parent everywhere – was to have my cherished grandchildren’s Christmas memories tainted. I wanted a Christmas without drama, or trauma, or sadness. I wanted not to have that evil eddying around in my house.
But it seemed it was.
‘Levi and Jackson wanted to play in the garden,’ Riley told us. ‘So I made them put their coats on, gave them the football and let them out the back. And I am so glad I did. Which left Darby and Marley, with the toy box emptied out, and as they had no interest in playing out, I was happy to leave them to it while I went and rustled up some hot dogs for lunch.
‘Next thing I know, Darby’s come into the kitchen, asking if they could have some chocolate spread. Course, I thought nothing of it – I just said no, and that they’d be having their lunch soon, so, after a bit of a pout, off she trotted. And that was that. Or so I thought.’
I felt the sinking feeling resolve itself into a cold, solid lump. We had elected to tell Riley so much, but only so much. Much less that we knew or ever wished to know.
‘And?’ Mike said.
‘Go on, love,’ I added. ‘Then what?’
‘Oh, Mum, it was awful,’ Riley went on. ‘It was vile. I didn’t hear anything for a bit, but then I heard Marley raising her voice – and sounding a bit weird, you know? So I went in to investigate. And there she was, standing in the middle of the living room with her leggings round her ankles and her hands in her pants.’ She lowered her voice to little more than a whisper. ‘And she’s thrusting her pelvis forward and there’s Darby, showing her how to do it, saying, “That’s it, pretend you’re licking chocolate spread off your twinkle and go ‘mmm’,” and all kinds of disgusting shit like that. Christ only knows what I’d have found if I’d given her the bloody Cadbury’s jar.’
It wasn’t often that my daughter swore – it wasn’t her style. And not often that my husband’s face turned so pale. ‘You have got to be joking,’ Mike said, knowing she was doing no such thing. ‘No way, Riley!’ He turned to me. ‘Casey, we can’t have this, we can’t. Not with the kids.’
I was still taking it in. ‘What did you do?’ I asked Riley.
‘I just picked Marley up, and told Darby that she wasn’t to play games like that. Which, of course, made no sense to her at all. She was just playing “growd ups” – no, sorry – playing for the “growd ups”.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘Just what kind of terrible things did her parents do to her? I’m in shock, Mum. No, really. I could hardly believe what I was seeing. Licking chocolate spread off her crotch? Jesus! Thank God the boys weren’t there, that’s all. I don’t know how I’d have even begun to explain it to them.’
I felt awful. ‘Is Marley okay?’ I asked. ‘Did she say anything?’
Riley shook her head, almost irritably. ‘No, she’s fine, Mum. Of course she is. She was fine right away. I just told her it was a stupid game and that little girls shouldn’t play it. And to be honest she seems to have forgotten all about it. As does your little mada –’ She checked herself. ‘As does Darby. But, Christ, Mum. What were they thinking, sending a child like that into a family?’
And I knew Riley had a point. And I could see Mike agreed, which didn’t surprise me one bit. ‘You need to phone John,’ he said, his jaw set.
‘I will,’ I said, ‘but, you know, Darby won’t even know she’s done anything wrong, will she? It’s not like it’s her fault. She’s only acting out what she knows.’
‘I’m already aware of that,’ Mike snapped. And I understood his annoyance, too. We had been here before, sadly. More than once. No, there was no harm done. But there were limits to how much we should expect to have to deal with. Again, that sense of evil visiting us was strong in me. ‘Sorry, love,’ Mike said immediately. ‘But I’m afraid we’re not guinea pigs. Casey, abused children can’t just come here and carry on with our kids and grandchildren. It’s not right!’
Mike had a very good point. As did Riley. None of this was Darby’s fault – she’d been abused so horrendously. She’d suffered so much, and not least because she didn’t even appear to see it as suffering. An inconvenience sometimes, yes – her comment about not wanting to put on high heels and lipstick made that obvious. But she obviously did what she was told on that sleazy ‘film set’ – perhaps even derived some weird, non-sexual pleasure from her parents’ doubtless lavish attention and stage direction. And the worst of it was that she had no idea that what she did, and what they did to her, was depraved. That her parents, whom she loved, were so abusing her. For money. The term ‘ill-gotten gains’ never seemed so apt.
So she was an innocent victim, clearly. But Mike was right, too. Perhaps we weren’t the best people for her to be around. In a situation like this, did we have the luxury of putting her needs first? I doubted it. We had to think of the well-being of our own family.
You’re right,’ I said, my mind made up. ‘I will go and phone John and see if there is somewhere else she can go. Perhaps someone who doesn’t have any children.’
But Riley surprised me, as she does sometimes. She immediately shook her head. ‘You can’t do that, Mum,’ she said. ‘Dad, she can’t. That would be too cruel. There was no harm done,’ she added, as my eyes widened in shock. ‘Marley is too young to have understood what was going on, and Darby didn’t know any different, did she? No, it would be too cruel to abandon her – especially so close to Christmas. We’ll just have to make sure we don’t leave any of the kids alone, won’t we?’
‘Too bloody right,’ Mike said, pushing his chair back and standing up. ‘Not for a moment,’ he said, going to unfold the partition doors. ‘It’s all right us knowing that she can’t help it,’ he added before he opened them. ‘But there’s no way our family should suffer for it. No way. And, Casey, you make sure you report it.’
‘And now she knows it’s unacceptable, perhaps that will be the end of it,’ I soothed.
Perhaps. After all, she was only a little girl.
Chapter 6
John Fulshaw was sympathetic when I called him the following morning, obviously. But he was also anxious to confirm that we’d keep Darby for a bit longer, which I assured him we would, because Riley’s unexpected words had hit home. She was right. We couldn’t abandon Darby. Not at Christmas. Not at all, perhaps. Not once she’d settled in.
About which I was beginning to feel very ambivalent. ‘So we’ll be keeping a very close eye on her,’ I told John. ‘And, if you’ve no objections, I’ll have my whole our bodies are private chat with her. She’s old enough to hear it. Though whether it sinks in or not is another thing.’
‘A good idea,’ John agreed. ‘Because I’m certainly not going to be able to get anything organised with CAMHS before Christmas. Flying pigs being pretty thin on the ground right now.’
CAMHS stood for the Child and Adolescent Mental Health Service. Usually, with foster children, anything that constituted counselling was dealt with by them. Which was the best way – we provided care, and a safe place and routine; matters of emotional health, when it came to the big, complicated things, were best left to those who’d been trained to give such help. ‘And I’ll stop by tomorrow, if you’re around,’ he said, ‘because some other things have come to light now, and I’d like to put you properly in the picture.’
