by Sally Rigby
Speak No Evil
Sally Rigby
Copyright © 2021 by Sally Rigby
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This story is a work of fiction. All names, characters, organisations or places, events and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any persons, alive or dead, events or locals is almost entirely coincidental.
Edited by Emma Mitchell of @ Creating Perfection.
Cover Design by Stuart Bache of Books Covered
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Read more about Sebastian Clifford
Also by Sally Rigby
Acknowledgments
About the Author
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Chapter 1
Catherine Cooper walked into the social services meeting room for a conference regarding Lacey, the child she’d been fostering over the last few weeks. It was the strangest case she’d ever come across and the police were no closer to solving it. Government agencies had been working hard to find the parents but, so far, with no success. Lacey, the name given to her by the social worker in charge of the case, and which the child was already answering to, had been found alone sitting on a bench in front of the Old Grammar School in Market Harborough’s High Street. Despite the weather, all she was wearing was an ill-fitting pink short-sleeved cotton dress. She had scuffed sandals on her feet, and around her neck hung a sign made of cardboard. The words Speak No Evil were handwritten on it, in black felt-tip pen.
The poor little mite hadn’t said a word since she’d been found. Catherine had fostered regularly over the years and at the moment didn’t have any children apart from Lacey, which she was pleased about as she doubted the introverted child would have been able to cope with it. Bangs or unexpected noises made her jump and press her hands over her ears. The only person Lacey would interact with was Catherine, and even then she hadn’t really let her guard down and would only nod or shake her head in answer to any questions. The child would back away from Pete, Catherine’s husband, if he came anywhere near and would run and hide if anyone knocked on the door.
Although Lacey hadn’t yet spoken, she ate whatever meal was put in front of her and had been taught to use cutlery correctly. She had far better table manners than most children of her age. Catherine had offered her biscuits and sweets, but the child refused them, turning her head until they’d been taken away. It was almost as if she was frightened, but that made no sense to Catherine.
Lacey had only been with them for a short while, but it had been decided that a case conference should be held now to make a decision regarding her future. Catherine sat at the large round table in the meeting room. She’d been there many times in the past, as she’d been regularly used as a foster carer, in particular for those children who had emotional and physical difficulties. Throughout the years, over fifty children had been in the care of her and Pete.
She scanned the people around the table, recognising most of them from when she’d taken Lacey to visit them or when they’d come around to the house to see the child in a more relaxed setting. Next to her was the psychologist, Dr Miranda Watkins, whom she’d met several times in the past when they’d fostered a little boy who screamed non-stop from morning to night. She’d been able to help, much to Catherine’s relief, as he’d been one of the hardest children they’d dealt with. The child had been one of twelve siblings, with only nine years between the eldest and the youngest. The screaming had been a learnt behaviour. It was the only way he could command any attention. Even if it was negative.
Lacey differed from other children they’d looked after. She wasn’t hard to deal with. In fact, she was no trouble at all. But her lack of childlike behaviour was heartbreaking. Dr Watkins had tried hard to break down Lacey’s barrier and had already seen her several times. But she couldn’t get anything from her. She’d given Lacey crayons to colour with, toys to play with, and had spoken to her at length. But the child had remained seated with her head bowed, ignoring everything going on around her. It was pitiful to watch. Catherine had wondered if Lacey wasn’t understanding what was being said to her. That perhaps she was foreign, or had some learning difficulties. But her eyes showed understanding, and at home she’d always do as she was asked to. There was something far deeper going on which the little girl wouldn’t, or couldn’t, divulge. Catherine hoped that one day, she might relax enough to confide in her.
There was also a specialist police officer seated at the table, but Catherine couldn’t remember her name, despite wracking her brain. They’d only met once before, when the police had reported on the investigation at the initial meeting.
On Catherine’s right was the health visitor, Daphne Wright, a kind, experienced nurse who had visited them at home every week since Lacey’s arrival.
At the head of the table, with a thick Manilla folder in front of her, and appearing to be in charge, was a woman Catherine hadn’t encountered before.
‘May I have everyone’s attention,’ the woman said. ‘Thank you for coming along to the case conference. For those who don’t know me, I’m Valerie Clarke, senior social worker, and I’ll be chairing the meeting today regarding Lacey’s future. Where’s Stephen? He—’
The door opened and the social worker, Stephen Shaw, who was new to the area but with whom Catherine had the most contact, came rushing in.
