by Susan Lewis
After delivering Annie back to her council flat on the edge of Temple Fields, Alex drove on to the children’s residential home in Cliff Down, about four miles away, to check on Kylie. On being told that her charge was in the middle of a therapy session, she left a note so Kylie would know she’d been, and returned to her car to check what was next in her diary. A Nigerian family who’d recently arrived in the area. Though she hadn’t yet met either of the parents, she’d spoken to the mother several times on the phone and if the woman’s surprise and concern at finding herself on the social services’ radar was anything to go by, then this meeting today should go well. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to school newcomers to the country in how things were done here – i.e. physical punishment of children and staff was not allowed, even if it was the norm where they came from.
What she found when she got to the Adebayos’ freshly painted home in the affluent area of Bradshaw was father and son kicking a football around in the neatly mowed back garden, while mum and daughter were baking a traditional Nigerian-colour sweet cake in the kitchen. Though Alex guessed this perfect domesticity was being staged for her benefit, when she left half an hour later she felt fairly satisfied that they were good parents who simply hailed from a different culture and were now eager to adapt to the new one. When she wrote them up she’d recommend another visit in a couple of months just to see how things were going, and if all was well there would be no need to bother them again.
By the time she’d made two more visits, one to a young mother and baby, both addicted to heroin and both in foster care; the other to a fifteen-year-old boy who’d recently been returned to the family home after being removed for beating up his mother and sister, it was gone six o’clock. So, turning the car in the direction of home she switched on her personal mobile, ready for her own life to sweep like a gentle tide over the shores of her hectic day. Unsurprisingly, with opening night virtually upon them, she was inundated with messages and texts from cast and crew, though, to her relief, nothing was requiring her immediate attention. Everything was going so well, and to time, that her biggest concern now was the fact that nothing was going wrong. However, she must remember that it was still only Thursday, so plenty of time yet for some monster of an issue to raise its ugly head, which would absolutely not be brilliant, just normal.
Before driving on she called up her work messages, in case of emergencies; the first was from Family Support giving feedback on the various cases she was leading; next came a lengthy update from Wendy on what she’d been listed to do to cover for Ben. (Nothing about Shane Prince’s custody status, thank you Wendy; and not so much as a thank you either, or ‘I hope this isn’t too much, if it is do let me know and we’ll work something out.’) The last message was a reminder from Millie’s care home that Millie was due for an assessment next week, if Alex or a member of Millie’s family would like to be there.
Firing off a quick text to Millie’s niece saying she’d be happy to try and fit it in if none of the family could make it, Alex drove home and finally pulled up outside the Vicarage twenty-five minutes later – just in time to click on her work mobile as it rang.
‘Alex, Neil Osmond here,’ the voice at the other end informed her. ‘Sorry it’s taken me this long to get back to you. What’s up?’
Neil Osmond from CAIT – Child Abuse Investigation Team. Why had she called him? Slapping her head as she remembered, she said, ‘I have a big favour to ask. I think I already know the answer, but here goes anyway: I have to pay a visit to the Prince family next Tuesday and I was wondering if you, or someone from your department, might be able to come with me. Us, actually, Lizzie Walsh is coming too.’
With the expected sigh of regret, he said, ‘You know I’d love to help, but having a police presence is going to create the wrong impression, like you’re saying some sort of crime has gone down, and as far as I’m aware it hasn’t?’
‘Not that I know of,’ Alex conceded. She wasn’t surprised by this response, since she knew that the police never liked to get involved unless they had to, but she was disappointed anyway.
‘I’ll tell you what,’ he continued. ‘If you let me know when you’re going, I’ll make sure a couple of uniforms are in the vicinity. That way, if you need to dial 999, someone’ll be on the doorstep.’
Knowing it was the best he could offer, she said, ‘OK, thanks. I’ve got your email so I’ll be in touch when it’s set-up.’
‘Hang on, before you go. I might as well talk to you about this now, while you’re on the line. We took an anonymous call earlier about a kid living on North Hill. Do you know anything about her? The family name is Wade.’
