wouldn’t be my friend any more.’ I passed her a tissue, and waited while she blew her nose.
‘Don’t upset yourself, pet. You’ll make lots of new friends now.’
‘But she was my best, best friend. And she came to my house. But then she wasn’t allowed, because of what I said.’
My sleep-fuddled brain started to focus. ‘What did you say? I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. Friends fall out all the time, Jodie, even best ones.’
She shook her head. ‘I told her. About Mummy and Daddy and Uncle Mike. And she told her mummy and daddy, and they said she couldn’t come and play. Her mummy said it was a bad house. But I’m not bad, am I, Cathy?’
I held her closer to me. ‘No, sweet, of course you’re not bad. She meant what was happening to you was bad. It was never your fault. You mustn’t think that.’ As I comforted her, my mind was whirring. She had told someone. Other adults had been made aware of the abuse. Could this be the third-party evidence that was needed to secure a prosecution? I was fully awake now.
‘You did right to tell, Jodie. Her mummy and daddy should have told the police instead of stopping her from playing. What was her name? Can you remember? It’s important.’
She sniffed. ‘Louise Smith. She lived next door. I won’t tell my new friends, will I, Cathy?’
‘No, there’s no need. You can tell me anything you want, and you know that I’ll do something about it.’
She sniffed and managed a smile.
‘Good girl. You did the right thing. Now I want you to try and get some sleep. We don’t want you tired for tomorrow.’
I tucked her in, and stroked her forehead until her eyes closed. I was tense and focused. Jodie had had the courage to tell someone, but that courage had not only gone unrewarded but, in her eyes, it had led to further punishment, as she had been prevented from seeing her friend. I could imagine why Louise’s parents had kept quiet: they hadn’t wanted to get involved, and they’d wanted to protect their own child. However, by keeping quiet they’d left an innocent victim open to further abuse. All they needed to have done was to make an anonymous phone call to the NSPCC, the Social Services or the police, and that would have been enough to start an enquiry. Whenever this kind of allegation is made, the police or Social Services have to look into it.
I went back to bed, but I couldn’t settle. In the end I gave up, and went downstairs and made myself some hot chocolate. I stood in the kitchen, warming my hands on the hot mug. There were wider implications to what Jodie had said. Living next door, the Smiths must have seen the comings and goings. They probably knew who these so-called aunts, uncles and granddads were, by face, if not by name. If the police interviewed the Smiths now, with the allegations out in the open, surely they’d have to tell the truth? I knew the council estate where Jodie had grown up well; I’d looked after kids from there before. It was a tight-knit, closely bound community, where everyone seemed to be in and out of each other’s houses. How many other residents had known what was going on, but remained silent, fearful of the potential consequences? How did they sleep at night?
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