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‘But how did they know they could enter that way?’ John asked, as the officer returned into the kitchen, shutting and locking the door behind him.

‘It’s a tried-and-tested method,’ he said. ‘Cat flaps, open windows and letterboxes feature in most house burglaries. Fix a padlock on your side gate, and my advice would be to do away with the cat flap completely. I’m sure moggy can be let out to do its business.’

Neither John nor I admitted we hadn’t got a moggy, as doubtless it would have only compounded our apparent stupidity in maintaining this lapse in security.

‘Does anyone else live here besides you and the baby?’ the officer asked.

‘Only our foster daughter, Dawn,’ John said.

‘How old is she?’

‘Thirteen,’ I said, and I saw the officer’s expression. ‘No, she wouldn’t. Absolutely not. She’s no angel but she certainly wouldn’t do this.’

‘Good, but you won’t mind if I have a chat with her?’

‘She’s not here,’ John said. ‘She’s been staying with her mother while we’ve been away. She’s not due back until tomorrow.’

He nodded. ‘OK. Perhaps I could call back. I’m on duty tomorrow evening. I’ll make it as close to the start of my shift as possible – about seven o’clock.’

We reluctantly agreed – we didn’t really have much choice – and I bitterly hoped that Dawn wouldn’t see his visit as a sign of our distrust in her. The officer said he would bring a form with him, which we would need for claiming on our insurance, and thanking him, John saw him out.

‘She wouldn’t,’ I said again, as John returned to the lounge. ‘Dawn wouldn’t break into her own home!’

‘No,’ John said thoughtfully. ‘Unless Dawn’s told her dubious mates that the house was empty and that there was an easy route in via the cat flap.’

I couldn’t disagree that it was a possibility.

John made a cup of tea while I threw together a quick pasta meal. Then I got Adrian ready for bed. I checked the sheets on our bed and Adrian’s cot, to see that they hadn’t been ‘peed in’, but they were clean and dry. Once Adrian was settled for the night we opened the week’s mail. Then John secured the cat flap by nailing a piece of wood over the opening, while I finished most of the unpacking. It was nearly ten o’clock and we watched television for an hour before going up to bed. Neither of us had mentioned Dawn since the officer had left, but I knew her name hung in the air.

‘I’m sure she’s not implicated in any way,’ I said as we prepared for bed.

‘No, but I’m not convinced it wasn’t one of her mates. You must admit it’s a bit of a coincidence. Not only did someone know we were away, but they also knew about the cat flap. Unless of course it was an opportunist who struck lucky. But then why take biscuits and booze and leave the valuables? It doesn’t add up.’

The following day, while I set the washing machine going, John went to collect Dawn from her mother’s, as arranged, at twelve noon. When he returned, without Dawn, he said that Barbara had had to get up to answer the door, and had told him that Dawn wasn’t there as she had stayed at one of her mate’s for the night. Not best pleased by the wasted trip, John had pointed out that we had arranged to collect Dawn at twelve, and then asked when she was expected back. Barbara said she didn’t know but guessed it would be late afternoon, which was the time Dawn had been returning during the week. Apparently Dawn had only slept at her mother’s one night, and when John asked Barbara about school, she said she didn’t know if Dawn had been going or not.

John returned to Barbara’s at five o’clock and Dawn was there, in the middle of a big argument with Mike. Mike had helped, or rather bundled, Dawn and her cases into the car and yelled ‘Good riddance,’ as they pulled away.

‘Good week?’ John had asked Dawn dryly. Then he told her that we had been broken into.

Dawn said, ‘That’s dreadful.’

As I welcomed Dawn home, she seemed very pleased to be back and gave me a big kiss and a hug. I set about her suitcase full of dirty washing – an entire week’s worth.

‘Didn’t you wash anything?’ I asked in dismay. ‘Not even your underwear?’

‘No. Mum wouldn’t let me use the washing machine.’

I would have thought her mother could have done her washing for her daughter, but I didn’t comment. I had other, more pressing, matters on my mind – the police officer’s return visit in an hour’s time – and I was very worried. I hoped Dawn wouldn’t take it personally, as it could seriously damage our relationship.

