The Girl in the Dark

by Angela Hart

  I felt terrible for failing to realise for so many hours that she’d done a runner. From the timing of the phone call she made from our landline, we reckoned Melissa could have been gone for over four hours before we worked out she’d climbed out of the utility room window. Everyone I spoke to was extremely kind about this. The other foster carers at our support group – Lynne included – said we had done everything in our power to keep Melissa safe and had nothing to feel guilty about. I knew this deep down, but it didn’t stop me having regrets and feeling foolish, wishing I’d done more to stop her escaping like that.

  Telling Ryan and Marty that Melissa was not coming back was also tough. They said kind things about her, and I felt bad that they’d been subjected to the disruption she’d caused in the house, both having their own issues to cope with as they did. I liked both boys, and when they moved out shortly after Melissa’s departure I missed having them around, though the house wasn’t ever empty, as more children came to stay. I heard that both Ryan and Marty did very well in their new homes, and while he was still at the primary school I saw Ryan in the playground occasionally, when I was taking other children in. He never failed to give me a cheery hello and often told me a joke.

  A couple of years ago I bumped into Elaine, Melissa’s former support worker. I was attending a safeguarding conference and she was working there as a volunteer. She was sitting at a table, signing people in and giving out name badges. I recognised her straight away and went over to say hello. Elaine must have been in her early seventies by then. I asked her if she remembered me, and if she had ever heard what became of Melissa. She hesitated for a moment before saying, ‘I do remember you, you’ve barely changed.’ I thanked her for the compliment: I’d turned sixty and had been in my thirties when I first met Elaine. ‘Do you know, I saw your names on the list earlier and they rang a bell. How silly of me not to realise straight away that it was you, and Jonathan, of course. How is he?’

  I was itching to hear if she knew what had happened to Melissa. I’d tried to keep in touch with Elaine in the aftermath of Melissa’s move across the country, but had been told that she’d left her job and gone to work for another authority. Doreen moved on too, and in all these years we’d never found out what became of Melissa.

  ‘Jonathan’s fine. We’ve both often wondered about Melissa. I’d love to know if you ever heard how she got on.’

  ‘Melissa? Yes, she was the one with the beautiful red hair. That was the best thing that could have happened to her, moving away.’

  ‘Did you keep in touch?’ I was on pins now, hoping for positive news after all this time.

  ‘No, I didn’t. But, now then, let me think.’

  Elaine scrunched up her eyes and placed her hands on her temples, as if trying to summon up some deep-rooted memories.

  ‘Yes, Melissa. Yes, I do recall . . . I was told the move was very successful. She stayed with her relatives – an aunt and uncle, wasn’t it? – and I heard her file was closed, which was music to my ears. Given what we know now, it’s possible she had a very lucky escape.’

  ‘That’s so good to hear,’ I said. Though so much time had passed it was still a huge relief to me to hear that. Jonathan and I always try to stay in touch with the children we foster, but of course Melissa’s placement ended very abruptly, without us even having the chance to say goodbye. I was absolutely delighted to hear her move had worked out, and that she’d stayed with her relatives. The fact her file had been closed was a very good sign. In hindsight I wasn’t sure what Elaine meant by the phrase ‘given what we know now’ and there had been no time to ask: a queue was forming behind me. I thanked Elaine and went to find Jonathan to tell him the good news.

  ‘A lucky escape?’ he said, delighted. ‘It’s wonderful to hear that.’

  That day I picked up an information leaflet about trafficking and the problems of child sexual exploitation (CSE), and around this time I was also starting to hear more in the news about so-called ‘grooming gangs’. When I got home from the conference I googled CSE. I wanted to find out more about it, and how to spot the warning signs that a child may be at risk. This was clearly something foster carers like us needed to be educated about, and I always follow up on all the latest research and information available about anything and everything to do with child safeguarding. We’d been told we would receive CSE training during the course of our ongoing specialist fostering training, which continued to provide us with regular backing, information and support, though we were still waiting for it. In the meantime, I wanted to educate myself as much as possible.

  I sat at my computer and read details that made me shudder. The reports online said it was mostly white British girls who were being groomed by older men – predominantly of Asian heritage – who often aimed to traffick the girls for sex. They plied them with drink and drugs or both, and they tried to impress them with cars and money. Melissa was fresh in my mind, having talked about her that day. I thought back to her friend Sonia and her son Kazim, remembering how she had talked about his dad, Buzz, and the fact he was of Asian heritage. Melissa had had a thing for his friend Tommy, who was also of Asian origin. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions on flimsy evidence, but my mind was making some disturbing connections.

  I spoke to Jonathan about this at length. ‘Melissa wasn’t being groomed, was she?’

  He looked at me in horror. ‘Melissa? No, of course not.’

  I hoped he was right and that I was worrying unnecessarily, but I couldn’t let this go.

  Together, we picked over what we knew about the types of boys Melissa hung around with, and what she got up to when she mixed with the wrong crowds. To our knowledge, her boyfriends were white boys, older than her but still in their teens. Though she’d fancied Tommy, we weren’t sure if he was ever her boyfriend. Boys like TJ, Degsy and Oz were all white and didn’t fit the profile of the abusers being described in the media, and although we knew Melissa smoked and dabbled with alcohol, we never witnessed her being drunk, at least not in the way you would imagine a person who was ‘plied’ with alcohol would be.

