A Baby's Cry (13 page)

I heard her scream and was straight out of bed, rushing round the landing in my nightdress and into her room. Ellie was sitting upright in bed but not fully awake, so I eased her back down on to the pillow, tucked her in and then sat on the bed, stroking her forehead, until she fell asleep again. By the time I returned to my bed it was 4.30 and I was wide awake. I lay on my back, forcing my eyes to close and willing myself to go to sleep, aware that in just over an hour Harrison would be awake again for another feed.

It was probably because I was so tired that I didn’t immediately understand what Ellie was trying to tell me the following day.

Chapter Thirteen

Pure Evil

I
t was Sunday afternoon and Adrian and Paula were out with their father. In the morning Ellie and I had walked to the corner shop for a newspaper and we were now having a relaxing day. Ellie seemed more at ease with me than she had done during her visit or when she’d arrived the day before, and was talking to me more. I’d opened the French windows and she was wandering in and out, familiarizing herself with the house and garden. After lunch I spread a blanket on the ground under the shade of the tree. Harrison was in his bouncing cradle, watching the leaves stir gently overhead; I was flicking through the newspaper, and Ellie was stroking Toscha, who was stretched leisurely beside her, enjoying the attention and showing her appreciation by purring loudly.

‘Cats can make a lot of noise,’ Ellie announced after a while.

‘Yes,’ I said absently, while still reading. ‘She’s purring because she’s happy you’re stroking her.’

A few moments passed as Ellie continued stroking and petting Toscha, and I read; then Ellie said: ‘Cats make a horrible noise if they’re hurt.’

‘They do,’ I agreed, glancing up. I remembered an incident when, not realizing Toscha was behind me, I’d accidentally stepped back and trodden on her paw. ‘I think it’s called a yowl.’

‘They have claws,’ Ellie said. ‘Not like us.’

‘No, we have nails.’

A minute or so passed, during which I closed the paper and opened the colour supplement, before Ellie said: ‘Cats can scratch you if they are angry.’

‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘But Toscha won’t scratch you. She’s only ever scratched once and that was when Adrian was younger and pulled her tail.’ I turned the page of the colour supplement.

‘Did you take away Toscha’s claws when she scratched Adrian?’ Ellie then asked.

I looked up and smiled. ‘No, you can’t take away a cat’s claws. They’re joined on and are part of the cat, like your nails are part of you.’

Ellie met my gaze. ‘Shane did,’ she said, referring to her mother’s boyfriend. ‘He took our cat’s claws away when she scratched him.’

I looked at her, puzzled. ‘You mean he cut her claws?’ I asked.

Ellie shook her head. ‘No. Mum and me had a cat called Mog. It was our cat, not Shane’s. He didn’t like Mog and he was horrid to her. When Mog scratched him, he took her nails away.’

‘I’m sorry, love,’ I said. ‘I don’t understand.’ I was still looking at Ellie, who was concentrating on Toscha as she rubbed behind the cat’s ears, which Toscha loved. Ellie didn’t look at me as she spoke but concentrated on lovingly petting Toscha; and her gentle kindness seemed to highlight the shocking horror of what she now described.

‘Mog scratched Shane with her claws,’ Ellie began, ‘because he pulled her whiskers. He grabbed Mog by the neck and told Mum to get the pliers. Mum was crying and said she didn’t know where they were. I was crying because he’d just hit me. Shane shouted to Mum that the pliers were in his toolbox. I didn’t know what pliers were. He said if Mum didn’t get the pliers he’d do the same to her when he’d finished with the bloody cat. Mum went into the kitchen and came back with some metal things, which she gave to Shane.’

Ellie paused, as though summoning the strength to continue, while her hand moved slowly over Toscha’s fur and down her back.

‘Shane put Mog on the floor and turned her over so she was on her back,’ Ellie continued quietly. ‘But she kept struggling to get the right way up. He knelt on her with his knee so she couldn’t move. Mog was struggling and making a lot of noise. Then he held her front paw and pulled out her claw with the pliers. Mog screamed and then he did it again and she was screaming all the time. There was blood all over Mog’s fur and on Shane and on the floor. Mum was screaming and begging him to stop, but he didn’t. When he’d pulled all the claws out of one paw he started to do it to her other paw. I felt sick and angry. I was crying and shouting at him to stop. I couldn’t do anything to help Mog, so I ran into the toilet and shut the door. But I could still hear Mog screaming and Mum crying. Even when I put my hands over my ears I could still hear them. I can hear them now sometimes.’

