Maria Goldman was the senior official amongst them: senior in experience if not in years. At thirty, she’d worked in Brixton and Islington before moving to Hackney.
She’d found no resentment from her older colleagues.
One of them was in the room now.
Valerie Weston swept her short brown hair away from her forehead in a gesture that implied habit rather than necessity.
A nervous habit perhaps.
At the moment she had plenty to be nervous about.
Juliana Procon chewed the end of her pen, her eyes fixed on a sheaf of papers spread before her. There were drawings on some of them. She swallowed hard and pushed one of the drawings out of sight beneath more paper, her attention drawn towards the head of the table where Maria Goldman coughed, kept her hand over her mouth for a moment, then finally raised her gaze to look at her companions. She could feel the beginnings of a headache gnawing at the base of her skull.
It was almost 1.46 p.m.
It had already been a long day and she feared there was much more to come.
She took a sip of coffee, wincing when she found it was cold; then she cleared her throat again and glanced around the table at the other women.
She found it hard to disguise the weary look on her face.
1 thought it best to call a break,’ Maria said, looking at her colleagues. ‘I think we all need it.’
Nikki Parsons nodded, her hand still shaking slightly.
‘I wondered if anyone had any comments to make before we examine the first set of statements,’ Maria continued.
The women seemed reluctant to speak, but it was Janice Hedden who finally broke the uneasy silence.
‘How many more children are there to interview?’
‘Eight,’ Maria told her.
‘Same age range?’
Maria nodded.
‘The ones I spoke to seemed very afraid’ Janice continued. ‘Mainly that they weren’t going to see their parents again. The younger ones in particular.’
‘That’s only natural’ Maria said.
‘It seems to be about the only thing concerned with this case that is’ Val Weston offered.
‘I’ve never seen or heard anything like it’ Nikki Parsons echoed, her voice
low.
‘Do you think any of them are lying?’ Maria asked.
‘It’s possible, but most of the stories seem too complex to have been invented’ Nikki continued. ‘Especially by children so young.’
‘Janice, you said the children you spoke to seemed afraid’ Juliana interjected. ‘I noticed that too, but not so much afraid of their parents as of …’ she shrugged, struggling to find the words. ‘Of what might happen to their parents. They didn’t seem afraid for themselves, just puzzled by what had happened to them.’
‘Some of them spoke out without too much prompting’ Val Weston said. ‘The others were difficult, some still haven’t spoken.’
‘Any physical evidence of abuse?’ Maria wanted to know.
‘On two of them’ said Nikki.
‘One’ Janice added.
‘Three of them I interviewed’ Juliana said.
‘Val? What about yours?’ Maria asked.
‘Just the odd scratch or bruise’ Val Weston said.
‘I saw one boy who was scarred quite badly’ Maria confessed. ‘He told me how it happened but he wouldn’t show me the injuries below his waist.’ She swallowed hard. ‘He said that a stick had been pushed into his bottom, that it was painful when he went to the toilet.’
‘When’s the doctor arriving?’ Nikki asked.
‘He’s here now’ Maria replied. ‘He’s examining all of the children.’
‘A three-year-old boy and a six-year-old girl I spoke to reported having objects pushed into them’ Val added. ‘The girl drew that when I asked her to describe the object.’
Val pushed a piece of paper towards Maria.
On it was a cylindrical object scrawled in red crayon, round tipped and about six inches long.
Maria nodded slowly.
‘There were no physical signs, though,’ Val continued.
‘And you’re all sure that none of the children had a chance to speak to each other before you interviewed them?’ said Maria, looking at the other women.
‘There’s no way they could have worked out stories between them?’
The others shook their heads.
‘All right’ Maria said, wearily. ‘We’ll look at the statements now. I’ll start.’ She lifted the top sheet from the pile of papers at her left elbow and scanned it, her eyes narrowing slightly. ‘This is from a four-year-old, Alex Cutler.’ She traced the words with the tip of her finger as she read: ‘“They make you stand in a circle and they laugh at you and sometimes I cried but then some more uncles and aunts come and they put the baby on the floor and then everyone walks around with their arms up and they shout. And you can see their willies. And then one of my uncles jumped on the baby.”’
‘Aunts and uncles,’ murmured Nikki. ‘The children I spoke to called them that.’
‘It’s common. The abusers make the children feel as if they’re some kind of extended family members. Aunts and uncles covers a multitude of sins,’ said Maria, cryptically. In more ways than one.’
She flipped through the sheaf of papers before her.
‘This is from a six-year-old’ she said, sucking in a tired breath. ‘“I loved my puppy but they killed it. They cut off its head and put the blood in a cup.”’
‘“Sometimes they used animals and they stuck a knife in them and then they put the blood in a jug’” Nikki read, holding a piece of paper before her.
‘“They stick swords in the cats and kill them and they made me drink the blood,”’ Janice added.
Maria ran a hand through her hair and sat back in her seat.
‘Nearly every statement mentions the killing of animals,’ she murmured.
‘Not the usual paedophile pursuit, is it?’ Juliana offered.
Maria shook her head.
‘Why animals?’ Janice asked.
Maria had no answer. She had her eyes fixed on the sheet of paper in front of her, the drawing on it.
‘The children I spoke to mentioned cameras’ Val Weston said. ‘That one of the uncles always had a camera, that he was taking pictures of them when they had no clothes on.’
‘I saw one of those video cameras taking pictures of the baby’ Juliana read.
‘They made me touch Uncle Paul’s willy. I had to put my hands on it and he put it in my mouth and it tasted funny and they took photos’” said Nikki, quietly.
‘That statement is from a six-year-old boy.’ Her jaws were clenched tightly together, the knot of muscles there pulsing angrily.
‘We’ll finish interviewing the other children today,’ Maria told her colleagues. ‘Once we’ve been through all the statements and I’ve got the medical reports from the doctor, we’ll run through what we’ve got again.’
‘I would have thought it was obvious what we’ve got, Maria,’ Nikki said, scathingly. ‘A paedophile ring. How much proof do you need?’
Maria Goldman kept her gaze fixed on the sheet of paper before her, eyes tracing the outlines of the shape which had been drawn there.
‘I have no doubt that you’re right, Nikki’ she said, touching the scrawled image with her finger. ‘I just hope that’s all we’ve got.’