  Gradually, more information about grooming was trickling through to foster carers, and to health care professionals, social workers, teachers and in fact anyone involved in the care and safeguarding of young people. I was learning that no child is immune from the risk of CSE, and that it was an international problem affecting an incalculable number of children. It didn’t matter how well-cared-for a child may be; the men who groomed children were highly skilled at manipulating them and brainwashing them. They knew exactly what to say and do to lure a vulnerable child into believing they were boyfriend and girlfriend, not abuser and victim, and that it was OK to have underage sex with someone you were going out with. I read how once the child was drawn into the ‘relationship’, the next step would be to encourage them to commit crimes and cut themselves off from their families and the people who cared for them.

  They would soon be sucked so deep into their abuser’s world they couldn’t escape. They might be too scared or ashamed to cut ties and go back to their loved ones, or they might be threatened with violence, making it impossible for them to break free. The abuse might escalate, and the girls might be assaulted verbally, physically and sexually if they don’t comply with their abuser’s demands. In some cases, the girls – or boys, as they are victims too – might be forced to have sex with other people, for the perpetrator’s gain.

  The more I read about CSE the more I thought back over Melissa’s time with us. I couldn’t get the thought out of my head that she might have been a CSE victim without us ever suspecting it.

  ‘What if she actually was being groomed and we simply didn’t realise?’ I said to Jonathan one day. ‘What if it was going on right under our noses, and under the noses of everyone in authority?’

  We wrung our hands and racked our brains once more. As we’d done before, we discussed the fact the boyfriends we knew about were white males, and that this didn’t fit with the pr
ofile of the local men who were under investigation or already in jail. Melissa didn’t have a criminal record either, whereas victims of grooming were very often coerced into committing criminal acts by their abusers. Understandably, Jonathan and I wanted to convince ourselves that this had not happened to Melissa, but knowing what we did now about CSE and the tactics used, I continued to have nagging doubts, and I kept digging for more information.

  Last year I had another chance encounter, this time with a former Social Services manager I used to work with, who also used to work in children’s homes in the nineties.

  ‘Isn’t it terrible?’ Hilary said. ‘If only we knew then what we know now. So many missed opportunities. So much wasted time.’

  She went on to say how dreadful it was that young girls who were having sex with older men were once viewed as ‘child prostitutes’ and their abusers described as ‘pimps’.

  ‘How can you have a child prostitute?’ Hilary asked, throwing her hands in the air. ‘There is no such thing. These were abused children, not the precocious little madams they were made out to be. Thank God this problem is finally being seen for what it was – and what it is.’ My mind darted back to the emergency meeting we’d had when Melissa’s placement with us ended. That was the first time I’d heard the term child prostitute, but nobody suggested that was a world Melissa was caught up in, or did they? Did Social Services have their suspicions and is that why that youth worker attended the meeting? I thought hard. No, they didn’t. I could remember clearly that the youth worker had said the missing person project she worked on was ‘not just for runaways like Melissa’, but kids caught up in child prostitution.

  Hilary and I talked about the fact the CSE problem was ongoing and that, unfortunately, it looked like the cases that had come to light were just the tip of the iceberg.

  ‘Education is key,’ she said.

  I agreed with this and told her I wish I’d known a lot more, and a lot sooner.

  ‘Do you think this has happened to a child you’ve cared for?’

  Without naming Melissa I explained that Jonathan and I had our doubts and suspicions about one particular girl but weren’t convinced, largely because the boys she hung round with didn’t fit the profile of the convicted abusers and the vast majority of grooming gangs that had been identified. Hilary considered this for a moment. Then she went on to tell me that older teenage boys used to hang around the children’s homes she worked at, befriending young girls. These boys did not fit the profile of the predators making headlines in the media either. They were white and typically much closer in age to their victims – maybe seventeen or eighteen. They were the ones who initially introduced the girls to cigarettes, alcohol and drugs – typically cannabis, to begin with. They introduced them to sex, too. Often, these boys worked as drug runners for the older men who controlled the grooming gangs.

  My blood ran cold. Hilary went on to explain that she believed these teenagers may have been out of their depth themselves, operating in a world they didn’t plan to enter or even recognise for what it was. ‘Nevertheless, they were in it, and they played a critical role. They gained the girls’ trust and, whether they knew what they were doing or not, they normalised underage sex, illegal drinking, experimenting with drugs and criminal behaviour.’

  I was horrified at what I was hearing, and I wondered how many other people were in the dark, given that the teenage boys themselves might not have realised the full extent of what they were involved with. Carers, parents, healthcare professionals, social workers, teachers – so many of us had been left scrabbling around for answers, out of our depth and ill-equipped to deal with an epidemic that hadn’t yet been diagnosed. The warning signs were there, but the knowledge we have today was not. I had a creeping realisation that the children who were trapped at the centre of the abuse could not possibly have recognised the complexity or sheer evil of what was happening to them. Had Melissa been in the dark too? Had she been a victim, one with no idea of what she was a victim of?

