My parents were social animals, there would always be a group of people round the house most nights. These groups were two distinct gatherings, not always the same people in each group but I would know what sort of night it would be when certain guests arrived. I would pray for Peter Naysmith to turn up, he was my dad’s drug dealer friend. These nights I would be safe, it meant it was an evening of drinking, smoking, snorting and singing. I would sit at the top of the stairs from around five-thirty listening for the doorbell. If I saw Peter standing at the door with his trademark satchel, open toed sandals and hippy multi-coloured tie-dyed top I knew I could retreat to my bedroom and the evening would be OK.
If Dr and Mrs Conelton turned up I would go and hide under my bed. Dr Conelton was the family physician, it was in the days when you had a local doctor and he would be the one you would see every time, unlike today when it is pot luck which doctor you see. He was an obese man with a drinker’s nose and hands the size of shovels. These were the nights when my innocence was taken piece by piece. The night I’m going to tell you about wasn’t the worst by any stretch of the imagination but was one of the most memorable for a couple of reasons.
The first was that my mum wasn’t there which was unusual, she was worse than my dad for the abuse, what got her off was inflicting pain, whether that was cigarette burns or slaps it didn’t matter to her. The second memorable thing from that night was the introduction of a new member to the group the Reverend Brian Simmons. Apparently he christened me when I was a baby. A thin wiry timid man, he turned up at the house that night in his full vicar’s garb as he had come straight from one of his sick parishioners. I forgot, there was a third reason why I remember it so vividly–It was my eighth birthday.
I heard the bell ring a half dozen times that night and each time I crawled further under my bed until I heard my dad’s familiar footsteps on the bare treads of the stairs. I heard him walk across the floorboards of my room before he crouched down by my bed and said the immortal words ‘they’re waiting for you darling’. At which point I was expected to crawl out from under the bed and go with him quietly. This night was different, he had to drag me screaming and kicking from under the bed. I squirmed in his arms as he carried me down the stairs, my nightdress was rising up my body and I desperately tried to pull it back down. I remember my dad laughing at my attempt at modesty.
He put me down as he entered our front room, it was the largest room in the house and a smoke haze had already started to accumulate at my eye-line. In the room was a sideboard that ran down the right hand wall, the carpet was so stained I had forgotten what the original colour or pattern was. There was a large beige corner sofa in the far corner on which sat four men, three I knew and one I didn’t. Then there were two arm chairs separated by a coffee table and a further two men occupied these, the Doctor and the Reverend. It appeared it was to be men’s night tonight. I can still remember standing there with all those eyes on me and the warm liquid trickling down my leg. Many of the men had their hands in their trousers, the Doctor was more open he had his fly undone and was openly stroking his penis. My dad knelt beside me and pointed at the doctor and said I should go and give him a hand before nudging me across towards him.
Over the next five hours I performed fellatio on each and every one of the men including my dad, had things inserted in every orifice from fingers, cocks and bottle necks. I had a black eye where one of the men I didn’t know punched me when he forced my head onto his penis and I bit down hard on it–he left shortly after with a black eye of his own from my dad. Around eleven most of them were too drunk to notice when I crept from the room, except the vicar, he looked at me with eyes that were dead. I heard about a week later that he had been found hanging in his garage from one of the rafters, a crudely fashioned noose around his neck.
As I said at the beginning this was a regular occurrence, the doctor was present at pretty much every one, and he performed my first abortion when I was eleven. By the time I was fifteen he had performed a further six. I don’t want your sympathy but I do want you to understand that when I was a midwife I got to know families very well, often in their own homes. And I would get a sense of what kind of people they were, of the thousands of babies I delivered a very small proportion were going to be born into bad families. I don’t just mean ‘bad’ they were bad to the core, I could see it in their eyes the way I had seen it in my parents eyes. These were the children I chose to save.” She didn’t utter another word and neither did anyone else. There were no questions, no jibes, no taunts, just silence.
Pinky looked down at his pad and realised he had written some words down–‘I understand now’. He sat there for the next hour just staring at his pad, he realised that his story was unremarkable compared to Nursey’s. In his heart he had always felt justified for his treatment of Amy Cooper, now he realised that others had been through much worse. He had always thought that Nursey-Rowena was bad, and if you cut her in half the word evil would run the length of her body like a stick of Blackpool rock. Now though he saw a side he didn’t think was possible, a compassionate woman, that isn’t to say that what she did wasn’t evil–it was. His brain now processed that what she did was out of love and a lack in the system to safeguard against child cruelty which was understandable after what she was put through on a daily basis.
After today’s revelations from Rowena he decided he wouldn’t judge anyone else before he had all the facts, however when it came to Fiddler he knew he was evil, he molested and abused young boys for his own gratification, by his own admission he performed acts on boys as young as nine purely for his own sexual needs.
Pinky spent the rest of the day not writing; instead he jotted down notes for the remainder of his book in the hope he could make it more dramatic. He wanted people that read his novel to applaud him for his actions and not condemn him. He has never wavered from his opinion that all his actions were justified. From his deceit to lure her to the holiday park, the use of a friend to distance himself from the crime scene all the way through to the gourmet meal he prepared for himself.
