.
‘That would be great,’ he smiled.
That evening, I told my fiancé Chris, 31. ‘Bless him,’ I said. ‘I felt sorry for the old boy.’
The next day, I went back, but it became clear Brian didn’t really need a cleaner. He was just lonely.
I listened as he told me about his high blood pressure, bad back, arthritic knees…‘I’d better go,’ I said gently, having tidied up and put his shepherd’s pie in the oven.
‘Will you give an old man a kiss?’ he asked.
‘See you tomorrow,’ I smiled, laughing off his cheeky request.
He’d clearly watched too many Carry On films in his time!
Days later, and I was back doing his dishes while he grumbled about the weather. I must’ve switched off, until he came trundling up beside me in his scooter.
‘Give me a love bite, just there,’ he said, pointing at his neck.
‘A… what?’ I spluttered. ‘Don’t be daft!’ Shocked, I told him I had to leave. Maybe Brian was in a worse state than I thought.
I tried not to read too much into it but, the next evening, I got a panicked call. ‘I’ve fallen!’ Brian cried down the phone. ‘There’s blood everywhere!’
Hurrying round, though, there wasn’t a scratch on him. ‘You haven’t fallen!’ I frowned. ‘Why did you call?’
‘Why don’t you come in, sit on my knee?’ he asked.
‘No,’ I snorted.
‘All I want is a cuddle,’ he said.
My heart melted. He really just needed a friend – seemed like I was his only one. I told Brian I’d be back to cook dinner the following evening.
‘He doesn’t know what he’s saying,’ I told Chris. ‘If I stop going round, he’ll have no one.’
When I went round, Brian opened the door at eye level. ‘You’re walking!’ I exclaimed.
‘I like to stretch the old legs now and again,’ he grinned.
‘I’ll put some tea on,’ I beamed. But halfway down the hall…click. I froze. He’d bolted the door!
‘What are you doing?’ I asked.
‘Stay over,’ he replied evenly.
‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m here to cook your dinner, then I’ll be off.’
Taking a step backwards, Brian suddenly swiped for my leg with his gnarled hand. ‘You’ve got sexy legs,’ he said, grabbing my thigh.
Shaking, I pushed him away. He’d gone too far this time. ‘That’s enough,’ I said. ‘Let me out.’
But he reached for his collar instead, slowly began unbuttoning his shirt. ‘Stop!’ I cried.
‘I want us to get married!’ he said, slipping the shirt off, revealing his sagging, wrinkly chest. He unzipped his trousers, then started touching himself. I could laugh off the odd cheeky comment, but this?
Brian wasn’t a lonely old man – he was a disgusting pervert! Panicking, I text Chris. Brian’s gone crazy…come get me!
It felt like a lifetime before I heard him at the door. ‘What’s going on?’ he yelled, smashing against it until it flung open.
‘Let’s go!’ I said, running out. Back home, I started sobbing. ‘I feel like a fool,’ I told Chris.
‘You weren’t to know,’ he said.
When I didn’t hear from Brian for a few days, I was relieved. I wouldn’t be visiting him again.
But, in town a week later, I saw him on his scooter. Turning in the opposite direction, I hoped he wouldn’t see me. But he started after me. Rounding a corner, I thought I’d lost him. Checking again, though, there he was. Was he following me?
I walked as fast as I could, until the whirring of his mobility scooter faded.
Shaken, I avoided town for a while.
Then at home a week later, I heard the familiar whirring noise outside the front door. Opening it, I gasped. Brian was there on his scooter. ‘I want to move in with you!’ he sobbed.
Had he followed me home the other day, was that how he knew where I lived? ‘I’m engaged, and I’ve got two children!’ I cried.
‘Please!’ he begged. But I’d run out of sympathy, slamming the door. Yet a few nights later, I came home to find him outside again.
I wanted to scream at him, but he was still a frail old man. Instead, I just walked in, locking the door behind me. But ignoring him made it worse. One day, I had 27 missed calls from him!
Then the police called.‘We’ve received a complaint from a lady who says he’s been harassing her,’ the officer said. ‘He says he’s engaged… to you.’
It was so ludicrous, I laughed. ‘He’s stalking me,’ I sighed.
‘Until we’ve fully investigated, be careful,’ the officer warned.
That’s when the love letters started arriving. My wife… you are made for me… Brian scrawled. I couldn’t carry on like this. I called the police back.
Brian was charged with sexual assault and harassment. In court, he admitted it, was given a community order and banned from contacting me.
I know I saw Brian as a little old man, but he turned out to be totally different. Next time, I’ll be more careful before playing the Good Samaritan.
Alma Leader, 28, Trowbridge, Wiltshire