Allegation

by R. G. Adams

  He tutted again but she could see that he was dead pleased; Vernon loved a pet theory. He picked up a notebook and his pen and drew two overlapping circles.

  ‘Right, so here you’ve got the ones who abuse pre-pubescent children. Right?’

  She nodded.

  ‘And here,’ he said, tapping the other circle, ‘you’ve got the ones who abuse pubescent children. I reckon that in the middle, you’ve got some who will abuse either. Now, what’s the common ground with all of them?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Power and control. It’s not just that consent doesn’t matter to them. That’s what everyone thinks but it’s totally missing the point. It’s not in spite of the lack of consent, it’s because of it. That’s exactly what they like. You with me?’

  She nodded.

  ‘So, once you understand that, you realise that there may be more in the middle group than you think. Or maybe they move in and out, it’s opportunistic – they have a preference but if that isn’t available, then they’ll take advantage of what is. Take someone like Savile. You could keep adding more circles.’ He drew three more circles onto the diagram. ‘In this one you’ve got children with disabilities, this one’s adults in secure psychiatric care and here are nurses and so on who can’t report him for fear of losing their job. Maybe even another one for dead bodies, we don’t know. One of his victims was seventy-five, so you could add another there. It goes on and on. What was important to him was that he knew he could do it and they had no say.’ He tapped his pen on the notebook in time with his last three words.

  ‘OK, I’ve got it.’

  ‘So what I’m getting at is this – yes, think about the age and gender of the child, but don’t rely on that a hundred per cent. You can’t be sure you’re not dealing with one of these in the middle. They are unpredictable in who they will target and that makes them even more of a risk. It’s only my theory, mind, but I’m definitely right. Now, are you any clearer on all that?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

  ‘OK, sod off then and let me get some work done.’

  After lunch, Kit spent the afternoon getting some of her other work finished and, just before four thirty, she sent her case closures over to Vernon. Then she packed her bag and put her head into his office. He was at his computer, signing off the closures.

  ‘Good work. Clearing the decks, are you?’

  ‘That’s it. All right if I go?’

  ‘Yeah, go on. Got plans?’

  ‘Kind of.’ She raised her fingers in a half-wave and left. Tyler’s comments about her flat had hit home. She had to start behaving like she was going to be staying, she realised, like home could be a permanent scenario, even though the feeling wasn’t yet there to match the thought.

  She drove to the nearest retail park, where she parked and then made for the home section of Asda. She picked up a few cushions, choosing the colours she liked, and then went down the ornament aisle, where she stood staring at the shelves. She picked up a black and white china cat and then a dog made out of a piece of wood with a metal head and legs. Were they nice or just tacky? She had no experience of ornaments. Christine had never bothered with them, probably because it would be one more thing to clean. And any trinkets that might have entered Huw and Menna’s house would have been instantly buried under layers of newspapers, books, dog leads and children’s toys. In the end, she chose a couple of tiny silver Buddhas, thinking that she couldn’t go far wrong with something spiritual, and added them to her basket. On the way to the checkout, she spotted a silver and purple throw which she thought matched the cushions quite well, and she dropped that in, too, feeling a satisfying glow – she had got the hang of this home-accessorising thing. She thought maybe next time she’d look for some pictures, get something up to brighten the plain walls. If she just kept doing this, surely the flat would feel like hers eventually?

  She picked up a ready meal in Tesco and, once home, dumped her shopping on the bed, and went into the kitchen, where she put her food in the microwave and got a beer out of the fridge. Before she sat down to eat, she noticed the light blinking on her answering machine. Menna making her twice-weekly call. She picked up the phone and called her back, using the other hand to fork up her food.

  ‘How are you, lovely?’

  ‘I’m good, thanks.’

  ‘You what?’

  Kit cleared her mouth of lasagne. ‘I said I’m good. Sorry, eating my tea.’

  She listened as Menna chattered on about Huw, and the dogs, and the weather out at Cliffside. It was mindless and comforting and, what with this and the successful shopping trip and the warm food, Kit was starting to feel more relaxed than she had for a couple of days.

  ‘When’s your next visit going to be then? Jess is pining. And I called in the café today – Alex was asking how you are.’

  Kit was pleased by this news. As soon as she’d decided to end things with Jem, she’d become conscious of Alex in a way she hadn’t been for all the years they’d worked together. She had no idea how he felt. Alex led a laid-back existence, in which the universe or the runes or the cards led the way. It left a lot of room for doubt where initiating relationships was concerned. It wasn’t much of a business model either, and she worried about how he was managing the café without her there to order the stock and help do the books.

  ‘I’ll come soon, Men, I promise. I’ve got a big case on at work. Tricky one.’

  ‘Well, I hope you do OK. I know you’re up to it.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Dammit, Kit thought, trying to close her mind to the Cooper case. It had taken so little for the tendrils of doubt to start coiling themselves into her thoughts again.

  ‘Are you worried about it?’

  ‘No, I’m fine. Honestly. A bit confused about what I think about it, that’s all.’

  ‘They haven’t given you something you’re not ready for, have they? You know I warned you about them doing that.’

