Little Prisoners (16 page)

‘How exactly did he hurt you, lovey?’ asked Lizzie. ‘In what way?’

Olivia smiled, then waggled a finger at the WPC, then laughed. ‘Tut tut!’ she said. ‘Naughty! Don’t you know that walls have ears?’

‘That’s a funny saying, Olivia. What does that mean? Can you tell me?’

Olivia shrugged. ‘’s what Ashton says. He says Mummy and Daddy say we mustn’ tell tales an’ if we did we’d get found out. Because walls have
ears
. An’ they tell on you,’ she finished.

Lizzie shook her head. ‘Olivia, you know, that’s just silly talk, sweetheart. Walls can’t hear you. They’re just bricks. And bricks can’t talk, can they?’

Olivia shrugged again. ‘Anyways, it don’t matter. Cos we’re not gonna see Mummy no more anyway, are we?’ She then paused and seemed to think. ‘But jus’ cos you’re a copper, don’t you go blabbing to my brother. Or else he’ll go an’ give me a good hiding!’

Lizzie assured Olivia that she wouldn’t and this seemed to make her happy.

‘Can I go now?’ she said. Lizzie told her that she could.

I took her back to her brother and she jumped up at the table, and was soon elbow deep in a gooey sticky mess. Ashton, still clearly upset, didn’t even acknowledge her. I told the children I’d be back in a few minutes and returned to the living room.

‘There,’ I said to Anna. ‘That’s progress of a sort, isn’t it? What Olivia’s disclosed is surely enough to take things to the next stage, isn’t it?’

Both women’s expressions seemed to tell me I was wrong.

‘Sadly,’ Anna went on, ‘it’s not that simple. We’ve been here before, you see, with Olivia. It’s all on file, from a couple of years back. She was taken to the doctor’s with an injury between her legs. The father told the GP she had run into the corner of a coffee table, and the redness and bruising was perfectly consistent with that. Which means that if we offer this as evidence, he’ll just refer straight back to that incident. It’s not enough.’

‘Not even with all the other things she said?’

‘There’s really nothing concrete enough. Nothing that could really be used in evidence.’

I was gobsmacked. ‘What the hell does it take, then? Actually catching them in the act?’

‘Trust me,’ said Anna, ‘I’m as angry as you are. Like you, my gut instinct is that there is just so much more to uncover here. But all we can do is keep trying to build our case. Watch and wait. Hope that one day, one of the kids will come up with something we can use, and, crucially, be prepared to repeat it. Honestly, Casey, that family will have their day in court, I promise.’

She turned then to the WPC. ‘You know, I think it would be okay to tell Casey about the recent development, don’t you?’

The WPC nodded. ‘What development?’ I asked.

‘With the father. You didn’t know this, but two days before the hearing, he was arrested. He’s out on bail now, pending further enquiries – including this one – but
apparently, when another female cousin heard about the case, and the fact that there was a slim chance they would have the children returned to them, she went to the police and filed a report accusing him of sexual abuse as well. On
her
, for many years, all through her childhood, apparently. Same as the one you already know about …’

‘So why wasn’t this –’ I started.

‘We couldn’t use it, Casey. His solicitor would have jumped on us for jeopardising his case. He’d been found guilty of nothing, at that point, remember. This has to be a whole separate process now.’

God
, I thought. No wonder these kids exhibited so many signs of having been groomed. Granddad, the father – unrelated but both at it. Who else? Just how big a seam of evil ran through this family?

Chapter 13

It took Ashton some time to act normally around us again. I had all but given up on hoping he might revisit some of the things he’d told me in Wales, but I was concerned that the tentative trust had been broken – particularly after the police visit – and I was anxious to try and build bridges and to try and repair the damage before it all got too late.

Mike and I both went all-out to restore our relationships with him, making a point of spending more time with him individually, which did seem to help us make progress. Mike took him to work with him one day and allowed him to have a go driving a forklift truck, which he loved, and I made a point of arranging regular him and me time, taking him to the pictures to see a film he was particularly keen on, and reminding him that now, since he was that bit older than his sister, we could start to do things like that more often.

