by Cathy Glass
The weather was excellent, and in the late afternoon and early evening we explored the coastal paths and the walks through the National Trust land which flanked the bay, as well as taking in some local sights. By the end of the week we were suntanned, relaxed, and somewhat reluctant to pack for the journey home. For while we had spoken of Dawn, and wondered how she had been getting on, the responsibility, with its continual anxiety, had been kept well away by the distance, and the knowledge that there was nothing we could do about any problems that might have arisen.
On Saturday morning we were on the road by 9.30 a.m. The traffic was heavier than it had been on the way down and the journey slower. Adrian, confined to his car seat, quickly grew restless. John pulled into a lay-by and I moved to the back seat so that I could amuse and comfort Adrian until eventually he dropped off to sleep. While it was lovely to have been on holiday, I knew I would be pleased to be home again with the familiar comfort of my own bed – or I would have been, had we not been broken into.
We didn’t notice immediately. The bottle of milk I’d ordered was on the doorstep, the front door was locked, and there was no sign of a forced entry or broken window. It was only when we went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea and found the cupboard doors open that I started to feel something was wrong.
‘I’m sure I shut those,’ I said to John. I looked in the cupboards and saw that the biscuits and crisps were missing, together with an unopened carton of fresh juice. But even then I didn’t immediately think they had been stolen. Then I noticed that the dish on the side, which usually contained loose change for emergencies, was empty, and at the same time the cat flap blew open.
‘What the hell?’ John said. The cat flap had been fitted by the previous owners and was always kept shut by us, as we didn’t have a cat. It was now open and flapping in the wind.
My heart began to race as John went to the back door and, turning the handle, found it unlocked. He went out and looked down the sideway. ‘The side gate’s open too,’ he said, returning stony-faced.
Picking up Adrian, I followed John through to the lounge. The television was still there, and when we went into the front room we found that the hi-fi system hadn’t been taken either. The burglar had been through our cassettes, though, for instead of being on the shelves they were in a heap on the floor; whether any were missing wasn’t immediately obvious. We flew upstairs and found all the bedroom doors open – we had definitely shut them before leaving as a fire precaution. Our bedroom was the only one that contained anything of value – two rings I had inherited from my grandmother, and thankfully they were still in my jewellery box. However, Adrian’s money-box, which I kept on the cabinet beside my jewellery box, had been broken into and was now empty. I guessed there must have been over £30 in it, for John and I had started dropping one pound coins into it, with the intention of opening a savings account for Adrian.
Going round to Dawn’s room, we found her wardrobe doors open. I didn’t know if anything had been taken, for Dawn had packed her own casual clothes while I had seen to her uniform.
‘Did she take her Walkman with her?’ John asked.
‘Yes. Definitely.’ Fortunately Dawn was inseparable from her Walkman, so it was with her and not stolen.
The third bedroom, which was to be Adrian’s room, was untouched; likewise the bathroom and toilet appeared not to have been entered. But while it could have been a lot worse in terms of things taken or damage done, there was an awful feeling of violation from knowing that a stranger had been in our house and gone through our possessions. I felt it was an added violation that Adrian’s moneybox had been forced open and cleared: it was as though it was a personal attack on a toddler. It was the last thing we needed on our return after a six-hour journey, and it immediately blighted the relaxed feeling we’d had after our week away.
John phoned the police, and while we waited for them to arrive we checked for anything else that might have been taken. We thought it was odd that the food and juice had been taken but the ‘valuable’ items had been left. When we double-checked the kitchen cupboards we found that John’s bottle of Scotch was also missing; apart from a bottle of red wine, which had been left, the Scotch was the only alcohol we had in the house. Then we found that three of the six cut-glass tumblers, which we kept for best,
were also missing. It was almost as if the thieves had been on their way to a party, and had stopped by for nibbles and drink.
We made a list of everything that was missing and handed it to the police officer when he arrived. I couldn’t remember ever having the police come to my house before, even as a child, and now it had happened three times in the last six months. It was a different officer to the ones who had visited us before in connection with Dawn, and I thought that before long the entire local constabulary would have come through our front door.
‘It’s kids,’ the officer said, looking at the inventory, as we showed him around the house. ‘You’re lucky they didn’t graffiti the walls or pee in the bed. Usually they make more mess.’
We didn’t feel very lucky – far from it – but we did appreciate that the intruders (the officer said it would have been more than one) could have done more damage.
‘Get rid of that cat flap,’ he said as we entered the kitchen. ‘That’s where they got in.’
John and I looked at the cat flap and then at the officer. ‘But it’s not big enough for someone to get through,’ I said, aware than not even Adrian could have squeezed through the nine-inch square gap.
‘They didn’t come through it,’ the officer said. ‘They reached in. Here, I’ll show you.’
We watched as he unlocked the back door, and then, stepping outside, knelt down and closed the door. To my amazement and eerie disconcertion his disembodied hand appeared through the cat flap followed by his arm, gradually extending to its full length. His hand reached across until his fingers alighted on the bolt at the bottom of the door, and then moved up to the key in the lock. Both the bolt and the key were within easy reach and he turned the key, locking it and unlocking it, to prove the point.