Screwing up her nose as she tried to connect with the distant ring of a bell, Alex said, ‘What was the caller saying?’
‘Just that she thought someone ought to go over there and see to the kid that lives there, which is why I’m passing it on to you.’
‘OK, I’m not actually in the office at the moment, but I’ll check it out when I go in tomorrow,’ and after jotting the name down she ended the call, and seeing Jason at the door she melted into a smile.
‘You’re late,’ he said, as she walked into his arms. ‘I’m just on my way to go and pick up the kids.’
Having forgotten they were coming for the evening, Alex felt herself instantly deflate. The one night this week that there was no rehearsal, and she had to spend it with them. She didn’t want to be mean, but it was the last thing she felt up to right now, and she knew damned well that they’d rather be anywhere than with her. ‘What are you doing about food?’ she asked, hoping he’d planned to take them into town for a curry or a pizza. He might not like it if she cried off, but they would, and tonight was all about them, wasn’t it?
‘I popped into Tesco on my way home,’ he told her, starting towards his car. ‘They’ll be happy with beans on toast and a Magnum each.’
And what will I be happy with, she was thinking irritably as she opened the front door. Though she could no doubt come up with several answers, she decided that maybe she should start viewing this as another opportunity to make Jason happy by doing her best to win them over.
‘No bloody way am I going down there,’ Tiffany raged, her thirteen-year-old attitude punching its weight about the kitchen like a fist and carrying up to the landing where Alex was at her desk. She was meaning Devon, of course, and the barbecue at Gabby’s on Sunday. ‘You’re always trying to make us and ...’
‘Shush, keep your voice down,’ Jason scolded, ‘and stop that swearing.’
‘I’m not going,’ she hissed. ‘I hate it down there. It’s boring and I can’t stand horses, nor can Heidi, can you?’ she demanded of her ten-year-old sister.
‘No, they really scare me, Dad,’ Heidi responded earnestly. ‘One nearly trod on me last time, and it would have really hurt if it had.’
‘But it didn’t, and anyway, we’re not going to her Aunt Sheila’s, we’re going to her sister’s and you like it there. They’ve got a pool, remember ...’
‘The pool’s really cool,’ Tom, his eight-year-old, piped up. ‘We could have races ...’
‘Shut up!’ Tiffany seethed through her teeth. ‘We’re not going, and that’s that.’
‘But you can’t stay here on your own,’ Jason pointed out.
‘We can stay with Mum,’ Heidi retorted.
‘But you’re with me that day ...’
‘Yeah, you not her,’ Tiffany spat, ‘or her stupid family.’
‘Ssh, she’ll hear you.’
‘And like I care? I’m telling you right now, Dad, I’m not going, so you might as well get it into your head ...’
‘Don’t speak to me like that, and you’ll do as you’re told.’
‘If you make me go I promise you, I won’t speak to anyone all day.’
‘You didn’t speak to her just now when we were having our tea,’ Tom reminded her. ‘That was rude, really, wasn’t it Dad?’
‘Very,’ Jason agreed. ‘Alex was doing h
er best to be friendly ...’
‘Shut up!’ Tiffany shouted. ‘She’s your girlfriend, not ours, so I don’t see why we have to have anything to do with her. You ought to tell her you want to come and live with us again. You don’t belong here ...’
‘Tiffany, stop this.’
‘Why should I? She’s not interested in us, it’s all just a show, the way she goes around pretending to care about kids, when she didn’t think twice about taking you away from us, did she?’
Hearing Gina’s words – fabrications – coming out of Tiffany’s mouth, Alex sighed quietly to herself and tried to carry on writing up the notes of her day. However, it wasn’t easy to block out what was going on downstairs when it was so loud, and anyway, she guessed that as far as Tiffany was concerned she was supposed to overhear.
Of course both she and Jason knew that Gina deliberately wound Tiffany up before her father came to collect her, determined to set her off like some pubescent Rottweiler to spoil the day, but what could they do? Gina was the girl’s mother, and they were very close, so no one was going to have a bigger influence on her than that. And if Jason tried to exert his own authority it usually erupted into an unholy row, much as it was building towards one now.