Ellie stopped and her hand grew still and lightly rested on Toscha’s head. It was as though a shard of pure evil had pierced the beauty of the garden that afternoon; the air chilled, the birds stopped singing and nothing seemed to move. I stared at Ellie, my heart racing and nausea rising in my throat. I didn’t want to believe what I’d heard but I knew immediately from the simple child-like language she’d used and the look on her face that it was true.

‘I can still hear them screaming sometimes,’ Ellie said again. ‘I could hear them last night and they’re coming again now.’ Taking her hand from Toscha’s head she pressed both hands to her ears, as if trying to block out the sound of her mum and the cat screaming.

I quickly moved across the blanket and took Ellie in my arms. She didn’t say anything, but with her hands covering her ears she rested her head against my chest. I held her tightly. If a child fell over and hurt themselves I instinctively found the words to comfort and reassure them, but presented with such barbaric cruelty I couldn’t think of anything that would come close to reassuring Ellie. What she had told me was so shocking that I was out of my depth. All I could do was hold her. The two of us sat in silence under the shade of the tree on that glorious summer’s afternoon with Ellie trying to block out the sound of her mother screaming and her cat being tortured.

After a while Ellie slowly took her hands from her ears and put them around my waist. ‘It’s gone,’ she said quietly. ‘I can’t hear them now, but it will come back again. It always does. Only before I didn’t know why I heard the screaming, and now I do.’

I held Ellie close to me. ‘Have you told Ava what Shane did?’ I asked gently after a moment.

‘No. I didn’t know. I’ve only just remembered why she was screaming. Ava’s cat is different to Mog. Toscha looks the same as Mog.’ Being with Toscha had therefore triggered the memory of Shane’s cruelty; previously Ellie had only heard screaming without knowing its source. This can happen with post-traumatic stress: a buried memory is released by something similar, which results in a flashback.

‘We didn’t see Mog again,’ Ellie said sadly, her head still resting on my chest and her arms around my waist. ‘Mum said she’d gone to heaven, but I think Shane took her away.’ I guessed the poor cat had died, for I doubted she could have survived the trauma of having her nails pulled out, and that Shane had probably disposed of the body.

‘Mog will be at peace now. She won’t suffer any more,’ I said, as much for my benefit as Ellie’s. Ellie was sad but seemed to be coping with the recollection calmly – better than I was. She was relatively composed, while I was still reeling from the shock of what she’d told me. Perhaps Ellie had found some release in identifying the cause of the screaming that had plagued her; or possibly she’d become slightly desensitized from seeing this and other abuse, which can happen. I tried to imagine how Adrian and Paula would have reacted to witnessing such cruelty but I couldn’t – my mind recoiled.

‘Shane is a very cruel and wicked person, Ellie,’ I said at last.

‘Mum says he’s evil.’

‘Yes,’ I agreed, wondering why on earth her mother stayed with him.

‘He did other bad things,’ Ellie said. ‘He cut Mum with a big knife and he burnt me with his cigarette. When I was naughty he locked me in a cupboard in the dark.’ I already knew this, although Ava had said it had been Ellie’s mother who’d locked her in the cupboard. Given Ellie’s loyalty to her mother it was possible she was transferring the blame to Shane, but I didn’t know. ‘It’s because of him I’m in foster care,’ Ellie added.

‘Yes, you’re safe in foster care,’ I said.

I was still holding Ellie, and she now raised her head and moved slightly away so that she could stroke Toscha again. I felt I hadn’t really been much help but at least Ellie had been able to tell me. ‘Has Shane always lived with you and your mum?’ I asked presently, as Ellie stroked Toscha and normality began to return. Had I been Ellie’s permanent foster carer I would have known more about Ellie’s background but as a respite carer – just looking after Ellie for a week – and in line with guidelines on sharing confidential information I had been told only what I needed to know.

Ellie shook her head. ‘No, it was just me and Mum, and we were happy. Then when I was four Shane came to live with us and it was horrible. He was horrible and he made Mum horrible too.’

From what Ellie said, therefore, it appeared that Ellie’s mother had successfully looked after Ellie for four years until Shane had moved in, so it seemed that in some ways Ellie’s mother was a victim too – terrorized by an abusive partner and possibly behaving in a way she wouldn’t otherwise have done. But allowing a child to be caught up in domestic violence is considered an abuse in itself. The courts take a firm line with mothers who fail to protect their children, often not returning the child to the mother even when the abuser has left the home.