‘But how did they know they could enter that way?’ John asked, as the officer returned into the kitchen, shutting and locking the door behind him.
‘It’s a tried-and-tested method,’ he said. ‘Cat flaps, open windows and letterboxes feature in most house burglaries. Fix a padlock on your side gate, and my advice would be to do away with the cat flap completely. I’m sure moggy can be let out to do its business.’
Neither John nor I admitted we hadn’t got a moggy, as doubtless it would have only compounded our apparent stupidity in maintaining this lapse in security.
‘Does anyone else live here besides you and the baby?’ the officer asked.
‘Only our foster daughter, Dawn,’ John said.
‘How old is she?’
‘Thirteen,’ I said, and I saw the officer’s expression. ‘No, she wouldn’t. Absolutely not. She’s no angel but she certainly wouldn’t do this.’
‘Good, but you won’t mind if I have a chat with her?’
‘She’s not here,’ John said. ‘She’s been staying with her mother while we’ve been away. She’s not due back until tomorrow.’
He nodded. ‘OK. Perhaps I could call back. I’m on duty tomorrow evening. I’ll make it as close to the start of my shift as possible – about seven o’clock.’
We reluctantly agreed – we didn’t really have much choice – and I bitterly hoped that Dawn wouldn’t see his visit as a sign of our distrust in her. The officer said he would bring a form with him, which we would need for claiming on our insurance, and thanking him, John saw him out.
‘She wouldn’t,’ I said again, as John returned to the lounge. ‘Dawn wouldn’t break into her own home!’
‘No,’ John said thoughtfully. ‘Unless Dawn’s told her dubious mates that the house was empty and that there was an easy route in via the cat flap.’
I couldn’t disagree that it was a possibility.
John made a cup of tea while I threw together a quick pasta meal. Then I got Adrian ready for bed. I checked the sheets on our bed and Adrian’s cot, to see that they hadn’t been ‘peed in’, but they were clean and dry. Once Adrian was settled for the night we opened the week’s mail. Then John secured the cat flap by nailing a piece of wood over the opening, while I finished most of the unpacking. It was nearly ten o’clock and we watched television for an hour before going up to bed. Neither of us had mentioned Dawn since the officer had left, but I knew her name hung in the air.
‘I’m sure she’s not implicated in any way,’ I said as we prepared for bed.
‘No, but I’m not convinced it wasn’t one of her mates. You must admit it’s a bit of a coincidence. Not only did someone know we were away, but they also knew about the cat flap. Unless of course it was an opportunist who struck lucky. But then why take biscuits and booze and leave the valuables? It doesn’t add up.’
The following day, while I set the washing machine going, John went to collect Dawn from her mother’s, as arranged, at twelve noon. When he returned, without Dawn, he said that Barbara had had to get up to answer the door, and had told him that Dawn wasn’t there as she had stayed at one of her mate’s for the night. Not best pleased by the wasted trip, John had pointed out that we had arranged to collect Dawn at twelve, and then asked when she was expected back. Barbara said she didn’t know but guessed it would be late afternoon, which was the time Dawn had been returning during the week. Apparently Dawn had only slept at her mother’s one night, and when John asked Barbara about school, she said she didn’t know if Dawn had been going or not.
John returned to Barbara’s at five o’clock and Dawn was there, in the middle of a big argument with Mike. Mike had helped, or rather bundled, Dawn and her cases into the car and yelled ‘Good riddance,’ as they pulled away.
‘Good week?’ John had asked Dawn dryly. Then he told her that we had been broken into.
Dawn said, ‘That’s dreadful.’
As I welcomed Dawn home, she seemed very pleased to be back and gave me a big kiss and a hug. I set about her suitcase full of dirty washing – an entire week’s worth.
‘Didn’t you wash anything?’ I asked in dismay. ‘Not even your underwear?’
‘No. Mum wouldn’t let me use the washing machine.’
I would have thought her mother could have done her washing for her daughter, but I didn’t comment. I had other, more pressing, matters on my mind – the police officer’s return visit in an hour’s time – and I was very worried. I hoped Dawn wouldn’t take it personally, as it could seriously damage our relationship.
Chapter Twenty-One
Broken-Down Bus
‘Hello, Dawn,’ the officer said, when he returned as promised at seven o’clock and I showed him into the lounge. ‘Remember me? I thought your name rang a bell. How are you doing, Dawn?’
I exchanged a pointed glance with John, wondering how the officer knew Dawn.
Dawn was sitting on the sofa and I had told her the officer would be coming – to speak to all of us about the robbery. ‘I’m good,’ she said, smiling sheepishly.
‘I expect your foster parents have told you why I’m here?’ the officer said, taking a seat opposite Dawn.
Dawn nodded and smiled again, this time I thought a little apprehensively.
‘You know this house was broken into and burgled last week?’ he continued.
‘Yes, John told me. But it wasn’t me,’ Dawn said far too quickly. My heart sank.
‘I’m not suggesting it was you,’ the officer said. ‘But I’m wondering if you could help me find who did do it. It’s not very nice to go away on holiday and come back to find you have been burgled, and this is your home too. I’m sure you’d like to help catch who was responsible.’
