Necessary as Blood

“When she saw me, she put her arm round me and led me inside. She turned on the lights, and fed me, and ran me a bath. Then she sat up all night in the chair in my sitting room while I slept.” Now tears ran down Hazel’s cheeks, unchecked. “And when I woke up yesterday morning, I knew I couldn’t betray her care. So I have been trying to put myself back together, to think things through, to begin to make amends for the person I’ve let myself become. And I wanted to start with Charlotte…Somehow my…callousness…seemed the ultimate failure. Do you see?”

Gemma fumbled in her bag for a packet of tissues, remembering her own shock at Hazel’s behavior, trying to work out what to say. “I think I do understand. But, Hazel, nothing you’ve done is irredeemable. You’re just human, and humans make mistakes. The important thing is to remember that Tim and Holly love you-we all love you. Don’t shut us out. Don’t shut me out.” She handed Hazel a tissue and waited while Hazel blew her nose. “I’m your best friend, and if I haven’t made a very good job of it, I’m going to do better.

“Now,” she said with decision as she zipped her bag, “you’re going to ring Tim, and then you’re coming back to the house with me. Wesley’s made cake for Charlotte, but he promised to leave us a bit.”

“Oh, Gemma,” Hazel said, accepting the hand Gemma held out for a boost up. “You should have seen Wes with Charlotte. She followed him around like a little duckling. Do you think he’ll be allowed to visit once she goes to her grandmother?”

“What?” Gemma stared at her, frowning. “What are you talking about? What do you mean ‘once she goes to her grandmother’?”

“Didn’t the social worker call you?”

Gemma fought a rising flood of panic. “There must be a mistake. I talked to her earlier this afternoon. Sandra’s sister had petitioned for custody, but Mrs. Silverman said she has a record of neglecting her own kids, so that’s out. There was nothing about the grandmother. When they contacted her on Sunday, she said she didn’t want Charlotte.”

“Um.” Hazel looked at Gemma a little warily. “Mrs. Silverman rang Betty while I was there. It seems as though Sandra’s mother has changed her mind.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Spitalfields had been London’s main Huguenot district and later a Jewish neighborhood. Close to the port, it and neighboring Whitechapel were first stops for many aspiring immigrants. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries Bethnal Green was a haven and staging-post for Huguenot refugees escaping from persecution in France, who made an enormous contribution to the architectural, economic and demographic history of East London…

– Geoff Dench, Kate Gavron, Michael Young, The New East End

“You can’t possibly consider letting Sandra Gilles’s mother have Charlotte.”

“Inspector James.” Janice Silverman’s voice, usually cheerfully friendly, had taken on a frosty note. “I appreciate your concerns. But you, of all people, should understand that you have to let us do our job.”

Gemma took a breath and loosened her grip on the phone. Yesterday evening, she’d talked to Betty, confirming what Hazel had told her about Charlotte. Then this morning she’d snatched the first free moment in her office to ring Janice Silverman. “Of course,” she said, trying to sound conciliatory. “But from what we’ve heard, Gail Gilles is not at all suitable-”

“Gail Gilles is Charlotte Malik’s grandmother, her nearest living relative. As such, we have to give her due consideration. That doesn’t mean”-she went on before Gemma could interrupt again-“that we will ignore the issues you’ve raised. Charlotte will stay with Mrs. Howard for the time being. I’ve explained to Ms. Gilles that her sons need to move out of the flat, and that we’ll be checking to ensure that they have done so. We’ll be initiating a home study, and I’ll present the results of our findings to the family court judge at the next hearing.”

“And when will that be?” asked Gemma.

There was a rustle of pages, as if Silverman were checking a paper diary. “Two weeks from yesterday, unless there’s a delay. Of course, you should attend if you have any information that would be helpful to the judge- although I’d suggest it be concrete.”

The phrases “home study” and “family court hearing” were all too rawly familiar to Gemma. She’d assumed that when Silverman said, “But you, of all people,” she’d been referring to Gemma’s work as a police officer. But now she wondered if Silverman had checked the records and found that Gemma and Kincaid had themselves fought Kit’s maternal grandmother for custody.

And won, with good reason, she reminded herself, but a cursory review by someone who hadn’t known the parties involved might make her seem a bit of a nutter.

And was she? she thought, feeling suddenly shaken.

Was the fact that she and Duncan knew firsthand how much damage a supposedly benign grandparent could inflict on a vulnerable child, making her overly sensitive?

Maybe, she had to admit, although no amount of rationalizing could dispel her gut feeling that this child was at risk. And if there was no one else to champion her, Gemma couldn’t afford to alienate the social worker.

To Mrs. Silverman, she said with as much composure as she could muster, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

“You could benefit Charlotte most by helping her adjust to her foster home.” The nip in Silverman’s voice had thawed, but now Gemma just wanted to get off the phone and think.

“I’ll do whatever I can to help Charlotte, and Betty,” she said, adding, “Thanks for your time, Mrs. Silverman.”

Melody came in as Gemma ended the call. “Coffee run,” she said, handing Gemma a Starbucks cup with a plastic top. “How did it go?”

“She thinks I have a grudge against grannies.” Gemma sipped, wincing as the still-scalding latte burned the roof of her mouth.

“And do you?” Melody perched on the edge of a chair and sipped her own coffee as if she were Asbestos Woman.

“You think I’m overreacting because of Eugenia?” Gemma worked the lid off the coffee and watched the stream rise in a little cloud. Kit’s grandmother seemed to have become more mentally unstable, and these days it was only his grandfather Bob who came for the scheduled monthly visits. On the last occasion he’d confided that he didn’t know how much longer he could care for Eugenia on his own.

“No, there’s no doubt that she was seriously off her rocker,” answered Melody. “But what about your family? Do you get on with your grandparents?”

“I only vaguely remember my mum’s folks. They died within months of each other when Cyn and I were little. My mum always said they never really recovered from the war. And my dad…my dad never even talks about his family. He left home when he was thirteen and never went back.”

“Can’t have been a good situation, then. But Duncan’s parents are all right?”

“They’re lovely. And you’re beginning to sound like a caseworker,” Gemma added with a touch of asperity. And that was unusual, she realized, as Melody tended to avoid discussing personal matters. “What about you?” she asked, giving tit for tat.

“Oh, I was hatched from aliens,” Melody said with a grin, then quickly sobered. “So what are you going to do about little Charlotte?”

If Gemma knew about self-serving grandmothers because of their experience with Kit, she also knew that the social services’ home studies were undertaken thoroughly and responsibly. But she realized that in the last few minutes her worry had hardened into resolve. She was not willing to trust Charlotte Malik’s fate to the bureaucratic machine.

“I think,” she said, “that I want to have a nice, long talk with Gail Gilles.”

Kincaid stepped out of the buzz of the Bethnal Green incident room to take Gemma’s call. He listened, nodding at passersby in the corridor whose faces were already becoming familiar.

“No, I don’t want to talk to Gail Gilles yet,” he said when he could get a word in edgewise. “And I don’t want