even when it was really cold, I had to fight with her every day to stop her wearing just a T-shirt and shorts. There are days when she is on a relatively even keel, I suppose, though I couldn’t describe even those as good days. If we manage to get through a day without a full-scale tantrum, we’ve done extremely well. That’s very rare.’
Jill looked at me sympathetically. ‘You’re working tremendously hard, I know that. You’re doing a brilliant job, you really are.’
I smiled weakly. Compliments were nice, but what I really wanted was a good night’s sleep. I was constantly exhausted, and although my patience was just about lasting out I felt at the end of my tether.
We started walking back, pleased that the outing had so far passed without incident. The sun was still bright, but I was keen to capitalize on Jodie’s good behaviour. If we could get home without any drama, it would allow me to praise and reward her, and we could set a positive precedent for how a day out should go. Jill and I each took one of Jodie’s hands, as we ambled back through the park.
‘I must admit I’m concerned about the absence of any improvement,’ I said, using deliberately vague language so that Jodie wouldn’t realize that we were talking about her. ‘The disturbances are getting worse, especially at night.’
‘And have any of the disclosures dealt with the maternal presence as we discussed?’
‘No. She tells me about those events time and time again, but there’s hardly any new information coming out. Frankly I’m worried sick, things seem to be getting worse rather than better. Is there no practical advice you can give me?’ I tried to keep the edge of desperation from my voice.
‘No more than you’re already doing,’ Jill said sympathetically. ‘And to be honest there’s a limit to what you should be expected to cope with. It’s quite possible that the emotional trauma is so severe that only a therapeutic unit can put it right. I tell you what, I’ll have a look and see what’s available. I won’t do anything, I’ll just have a look.’
As we reached the corner of my street, I allowed Jodie to run ahead, while Jill and I walked in silence. I had been hoping for some practical advice, but the level of Jodie’s disturbance seemed to be outside Jill’s experience too. I was disappointed, but I vowed to press on. I saw Jodie had stopped further up, and was crouching with her back to me, intently focused on something in the gutter. ‘Jodie,’ I called. ‘What are you doing? Come here.’
She turned around, grinning, then held up a dead pigeon, proudly displaying it like a trophy. The bird’s head slumped sideways, and its breast had been torn open, so that its bloody insides were exposed. Jodie stared at it, fascinated.
‘Jodie! Put that down, right now!’ I said firmly. She stared at me, then slowly turned away, poking at the pigeon’s bloody flesh, and dropped it back in the gutter.
‘Yuck,’ Jill said.
I cupped Jodie’s elbows in my hands from behind and steered her, arms outstretched, towards the house. Jill got straight in her car without coming in, as she had another meeting to go to. I manoeuvred Jodie in through the front door and straight to the kitchen sink. She looked up at me as I filled the bowl with hot water and soap.
‘We had a nice time at the park, didn’t we, Cathy?’
Her face was flushed, happier than I’d seen her in weeks. I smiled back. I couldn’t be angry; after all she hadn’t really done anything wrong. But I was concerned at the ghoulish fascination the dead bird had inspired.
* * *
The next morning it was clear early on that something was different. Jodie wasn’t screaming at five o’clock, nor six, nor seven. I had time to shower, dress and dry my hair. I made the children’s packed lunches, and even drank a cup of coffee in peace. Then I started to worry.
I crept up the stairs, tiptoed to Jodie’s door, and listened. There was silence. She wasn’t even talking to herself, which she usually did continuously, even in her calmer moments. I knocked and went in. She was lying on top of the duvet, flat on her back, with her eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. She was so still that for a moment I feared she could be dead.
‘Jodie?’ I shook her shoulder. ‘Jodie?’ She gave a small twitch at the corner of her eye. ‘Jodie? What’s the matter? Are you ill?’
She didn’t move. Her arms and legs were held straight, so stiff it was like they were encased in concrete. I knew this wasn’t a fit, or at least not like any fit I’d ever seen. I placed my palm on her forehead. It was warm, but not feverish.
‘Jodie? Can you hear me?’
I shook her again, this time more robustly. ‘Jodie, look at me. Tell me what’s wrong. It’s Cathy. Jodie? Can you hear me?’
She blinked, then slowly turned to look at me. Her pupils were dilated, and there were large dark rings around her eyes. When she spoke, it was in a flat monotone. ‘He came here last night. You said he wouldn’t, but he did. I know, I know who it was.’
I knelt down, and held her hand tight. ‘No sweet, no one came here. You’ve remembered something and it seems real.’
‘I didn’t tell. I didn’t tell because she saw. She saw, Cathy. She saw, and didn’t stop him.’
‘Someone saw Daddy do naughty things to you?’
She nodded.
‘Who, sweet? Who was it?’
She stared straight at me, eyes wide with terror, her cheeks deathly pale. I could see the pulse throbbing in her neck.
‘Mummy. Mummy saw. I said make him stop but she didn’t. She laughed and watched. They all did.’
I turned cold. ‘They? There were others there?’
‘Uncle John, and Ken, and Aunt Bell. They took pictures when Uncle Mike did it.’
‘Uncle Mike?’
Her face was blank, she was looking at me and talking, but it was as though she was in a daze.
‘He lay on me, same as Daddy. I didn’t want to. It hurt. Daddy held me when it was Uncle Mike’s turn. I was shouting and screaming, so Daddy put his thing in my mouth. Aunt Bell said, “That’ll shut her up.” And they all laughed.’ She was shaking with fear.
I tried to hide my horror and concentrate on what I was hearing. I needed to make sure I remembered all the names and details, to get as much evidence as I could while she was talking. I didn’t know when or if she would open up again. I stroked her forehead, and whispered words of comfort.
‘Jodie, you’re safe now. The doors are locked and bolted. We have a very good alarm. No one can get in. What they did was the most dreadful thing any adult can do to a child. They are very wicked people, Jodie.’
She nodded, but without conviction. ‘They gave me lots of sweets and toys.’ She glanced at the overflowing toy boxes.
‘Did they buy all these?’ I asked. She nodded again. So that’s what they were – not presents, not things designed to bring pleasure; they were bribes, to buy silence and compliance. No wonder they meant nothing to her. ‘Jodie, good adults don’t buy children presents because
