by Susan Lewis
His eyes lit up. ‘Oh, there are plenty of those, aren’t there?’ he encouraged Ottilie. ‘Dress-up, and schools and cooking and tiddlywinks. We play lots of games together, don’t we, dear?’
‘Not tiger,’ Ottilie said worriedly.
‘Ssh, no, not tiger,’ he promised.
Confused, Alex said, ‘Tyre?’
Wade’s face seemed flushed. ‘It’s nothing ... It’s ...’ He gave a little laugh. ‘We had a tyre as a swing once and she fell off, I’m afraid.’
Alex looked down at Ottilie again who was now fumbling with the waistband of her leggings.
‘Now, now, if you want to go to the toilet,’ Wade said sharply, ‘you know where it is,’ and holding the door wide he watched her walk under his arm to go and do as she was told. ‘Well,’ he said when he and Alex were alone, ‘you certainly seem to have a way with children. I haven’t seen Ottilie quite so forthcoming before with someone she doesn’t know.’
Putting the bear back on the bed, Alex asked, ‘How often does she actually see people she doesn’t know?’
Reddening, he shifted his gaze as he said, ‘Well, not regularly, it’s true, because we haven’t wanted to foist it on her when she finds it so hard.’
‘But surely, the more frequently you try the more she’ll get used to it.’
‘Yes, yes, I’m sure you’re right. I expect I have been a bit ... overprotective in that respect, but I hope you’ll agree she’s a perfectly healthy and happy little girl who wants for nothing.’
Apart from friends, a brother, or sister, a functioning mother, and a father who’s not so controlling he’s practically smothering her, Alex thought, but didn’t say. And then there was the enormous issue of Ottilie not speaking; Alex would have very much liked to know what lay behind that.
The next few minutes were spent back downstairs in the sitting room going over what would happen in the days to come, which she noticed seemed to fluster Wade. Quite what effect it might have had on Mrs Wade was anyone’s guess, since she’d disappeared from the sitting room now, and from the sound of it was in the kitchen.
Suspecting that Wade had assumed – or at least hoped – that today would be her first and last visit, she said, ‘I’ll come again next week to bring you a copy of my initial assessment, which ...’
‘Initial? But you can see she’s fine.’
Alex’s expression remained neutral. ‘Here’s a leaflet explaining what the assessment will cover,’ she said, taking one from her bag and handing it over. ‘It also outlines your rights and tells you how to submit your own comments, should you wish to.’
Taking it without looking at it, he said, ‘I really don’t think all this is necessary ...’
‘Mr Wade, Ottilie doesn’t speak,’ she broke in firmly. ‘She doesn’t go to nursery school, and she doesn’t have a health visitor. These are all causes for concern. Perhaps you’ll have addressed them by the time I come back. I certainly hope so. Now, I’d like to see a copy of Ottilie’s little red book.’ This was the Personal Child Health Record given to every infant at birth. ‘Do you have it to hand?’
‘Um, I’m not entirely sure where it is,’ he replied, hunting around with his eyes, ‘but we do have one, naturally. It probably hasn’t been updated since we left Northumbria though.’
It wouldn’t have been, if they didn’t have a health visitor – an oversight that Alex was finding increasingly incredible, given his position. ‘It would be helpful if you could locate it by my next visit,’ she said evenly.
‘Of course, I-I’ll certainly do that.’
As they walked out to the hall she said, ‘I’d like your permission to seek background information from Ottilie’s doctor and Northumbria Healthcare to help with my assessment.’
His neck turned crimson. ‘I really don’t think you need to go to all that trouble,’ he protested.
Forcing herself not to snap, she said, ‘Once again, Mr Wade, Ottilie isn’t speaking, nor is she being properly socialised ...’
‘I understand that, but I’d rather we tackled this our way.’
‘With respect, your way clearly isn’t working. She’s either too shy to speak, or too afraid ...’
‘To strangers, yes, but not to us. I told you, she’s very chatty with us.’
Not pointing out that she’d seen no evidence of it, Alex said, ‘Do I have your permission to make the contacts?’