‘If it weren’t so difficult for the kids it might almost be laughable,’ Alex remarked to Gabby when she rang later to say that she’d be coming to the barbecue alone on Sunday. Jason had caved in as usual and agreed to stay behind with the children. This was only good in that it meant the spiteful Tiffany wouldn’t be able to have a go at the twins. The flip side of it was that Gina, via Tiffany, had won again.
‘You know what’s funny,’ Gabby commented with a laugh, ‘is there you are, supposed to be an expert with children, but you just can’t seem to get it right with them.’
There went Gabby’s humour again, managing to strike all the wrong notes.
‘Where are they now?’ Gabby asked.
‘He’s taking them home, and I’m sitting here with a great big glass of wine, more thankful than you can imagine to have the house to myself for a while. Please tell me I wasn’t that bad when I was Tiffany’s age. OK, I know I was probably worse, so maybe this is payback time.’
With another laugh Gabby said, ‘Well, you did grow out of it and I’m sure she will too. Now, changing the subject, how are the rehearsals going?’
Feeling her shoulders relaxing a little as a less stressful scenario presented itself, Alex said, ‘Yeah, good. Actually, too good, but let’s not start scaring ourselves with that. You are still coming to the opening night, aren’t you?’
‘Absolutely. Martin’s going to babysit, and I’m driving Aunt Sheila. You know how nervous she is behind the wheel in the dark.’
Even though wanting to show off in front of her sister and aunt was a bit ridiculous, Alex reminded herself that it was only natural to want to impress your family with your achievements, and she felt sure they were going to love this latest production. ‘You can stay over if you like,’ she offered. ‘I can easily get your old room ready, and Aunt Sheila can have mine.’
To her surprise, Gabby said, ‘Actually, that might be a good idea. I’d be able to have a drink at the party after if I do. You are having a party, I take it?’
‘Of course, at the pub, and everyone will be dead pleased to see you.’
Seeming to like the idea even more, Gabby said, ‘Tell you what, I’ll talk to Martin. If he’s OK with it, and Sheila is too, I’m definitely going to take you up on it.’
Even more thrilled than she’d expected to be, Alex decided not to remind Gabby that her old room was stuffed full of their parents’ belongings, since it might change her mind about staying. She’d just make sure it was all safely stored out of sight by the time Saturday came round. In fact, feeling so uplifted by the prospect of entertaining her sister and aunt, she decided to make a start right away.
She didn’t bother opening any boxes or bags as she began moving them out, there was no point when she already knew what they contained. She simply transported as much as she could into drawers and cupboards in her old room, and pushed the heavy suitcases under the bed. She felt glad now that she hadn’t torn down Gabby’s old posters of Take That and the Backstreet Boys, or thrown out any of the concert memorabilia that she had once prized so highly. Gabby might enjoy going through some of it again, if she had time, a little meander down memory lane that would make her laugh and possibly even share with Alex some of the secrets she’d had back then. At the time, being the younger sister, and a bit of a nightmare, she’d been strictly banned from Gabby’s room, and told absolutely nothing at all. Had Gabby but known it Alex used to sneak in anyway when Gabby was out, not because she was interested in all her stupid stuff, as she’d called it back then, but simply because it wasn’t allowed. Anyway, it wasn’t as if Gabby could have secrets that were ever going to top her own, because Gabby hadn’t found out she was adopted, had she? Or that her real father was a psychopathic maniac who’d wiped out most of his family and was still on the loose. Or (though this had come later) that her real mother had survived and hadn’t bothered to come and find her.
‘Hey, what are you doing?’ Jason said, arriving at the top of the stairs to find her trying to force the wardrobe doors closed in her old room.
‘Hiding my parents’ stuff,’ she explained. ‘Gabby’s probably coming to stay on Saturday night. Isn’t that great?’
‘Yeah, I guess so,’ he replied, lending a shoulder. Once the doors were shut and firmly locked, he turned to take her hands in his. ‘How much of all that did you hear, earlier?’ he asked, his eyes showing his concern.
