Angels with Dirty Faces: Five Inspiring Stories. Casey Watson

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СКАЧАТЬ arranged, I hung up, took a deep breath and joined Mike and Darby in the living room. No visit from Riley today, but Mike being home was a blessing. Though I was only too happy for Tyler to be off round at his friend Denver’s, because the events of the previous day had made me doubly cautious about him acting as any kind of child-minder either.

      Mike was helping Darby do a jigsaw on the coffee table. And the peaceful domestic scene was so at odds with the reality that it sunk me into an uncharacteristic gloom. Darby was beautiful to look at. And clearly a sweet, polite girl. It made me feel sick to know that she had been exploited by the very people who were meant to protect her, and I realised that her exquisite features probably added to the allure that attracted sick paedophiles to seek her out.

      ‘You okay, sweetie?’ I asked as I knelt down at the table to help. ‘Oh, The Little Mermaid. This is my absolute favourite jigsaw.’

      ‘I love The Little Mermaid,’ she said, inspecting a piece she’d just picked up. ‘I’m a little mermaid sometimes, too.’

      I braced myself. ‘Are you?’

      ‘Yes, sometimes, at bath time. We don’t have bubbles, though.’ She looked up at me. ‘It’s all right if you both want to bath me. I don’t mind.’

      I was going to grab a puzzle piece, but I stopped mid-reach. Mike was growing pale again. He looked horrified. ‘No, no,’ I quickly answered. ‘It will be just me who baths you, Darby. And as you’re such a big girl now, I think you’re probably big enough to wash yourself. I’ll just help you with your hair. How about that?’

      Darby shrugged. Then she looked at Mike. ‘You can still watch, though. If you want to.’

      ‘No, darling,’ I said quickly. ‘Mike definitely doesn’t want to watch.’ This was probably as good a time as any, and Mike was clearly lost for words. ‘Darby, you know your body is a very private thing. Do you understand that? Do you know what “private” means?’

      ‘Course I do,’ she said, discarding the piece in her hand in favour of another.

      ‘Good,’ I said, ‘so you’ll understand that when something like your body is private, only you get to choose who sees it. D’you understand that? And you should never have to feel uncomfortable about it. Do you understand that too?’

      She nodded, but I could see that her attention was all on the jigsaw. And even had it not been, this conversation – which, in theory, should be so straightforward – was very difficult. How could I tell a child that she shouldn’t allow strangers to see her naked, when I was a stranger myself? Yet here I was, calmly telling her that I’d be bathing her later.

      It was all wrong. At her age, I should have been able to explain that it was safe for her mummy and daddy to see her body, but, of course, in this case, I couldn’t even do that. Which was why issues around child abuse and grooming were all so fraught in such young children. Bar the usual sanctions about hitting – lashing out and being lashed out upon – they’d yet to have the first inkling that certain types of non-hostile touching were also wrong.

      She had no such anxieties, which made it all doubly depressing.

      ‘It’s okay,’ Darby said. ‘A body’s just skin and bones. Nothing to worry about.’ She attempted to fit the piece into the jigsaw in the wrong place. I looked helplessly at Mike. What a peculiar thing to say. She’d obviously been told it often. Skin and bones. Nothing to worry about. It was sick.

      But for Darby herself it was all completely normal. And that was the sickest thing of all.

      Darby was still running around in her pyjamas when John was due to arrive the next day – the pyjamas we’d bought for her and which she’d whooped in delight about, and which she was only too happy to allow me to change her into after she’d had her bath and I’d washed her hair. She was an affectionate little thing, but I keenly felt the abuse she’d suffered. And Mike, usually so physical with the little ones we fostered – the king of tickles and bear hugs – was at constant pains to avoid being physically close to her.

      And I completely understood that. In fact, when he had offered to take her to the park with him and Tyler while John visited – at Ty’s suggestion; he would be playing a game of five-a-side football – it was me who had vetoed the idea. Awful as it sounds, I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do. Should such a vulnerable child be alone with a male adult? I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to risk it. I had heard of such things before and knew that, as a precaution against any allegations, it was always better to have two adults around at all times. Instead, we decided that when John got here I would take him through to the conservatory, and Mike and Darby could make a game of preparing lunch.

      She was full of beans, too, having obviously – though she never actually voiced it – come to see her little stay as something of a holiday. That worried me as well. I’d have expected her to display more of her initial behaviours, and to keep remembering she missed her mum and dad. But she didn’t. Which meant potential attachment issues were a possibility in the mix. And that didn’t bode well at all.

      ‘Catch me, Casey!’ she yelled as she leapt through the air from the sofa. I held out my arms and almost got knocked over for my trouble. ‘Wow,’ I said as I placed her down, ‘either I’m getting too old for this or you are actually much, much bigger than six!’

      She squealed with delight. As with any little girl, age was very, very important to her. ‘I am six!’ she insisted, giggling. ‘Look,’ she said, lifting her pyjama top right up to her chin. ‘See! I don’t even got no boobies – only nipples yet!’

      I gently tugged the top down. ‘Darby, love, remember what I said? Your body is private, and you shouldn’t show it off.’

      She looked crestfallen – as if upset that she’d done something terribly naughty. But any further exploration of the subject would have to wait, as the knocker went and I heard Mike welcoming John.

      Which was good, because at least now I’d have a little more to go on. Though what that might comprise was anyone’s guess.

      ‘I’ll get straight to it,’ John said after we were settled in the conservatory. ‘And it’s not good, so fair warning, Casey. They found hundreds of images online during the investigation – pictures and videos, even evidence of a pay-per-view operation. And just as many physical photographs were found hidden in the house. All depicting children – including Darby, obviously. And all very definitely being –’ He paused and shook his head, as if to try to shake off the pictures. ‘Well, you know the drill. Being exploited and abused.’

      ‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘So it wasn’t just her parents then? This was part of a bigger picture?’

      John nodded. ‘Your regular common-or-garden paedophile ring, I’m afraid. The father’s still denying everything – though what good he thinks that’ll do him, I don’t know, given the evidence. Not to mention the fact that the mother’s admitted everything and is fully co-operating with the police.’

      I felt a glimmer of hope. ‘What’s she said?’

      ‘The usual. That her husband is some kind of monster. That he is violent and controlling and that she was in fear for her life. That she was too afraid of him – and his cronies – to do anything other than exactly what he told her. Says he brainwashed her into doing everything he said.’

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