by Casey Watson
He hauled himself up – we were playing in a circle on the carpet, they way they liked to – and then picked up Olivia and popped her on the couch. ‘C’mon, mate,’ he told Ashton. ‘Cuddle up. That’s right.’
I remained kneeling on the carpet with Kieron, so I could talk to them at their level. My mouth was dry. ‘Sweethearts, it’s not good news, I’m afraid. The judge has decided that you need to stay in care. All of you. Your little brother and sisters as well. Which means …’ I paused, my eyes on Ashton, who was staring at me blankly. ‘Well, it means you won’t be able to live with Mummy anymore.’
‘What, f’ever an’ ever?’ Olivia asked.
I nodded. ‘At least till you’re 18,’ I said. ‘Till you’re grown-ups.’
She nodded slightly. ‘So can we live with Gwandad instead?’
I shook my head. ‘No, darling, that won’t be possible, I’m afraid. The thing is’ – oh, this was so hard – ‘that you won’t be able to see your family. Not for quite a long time now.’ Even though it was me speaking the words, I could hardly believe I was hearing them. How did you explain something as enormous as that? And, moreover, how did you deal with being told it? The silence in the room was deafening. Why hadn’t either of them reacted? I reached out and squeezed Olivia’s hand. ‘Which is very sad, I know, and I’m sure you’re all terribly upset. But it’s what the judge has said. Mummy and Daddy just aren’t able to look after you, you see.’
I looked again at the pair of them, sitting there, evidently digesting it, and then Ashton did something that completely stunned me. He smiled. And then he shrugged. ‘Okay then,’ he said. ‘We’ll just stay here, then.’
He then turned to his sister. ‘C’mon,’ he said, jumping down and returning to his position on the carpet. ‘I’m winning loads an’ I wanna finish this game.’ And Olivia, bright as a button, it seemed, duly followed him.
‘My turn!’ she said, reaching for the dice shaker from Mike.
We duly finished our game of Monopoly.
If I’d been stunned at the lack of reaction so, as the rest of the week went by, I felt it even more. I had been prepared for anything but this. Tantrums, tears, accusations, recriminations – since they’d been placed with us, these kids had been fiercely protective of and defensive about their family. And were it not for Ashton’s admission to me about the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of his granddad, you could be forgiven for thinking their own perception of their tragic early upbringing was that it was perfectly normal. I couldn’t even begin to work it out; couldn’t make any sense of it at all, and as the week drew to a close, I felt no more enlightened. I was also concerned that Ashton obviously hadn’t taken it in when I’d explained that they couldn’t stay with us permanently. But perhaps that too was a coping mechanism. They were with us right now, weren’t they? And with no-one suggesting any different, then perhaps that was good enough – enough for things around the house to return to normal.
Nothing in our house was normal these days, obviously – our norms these days being the constant battle against excrement being deposited in inappropriate places, the enduring shower-terror, the ADHD, the necessary vigil against unsavoury sexual goings-on – but, in terms of our normal, it was like any other week. In fact, measured against past weeks, it was a good week. The children were progressing well in so many ways, that it was as if they’d just blanked the whole idea that they’d ever had a family. It was as bizarre a situation as I’d ever seen. So all I could do was roll with it and await further developments, which I knew would be on the cards at some point.
And they were. The following Monday, I received a call from Anna, in what seemed like her never-ending quest to rattle my world.
‘Casey,’ she said, without preamble. ‘Straight to the point. I’ve been consulting with John Fulshaw and a police liaison officer about the recent disclosures Ashton made to you.’
Ah, I thought. Progress. ‘Good,’ I said. ‘I was wondering what was being done about that.’
‘Well, quite a lot actually,’ she said. ‘And we need some help from you. We need you to go back and have a trawl through your records and write me a report concentrating on all the sexual stuff. You know, all the sexual references the children have made since they came to you. Ashton’s recent one, obviously, but everything else too. Inappropriate touching, adult-type comments and so on.’
‘I can certainly do that, no probs. Who do I send it to?’