Very diplomatically put, I thought. Dawn didn’t say anything but was eyeing the officer carefully, while John and I looked at her.
‘Have you got a house key, Dawn?’ the officer asked after a moment.
Dawn shook her head.
‘We didn’t think she was old enough,’ I said, feeling the need to justify our decision. ‘I’m always in when Dawn comes home.’
‘Did you need anything from the house while your foster parents were away?’ he asked.
‘No!’ Dawn said adamantly. ‘I haven’t been anywhere near this place. I’ve been at me mum’s.’
‘Not very often,’ the officer said. ‘I’ve spoken to your mum and she hardly saw you last week.’
There was silence as Dawn looked away, and John and I exchanged another pointed glance, before the officer said, ‘Your mates, Dawn. Are you still in with the same crowd?’
‘Some of them,’ Dawn said, almost under her breath.
‘The Bates lad, and the Melson twins?’ the officer said, raising his eyebrows.
‘Sometimes.’ Clearly the officer was more aware of who Dawn saw than we were, and it sounded as though these friendships weren’t for the best.
The officer shifted position, leant slightly forward, and looked seriously at Dawn. ‘They’re not good company, Dawn. In fact they’re bad news. They’ve landed you in trouble before, haven’t they?’
Dawn didn’t say anything.
‘What sort of trouble?’ John asked.
‘I’ll leave Dawn to tell you about that.’ The officer’s eyes met Dawn’s in almost conspiratorial silence and I guessed he was bound by confidentiality as much as Ruth was. ‘I’d really like to find out who broke in here,’ he continued, addressing Dawn. ‘Do you think your mates might be able to throw any light on that?’
Dawn remained quiet, and then shrugged.
‘OK,’ the officer said. ‘I think it might be best if we continue this chat at the station. We can call in for Bates and the Melson twins on the way.’
‘No!’ Dawn suddenly cried, clearly as shocked by this as I was. ‘I didn’t have anything to do with it!’
‘So who did? Did you mention the house was empty to your mates?’
‘No,’ she said; then, after a pause, ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Dawn,’ the officer said forcefully. ‘You were hanging out with your mates every night last week. They must have wondered why you were suddenly on the streets again until all hours, as your foster parents don’t let you. I’m sure one of the gang asked you how come.’
There was another, longer, pause before Dawn shrugged. ‘I guess I might have said they were away.’
‘And did you give them this address?’
Dawn shook her head. ‘No way.’
‘Do they know where you live, Dawn?’ the officer persisted. ‘Might you have told them before?’
Another pause; then, ‘I guess I might. I don’t know.’
The officer transferred his gaze from Dawn to John and me. ‘I’ll be out that way tonight and I’ll stop by and have a chat with that group. I know where they hang out.’
‘Don’t say I told you anything,’ Dawn put in quickly.
‘They’re not good mates if you’re frightened of them,’ the officer said with a frown.
‘I’m not,’ Dawn retaliated. ‘I just don’t want them to think I’ve grassed.’
Standing, the officer took a folded sheet of paper from his jacket pocket and passed it to John. ‘That’s the statement you’ll need when you claim on your insurance.’
John thanked him, although we wouldn’t be claiming on our insurance: we had an excess of £100 on the policy, and the broken cat flap, £30 from Adrian’s moneybox, drink and biscuits didn’t amount to that much.
‘Goodbye then, Dawn,’ the officer said before he left. ‘Behave yourself. You’ve got a nice home here and good foster parents. Try to keep out of trouble.’
Dawn nodded and smiled pleasantly. I stayed in the lounge with Dawn as John saw the officer out.
‘I wouldn’t,’ Dawn said in earnest as soon as they had gone. ‘I wouldn’t break in my own home. Why should I?’
I shook my
head. ‘I don’t know.’ But I could have guessed. If Dawn had been involved it would have been for kicks: an empty house, an easy way in, goaded by a group of lads into helping themselves to alcohol, crisps and biscuits. It would have been out of bravado – sitting in the park, probably after dark, sharing out the Scotch, crisps and biscuits, and generally having a laugh. I doubted Dawn would have been the instigator, but neither would she have had the gumption to stand up to them.
‘What happened to the glasses?’ I said, unintentionally voicing my thoughts.
‘We …’ Dawn began; then, ‘What glasses?’ Which rather confirmed my suspicion.
‘Three of our best glasses were taken,’ I said.
Dawn shrugged but didn’t say anything further.
John returned to the lounge and sat on the sofa with a sigh. ‘Are all your mates boys?’ he asked.
‘No, the Melson twins are girls – Sandy and Patsy.’
He nodded, and then picked up the remote control for the television and flicked it on low. ‘Remember, Dawn, if you do think of something that might help, I’d be grateful if you could tell us or the police. OK?’
‘Of course I will,’ Dawn said. And we left it at that. The matter was in the hands of the police and we didn’t want to sour our relationship with her by questioning Dawn further.
We watched television for an hour and then Dawn went up for her bath. Once she was in bed I said goodnight and reminded her that we would be back in the routine of school the following morning, and I expected her to go everyday, which she promised she would.