‘Well, no, I’m afraid I can’t give it, not without knowing exactly who you’re going to contact.’
‘As I said, it’ll be your doctor, Northumbria Health Authority, the police ...’
‘The police! Why on earth ...?’
‘It’s a formality.’ She threw out her hands. ‘Surely you know that running background checks is normal practice when we receive a referral?’
‘And who did this referral come from? Someone who wouldn’t give her name. I’ve already told you about the woman who was harassing me. She’s obviously found out where I am and is up to her old tricks again.’
‘Whether that’s true or not, it doesn’t change what I’ve observed here today. Now I’d like your permission to carry out the checks.’
Apparently too rattled to think clearly, he said, ‘It doesn’t seem as though you’re giving me much choice. If I say no I’ll be damning myself in your eyes for heaven only knows what – and if I say yes I’ll be allowing you to bother people who are far too busy with much more important matters to want to waste their time ...’
‘Do I have your permission?’ Alex cut in.
He was stiff with frustration. ‘As I said, I don’t seem to have much choice.’
‘Thank you,’ Alex responded. ‘I appreciate your time today. I’m sure it goes without saying that we all have Ottilie’s best interests at heart ...’
‘And you think I don’t?’
‘I did say we. I can see that you’re very attached to your daughter. Now, I’m afraid I really must be going,’ and slipping past him before he could say any more she ran through the rain to her car.
It was as she opened the door to get into the driver’s seat that she glanced up at a front bedroom window and spotted Ottilie’s little face looking down at her. Melting into a smile, she hoped Ottilie might smile back, but she didn’t. She merely carried on watching until Alex had turned the car around and disappeared from view.
Cooling his hot cheeks with his trembling hands, Brian Wade stormed into the kitchen to find his wife. ‘Did you talk to Ottilie this afternoon?’ he demanded roughly.
Erica simply went on washing up the teacups.
‘I said, did you talk to Ottilie this afternoon?’ he growled.
When she continued to ignore him he grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. Clocking her smirk, he purpled with anger and leaned in towards her. ‘Be very careful, Erica,’ he warned. ‘Be very, very careful,’ and turning on his heel he went upstairs to find Ottilie.
She was in her room, lying on the bed with Boots her bear, her back turned to the door, her thumb jammed comfortingly in her mouth. She’d obviously left her trainers and leggings in the bathroom, but she was still wearing her top and a pair of daisy-covered pants. Her legs were black and blue. Thank God the social worker hadn’t seen them.
‘Stand up,’ he said quietly.
Obediently she rolled over and slid down on to her feet.
‘You were a good girl and a naughty girl today, weren’t you?’ he said, wiping his neck with a handkerchief.
Ottilie’s eyes filled with fear.
‘You behaved very well,’ he told her, ‘until you spoke to the wicked witch.’
Ottilie gave a little flinch and held on tighter to her bear.
‘Your mother told you it was safe to do so, didn’t she?’ he demanded. ‘But she’s wrong, Ottilie. It isn’t safe. You were lucky this time, the wicked witch didn’t steal your tongue, but now she’s going to make you see lots of other people and I won’t always be there to make sure nothing bad happens. So you must promise me no
w that you won’t speak to any of them. Do I have your promise?’
Ottilie quickly nodded.
‘Good girl. And what happens when you’re good? You get a reward, don’t you? But first you have to be punished for disobeying me today,’ and going to the door he closed and locked it. ‘Are you ready?’ he asked as he turned back.
Tears were pearling in Ottilie’s eyes as a trickle of urine started to run down one leg.
Chapter Nine
IT WAS GONE six by the time Alex returned to the office, feeling oddly drained by the time she’d spent at the Wades’, and as worried about Ottilie as she’d been that day at the park. The difference now was that she knew she had something to worry about.
‘On the face of it,’ she told Tommy, who was still at his desk, ‘she seems perfectly healthy and well taken care of, but the fact that she doesn’t speak, has no health visitor and isn’t being socialised in any way ...’ She shook her head in mounting concern. ‘Something’s definitely not right in that house. I’m not sure what it is yet, or whether it’s connected to the mother or father – it could be both – but what I do know is that Ottilie Wade isn’t living the life of a normal three-going-on-four-year-old child.’
