The house was quiet save for the intermittent ringing of the phone. I listened as the answer phone clicked in, then turned over and closed my eyes. Was it the same person, or a number of different callers? It didn’t matter. I’d deal with it in my own time.
It was the day after Jodie had left. I’d gone back to bed after seeing the children off to school, and although I didn’t sleep, the enveloping warmth of the duvet safely embraced and cocooned me. Had she slept, I wondered, or had she been plagued by nocturnal demons? What was she doing now? It was mid-morning. Was she in the playroom, out for a walk, or finishing her unpacking? Was she happy? Or had she been taken over by one of her characters? How was she engaging with the other children? That was my biggest concern. Would they be more tolerant, having had similar experiences to hers? Or would their anger and bitterness turn on the stranger in their midst? I feared for her, but I knew I had to let go.
The phone rang again and I snatched it up.
‘Cathy?’ It was Jill. ‘Sorry to disturb you, but I thought you’d want to know. The police have picked up Jodie’s parents, and three of the granddads and uncles, and they’re going to charge them. The Smiths have accused them of abusing their daughter, and the police have got evidence this time.’
My mind snapped into focus as I pulled myself up the bed. ‘The Smiths.’
‘You remember. Jodie’s neighbours? They stopped their daughter, Louise, going round to play.’
‘Yes, yes, I know, but I thought they wanted to give the parents a character reference?’
‘They did, until all this came out. DNA has identified Jodie’s father and others. The police raided the house, and found thousands of photographs. It is a paedophile ring, and it looks pretty widespread.’
I stared at the curtains, with the floral pattern illuminated by the morning sun. The enormity of what was happening suddenly hit me. The burden of proof had at last swung in Jodie’s favour. There was a chance that she would get justice and that the vile people who had abused her would be punished.
‘Eileen wants to know if you’ll give evidence. I said I was sure you would. And they’ll need your log. I’ll arrange to have it collected.’
I was still staring straight ahead, as the peonies on the curtains glowed fiery red. ‘Yes, of course, anything. Oh, thank goodness. Do they know when it started? Have they got any idea?’
‘They’re still investigating, but apparently some of the photos show Jodie very young.’
I paused. ‘Eighteen months. That’s when her development stopped.’
‘Yes. And there’s some before that. I’ll keep you posted.’
I replaced the receiver and remained sitting up in bed. I thought of poor Louise Smith, who had suffered despite her parents having been warned, because they’d failed to take action. How many others had had their lives ruined because Jodie had been ignored? All those years she had been on the at-risk register, supposedly receiving regular visits from social workers, yet no one had noticed anything untoward.
I thought of Jodie’s parents, and remembered something I’d been told during training on sexual abuse, some years before. The speaker had said that paedophiles were harder to catch than other criminals, because they didn’t believe they were doing anything wrong, so they didn’t act guilty.
Heaving myself out of bed, I walked along the landing and into Jodie’s room. The emptiness was stark, compared with the cluttered chaos of before. The room still smelled of Jodie, that personal scent which individualizes us all, the most evocative reminder of an absent friend or relative. I stared at the bed, which hadn’t been touched since she’d left. Dust motes hung in the shaft of sunlight. I stood silently, taking in the lingering presence of Jodie, still palpable, as though at any moment she could have reached out and touched me. As I turned to leave, I caught sight of an envelope propped on the chest of drawers behind the door. ‘Cathy’ was printed on the front, in what appeared to be Paula’s handwriting. I picked it up and opened it. Inside was a sheet of lined paper, torn from an exercise book.
Dear Cathy,
Paula is writing this as I don’t know my words. It was kind of you to look after me and I wish I could have stayed. I’m sorry for all the bad things I did. I can’t help it. Something makes me. You are the only person who has looked after me and not got angry. I think you understand. I hope you forgive me. Adrian, Lucy and Paula are very lucky. When they have made me better can I come and live with you? Will you be my new mummy? I don’t want my old one.
Love,
Jodie
She’d signed her name herself, and the rest of the page was filled with kisses in red crayon. I looked up, and my eyes brimmed. Somehow I had reached her. It made everything worthwhile. It helped to assuage some of my sense of failure.
Yes, Jodie, of course I will. Whenever you’re ready, pet.