‘Sorry, I’m late. I got caught up in sorting out a residential care application for a client. Have I missed anything?’ He sat on an empty chair next to the health visitor.
‘No, I was about to ask everyone to introduce themselves before we discuss what, if any, progress has been made with the child.’
After they’d done that, the chair turned to Dr Watkins and asked for her assessment.
‘I need to continue seeing Lacey and hope to gain her trust. It’s hard to make an accurate assessment, but it’s likely that she�
�s suffering from abandonment issues. Whatever situation she was in before she was left, it would’ve been one she was accustomed to. Even in situations of abuse, children away from their familiar surroundings will suffer.’
‘Has there been any change in the child’s behaviour?’ Valerie asked.
‘I’ve observed Lacey interacting with Mrs Cooper and have noticed that she’s beginning to relate to her. But it’s a slow process.’
‘I’ve heard excellent reports about St Joseph’s residential home for children. Lacey would have therapeutic support and care twenty-four-seven. Would that help her development and be a better environment for her to be in?’ the police officer asked.
Surely, they couldn’t think that would be better than what Catherine and Pete were doing? That was ridiculous.
‘I don’t believe so, not in this case. It’s my suggestion that we do nothing to upset the status quo, as it could be disastrous for Lacey and her successful integration into society,’ Dr Watkins said.
Catherine relaxed her tense muscles. She knew deep down that she was doing a good job with Lacey, as far as anyone could, but if Dr Watkins had expressed a different view, then the child could’ve been taken away from her. Without question, that was the wrong thing for the child’s well-being.
‘Thank you, Miranda, your views are noted. What about her health, Daphne?’ Valerie turned to the health visitor.
‘When she was first brought into care, we got permission to give her X-rays, scans and have her bloods taken. She was in good health, a little undernourished, but not overly so, and her age was determined to be between six and seven. She had no injuries on her body, and there was no sign of any old ones either. All tests have come back negative and there were no traces of her having been drugged. Physically, there’s nothing wrong with her.’
‘That’s good to hear as it means we’re not concerned about her health. We can concentrate on her social and mental well-being. Mrs Cooper, you’ve been with Lacey more than anyone else, what can you add to this assessment?’
Catherine sucked in a breath, wanting to appear competent and objective in her response.
‘She is quiet, as Dr Watkins pointed out, especially when we’re out and meeting other people. I don’t mean verbally, because she doesn’t speak. But in all of her behaviour. She doesn’t run upstairs, for example, or make a noise while eating. Everything she does is done deliberately and quietly. There are definite signs that she understands what’s going on around her. It’s apparent in her eyes, and her responses. She always does as I ask and, unlike other children we’ve fostered, never quibbles when it’s time for bed.’
‘Is she able to do anything for herself?’ Valerie Clarke asked.
‘Yes, there are many things with which she doesn’t require assistance. She gets herself up and dressed, and will brush her teeth in the morning and evening before she goes to bed, without being asked, and requiring no help. In fact, she’s the first one up in the morning. Most days I’ll find her dressed and sitting on the sofa in the lounge when I come downstairs to make breakfast. She has excellent table manners and, if anything, she’s advanced for her years. She eats whatever I put in front of her, apart from treats and snacks. If I offer those, she tenses and turns her head. It’s as if she’s scared of them, or doesn’t recognise them for what they are. I don’t push her at all.’
‘It’s certainly a tricky case. Has Lacey made any attempt to speak to you since she’s been in your care?’
‘Not directly, but in her sleep she mutters. I haven’t been able to work out exactly what she’s saying, but the rhythm and tone of her speech is almost like she’s saying her prayers. I’d wondered whether she’d come from a religious background, but other than when she’s asleep there’s no further evidence of this. She doesn’t attempt to say prayers before her meals, which she might have done if her family were devout.’
‘Miranda, do you have any comment to make regarding this behaviour?’
‘I’d need to witness it before making any assessment, which isn’t possible as it takes place while she’s sleeping.’
‘Could Mrs Cooper video Lacey when it happens?’ Daphne asked.
