Broken. Daniel Clay
officer on the other side of him said, She's thirteen years old, you wanker.
Back at the Oswalds' place, Susan Oswald was observed as she played with her younger sisters by two highly trained social workers and the Woman Police Constable who would be her chaperone throughout the investigation. All three women noticed the child swung from agitated to content to agitated again. The social workers took notes. The WPC asked some loaded questions. She got some loaded answers. At just after seven thirty, Susan, Bob, the social workers and the police all made their way from Hedge End to the rape suite in Winchester.
In the Buckley home, Mr and Mrs Buckley sat at their kitchen table and watched as officers carried items of Rick's clothing from the house. Mr Buckley put his head in his hands. Mrs Buckley didn't hide her tears. They ran freely down her face and fell to the table from her chin. Upstairs, the discovery of a small collection of porn was greeted with satisfaction.
In the rape suite, Susan was put in a room with a PlayStation and some dolls and pens and paper and jigsaws and brightly coloured walls. The WPC who would be her chaperone sat with her to make sure she was OK. It was at this stage that Susan began to suspect she had done something wrong: people were never this nice to her, and no one ever let her use their stuff for nothing. She said, What's all this about?
The WPC said, Nothing.
Susan was not fooled.
‘Is it about what I told my old man about Rick Buckley?’
The WPC said, There's no need to look frightened, honey. You haven't done anything wrong.
Susan Oswald thought, Shit.
It was then that the police doctor came in. She was a very tall, very thin woman who tried her best to disguise the fact she hated children.
‘Hello, Susan. How are you?’
Susan said, ‘What's it gotta do with you?’ She looked from the WPC to the doctor then down at the PlayStation control in her hands. She thought, Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
The WPC said, ‘This is Dr Mortimer, Susan. Her first name's Susan too.’
‘Big fucking deal.’
The WPC smiled. ‘She just needs to look at you a moment. Examine you. Make sure you're OK. There's nothing for you to be afraid of. I can stay with you, if you like.’
‘Whatever.’ Susan stared at the doctor. The doctor stared at Susan. Then she took a step forward. With the curtains drawn and the door shut, it took a matter of minutes to determine Susan Oswald was a virgin. The doctor stood back and took her gloves off.
She said, ‘I'd best go and speak to DS Westbury.’
The police questioned Dr Mortimer for a further half an hour. They said, Even if Susan Oswald is a virgin, couldn't she have been interfered with? Couldn't the act of sexual intercourse have been simulated? Shouldn't we ask her to describe Rick Buckley's penis? The doctor said, For Christ's sake, the child's lying. It's written all over her face.
Bob Oswald had to be restrained when this was put to him. My Susan's many things, but she ain't no fucking liar. Bob Oswald was many things, and he was a fucking liar. Susan lied to him all the time. She got it from her father. He folded his arms and said, That man's been at my daughter. My little baby girl. She's only thirteen years old. How the hell do I get her through this? He took a deep breath. There were tears in his eyes. I want him charged. I want him strung up by his bollocks. Pervert. Fucking creep. If you don't kill him, I will. He's ruined my poor baby's life.
Detective Sergeant Westbury ran his hands through his thick brown hair.
‘Look, Mr Oswald. If Rick Buckley has been sniffing around your little girl, I want him off the streets as much as you do. But try to see this from my point of view. I've got your daughter saying she's been raped, and I've got a doctor saying she's a virgin.’
‘Then get a second opinion.’
‘Well. I'm not so keen to put your daughter through another internal examination. How about we bring her in here and have a little chat with her? Just see if we can clarify things a little?’
Bob Oswald raised his eyes up towards the ceiling.
Fifteen minutes later Susan turned on him and yelled, ‘I never said he raped me. I said we had sex. And I only said we had sex cos you made me, cos you wouldn't bloody believe me. I don't even know Rick bloody Buckley. I told you those tablets weren't mine.’
She put her head in her hands and because she knew she was really in trouble this time, Susan Oswald wept.
The adults in the room were silent. Then DS Westbury leaned forward.
‘Susan. I want you to listen to me. I want you to listen very carefully. I don't want you to be scared. I don't want you to be frightened. If Rick Buckley's done something, said something, been anywhere near you or exposed himself to you in any sort of way – or even if he hasn't, even if he's just done something to make you feel vulnerable, or threatened, or maybe just suspicious even – I want you to know you can tell us, and whatever Rick Buckley has said to you, or whatever he might have threatened you with, or whatever he might have done to you in the past… well, we won't let it happen again. We're all on your side here, Susan. All of us. So feel free to tell us what happened.’
‘Nothing, you silly fucker. Nothing bloody happened. Jesus. Jesus Christ.’
Bob Oswald shook his head. He cleared his throat. ‘Something must have happened,’ he yelled at everyone who was staring at him. ‘Look at her. She's terrified. He must have threatened her somehow. She's lying to cover his back.’
The WPC cuddled Susan. She whispered, It's OK, sweetie. You don't have to cry. Susan Oswald cried harder. DS Westbury stood up.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘I suggest a comfort break. Susan. Would you like a game of Sonic the Hedgehog? WPC Davies can get up to level eight.’
Susan was led away. She was given a cup of hot chocolate. She was allowed to play Sonic the Hedgehog. Her tears dried. Her mood brightened. She had learned a valuable lesson: sex was good. It got you attention. It got you affection. It was a good way to get on in life.
And if these things came from just saying she'd done it, she couldn't wait to start doing it for real.
The two Oswalds were dropped off by a squad car at three o'clock the next morning. Caught between charging them with wasting police time and Bob's blind insistence that something had gone on between Rick Buckley and his daughter, the police decided to do nothing. No caution. No slap on the wrist. Free to go.
The same was now true of Rick Buckley. The charges against him were dropped and, as they hadn't been sent to the lab yet, the clothes he had been wearing when he'd been arrested were handed back in a clear plastic bag. In a cold room with bright white lighting, Rick hurriedly dressed in front of two male constables and a female nurse who watched his shrivelled penis bob as he stepped into light blue Y-fronts and then pulled up his trousers. Despite his total humiliation, Rick Buckley did not cry: he finished getting dressed, he put his watch on, he signed for the loose change that had been in his pockets. One of the officers marched him down a darkly lit corridor and out into early morning. It was just after 7 a.m.
No one had told Mr and Mrs Buckley their son was being released without charge. Rick stood in a dreary drizzle and, as he had hardly any money and hadn't had his mobile phone on him when he'd been arrested, started the eleven-mile walk to Hedge End. Rain saturated his wavy hair and thin summer cotton T-shirt. He walked with his arms wrapped around himself. He walked with his head down. He talked as he walked.
On each first step he said, I.
On each second step he said, feel.
On each third step he said, dirty.
He said these words over and over.
I feel dirty. I feel dirty. I feel dirty.
He said them all the way home.
It was 11