Two things were constantly on my mind. One was how important it was that we re-forged these bonds; if he was to
be separated from all his siblings, his relationship with us would really matter, because having to venture into the unknown and live again (and alone) among strangers, meant it was vital that he knew we were all there for him.

The second was to continue to question that separation. Surely, despite the obvious logistical difficulties, it would be better to try and keep these two children together, at least? I understood what Anna had said about Ashton’s controlling influence, but lots of kids – particularly in cases of poor, erratic parenting – looked up to older siblings in that way. Would it really be better for them all to be denied that bond? I wasn’t convinced, and neither was Mike. We resolved to speak to John and Anna about it again.

For the moment, however, things were looking more positive. As Ashton began to relax, so the atmosphere improved, and by the beginning of November it felt – at least superficially – that we were back on a fairly even keel with them both. Indeed, there was an air of mild excitement in the house, because we’d told the children we’d take them to an organised Bonfire Night and firework display. Once again, we’d been shocked when Ashton revealed to us that they’d never done anything like that in their lives. If it had seemed incredible that they’d never so much as paddled in the sea, that they hadn’t even done this took my breath away.

But they hadn’t. All they’d done was to spot the odd firework in the distance, looking patiently out of a bed room window. Most normal life, it seemed, had simply passed them by. It was heartbreaking to think about, it really was.

But my confidence about how much they’d all enjoy the action close-up was misplaced. We were only at the display – which had been put on by the local Rotary Club – for half an hour before we had to take them all home again. Olivia was simply petrified – both by the bangs of the fireworks
and
the bonfire – and though our first plan was for me to take her home while Mike stayed on Ashton, he was no more keen to stay at the display than his sister, so in the end we all trooped home together.

‘It’s because of the car being blown up,’ Ashton explained to me. Mike was carrying Olivia, who was still terrified of all the noise, as we tramped the few streets back to home.

‘Your car?’ I asked.

He nodded. ‘Yes, it was torched outside our house one day. Livs was only little and it really scared her, didn’t it, Livs?’

Olivia merely whimpered, and burrowed her head into Mike’s scarf.

Then she pulled her head back again and spoke. ‘It was the bad mens!’ she said. ‘They didn’ like our daddy, so they burned it!’

I wanted to dig further but I knew it needed to be very gently. ‘Oh dear,’ I said. ‘Why’d they want to do such a thing, d’you think?’

‘We don’t know,’ Ashton said. ‘But they were definitely the same ones who wrote the bad stuff on our front door.’

‘What bad stuff?’ Mike asked.

‘Kev the perv,’ he said. ‘Swear words.’

‘That’s not very nice.’

‘No it wasn’t,’ Ashton answered. ‘And when they done it, we kept getting picked on, too – at school.’

‘That must have been hard,’ I said. ‘Was anything done about it? Did the police come?’

Ashton shook his head. ‘Nah.’

‘They tooked the car away,’ Olivia said. ‘Didn’ they, Ash? Cos it was broken. They put it on this lorry and they tooked it away. We never had a car no more, after.’

Kev the perv
, I thought. The family were clearly well known around the neighbourhood. Once again it seemed incredible that they’d hung on to the kids so long. And once again, I got the sense that there was so much more to know. I really felt we were just scratching the surface.

But for our own family, at least, it was a time of happiness. Riley was six months’ pregnant now, so our next grandchild would soon be with us, a thought that, whenever I found myself bogged down in worries, would always bring a smile back to my face. Riley and David knew by now that they were going to have another boy, and they announced that they were going to call him Jackson. The kids seemed genuinely excited to share in this news, and even more so when Riley told them she was going to throw a party to celebrate Levi’s second birthday. They positively beamed when she also told them that, because they’d been so good lately, they would have the special honour of being her official party helpers, choosing party food and helping with the decorating. They couldn’t have been more excited about it all, and I sensed that we had really turned a corner.

But my bubble of happiness was destined to be popped. It was a couple of days before the party, and a regular Sunday evening. Because the children were both still frightened of the shower, and because their hygiene, even now, was somewhat haphazard, Mike and I still had to oversee bath-times. We’d got a routine now. Mike would invariably keep an eye on Ashton, while I would take charge of Olivia.