FIFTEEN
Friday 9th July 1993
Eight fifteen and DI Sian Price parked her car in the staff car park; the sun was already radiating through the windscreen, she’d be glad to get out of the car. She locked it and walked toward the building where she spotted PC Philip Thorne chatting to a young female PC, DI Price could see the attraction of her, she was petite, feminine and pretty in an unconventional way. She acknowledged both as she passed them, before entering the lobby where she was buzzed through by the PC on the desk.
On entering the CID room her boss was waiting for her, he stood in his doorway and beckoned for her to join him, he was a robust man in his late fifties–an old school copper. “Close the door please Sian.” He asked as she entered his sparse office, for an officer of over thirty years DCI Higgins gave nothing away with personal photos or trinkets, aside from his qualifications there was nothing to declare this as his office. His desk was filled with ongoing case files, one of which he held in his hands, that of the girl from the chalet. “Take a seat; we believe we may have the identity of the Jane Doe from the holiday park.” He took a quick look at the file before carrying on. “We believe her to be an eighteen year old by the name of Amy Cooper, her parents reported her missing a couple of days ago when she failed to return from a short break away.”
“Have they identified the body as their daughter?” She asked.
“No, that is what I have called you in for, they can’t make it up here but we have set it up so that an informal ID can take place over video link, if they identify the body as that of Amy Cooper then we will take swabs to compare DNA to make certain.”
“Isn’t this a bit unusual?”
“Yes, but the father is recovering from heart surgery and the stress of the travelling… and under the circumstances we felt this would be a better option. Which is where you come in, I’d like you to travel down to Hertfordshire to set up the li
nk, and if necessary take the required samples. As this happened on our patch I feel that it is the least we can do, I thought about getting one of the local force down there to do the link but I want one of my own there, at least I can rest assured it will be done sensitively. You know how she was found, you can empathise with the family like no one else can. I’ve got a young PC to drive you down there. He looked at his notes once more, his name is Philip Thorne, he will meet you in the car pool at around nine.”
“Yes sir, I would be glad too, it is the least they deserve. One question sir, why PC Philip Thorne?” She said.
“I asked the duty sergeant for a PC and he was the one I was given. Why, is there a problem with him?”
“No sir, it’s just he was the responding officer to the scene at the chalet park that’s all.”
“I can request someone else if you’d prefer.”
“No sir, it’ll be fine, he seems like a nice young man.” She said as she got up from her seat and retreated from the office. This wasn’t quite how she had pictured her day turning out, it was one aspect of her job she hated, being with the ones left behind after the loss of a loved one, even more so when it was a child. And at just eighteen Amy Cooper was still just that–a child. She spent the next twenty minutes gathering up everything she would need for the video link and the possible DNA recovery that would ensue. She was glad she had chosen to wear light clothes today, a pale grey linen suit consisting of knee length skirt, jacket and a white blouse.
At five past nine she emerged from the building to find PC Thorne standing next to an unmarked Vauxhall Cavalier. She watched him as she walked over, noticing how his eyes strayed from her eyes to her legs and back again with a slight delay at her breasts. She smiled to herself inside thinking that at thirty she could still turn the eye of a lad barely out of his teens.
“Morning Ma’am.” He said as he took the bag from her and placed it in the boot before quickly returning to open the passenger door for her.
“Morning PC Thorne.” She replied, she noticed how he waited for her to get comfortable before shutting the door and scuttling round to the driver’s side.
“I believe we are driving down to Hertfordshire, can I ask why Ma’am.” He asked.
“Firstly, today you can cut all this Ma’am crap, it’s Sian, and is it OK if I call you Philip? Secondly, yes we are driving to the family home of the girl from the chalet, we believe she is an eighteen year old named Amy Cooper and I am going down to conduct a video link to establish ID.” She watched as the colour drained from his face, she knew it was going to be hard for him as he was the first on the scene and it was something that would never leave him. The sight of her open on that breakfast bar would be indelibly etched on both their brains. “If you’d rather not go I would understand, I can see if I can get a replacement.” She said.
“No, it’s fine, I won’t have to see her parents though will I? I can stay in the car?” There was a scared tone to his question and her heart went out to him.
“No Philip, it will just be me going in, you can stay in the car, think of yourself as just the chauffeur today. OK?”
“OK Ma’am, sorry, Sian.” With that settled they set off.
“I have the address here, we need to head toward Hertfordshire, then a town called Watford, I have a map if we get stuck.”
“It’s OK, we’ll be fine.” He said as he started the car and pulled out of the station headed towards Yarmouth.
Sian noticed that he was a confident driver, very attentive and intuitive as to what other drivers were doing and anticipating what they may or may not do next. She was generally a nervous passenger but for some reason with Philip at the wheel she felt at ease. For the first twenty minutes they rode in silence, just the chatter of the police radio breaking the silence. Once they hit the A47 Sian decided to spark up a conversation, “So Philip, what’s your story?” She was blunt and to the point.