She shrugged as she tried to make light of it. ‘Enough to be able to tell Gabby that you’re not coming on Sunday.’
Nodding, as though having expected as much, he said, ‘I’m sorry, but I guess with all things considered, it’s probably for the best.’
Unable to disagree, she slipped her arms round his neck and kissed him on the mouth. ‘I could always take Heidi and Tom,’ she suggested, ‘if you wanted to stay here and have some quality time with Tiffany.’
He gave it some thought, but in the end sighed and shook his head. ‘It’s a lovely offer, but I don’t think they’d go without her, and even if they did she’d manage to kick up somehow. No, it’s best if we leave it this time.’
Secretly relieved, she kissed him again and felt the pleasure of being at home, just the two of them at last, with the little of what remained of the evening all to themselves. ‘So what will you do with them while I’m gone?’ she asked.
Turning to gaze across at the darkened window, he said, ‘I haven’t taken them to my parents’ for a while, so I guess we’ll go there. We might even stay over. She’ll like that.’
Surprised, Alex said, ‘Don’t they have school the next morning?’
‘Yes, but they can always take their stuff with them. Let’s see what Gina says.’ As he drew her closer and pressed his mouth back to hers she gave herself completely to the moment, determined not to let Tiffany’s imagined smirk of satisfaction have more than a fleeting appearance. Not only had the girl managed to come between her father and Alex for the day on Sunday, it was looking as though she’d be able to pull it off for the whole night too.
Two up to you, Gina, she was thinking as she followed Jason back out to the landing. Except he was here, with her, most of the time, she reminded herself as she tightened her hand on his, and instead of feeling angry with Tiffany, she should remember that the child was the victim of a broken home. It naturally made her difficult, confused, unable to focus on anything but herself, much the same as many of the children in Alex’s caseload. And yet Tiffany wasn’t the same, because she had more love than many of Alex’s troubled children could ever dream of, and a decent home in a pleasant and safe part of town with a large extended family who’d always be there for her if anything were ever to go wrong.
She had no idea how lucky she was, but children who were properly loved and cared fo
r never did. And why should they? It would be wrong for them to be afraid and worried about anything more than the minor issues that came up in their worlds. Yet at the same time, how could Alex not feel more concern for the tender little souls who were out there suffering even now and who, God help them, had no one to turn to, or to save them, apart from a system that in some cases was tragically too late?
Ottilie was sobbing so hard she could barely catch her breath. She was sitting on the floor behind her bed, clinging to Boots, shuddering and gasping, desperate and afraid. A horrible thing had happened to her; she was bruised and bleeding, she didn’t know what to do.
Erica was cracking apart inside and aching with loathing. Voices were echoing all the way through her, resonating across the years, wrapping themselves around her like choking hands. You shouldn’t have been born. I should never have had you. I SHOULD NEVER HAVE HAD YOU, YOU FILTHY LITTLE BITCH.
Last night, or was it earlier, Erica had climbed up the walls, across the ceiling and back down to the floor. Round and round, up and down, she’d been unable to stop. Waves had come crashing in from the sea, sweeping her away on a terrible tide. She’d tried to hold on, but there was nothing to hold on to. She’d screamed and screamed as Brian shook and punched her, except it wasn’t Brian, it was her stepfather, trying to kill her. His fists were like rocks smashing into her. She was naked and wet, drowning, drowning, gasping for air. He roared at her, over and over, grabbed her hair and forced her to look at him.
She’d passed out with her body convulsing to the tune of her heart, but she’d woken up, safe in her room, where her stepfather never came.
Suddenly she was back in Ottilie’s room. Something had pushed her forward, a force inside that didn’t belong to her, and now she was grabbing Ottilie and shaking her. ‘That’s enough,’ she shouted. ‘That’s enough, do you hear me? Stop crying.’
Ottilie’s head went down as she buried her face in Boots. Her tiny frame continued to jerk with the sobs she was trying desperately to hold in.
‘What are you doing?’ Brian demanded.