  I was hanging on Hilary’s every word as she continued to describe the grooming process.

  ‘Catastrophically these teenage boys introduced the girls to their older, richer and much more sophisticated “friends”,’ she said. ‘And they were predominantly men of Asian heritage. People have been afraid to say that for fear of sounding racist, but that is a fact. The girls trusted the older men because they were not strangers, they were friends of friends. And the girls couldn’t believe their luck; suddenly they were going to adult parties, being driven around in flashy sports cars, having food bought for them and a free supply of alcohol and cannabis on tap, which they were encouraged to lap up. The men knew everything about the girls, but often the girls only knew the men by their nicknames, or which car they drove or business they ran. Takeaways and taxi firms, a lot of the time.’

  The more Hilary spoke, the more I started to realise this could definitely have been happening to Melissa, to some extent. I began to feel quite sick as I thought about TJ, Degsy and Oz. I could see that they could have been part of the grooming chain; they fitted the profile of the older teenage boys who made the introductions to the abusers to a tee. Once again I thought of Sonia, and Kazim’s father, and how he’d been friends with Tommy. Buzz and Tommy both used nicknames. They chose names that were easier for the girls to say than their real names, but why were older men like them so keen to do this, and to befriend young girls? Some of the names on that list Melissa kept in her bedroom had puzzled me. She had Ozzy Osbourne and Tom Jones written down. I’d thought it was unlikely that a twelve-year-old girl would be a fan of those singers, but now I wondered if they were nicknames for other boys or men. I wished I knew the answer, or that the police or Social Services had had the intelligence and resources to investigate this at the time. Melissa had described Tommy as a ‘proper sophisticated guy’ who had a ‘really good car’. There were links to takeaways and taxi firms too. TJ worked in a takeaway, and I realised the fact Melissa seemed to be able to get picked up at all hours, whenever she made a call from our landline or a call box, meant she probably had access to free rides. She was certainly given free food, alcohol and cigarettes; it was obvious someone else was paying, as she only received a few pounds a week in pocket money. Her friends had older boyfriends too – including those who came from good, caring families, like Rosie. No child is immune from the risks. I’d read that chilling warning several times now and I couldn’t get the phrase out of my head.

  I asked Hilary for her honest opinion about Melissa. She didn’t know her and couldn’t possibly be sure, but after listening to more of my recollections she told me, ‘I think that crisis review meeting probably saved her skin. I imagine at the time you felt like a failure. But that final time she absconded meant that she was uprooted. From what you’ve told me, she would have been cut off from the gangs who operated in our area, and in the neighbouring counties. The fact her Social Services file was closed is a very good sign. She got away before she was in too deep. I can’t say for sure, as unfortunately CSE is a nationwide problem, but it certainly sounds like she had a lucky escape from the gangs operating in this part of the country.’

  I remembered what Elaine had said at that conference – she had also described Melissa as having had a ‘lucky escape’. Had Elaine had the same suspicions about Melissa and, if so, when? I had no idea, and it was frustrating to be trying to piece everything together so many years on. I truly wished I had a time machine and could go back to the nineties, armed with the knowledge I had now, and that I could find out exactly what had gone on.

  Today, all things considered, I’m afraid I do believe that Melissa was subjected at least to the early stages of grooming. The thought of it devastates me, but when I look back it would explain so many of the mysteries that surrounded her. I always had a very strong feeling that she was not running away from care, but running to something. I also sensed that she somehow felt compelled to run off; it was like she’d been put under a spell by her f
riends and boyfriends. She was a naturally sweet-natured girl, so we were baffled by how easily she seemed to transform into a devious, thoughtless and reckless runaway. It was like she was being brainwashed, and I’m afraid I think she was.

  I cling to the hope that the chain was broken before one of her teenage boyfriends was replaced with an older abuser, or someone who may have trafficked her for sex. I don’t believe that happened, but I can’t be sure. Every time I think of Melissa I remind myself that her Social Services file was closed after she started a new life on the other side of the country. I want to believe that she broke free. I try to convince myself she would no longer have felt compelled to run away once she’d cut ties with the network of boys and men she was involved with. I hope that is true.

  This has been a difficult story to recollect and write, but I hope it may help others to recognise the signs of CSE, and keep more children safe. If I had a child like Melissa staying with me now I’m confident I’d identify the early signs of child sexual exploitation. I’d feel able to report suspected CSE to the authorities immediately, safe in the knowledge I’d be listened to. I’d like to think that no police officer, social worker or youth worker would ever treat a child victim as a tearaway, a naughty truant or a precocious ‘little madam’, as they did in the past.

  Twenty-five years have passed since I last saw Melissa. She’ll be in her late thirties now and I truly hope she is a happy, healthy and wise woman who is enjoying her life, perhaps with a family of her own to care for.

  Nobody knows how many children have been victims of CSE. Over 2,400 children in the UK were victims of sexual exploitation by gangs and groups from August 2010 to October 2011. For more information, help and advice visit nspcc.org.uk.