‘Email it to both John and I – and as soon as possible, if that’s okay, because I want to come up Thursday, if that’s going to work for you, to bring a police woman to interview them both.’
‘A police woman? You know that’ll scare them half to death, don’t you?’
‘She’ll be in plain clothes, don’t worry. Oh, and she’ll need to speak to them separately. And I have to tell you, though you can sit in, you mustn’t speak for them in any way. I’m afraid you really do just have to sit and listen. Even if it gets difficult …’
‘I understand that,’ I said, feeling a little narked at being patronised. ‘But don’t get your hopes up. I very much doubt if the kids will talk. In fact, I’m sure they won’t.’
‘Quite possibly,’ she conceded. ‘But at least people are listening. Which is a start. We’ll just have to see what happens, won’t we?’
‘I guess so. Oh, but one thing – should I tell the kids about this?’
‘I’ll leave that up to you. If you think it will help, then go ahead.’
‘Mind you,’ I said, thinking aloud now. ‘There’s Ashton. If he knows in advance, he’ll have time to prime Olivia. Maybe I won’t tell him anything.’
Mike agreed. When I put it to him that evening, he felt keeping schtum was the best plan. As he pointed out, Ashton was like a parent figure to his little sister. Which wasn’t surprising. Being the oldest, and in the absence of proper parenting by any adults, she – and no doubt his younger siblings when they were still all together – naturally took her cues from him. And from what we’d witnessed since they’d been with us, my hunch was that he’d looked after his siblings, too. Making sure they got food, dealing with their problems, tending to them and comforting them if they were unhappy or grazed a knee. I felt a pang of sadness that, in all probability he’d be parted from them; go from much-loved big brother – which I didn’t doubt he was – to having no-one. It all seemed so bloody unfair. What had any of them done to deserve the cards life had so cruelly dealt them? Nothing. And it made me so angry.
As it was half-term, the week was turning out to be a busy one. I’d spent a good deal of time taking the kids out to places, to the park, to go swimming and so on, mostly accompanied by Riley and Levi, but when Thursday came around I decided we’d stay in. I didn’t want them over-excited or over-tired when the police woman came to see them, so I decided, since Halloween was fast approaching, that we’d have a day of baking, and got out my cake-making ingredients and my vast stock of food colourings. I had lots to use up because for our last foster child, Sophia, we’d put on a party based on the West End show Wicked!, so had just about every lurid colour imaginable.
We set about making a big batch of fairy cakes, which I told Olivia we could decorate with spiders and bats, and cookies in the shape of witches’ hats.
‘I am SO excited about Halloween!’ she told me, as she carefully stirred the cake mix. ‘Cos you know, Casey, at Halloween all the mens and ladies give you moneys to give your mummy.’ She turned to me. ‘But you could have it this time,’ she finished brightly. Though not shocked, I felt saddened at the picture she had painted. Of these kids going out – being sent out most probably – trick or treating, and having to hand over the spoils to the greedy adults – modern-day Fagins! – who waited at home while they worked.
But at least they were free of all that now, I reminded myself. And could be children – proper children – once again.
The baking, as it usually does when children are involved, took far longer and made far more mess
than was comfortable for me to live with, so by the time we’d cooked and cooled, cleared and washed up it was almost three. Anna would be here with her police woman any minute. Mindful of her need to interview each child privately, I decided to set a station up at the dining table for the children. That way, while one was being interviewed in the living room, the other would be occupied in the dining room.
The two women arrived punctually and declined my offer of a drink; they seemed keen to get straight down to business. And with Ashton first, which made sense, since he was the oldest, and also the one who’d made the direct allegation. And right away I could tell that the mission would be fruitless. As I explained who the woman was and that she wanted to have a chat to him, everything about his body language made that abundantly clear.
‘Hi,’ she said warmly, offering a hand for him to shake. He didn’t. ‘My name’s Lizzie and I’m a police lady and you must be Ashton. My word, you look very grown up for a 10-year-old!’ He stood and scowled at her. ‘And I’m here to chat to you,’ she continued, ‘about the things you told Casey about your granddad and your cousin.’ She smiled encouragingly at him. ‘Is that okay?’