Chapter Twenty-One

Broken-Down Bus

‘H
ello, Dawn,’ the officer said, when he returned as promised at seven o’clock and I showed him into the lounge. ‘Remember me? I thought your name rang a bell. How are you doing, Dawn?’

I exchanged a pointed glance with John, wondering how the officer knew Dawn.

Dawn was sitting on the sofa and I had told her the officer would be coming – to speak to
all
of us about the robbery. ‘I’m good,’ she said, smiling sheepishly.

‘I expect your foster parents have told you why I’m here?’ the officer said, taking a seat opposite Dawn.

Dawn nodded and smiled again, this time I thought a little apprehensively.

‘You know this house was broken into and burgled last week?’ he continued.

‘Yes, John told me. But it wasn’t me,’ Dawn said far too quickly. My heart sank.

‘I’m not suggesting it was you,’ the officer said. ‘But I’m wondering if you could help me find who did do it. It’s not very nice to go away on holiday and come back to find you have been burgled, and this is your home too. I’m sure you’d like to help catch who was responsible.’

Very diplomatically put, I thought. Dawn didn’t say anything but was eyeing the officer carefully, while John and I looked at her.

‘Have you got a house key, Dawn?’ the officer asked after a moment.

Dawn shook her head.

‘We didn’t think she was old enough,’ I said, feeling the need to justify our decision. ‘I’m always in when Dawn comes home.’

‘Did you need anything from the house while your foster parents were away?’ he asked.

‘No!’ Dawn said adamantly. ‘I haven’t been anywhere near this place. I’ve been at me mum’s.’

‘Not very often,’ the officer said. ‘I’ve spoken to your mum and she hardly saw you last week.’

There was silence as Dawn looked away, and John and I exchanged another pointed glance, before the officer said, ‘Your mates, Dawn. Are you still in with the same crowd?’

‘Some of them,’ Dawn said, almost under her breath.

‘The Bates lad, and the Melson twins?’ the officer said, raising his eyebrows.

‘Sometimes.’ Clearly the officer was more aware of who Dawn saw than we were, and it sounded as though these friendships weren’t for the best.

The officer shifted position, leant slightly forward, and looked seriously at Dawn. ‘They’re not good company, Dawn. In fact they’re bad news. They’ve landed you in trouble before, haven’t they?’

Dawn didn’t say anything.

‘What sort of trouble?’ John asked.

‘I’ll leave Dawn to tell you about that.’ The officer’s eyes met Dawn’s in almost conspiratorial silence and I guessed he was bound by confidentiality as much as Ruth was. ‘I’d really like to find out who broke in here,’ he continued, addressing Dawn. ‘Do you think your mates might be able to throw any light on that?’

Dawn remained quiet, and then shrugged.

‘OK,’ the officer said. ‘I think it might be best if we continue this chat at the station. We can call in for Bates and the Melson twins on the way.’

‘No!’ Dawn suddenly cried, clearly as shocked by this as I was. ‘I didn’t have anything to do with it!’

‘So who did? Did you mention the house was empty to your mates?’

‘No,’ she said; then, after a pause, ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Dawn,’ the officer said forcefully. ‘You were hanging out with your mates every night last week. They must have wondered why you were suddenly on the streets again until all hours, as your foster parents don’t let you. I’m sure one of the gang asked you how come.’

There was another, longer, pause before Dawn shrugged. ‘I guess I might have said they were away.’

‘And did you give them this address?’

Dawn shook her head. ‘No way.’

‘Do they know where you live, Dawn?’ the officer persisted. ‘Might you have told them before?’

Another pause; then, ‘I guess I might. I don’t know.’

The officer transferred his gaze from Dawn to John and me. ‘I’ll be out that way tonight and I’ll stop by and have a chat with that group. I know where they hang out.’

‘Don’t say I told you anything,’ Dawn put in quickly.

‘They’re not good mates if you’re frightened of them,’ the officer said with a frown.

‘I’m not,’ Dawn retaliated. ‘I just don’t want them to think I’ve grassed.’

Standing, the officer took a folded sheet of paper from his jacket pocket and passed it to John. ‘That’s the statement you’ll need when you claim on your insurance.’