‘I’m not sure about the ethics of that,’ Catherine said. ‘Also, it doesn’t happen all the time and might only last a few seconds. It would mean sitting in her room every night with my phone to capture it and that’s not practical.’
‘I agree,’ Valerie said. ‘Does Lacey watch the television or look at books?’
‘She’ll sometimes pick up a book and turn the pages. I don’t know whether she’s reading the words or looking at the pictures, though. When I read to her, she sits still with her hands in her lap and her head tilted towards me, clearly listening. But there’s no sign if she’s enjoying the stories. Her face remains expressionless. It’s the same with the television. I put on children’s shows for her and she stares at what’s on, but whether she enjoys them, I can’t say.’
‘In your opinion, is Lacey intellectually challenged?’ Valerie asked.
It was a question that early on Catherine had asked herself, but she knew the answer to that now.
‘I don’t believe so, although I’m no expert. Lacey may not speak at all, but from her responses I’m convinced she knows exactly what’s going on around her.’
‘That’s good to know. Where are we on tracking down the parents?’ Valerie asked, turning to the police officer.
‘The investigation’s ongoing, but so far coming up blank, despite a national appeal and cross-checking the missing persons databases. Interpol has been alerted, but they too have nothing. Those who have come forward claiming they know who Lacey is aren’t anything to do with her. We were able to establish that straight away, as we didn’t publicise anything about the sign left around her neck.’
‘And let’s make sure that piece of information remains confidential,’ Valerie said.
‘We will,’ the police officer said.
‘Before we make our decision, does anyone else have any questions for Mrs Cooper?’ Valerie asked.
Catherine stared at each person in turn as they shook their heads and said no.
‘In that case, are you prepared to continue fostering Lacey?’ Valerie asked, looking directly at her.
A question that she didn’t even have to consider what her answer would be. The little girl needed her.
‘Absolutely. I think it would be extremely harmful if we were to move her again. She’s only just getting used to us.’
‘We’ll need to consider schooling, if she is around six years old, which the doctors believe, but not yet. We’ll wait until we next meet.’
‘I’m a qualified primary school teacher and taught for several years until we began fostering. I can homeschool her when the time’s right.’
Catherine glanced at Dr Watkins, who was nodding her agreement. Together they would do what’s best for Lacey.
‘Thank you for what you’ve done so far. After listening to what everyone has to say, I propose that we leave Lacey with Mrs Cooper for now, and meet again in six months. I would ask you all to continue assessing the child over this period so we have a clearer picture of her current and future progress. At that time, we’ll be able to make a more informed decision regarding her future. Are you in agreement, Stephen?’ she asked the social worker.
‘Yes. I’d recommend that she stays with Mrs Cooper, who’s doing a superb job.’
‘Thank you all for attending. I look forward to seeing you all again soon.’
Catherine left the conference room and breathed a sigh of relief. She’d already grown fond of the little girl and knew living with her and Pete would be the best place for her if she was to overcome whatever had happened to her in the past.
Further disruptions could do irreversible damage.
Chapter 2
Twelve Months Later
‘Come on, Lacey,’ Detective Constable Lucinda “Birdie” Bird said. ‘Let’s leave Auntie Catherine to pay for the birth
day cards she’s bought, and we’ll go to the café down the road and get a takeaway ice cream.’ She held out her hand and the little girl, who’d been looking at a jigsaw puzzle on the table in front of her, gripped it. ‘I’m having a mint choc chip cone. Would you like the same? I bet you would.’
The little girl looked at her and nodded, her lips turning up into a smile, revealing a gap where her front two teeth used to be until they’d fallen out a week ago. After telling her aunt where they were going, the two of them walked outside onto the busy High Street. It was bustling with people, and Lacey squeezed Birdie’s fingers and stood very close to her as they headed down the street. It was Saturday and there was bound to be a queue.
Despite having lived with Birdie’s mum’s sister, Catherine, for twelve months since she’d been abandoned, the girl was still very quiet. She seldom spoke, although over the last few months they’d started to get a few more words out of her. For some reason, Lacey had taken a shine to Birdie, and whenever she visited, the little girl would sit next to her and hold her hand. It was Birdie who’d introduced her to ice cream, as the child had appeared not to know what it was. But now, whenever it was offered, she’d wolf it down.