‘I love my mum, but I hate Shane,’ Ellie added.

I nodded. ‘Ellie, I’m going to tell Ava and your social worker what Shane did so that they can help you, all right?’

‘Will they be able to stop the screaming in my head?’ she asked, glancing up from Toscha. ‘It makes me cry when I hear Mog and Mum scream. I want them to stop.’

‘Yes. There is a person called a psychologist at the hospital who can help you. Some of the children I’ve looked after have been to her. She’s a very nice lady and you see her once a week and do lots of nice things, like painting and making models, but at the same time she helps you to get rid of the bad memories and the screaming.’ The referral would need to be made by Ellie’s social worker and I knew there was a waiting list, so it would be some weeks before Ellie could begin therapy. Also therapy is sometimes purposely delayed if there is a court case pending and the child’s evidence could be diluted by issues explored in therapy.

Harrison was now restless in his bouncing cradle, so I lifted him out and laid him on the blanket next to me, where he grinned and kicked his feet happily. Presently Toscha finally had enough of being petted and, stretching and yawning, slowly stood and sauntered off down the garden. Ellie also stood and went to play in the sandpit. I hoped she didn’t tell Adrian and Paula what she’d told me about Shane torturing her cat. I knew how upset they’d be and I wanted to protect them. They’d been told horrible things before by children we’d fostered and had been upset for a long while afterwards, as I had. Although I recognized that Adrian’s and Paula’s upset from hearing cruelty described was little compared to that of the abused child who’d been there or had it done to them.

I knew I should write up my log notes covering what Ellie had told me while it was still fresh in my mind, so a little while later when Ellie was still playing in the sandpit, I carried Harrison indoors for his afternoon nap and at the same time took my fostering folder and a pen from the front room. Returning to the garden I sat on the blanket beneath the tree and wrote in detail what Ellie had told me, using her words as much as possible. This verbatim report was important so that I could accurately tell Jill what Ellie had told me, when I phoned her on Monday, and also for the social services, who would put a copy of my record on their file and use it accordingly – possibly in court. I would also update Ava when she returned.

I finished writing and returned the folder to the front room. As Harrison was still asleep I took the opportunity to play with Ellie in the garden: first we played bat and ball, and then we took turns on the mini trampoline, Ellie finding my efforts on it quite amusing.

Adrian and Paula returned from seeing their father at five o’clock and both gave me a big hug. They waved goodbye to their father at the door and then Paula gave me another hug and said: ‘I’ve missed you. What did you do today?’

I told her Ellie and I had pushed Harrison in his pram to the corner shop for a newspaper and then we’d spent the rest of the day relaxing and playing in the garden. Satisfied, Paula ran off with Adrian to join Ellie in the garden, while I gave Harrison a bottle and then began preparing dinner. Our kitchen was at the rear of the house and I had a clear view of the garden from the kitchen window. As I worked I kept glancing out to make sure the children were all right. Adrian was practising his goal-keeping skills and had positioned himself in front of the mini goal posts at the bottom of the garden, and the girls were taking it in turns to kick the ball and try to score a goal. So far they hadn’t succeeded.

As I watched my thoughts went again to the atrocity Ellie had witnessed. The image of that poor cat being tortured and Ellie having to watch was fresh in my mind. Not only was the act depraved and carried out by someone with a depraved and warped mind, but I knew from my training that research had shown that adults who are cruel to animals are often cruel to children too. Ellie had already admitted that Shane had burnt her with a cigarette, hit her with a belt, locked her in a cupboard and tortured her cat. What else had that evil man done to that poor child? I was soon to find out.

That night when Ellie said she didn’t want a bath I wasn’t concerned. She hadn’t had a bath the night before either, but as that had been her first night with us I hadn’t thought much of it. She would have had a bath or shower before she left Ava’s so it wouldn’t matter for another night. She’d already mentioned our bathroom was very different to Ava’s, so I thought she might have been feeling a bit insecure, or possibly uncomfortable about taking off her clothes, although I’d said I’d run the bath and then leave her to undress and wash. It was only when Ellie was in bed and I’d read her a story and was about to say goodnight that she said something that made me think there could be more to it.