John thanked him, although we wouldn’t be claiming on our insurance: we had an excess of
£
100 on the policy, and the broken cat flap,
£
30 from Adrian’s moneybox, drink and biscuits didn’t amount to that much.

‘Goodbye then, Dawn,’ the officer said before he left. ‘Behave yourself. You’ve got a nice home here and good foster parents. Try to keep out of trouble.’

Dawn nodded and smiled pleasantly. I stayed in the lounge with Dawn as John saw the officer out.

‘I wouldn’t,’ Dawn said in earnest as soon as they had gone. ‘I wouldn’t break in my own home. Why should I?’

I shook my head. ‘I don’t know.’ But I could have guessed. If Dawn had been involved it would have been for kicks: an empty house, an easy way in, goaded by a group of lads into helping themselves to alcohol, crisps and biscuits. It would have been out of bravado – sitting in the park, probably after dark, sharing out the Scotch, crisps and biscuits, and generally having a laugh. I doubted Dawn would have been the instigator, but neither would she have had the gumption to stand up to them.

‘What happened to the glasses?’ I said, unintentionally voicing my thoughts.

‘We …’ Dawn began; then, ‘What glasses?’ Which rather confirmed my suspicion.

‘Three of our best glasses were taken,’ I said.

Dawn shrugged but didn’t say anything further.

John returned to the lounge and sat on the sofa with a sigh. ‘Are all your mates boys?’ he asked.

‘No, the Melson twins are girls – Sandy and Patsy.’

He nodded, and then picked up the remote control for the television and flicked it on low. ‘Remember, Dawn, if you do think of something that might help, I’d be grateful if you could tell us or the police. OK?’

‘Of course I will,’ Dawn said. And we left it at that. The matter was in the hands of the police and we didn’t want to sour our relationship with her by questioning Dawn further.

We watched television for an hour and then Dawn went up for her bath. Once she was in bed I said goodnight and reminded her that we would be back in the routine of school the following morning, and I expected her to go everyday, which she promised she would.

Any residue of the relaxing week’s holiday had vanished by the following morning. We were up most of the night with Dawn. She didn’t actually sleepwalk but she kept shouting out in her sleep. We took it in turns to go in and settle her and each time we found her sitting up in bed, eyes open and staring straight ahead, as though in the grip of a repeating nightmare. ‘It wasn’t me!’ she cried out. ‘You must believe me! I wouldn’t do that. I like babies. I was there, but I didn’t do it!’ All the time she was oblivious to our presence and remained asleep.

We assumed her conscience had got the better of her and the reference to babies was to do with Adrian’s moneybox. And her hysterical assertion ‘I was there but I didn’t do it’ suggested she had been an accomplice – perhaps an unwilling one – but now regretted her actions. Her sleeptalking admission left John and me in the unenviable position of knowing Dawn’s guilt without her having told us. Apart from feeling badly let down, we didn’t know what we could or should do with this information. We decided to do nothing. Such a confession was hardly admissible evidence, and we wouldn’t have felt comfortable by adding to Dawn’s troubles by telling the police.

John left for work the following morning absolutely exhausted after the broken night. I felt pretty rough too, and it took me ages to wake Dawn for school. The only person who hadn’t been up most of the night was Adrian, and he was his usual chirpy self. Dawn hugged and petted him during breakfast, although she’d seen him the evening before.

‘I missed him while you were away,’ she said, chucking his chin.

‘You could have come with us, Dawn,’ I reminded her.

‘I know. Maybe I should have done. It would have kept me out of trouble.’ So I was all the more convinced she had been party to the break-in but now regretted what had happened.

And as if to prove her regret, she had a very good week. She went to school each day, arrived home on time, and then set about revising for the end-of-year exams. On Friday evening she went out and was home on time. On Saturday she was half an hour late, and although she wasn’t drunk, she had clearly been drinking and smoking, for we could smell alcohol and smoke on her breath. John and I lectured her about the effects of both on her health, adding that it was illegal for someone of her age to drink or smoke.

Nevertheless when Ruth phoned on Monday to ask if Dawn had settled in again with us, I was able to say a positive yes. I told her about the burglary and that Dawn had been interviewed by the police with us present, for I thought that as her social worker she should know. Ruth didn’t comment but said that she was pleased we were back and Dawn had resettled and was going to school. Apparently Dawn had only been to school one day the week we had been away, and the school secretary, unable to reach Barbara, had phoned Ruth each morning when Dawn hadn’t appeared.

