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|Titel=Chapter 12: In the presence of the Lord.<br>Altar Boy

|Text=We usually served on the altar with the same group of boys, some of whom normally served at other services but would occasionally join us. […] Vernon Quaintance (brother of Veronica who had driven Gill and me part of the way to the school coach stop many years before) […]

Generally the older boys/men would be awarded these privileges [Ringing the communion bell and other activities]. Once one had been an altar boy for a considerable while, one would be inducted into the guild

of altar servers, the Archconfraternity of St Stephen […]

<span style="background:#fff799">My altarboyship has one particularly grim memory, one that left an extremely unpleasant (though fortunately not literally) taste in the mouth. No one except Vernon Quaintance and me know the full facts (until now!) though some may have an inkling of what might have happened based on a later similar occurrence.

As an altar server, Vernon, who was much older than most of us, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties,</span> and only beaten by Mr Cowie in terms of age, <span style="background:#fff799">possessed a most solemn and holy air on the altar and strongly disapproved of any of us younger boys messing about. This air of solemnity was enhanced by a long face and aquiline nose, though on opening his mouth, one could see tranches of rotten teeth.

One Saturday morning when I was perhaps eleven years old, Vernon called at our house enquiring if I would like to go out for a drive that afternoon. Clearly held in respect by my parents, they could see nothing wrong with me going for a drive with Vernon and neither could I.</span> And so, <span style="background:#fff799">that afternoon, perhaps around 3pm, Vernon picked me up in his purple Austin Allegro</span> and drove in the general direction of Box Hill in Surrey. After some time during which amongst other things, he commented on the metal ‘Scorpio’ ring (signifying my astrological persuasion – not that it meant anything to me, I just thought that it looked ‘cool’) that I frequently wore, <span style="background:#fff799">the conversation turned slightly seedier.</span>

<span style="background:#fff799">Having pulled over into a secluded car park somewhere in the woods near Box Hill, he told me a joke about two soldiers square- bashing (i.e. drill on a barracks square). I don’t recall the exact nature of the joke but the punch line involved some confusion between castration and circumcision. He then asked me if I knew what a circumcision was, to which I replied ‘No’. He then explained what it was. It sounds dumb to say it but somehow, he made it seem ok for me to show him my willy, and seemed interested in determining how far I could pull my foreskin back, even gently trying to do so himself. Being only a young boy, I could hardly do so, but he said that if I kept trying, I would soon be able to. He then asked if I wanted to see an example of a circumcision, which I understood to mean that he wanted to show me his willy. Having already realized that this was not appearing to be as innocent a car ride as it had at first seemed, but until that point not being able to see an easy way out, I blurted out that I had told my Mum that I would be going to confession that day and so, had to get back. Fortunately, perhaps due to the mention of church, he didn’t pursue the issue and drove me back to St Barts where confession was still in progress late on that Saturday afternoon.

I didn’t tell anyone what had happened, but I felt horrified, sickened and used and if I have made you uncomfortable, dear reader, I hope you may have a notion of how I felt about this for quite a while. Having realized what a creep Vernon was, when he popped round some weeks later and asked whether I wanted to go out for another drive, I quickly declined with the excuse that I was going into Croydon that afternoon. A few weeks later still, he tried again, and hawking the same excuse, I think he finally got the message and never bothered me again.</span>

Some thoughts and questions arise from this whole sordid issue:

<span style="background:#fff799">A few years later, I understand that Vernon was shopped to the police by the parents of Anthony Vassallo, a younger altar boy. I guess that this information became generally public. Following this, Vernon no longer served on the altar but could be seen sitting near the front of the pews as unsmilingly solemn and devout as ever. That must have been an interesting interview, when he would have had to relinquish his status, perhaps having to admit that he was a perv.</span> I guess that Mum and Dad and probably some/most/all of my siblings became aware of his fall from grace too and the reasons for it, but none of them ever raised the subject with me. If they did know, they must have been scared of what they might hear or else perhaps they felt that I was dealing with it in my own way, which I eventually did. If my parents did know, or suspect, then they let me down. They should have raised it with me to make sure I was okay. Who wouldn’t want to protect their child from something like this? While I didn’t let it get to me too much, I felt sick at the time for being taken advantage of. As the years passed, it affected me less and less as time went on until by the time I reached my late teens, I had put it down to experience. It certainly contributed to my withdrawal from the church, that there could be such unchristianness in a person who was perceived by all of us to be one of the most devout.

There are lots of things that can mess children up and this sequence of events haunted me for a long time, during which I didn’t feel I could tell anybody. Nowadays, it seems all too regular that paedophiles are being outed by their victims, but <span style="background:#fff799">I bet that there are many, many, many cases that never come to light. I hate to imagine that this could happen to my own children and that they would not feel able to tell me.</span>

As a coda to this episode, <span style="background:#fff799">it should be noted that some years after, Vernon could be found in the local library teaching rudimentary computing to…wait for it…children! I guess that this would have been before the ‘Sex Offenders Register’ was inaugurated, but I do wonder how many of this new source of young flesh he managed to work his way through before he was again caught, if he ever was. I would like to think that if I saw him again, performing any similar role, that I could shop him to the authorities</span> (probably anonymously so that I wouldn’t have to potentially face him in court) and ruin his career and his life as he could have ruined mine. I don’t know if he is still following his sordid urges, but if he is, I hope the young children that he is grooming have the good sense to stick razor blades up their bottoms.

Frankly in my opinion, any grown man found guilty of messing about with young children should have their tackle whipped off. Very plain and simple. Removing a dog’s gonads curbs its sexual urges, but dogs don’t menace young children (at least not sexually), so a stronger punishment/deterrent is required for us intelligent beings. Quite simply, grown men who should be able to exercise some restraint should lose both their dick and balls. Painfully? Maybe, if they have been particularly evil, but at least remove their desire to prey on youngsters. […]

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