‘Why didn’t I see it?’ I say to Lipton, tears running down my face. ‘I’ve reported on enough cases of this kind of abuse.’
‘I suppose it’s not something you’d expect to find right under your nose,’ says Lipton. ‘And in such a quiet residential street. I know it’s taken us by surprise.’
She looks up at Walker and smiles, perhaps hoping to exonerate him from his negligence.
‘Well it shouldn’t,’ I say abruptly.
She doesn’t know how wrong she is. We’re all of us, every day, just a hair’s breadth away from evil. If I’ve learned anything from over fifteen years of reporting, it’s that. But I couldn’t expect these people to understand.
I stand up.
‘Listen, we’ll be in touch, Ms Rafter, but in the meantime we’ve arranged for a social worker from Kent Child Services to come and speak to you. They can go through your options.’
‘Options?’
‘For the care of Hannah and David,’ she says. ‘They’ll be able to talk through the next steps. Temporary accommodation, counselling, possible foster care for the boy.’
‘That won’t be necessary,’ I say briskly. ‘I’ll be looking after Hannah and David now. It’s what Sally would have wanted.’
Lipton nods. ‘Well, the help is there if you need it,’ she says. ‘Hannah and David will need a lot of support and counselling to help them recover from this.’
‘I understand,’ I say, David’s cries still ringing in my ears.
‘And if there’s anything else you need,’ says Lipton, handing me a card, ‘please don’t hesitate to get in touch. You’ll find my direct number there and the contact details for your liaison officer at Kent Child Services.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, taking the card.
‘Oh, and there’s just one more thing,’ says Lipton. ‘Fida Rahmani has asked to see you.’
I shake my head furiously.
‘No,’ I say. ‘I don’t want to see her.’
‘She said she had something to tell you,’ says Lipton. ‘She’s in Ward Three. It’s up to you. Whatever you feel is best. Goodbye, Ms Rafter. We’ll be in touch.’
She’s lying in the bed while a female police officer sits on a plastic chair by the door. The police officer nods as I walk in and Fida looks up. Her face has been cleaned up but she still doesn’t look good.
‘Hello,’ I say as I reach the bed.
She nods her head drowsily.
‘Thank you for coming,’ she says. ‘Sit down.’
‘I’m not staying long,’ I reply.
‘Please,’ she says, gesturing to a chair.
‘Okay, just for a few minutes,’ I say, sitting down.
‘I’m sorry about your sister,’ she says.
‘Are you?’
‘Of course,’ she says. ‘I should never have got her involved. I should have just called the police.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I say. ‘I begged and pleaded with you to tell me. I could have helped you.’
‘I wanted to,’ she says, wiping her eyes with the thin blanket. ‘And I almost did. But then one night Paul came to the house. He said you’d told him I’d been speaking to you. He beat me. Little David tried to stop him and he ended up getting a fist in his face. It was terrifying. I thought he was going to kill us.’
She stops and blows her nose with a tissue.
‘Later that night,’ continues Fida, ‘when Paul had left, I told David to go and find you; to ask for your help. He was scared but I told him to be brave, that you weren’t a monster. Paul used to tell him the world was full of evil people, to stop him running away. But I told him you were kind. That your name was Kate and you’d help us.’
‘But he couldn’t find me?’
‘No, he did,’ she says. ‘But he said you were asleep in a chair and when he tried to wake you, you screamed at him. He was so scared he ran away.’
I shiver as I recall the blood on my hands and face. Little David’s blood. Why did I take those stupid pills? If I hadn’t been so reliant on them then Sally would still be here. I remember Fida coming to the door with a cut on her face the following night, the night I was arrested. And David staring up at me from the rose patch with a black eye. All because I’d asked Paul about his tenants.
I stand up from the chair. I need to get out of here now. I need to mourn my sister properly.
‘I’m sorry, Fida,’ I say. ‘For everything you’ve been through.’
I take a notepad and pen out of my bag and scribble my phone number on to it.
‘Here,’ I say, handing it to her. ‘If you need me for anything at all, call me on this number.’
Her eyes fill with tears as she holds the paper to her chest.
‘Oh,’ she gasps. ‘Oh, that would be . . .’
She starts to sob.
‘Shh,’ I whisper. ‘It’s all over now. He can’t hurt you any more. You’ll get through this, okay?’
She looks up at me and nods.
‘I’m sorry, Kate,’ she says. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘I know you are.’
I nod to the policewoman and make my way out. When I get to the door I look back. Fida has curled up on her side. She is still holding the piece of paper, clutching it to her chest like a sleeping child.
47