‘I don’t know what she expected me to do about it,’ Ruth said dryly.

Very little, I thought, but didn’t say.

There were three weeks until the end of term and school broke up for the long summer holidays. Out of the fifteen school days Dawn managed to go to school on ten of them, which included some, but not all, of her exams. Having had to lower my expectations in respect of Dawn’s progress, I accepted that on the scale of things this wasn’t too bad. She had come home drunk twice during that period, and I’d had to report her missing one Saturday evening, although she’d reappeared before the police arrived, so I cancelled the missing persons. Dawn went to her mother’s on all three Sunday evenings, although Barbara was only in for two of them, and then only for an hour each time.

Dawn remained pleasant and co-operative while she was in the house, although I’d no idea what she was getting up to while out. This had become the pattern of our life with Dawn, and together with her sleepwalking it made for a very rocky ride. But John and I were determined to stand by Dawn, believing that at some point we must turn a corner and things would start to improve. We didn’t hear any more from the police about the break-in, and John bought and fitted a new back door, rather than just removing and boarding up the cat flap.

The six weeks of summer holidays were upon us and Dawn wanted to go out and meet up with her friends during the day, which seemed reasonable at one level – that’s what young people did in the summer holidays – but it clearly increased her potential for getting into trouble.

‘Which friends?’ I asked. I was only aware of Natasha.

‘My friends from school,’ she said non-commitally.

‘Not the Bates lad and the Melson twins?’ I thought I was starting to sound like the police officer.

‘No,’ Dawn said. ‘They only come out at night.’

‘What, like vampires?’

She laughed.

‘All right, but not every day,’ I said. ‘I want us to go out together some days. Also I want to know who you are meeting and where.’

Dawn agreed to this, but then Dawn had a habit of agreeing to everything I said and then going off and doing something completely different.

On 1 August I reminded Dawn that her appointment to see the psychiatrist was in two days’ time. I told her that I had asked my neighbour to look after Adrian so that I could go with her to the hospital. I knew it was asking too much of Adrian to sit still through an hour-long appointment.

‘Don’t worry,’ Dawn said. ‘I can go alone.’

‘It’s no bother,’ I said. ‘I’d like to come.’ Then I wondered if she didn’t want me in the consulting room and party to anything she might confide in the psychiatrist. ‘I’ll wait outside while you go in and see the doctor,’ I said. ‘But it’s nice to have some support and company.’

‘No, really, I’ll be fine,’ she insisted. ‘I’d rather catch the bus. Thanks anyway.’

Clearly I couldn’t force my presence on Dawn, so having asked her again on the morning of the third if she wanted me to go with her, and received the same reply, I gave her the appointment card and money for the bus fare, and explained where the outpatients department was.

‘Good luck,’ I called from the front door step as she left, and she gave me a little wave.

Dawn didn’t arrive.

At 11.30 a.m., half an hour after the consultation should have started, the psychiatrist’s secretary phoned and asked to speak to Mrs Jennings.

‘It’s Mrs Glass,’ I said. ‘Dawn’s foster carer.’

‘Oh, I see. Well, we were expecting Dawn for an eleven o’clock appointment. She’s very late.’

‘She left over an hour ago,’ I said, ‘in plenty of time. I’m sorry – perhaps she’ll arrive soon.’

The secretary explained that Mr Gibbons, the psychiatrist, had another appointment booked for 12.00 p.m, but she added that he could give Dawn whatever time was left of her hour’s appointment when she arrived. I thanked her, apologised again and asked if she would call me when Dawn arrived.

She didn’t call back and at twelve ten I phoned the secretary to be told that Dawn hadn’t appeared. I apologised again, and said that I didn’t know what had happened, for Dawn knew how important the appointment was. The secretary was quite understanding, considering Dawn had wasted an hour of the psychiatrist’s time when he could have seen another patient. She asked me if I wanted to book another appointment, which wouldn’t be for another three months. I said I’d speak to Dawn first, as clearly there was no point if she wasn’t going to attend.