Being a champion of gut instincts, Tommy said, ‘Do you know if she can speak and just doesn’t, or if she’s never learned?’
‘I’m pretty sure she’s capable, though to what extent I’ve no idea. The only word I got out of her was the name of her teddy, Boots. Isn’t that sweet? He has little black felt wellies.’
Tommy’s eyebrows rose in amusement.
Shrugging, she said, ‘The father claims she can be very chatty. I can’t say I noticed it, but then he did say she’s shy with strangers.’
‘But you managed to carry out all the normal checks and the parents were cooperative?’
‘Yes, in so far as they let me in and allowed me to speak to her. She was wearing leggings and a long-sleeved top, so I didn’t get a proper look at her, she didn’t seem to be in any pain or discomfort though. I’m concerned about her teeth, because apart from the couple of words she spoke to me she kept her mouth very firmly shut – I mean sucking-in-between-the-teeth shut.’ She lifted her eyes to Tommy and as a knowing look passed between them, she went on, ‘It’s either a dental problem, or more likely someone’s told her that the nasty lady will steal her tongue if she speaks to her – or something along those lines.’
‘A common form of manipulation in cases of mental or sexual abuse,’ Tommy said gravely. ‘Did you get the impression there might be any going on?’
Alex inhaled deeply. The mere thought of Brian Wade with his pudgy fingers and sweaty skin touching that dear little soul in any kind of an inappropriate way could make her nauseous with disgust. ‘I’ve tried to tell myself that the father is simply being ultra-protective after the death of their son,’ she said. ‘I only wish I believed it ended there.’
‘OK, but sometimes it’s our job to think the worst,’ Tommy reminded her softly, ‘even when the victim is a little girl who’s getting to our hearts.’
Alex flicked him a glance. Tommy always read her too easily. ‘Sexual abuse is definitely possible,’ she conceded, ‘of course it is, but I came across no evidence of it today, apart from a moment when she started to pull down her leggings.’
Tommy’s eyes widened.
Alex shrugged. ‘The father told her to go and use the toilet if she needed to, and off she went, so it could be that she starts stripping off before she gets to the bathroom. Plenty of kids do.’
‘And you’re prepared to give this bloke the benefit of the doubt?’
‘No, not really, but we have to take into consideration the fact that he’s a deputy headmaster so he’ll have undergone all the necessary checks.’
‘True, but that doesn’t buy him a free pass.’
‘Of course not, far from it, but if there is anything untoward going on it could be the mother, who, I have to say, is distinctly weird.’
‘In what way?’
‘Well, to begin with she hardly speaks either, and there was zero interaction between her and the child, or the husband. She just sat there most of the time, in a world of her own.’
‘A drinker?’
‘I don’t think so, but who knows? She could be on drugs of some kind, possibly even prescription to help deal with the loss of her son.’
‘How long has he been dead?’
‘Just over three years.’
‘Mm, long enough for her to be functioning normally again. On the other hand, there’s never any knowing how anyone’s going to react in grief, especially when it comes to the loss of a child.’
‘If you saw her,’ Alex continued, ‘you’d think she’d just risen up from the grave. Honest to God, she’s so pale and thin she must hardly ever eat, or go out.’
‘Anorexic? Agoraphobic?’
‘Possibly both. Ottilie might be small for her age, but at least she looks as though she’s fed, and she has a reasonable colour, so she presumably goes out sometimes. In fact I saw her once, a couple of months ago, at Dillersby Park.’ She took a deep breath and let it go slowly. The way Ottilie had haunted her after that seemed to be stirring inside her again. It was as though something was drawing them together, and she could no more resist it than she could explain it. ‘I definitely need to speak to the mother alone,’ she decided. ‘He wouldn’t let her get a word in, not that she tried, mind you.’
Tommy glanced at his watch. ‘It’s a bit late now to start writing it up,’ he said, ‘so if I were you I’d take yourself off home, and try to switch off for a while. It’ll all still be here in the morning.’