  ‘No, no, they haven’t,’ Kit lied.

  ‘Well, you know where we are if you need us.’

  ‘I do. I’m going to get to bed now, I think.’

  They said goodnight, and Kit went into the kitchen and burrowed in the back of her cleaning cupboard to find the tin within which she kept her supply of chocolate hidden from Tyler. She felt the occasion demanded a Starbar and she sat at the table awhile, chewing on the heavy toffee and the gritty peanut filling, then smoking a last cigarette. She did her Snapchat streaks, which she kept up without fail as a way of staying in touch with Jazz and Josie’s kids. She was trying to clock up enough friends to set up an Insta account. It would make her look totally tragic if she started one with just her nieces and nephews. By the time she had finished the streaks, the light was fading in the room, but she was nowhere near ready for bed and couldn’t think what to do with herself next. She teetered on the brink of feeling lonely, but pulled it back by thinking about Menna, whose calls came like clockwork, reminding her there was somewhere for her to go if being an adult turned out to be too hard. She didn’t want to do it, but at least she had a fall back position.

  She was trying to reassure herself. But she had to face up to the fact that she might lose her career over the Cooper case. The risk was that she might make a judgement about Matt Cooper, based on what she could see at the time, and end up being punished later, when things she couldn’t possibly have known emerged and everyone thought they should have been obvious all along. She only had to miss the tiniest of clues, something one of the children said, something in their behaviour, and their father could get away with abusing them. Or she could overreact to the same thing, see a clue where there wasn’t one, and set off a chain of events that would drag a loving family through care proceedings for no reason at all. Damned if you do and damned if you don’t, she worried. It was the stuff of inquiry reports and tabloid headlines. But at least she only had so far to fall before
she hit her safety net – she had Cliffside, Huw and Menna and the dogs, and her old job with Alex at the café. Menna might fuss and Huw would tut and roll his eyes, but they would be play-acting; neither of them would care in the slightest if she gave it all up and went back to them. She could afford to be brave, she realised. As her fear drained away, she felt instead an urge that was so strong it filled her chest and pressed against her ribcage, making her want to get to the truth no matter which way that might lie, and to do her best for the Cooper family.

  Chapter 5

  Kit left it until the next day before she called Mrs Cooper. She hoped that Annie would have simmered down overnight, but she knew this probably wasn’t the case. Once at her desk, she found herself reluctant to get on with it. She busied herself with getting other cases up and running, but the Cooper children were on her mind almost constantly, and in the end she knew she couldn’t put it off. She decided to make the call without an audience this time. She waited until lunchtime, when the office was more or less deserted, and then she dialled the Coopers’ home number. The reception was predictably chilly but Annie agreed to a visit from Kit later that day, after the children got in from school.

  Kit spent some time putting together some colouring exercises to do with the children and then packed them in her bag along with her assessment forms. On the way to Annie’s, she stopped at a newsagent’s and bought two packs of brightly coloured felt-tipped pens and a big pack of Maltesers.

  Kit arrived at the Coopers’ house just as Lucy was getting home from school. She waited in the car while Lucy was wheeled up to the house, and watched as Annie greeted her on the ramp at the door and gave her a big hug. Once the minibus had driven away, Kit got out of the car and started up the drive. Annie had seen her coming and was waiting for her at the door, her mouth tight.

  ‘Hi, how are you?’ Kit said, thinking it was as well to try and start with a friendly tone.

  ‘What a ridiculous question. What response do you expect me to give to that?’

  Kit didn’t bother to answer. It was going to be as difficult as she had thought. In her new brave frame of mind, though, Kit was not worried. She followed Annie into the living room and sat on the sofa, waiting while Annie went to sort out the children. After a few minutes she came in, closing the living-room door behind her. She sat down opposite Kit, folded her arms and fixed her eyes on Kit’s face. Chin up, spoiling for a fight.

  ‘So, what are you here for exactly?’

  ‘I need to complete an assessment for each of the children.’

  ‘And what does that mean?’

  ‘It’s a document that gives us a picture of how they are doing. It covers a lot of different areas – their health, education, emotional well-being, and also how they are being parented.’

  ‘The purpose of all that being what?’

  ‘At the end of it, we will have a look at the information I collect, and it will help us to make a decision as to whether we proceed to case conference. Obviously, what is happening with the criminal case against your husband will be a factor as well.’

  Annie laughed. ‘I wouldn’t worry about that too much if I were you. I think you’ll soon find that the criminal case won’t proceed very far at all.’ She spoke quickly and with absolute certainty, but her eyes dipped away from Kit’s face and she stared at the carpet. Her words hung there, emphatic but not followed through. It was odd, but Kit couldn’t grasp what was going on.

  ‘And what if that doesn’t happen?’ Kit pushed. Annie’s eyes still did not come back to Kit’s face.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Annie acting stupid was totally unconvincing to Kit. She knew for sure that sharp, clear-thinking Annie would already have gone through all this a thousand times in her own mind. She’d probably worked out all the twists and turns and implications within minutes of hearing the allegations.