Ashton remained mute and refused to sit down. I went and sat with Anna, in the corner.
‘So,’ Lizzie went on, ‘d’you think you could tell me what you said?’
Now in his line of sight, Ashton transferred his scowl to me.
‘C’mon, love,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you sit down by Lizzie?’ But he was having none of it. He folded his arms pointedly across his chest.
Lizzie tried another tack. ‘Ashton,’ she asked. ‘Tell me, d’you know what sex is?’
Ashton slowly shook his head, looking straight at her.
‘Okay,’ she went on, ‘tell me then, do you know what it means to touch someone where you shouldn’t?’ Once again, a slow, deliberate shake of the head.
‘Alright,’ she continued, ‘Ashton, can you tell me if anyone’s ever touched you on your privates?’ The response was exactly the same. This went on through a good half-dozen further questions, till it seemed clear to everyone that Ashton was determined not to talk.
And it looked like being a repeat performance from Olivia initially. Naturally wary of the strange woman, she immediately clammed up. But it wasn’t long before her natural chattiness returned, which made me wonder if her only reason for not doing so initially was because she’d been groomed to expect trouble if she spoke up.
But with very little prompting, she seemed to remember those days were gone now and that, in Casey’s world, talking about things was good. Very soon in fact, she began to look as if she was having great fun. Yes, she knew what sex was, yes, people had touched her privates, yes to every question the stunned policewoman answered, accompanied by much girlish giggling.
‘Do you want to tell me about it?’ Lizzie asked her in response to these affirmations.
She nodded. ‘Shall I come sit on your knee, like it’s Santa?’
‘Well, you could certainly come and sit next to me, if you’d like to. That way I can better see your pretty face.’
‘You really a copper?’ Olivia asked, once she’d settled herself beside her. ‘You don’t got no numiform on.’
‘Ah,’ Lizzie said. ‘I see you’re clever as well as pretty. So,’ she said, ‘can you explain what you mean when you say touching? And who was it touched your privates, Olivia?’
‘Daddy did once,’ she exclaimed proudly. ‘He hurt my tuppence – you know, my pee pee? But he never meaned to. He said sowwy. He said sowwy, it was an accident. Cuz I was his bestest girl,’ she finished brightly.
‘How exactly did he hurt you, lovey?’ asked Lizzie. ‘In what way?’
Olivia smiled, then waggled a finger at the WPC, then laughed. ‘Tut tut!’ she said. ‘Naughty! Don’t you know that walls have ears?’
‘That’s a funny saying, Olivia. What does that mean? Can you tell me?’
Olivia shrugged. ‘’s what Ashton says. He says Mummy and Daddy say we mustn’ tell tales an’ if we did we’d get found out. Because walls have ears. An’ they tell on you,’ she finished.
Lizzie shook her head. ‘Olivia, you know, that’s just silly talk, sweetheart. Walls can’t hear you. They’re just bricks. And bricks can’t talk, can they?’
Olivia shrugged again. ‘Anyways, it don’t matter. Cos we’re not gonna see Mummy no more anyway, are we?’ She then paused and seemed to think. ‘But jus’ cos you’re a copper, don’t you go blabbing to my brother. Or else he’ll go an’ give me a good hiding!’
Lizzie assured Olivia that she wouldn’t and this seemed to make her happy.
‘Can I go now?’ she said. Lizzie told her that she could.
I took her back to her brother and she jumped up at the table, and was soon elbow deep in a gooey sticky mess. Ashton, still clearly upset, didn’t even acknowledge her. I told the children I’d be back in a few minutes and returned to the living room.
‘There,’ I said to Anna. ‘That’s progress of a sort, isn’t it? What Olivia’s disclosed is surely enough to take things to the next stage, isn’t it?’
Both women’s expressions seemed to tell me I was wrong.