Knowing very well that it would, Alex pushed her hands through her hair and tried to stop seeing Ottilie’s face watching her from an upstairs window – those soulful dark eyes, those sweet little tufty curls. Was she still there, gazing out into a world she was hardly a part of? No, of course not, it was ludicrous to think it. But what was she doing now? Playing alone in her room with Boots her bear? Having her tea? She didn’t want to let her mind go to where her instincts were taking her, not now when there was still a chance, please God, that she was wrong.
Looking up as Tommy put a comforting hand on her shoulder, she found herself having to swallow a rise of emotion. This was what she loved most about Tommy, he never lectured or launched off into warnings when he sensed one of his team becoming more attached than usual to a child. He understood that it happened, and took the view that if they didn’t care then they were in the wrong job.
‘It’ll be all right, pet,’ he said gently. ‘You’re on her case now, which makes her a lucky girl indeed, because if anyone can do right by her, we know it’s you.’
Alex smiled. ‘No pressure there then.’ She sighed wearily. ‘The really awful part of this,’ she said, ‘is how much more abuse she might have to suffer before we can prove it, and act. You know how long it can take to gather evidence when we’re dealing with people like this ...’
‘First things first,’ he cautioned. ‘Get your initial assessment written up and a health worker on the case and we’ll take it from there. Now, I mean it this time, take yourself off home.’
‘I will, I will, just tell me, is it true there are going to be redundancies when the hubs merge?’
His expression turned grave. ‘Possibly. I don’t know yet, I’m still trying to find out. Now off you go, and don’t think about this place again until you come in tomorrow.’
With his sensible advice ringing in her ears, Alex picked up her bag and bundles of paperwork and started back down to her car. Normally she didn’t find it too hard to switch off, especially when she had a show to be thinking about, but there was no rehearsal tonight, and even more than the threat of losing her job, she simply couldn’t get Ottilie Wade out of her mind.
However, she had to try at least for a while, because dear old Millie deserved her full attention when she got to the care home, which was where she was now headed. It wouldn’
t be a long visit, it was too late in the day for that, but knowing how much pleasure Millie got from seeing her made her want to drop in, even if it was only for a few minutes. She’d love to ask about her mother again, but knew already that the chances of Millie pulling anything coherent together were about as remote as her being able to dance the fandango at the Christmas ball.
Finding Millie fast asleep, she sat with her for a while in case she woke up, but she didn’t, so she spent a few minutes chatting with a couple of the other residents, thanking one for the banana he insisted on giving her, and guiding another back to her room to put on some clothes. After a brief word with one of the nurses, who told her that Millie’s niece was planning to visit sometime the following week, she returned to the car to find a message on her personal mobile from Gabby.
‘Hi you, hope everything’s great. Just ringing to say we’re all feeling much better now, and I thought, if it works for you, I’d come up to have some lunch with you on Sunday. Wish I could make the show on Saturday – great stuff on Facebook, by the way, really puts that nasty piece of work Heather Hancock in her place – but we’ve got this wedding, remember? Obviously I can’t get out of that, but maybe I can get there the week after. Anyway, Sunday would be lovely if you’re free, just the two of us so we can have a nice little chat. Let me know when you can.’
A nice little chat, Alex was thinking as she clicked off, usually meant there was something Gabby needed to get off her chest, or to seek advice about, or to plot, such as some new crazy idea for how to celebrate the twins’ birthday. Whatever, it would be lovely to see her, and since Jason would almost certainly be spending the day with his kids there shouldn’t be any problem making it just the two of them.
By the time she’d called Gabby back and got the ins and outs of everything that was happening in her sister’s world – presumably apart from what Gabby really wanted to talk about – she was pulling up next to Jason’s car, and loving the fact that he was already home. Just as wonderful was knowing that there was nothing on the agenda for either of them tonight, so for once they could rustle up something simple to eat and chill out in front of the TV to watch whatever they’d recorded. Unless she decided to write up her notes on Ottilie. Maybe she should do that while it was all still fresh in her mind.