  ‘So, what if it goes ahead and your husband is convicted? What if he goes to prison and then in a few years’ time he’s released? Or if the criminal case fails but there is a finding of fact against him in the civil court? What if you find you are married to a sex offender, Annie? What then?’

  ‘There is no chance of any of that happening, I can assure you.’

  ‘But what if it did happen? What would your attitude be then? I need to know what you’d do.’

  Kit waited for Annie to bite, thinking that if she lost her composure, she might let something slip. But instead Annie sighed. ‘All right, I’ll play along if that’s what you want. Obviously either of those things would mean the end of our relationship. Is that what you want to hear? You’re wasting your time and mine with these games, so let’s just get on with your assessment and get it over with. What do you need to know?’

  Kit hesitated but there was no way she was going to get past Annie’s defences. ‘All right then, what would help me most is if we could spend some time now getting the basic information down: the kids’ health, school, your wider family and support network, all that. Obviously, we need a lot of information about Lucy and her needs. Then, if I could spend some time alone with the kids?’

  ‘Doing what?’ Annie’s eyes were back on Kit’s face, her usual confrontational stare resumed.

  ‘I have some colouring exercises that we do with children, just to get them talking. Look, I’ll show you.’ Kit drew the sheets out of her bag. ‘This one’s a house. We get the kids to colour it in and then they write all the things that make them happy and sad at home. Then there’s this – it’s a fairy, she has a magic wand and there are three bubbles, and we get them to—’

  ‘Colour it in and then write their three wishes in the bubbles? Yes, I think I can just about figure it out. It’s not very sophisticated, is it?’

  ‘It doesn’t need to be. It’s just a tool to help children relax and start talking. I’ve brought pens, and some sweets as well.’ Kit got the packet of Maltesers out of her bag. ‘Is that OK with you?’

  ‘I suppose it will have to be. There’s one thing you don’t seem to have thought about, though.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘This is all very well for Cameron and Chloe. But colouring and bribing with chocolate isn’t going to be possible with Lucy.’

  ‘I realise that. Lucy is more complex, of course. What do you suggest is the best way to communicate with her?’

  ‘You’re the social worker. You tell me.’

  ‘Does she have any communication at all? That’s what I’m asking you. Only, I know Jean Collins has been involved, but she doesn’t seem to have recorded any direct work with Lucy.’

  ‘No, she wouldn’t have. She never did any. I don’t think she saw the need. It was obvious to her all of the children are very well cared for. She called in once a year to see how we were, that was that.’

  ‘Right.’ This was just what Kit had suspected. She tried again.

  ‘So, how do you communicate with Lucy? And what about the school, how do they manage?’

  ‘Lucy lets us know what she needs. She can make some sounds and movements and we are good at interpreting them. We don’t need speech – we can anticipate nearly everything she needs before she needs it. The school have learnt from us and they’re very happy with the way we do things.’

  ‘OK then. Let’s get the basic information completed, shall we?’ Kit could see that Annie was enjoying herself and would keep the put-downs coming all afternoon if given the chance. Best to get on with it and work out what to do about Lucy later.

  They spent half an hour going over the information that Kit needed. It went along easily enough, with Annie giving clipped, efficient answers, and Kit starting to relax a little. Annie told Kit that she had been a trainee accountant herself when she got pregnant with Lucy; she hadn’t worked since, but she seemed proud of her involvement in the parents’ support group. She became animated and forgot to be hostile when she was telling Kit
about the battles she was fighting on behalf of several of the other mothers in the group.

  Kit found herself agreeing with Annie as she listened. Annie clearly cared deeply about the families concerned, especially the children. Kit recognised the stories. She knew all about turnover of social workers, none of whom had ever read back in the file before they came to visit, so that the painful stories had to be retold again and again. She knew, too, about the endless communication problems and delays and the struggle to get the right support at the right time. She understood how all of that happened now, but she hadn’t forgotten what it was like to be on the receiving end of it. It was clear to Kit that Annie had only tolerated social workers so that Lucy would have the extra support she was entitled to. Kit didn’t imagine that Jean had presented much of an obstacle to that. But other parents weren’t as tough and articulate as the Coopers, and Annie’s commitment to helping them impressed Kit no end. She could imagine that having Annie in your corner would make you feel pretty powerful.

  Kit looked back at the assessment form again and saw the only section left to complete concerned Lucy’s medical history and needs. She glanced up at Annie. ‘I need to understand about Lucy’s day-to-day care. What can you tell me about her routine?’

  Annie started to describe Lucy’s life, going through the timetable of hoisting, washing, dressing, incontinence care and feeding.

  ‘Tell me about the tube feeding?’ Kit asked, feeling her own ignorance keenly.

  ‘She has a hole cut into her stomach, called a stoma. There’s a tube in it.’

  Kit’s own stomach lurched at the thought. She hoped she had hidden her squeamishness but when she glanced up, Annie’s eyes moved across her face and Kit knew it had been registered.

  ‘The tube has a cap on the end of it. To stop the stomach contents leaking out. We inject her feed into the tube. It needs an eye keeping on it, you know? Sometimes it can get infected. It has to be kept clean. So, I’ll explain that bit, shall I?’