This particular Sunday, however, Mike was busy giving his car a bit of a valet; he’d washed it earlier and now wanted to give it a polish, so had relocated it back into the warmth of the garage so he could do it in the warm. Knowing how much time he could spend out there, if left alone with it, I decided to get on and bathe the kids without him. I did Ashton first, though, because he was keen to go back down and help Mike, as he’d been promised he could use the mini-vacuum.

Next up was Olivia, plus her favourite baby doll Polly, who’d been patiently waiting for her turn.

‘Come on, sweetie,’ I said, peeling off her sweater and joggers, while she busied herself removing Polly’s babygro. She laughed as she usually did as I swung her into the bathtub, but I noticed her wince as I sat her in the water.

‘Oh, love, is it too hot?’ I asked, dipping my arm in to check. Though I knew, because I’d already checked, it wouldn’t be hot – only warm. She shook her head to confirm this, yet still she winced. ‘A graze, then? A cut?’ I asked.

Now she nodded. ‘It was Ashton.’

‘Ashton?’ I asked her, not sure I’d heard right. ‘What d’you mean?’

Olivia looked up at me, then turned her doll over and pointed. ‘He been bummin’ me,’ she said, with a world-weary air.

It took a moment for what she said to properly sink in. Yet still it didn’t. Did I really hear
that
right?

‘Been
bumming
you?’ I repeated.

She nodded. ‘Yes. An it hurts a bit now it’s in the water.’

I knelt beside the bath. ‘Olivia, can you explain what you mean?’ I asked her gently.

‘You
know
,’ she said. ‘Lied on me. Like wot the growdups do. And hurt my bum.’

The picture she described to me felt all too believable. I’d seen them play-act a version of such things myself. But fully
clothed
, not naked. But from what she was saying … I wasn’t stupid. I knew these kids, left unsupervised, would fiddle with each other’s genitals. But this – if true – was a whole different board game. Ashton was growing up. He’d be eleven soon. Starting puberty. And if he was already forcing himself on Olivia … It didn’t bear thinking about. I needed to act on this. Now.

I passed Olivia a flannel and suggested she wash Polly. ‘I’ll just be a minute,’ I said, rising to my feet again. ‘Got to go and have a quick word with Mike about something. Be back in no time, okay?’

I hurried downstairs and into the garage, where Mike was. Ashton was in the driver’s seat of the car now, busy polishing the dashboard.

‘Ash?’ I said. ‘Could you pop into the kitchen for a minute, love? There’s something I need to talk to you about, okay?’

Ashton obediently did as I asked him, and when he’d gone back in I told Mike what Olivia had said. ‘So maybe you could go up and wash her hair for her,’ I suggested, ‘while I deal with Ashton? I really need to speak to him about this.’

Mike shook his head as he wrung out his chamois. ‘Lord,’ he said, frowning, ‘here we go again …’

Back inside, I crossed the hall and entered the kitchen. God, I thought. Where do I even
start
?’

It might have been my imagination playing tricks on me, but as soon as our eyes met, I thought I could sense guilt. Which told me one positive thing at least, I thought, as I sat down with Ashton. If he
did
know what was coming and
was
feeling guilty, then that was progress. Easy to forget that a few short months ago none of these kids even knew sexual touching between them was wrong. Not that it made this any less unpalatable.

Ashton lowered his eyes as I sat down with him at the kitchen table. ‘Ash, love,’ I said, deciding to come straight to the point. ‘What have you done to your sister? She says she’s hurting.’

His eyes met mine again. ‘I ain’t done nothing,’ he said quietly. ‘Nothing at all. She’s a liar.’

I kept my own voice low and level, to match his. ‘Olivia is just a little girl, Ashton. Why d’you think she would lie about something like that?’

‘I dunno,’ he said. ‘But she
is
lying. I done nothing.’

‘Ashton,’ I continued, ‘I need you to tell me the truth. We will have to take Olivia to see a doctor, you see, so he can look at her bottom – which is where she says she’s hurting. And we will have to tell the doctor what happened to cause it, and what Olivia has told me is that
you
hurt her bottom.’ I held his gaze. ‘Playing sex games. Is that true?’

‘Not sex,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘It wasn’t sex. She’s a liar, saying sex. I didn’t hurt her nowhere!’