‘Sadly,’ Anna went on, ‘it’s not that simple. We’ve been here before, you see, with Olivia. It’s all on file, from a couple of years back. She was taken to the doctor’s with an injury between her legs. The father told the GP she had run into the corner of a coffee table, and the redness and bruising was perfectly consistent with that. Which means that if we offer this as evidence, he’ll just refer straight back to that incident. It’s not enough.’
‘Not even with all the other things she said?’
‘There’s really nothing concrete enough. Nothing that could really be used in evidence.’
I was gobsmacked. ‘What the hell does it take, then? Actually catching them in the act?’
‘Trust me,’ said Anna, ‘I’m as angry as you are. Like you, my gut instinct is that there is just so much more to uncover here. But all we can do is keep trying to build our case. Watch and wait. Hope that one day, one of the kids will come up with something we can use, and, crucially, be prepared to repeat it. Honestly, Casey, that family will have their day in court, I promise.’
She turned then to the WPC. ‘You know, I think it would be okay to tell Casey about the recent development, don’t you?’
The WPC nodded. ‘What development?’ I asked.
‘With the father. You didn’t know this, but two days before the hearing, he was arrested. He’s out on bail now, pending further enquiries – including this one – but apparently, when another female cousin heard about the case, and the fact that there was a slim chance they would have the children returned to them, she went to the police and filed a report accusing him of sexual abuse as well. On her, for many years, all through her childhood, apparently. Same as the one you already know about …’
‘So why wasn’t this –’ I started.
‘We couldn’t use it, Casey. His solicitor would have jumped on us for jeopardising his case. He’d been found guilty of nothing, at that point, remember. This has to be a whole separate process now.’
God, I thought. No wonder these kids exhibited so many signs of having been groomed. Granddad, the father – unrelated but both at it. Who else? Just how big a seam of evil ran through this family?
Chapter 13
It took Ashton some time to act normally around us again. I had all but given up on hoping he might revisit some of the things he’d told me in Wales, but I was concerned that the tentative trust had been broken – particularly after the police visit – and I was anxious to try and build bridges and to try and repair the damage before it all got too late.
Mike and I both went all-out to restore our relationships with him, making a point of spending more time with him individually, which did seem to help us make progress. Mike took him to work with him one day and allowed him to have a go driving a forklift truck, which he loved, and I m
ade a point of arranging regular him and me time, taking him to the pictures to see a film he was particularly keen on, and reminding him that now, since he was that bit older than his sister, we could start to do things like that more often.
Two things were constantly on my mind. One was how important it was that we re-forged these bonds; if he was to be separated from all his siblings, his relationship with us would really matter, because having to venture into the unknown and live again (and alone) among strangers, meant it was vital that he knew we were all there for him.
The second was to continue to question that separation. Surely, despite the obvious logistical difficulties, it would be better to try and keep these two children together, at least? I understood what Anna had said about Ashton’s controlling influence, but lots of kids – particularly in cases of poor, erratic parenting – looked up to older siblings in that way. Would it really be better for them all to be denied that bond? I wasn’t convinced, and neither was Mike. We resolved to speak to John and Anna about it again.
For the moment, however, things were looking more positive. As Ashton began to relax, so the atmosphere improved, and by the beginning of November it felt – at least superficially – that we were back on a fairly even keel with them both. Indeed, there was an air of mild excitement in the house, because we’d told the children we’d take them to an organised Bonfire Night and firework display. Once again, we’d been shocked when Ashton revealed to us that they’d never done anything like that in their lives. If it had seemed incredible that they’d never so much as paddled in the sea, that they hadn’t even done this took my breath away.
But they hadn’t. All they’d done was to spot the odd firework in the distance, looking patiently out of a bed room window. Most normal life, it seemed, had simply passed them by. It was heartbreaking to think about, it really was.
But my confidence about how much they’d all enjoy the action close-up was misplaced. We were only at the display – which had been put on by the local Rotary Club – for half an hour before we had to take them all home again. Olivia was simply petrified – both by the bangs of the fireworks and the bonfire – and though our first plan was for me to take her home while Mike stayed on Ashton, he was no more keen to stay at the display than his sister, so in the end we all trooped home together.