“Not a lot to tell really, I had a pretty normal childhood growing up on a council estate. I had various casual jobs before I decided to join the force.”
“So are you from Cambridge? I remember that was where you said you were transferred from.”
“No, I moved to Cambridge after my initial training because they had a desperate need for staff. I was happy to move wherever as I had no strong attachments.”
“So where are you from originally?”
“Ironically I’m from Watford, born and raised there until I left for Cambridge and a new life.”
“So do you know the estate we are going to?”
“Probably, which one is it?”
“It’s a private estate called Moor Park”
“I know Moor Park, it isn’t far from the council estate I grew up on.”
“It’s a small world isn’t it, so I don’t need to ask if you know the way then?” She laughed and realised what an unassuming young man Philip was, it was rare in the youth of today. Sian had come across many young PC’s who thought they were the dog’s bollocks when it came to policing, they were cocky, arrogant and generally had no respect for the older officers. Yet here she was sat with a twenty two year old who had the maturity of someone much older. And she couldn’t help but notice that every now and then he would glance at her legs when he thought she wasn’t looking. She also observed the bulge of his biceps and taut stomach beneath his uniform.
Before long they were on the M11 and headed to the dreaded M25. Sian was born and raised in Norfolk and ventured out of the county as little as possible, she hated traffic and the few times she had ventured into London had hated the strange circular motorway. Who thought that a motorway that just went round in one big circle was a good idea? During the journey they discussed various topics from music, fashion and all the way to football and motor racing. It appeared that they had a lot in common; the discussion over football got a bit heated at times with Sian a massive Norwich City fan and Philip a Luton Town fan. Philip although passionate about his team had to concede that currently Norwich were the better side after a season that saw them come third in the newly created Premier Division while Luton barely escaped relegation from Division One. Music however was a different story, here there was a lot they agreed on for instance the influences and talent of the greats such as Billie Holliday, Ella Fitzgerald and Sam Cooke to name but a few. They also discovered that they were both huge fans of Michael Schumacher, a new German racing sensation of Formula One, they both expected huge things from him in the coming seasons.
Before they knew it they were stuck in traffic just past junction 24 the Potters Bar turn off, and they had to get all the way round to junction 18 for Chorleywood, this would save them having to cut through the centre of Watford which Philip advised her would be a bad idea at any time of day. It was getting on for eleven o’clock and they stayed stationery for the next thirty minutes, Philip even turned the engine off when it was clear that no one was going anywhere fast. Sian looked over at Philip, “Do you have a girlfriend?” She asked before quickly adding, “The young PC you were talking too this morning was very pretty.”
“Not at the moment, I’m concentrating on my career. I hadn’t really thought about Siobhan in that way, but now you mention it I suppose she is quite pretty.”
She could tell he was uneasy talking about his private life so she decided to leave it there, with that the traffic ahead started to move, Philip started the engine and they were off. The remainder of the journey was fairly straightforward, the conversation stuck to non-controversial topics. At twelve o’clock they headed up the slip road from the M25 onto the A404, another fifteen minutes and they would arrive at their destination. Sian was impressed by his knowledge of the roads, it wasn’t until they arrived at the security gate that he asked her for the street address and the house name.
“We need Sandy Lodge Road, and the house is called ‘Cariad’.” She informed him.
The bar of the security gate was across the road as they pulled off Tolpits Lane, and an officious man came out
of the brick built sentry box, Philip could see a television playing in the small room. The man walked up to the car, his neatly pressed blue suit was ruined by the hi-vis tabard he was obviously required to wear. He held his clip board in one hand and pen in the other; he leant down as Philip opened the window.
“You do realise that this is a private estate and is a no through road.” He stated rather than asked. His moustache looked like it had come from the movie sets of the fifties.
“We are going to Mr and Mrs Cooper, their address is Cariad, Sandy Lodge Road.”
“You could be anyone, are they expecting you, only I don’t have you on the list.”
With this Sian was beginning to get impatient, one of her biggest bug bears was officious little pricks with nothing better in life to do than to inconvenience others. She leaned across with her warrant card, and with one swift motion opened it, “I’m DI Sian Price and this is PC Philip Thorne, please just open the barrier.” She sat back in her seat and couldn’t help notice the smirk that was forming on Philip’s mouth as the guy went back to his little room and activated the barrier.
Philip drove, the smirk growing now that they were through, “Are you always that impatient?” He asked her.
“Not normally, but little pricks like that wind me up, they think they hold all the power but are just bored little men who want to feel important.” In less than two minutes they were parked outside and Sian noticed what a stunning looking house it was, the gate was already open and Philip drove in, he was grateful for small mercies as he hadn’t relished the thought of speaking into the intercom. He pulled the car around and parked with the rear of the car facing the house. He looked at Sian and could see the dread on her face; this was not going to be easy for her.
SIXTEEN
Chapter 6
Amy Cooper Forever Page 8
