Madelaine Baines finished tweeting, then immediately opened WhatsApp. Since her earlier discussion at the Phone Shack, she had been full of energy, remorselessly hitting social media to make her views known. News of a second murder in this part of town had already filtered through now, even to those who didn’t regularly follow the radio or TV bulletins. But reaction and gossip were not enough. Something had to be done.
Madelaine had always been someone who liked to give back. Since giving up work to look after the kids, she had had time on her hands. More time than she was comfortable with, if she was honest. So she was happy to help out at charity drives, cake sales and other community events. She knew she had been lucky in life – loving parents, devoted husband, lovely kids – and that pushed her to help others less fortunate than herself. Whenever there was a local disaster or a sick kid whose health insurance didn’t cover a vital operation, she would be first in line to do her bit. It made her feel useful, made her feel like she still had value. And she felt that familiar drive now, that energy and excitement building inside her. Her husband often said she took on too much – that she couldn’t shoulder everyone’s troubles – but to her, helping was as natural as breathing. Which is why she had to get involved now.
Obviously local people would want to pay their respects to those who’d lost their lives – a public servant and a young counsellor needlessly slain. She had thought of a church service, but then backed away from that, as she had no idea what religious beliefs the victims held. Instead she had settled for a candlelit vigil in Granary Square. That would be a fitting venue and a perfect rallying point. Because, as well as remembering the victims, it was vital they ensured that it didn’t happen again, that the local community was protected.
In reality, this was her principal driver. She had lived in this neighbourhood for twenty years – her husband worked here, her kids went to high school here. The idea that anything would happen to them … Rochelle Stevens was only eight years older than her eldest and to think what that poor girl went through … No, it was vital that local people came together to protect each other, to root out this evil. No one, not even the most skilled or determined criminal, was a match for the eyes and ears of a whole community.
Having tapped out a rallying cry on her local WhatsApp groups, she moved on to Facebook. Already responses were flooding in – appalled, but determined and resolved – and Madelaine felt her optimism rising. They could do this, they could fight back. One of the first people to respond had been Amy, her younger daughter, who shared many of Madelaine’s characteristics and was clearly already recruiting fellow students for the vigil. In spite of herself, Madelaine felt a flush of pride – for Amy, Joanne, her husband, Paul. On this, she knew they would be four square behind her when the time came. That was the thing about tragedies like these. However awful they were, they always reminded you how fortunate you were to be part of a happy, loving family.