LITMIR.BIZ

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has my mobile number. Tell her to phone me if she’s worried at all.’

      ‘I will,’ I said.

      We said goodbye and I repeated what Norma had said to Zeena. I also told her that while I hadn’t personally met this police officer, all the others I’d worked with had been very nice and were specially trained and highly sensitive to children’s feelings, so to try not to worry.

      I then reminded Zeena that we had to telephone Tara.

      ‘Can you do it, please?’ she said, now clearly overwhelmed.

      I dialled Tara’s number but it went through to her voicemail, so I left a message asking her to phone back when she was free. When a child first comes into care there are always a lot of appointments and telephone calls, and then it usually calms down a little.

      Paula appeared from the front room carrying printed copies of her CV and covering letter. ‘Can you check them, please, Mum?’ she asked.

      ‘Of course, love.’ Zeena stayed on the sofa as I read through Paula’s application. ‘It’s good,’ I said. ‘Well done.’

      ‘I’ll put it in the post on the way to school tomorrow,’ she said. Then, looking at Zeena and seeing how dejected she was, she asked her: ‘Would you like some help with your unpacking?’

      Zeena’s little face brightened. It was so sad and touching. ‘Yes, please,’ she said politely. ‘That’s very kind of you. You’re all being so nice to me. I don’t deserve it.’ Her eyes filled, as did Paula’s.

      ‘Of course you deserve it,’ I said. ‘You’re a lovely girl, and don’t ever forget that.’

      While I made dinner, Paula helped Zeena unpack the laundry bag she’d brought from home. They also put the first case – with all the beaded outfits – out of the way under her bed. Lucy arrived home and, saying hi to me, went upstairs and joined Paula and Zeena in her room. I could hear them talking and then laughing and all getting along. It was just what Zeena needed, I thought. I also thought that Paula and Lucy were appreciating Zeena’s company. We often fostered much younger children, many with challenging behaviour, which meant Lucy’s and Paula’s roles and the way they had to relate to the children were very different. Now they could all get along as friends and equals, and it was lovely to hear them.

      Tara returned my phone call as I was making dinner and I took the call in the kitchen. I told her about Zeena’s visit home. She was shocked and said she’d raise it with Zeena’s parents when she saw them – she still hadn’t managed to speak to them yet. I also told her that Norma had telephoned and was coming to see Zeena the following day at five. Tara thanked me and then asked what Zeena was doing now.

      ‘She’s with Paula and Lucy,’ I said. ‘They helped her unpack and now they are chatting.’

      ‘OK. I won’t disturb her. Tell her I phoned, please.’

      ‘I will.’

      I hung up and went upstairs. Zeena’s bedroom door was open and the three girls were sitting on her bed, chatting. Zeena had changed out of her school uniform into a pair of jeans and a long shirt she’d brought from home. She looked more relaxed. I told her that Tara had telephoned and what she’d said.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said politely.

      I smiled and came out.

      The four of us ate together and then the girls disappeared back upstairs, this time to Paula’s bedroom, where they continued chatting and laughing. I took the opportunity to write up my log notes and also put the finishing touches to the foster-carer training I was presenting on Monday. Adrian came in at eight, showered, ate and said he was going out to meet ‘a friend’. This was happening more frequently recently and judging from the amount of aftershave and body spray he used in the bathroom, I guessed he had a new girlfriend. Adrian was a private person and I knew he would bring her home to meet us when he felt the time was right.

      At nine o’clock I went upstairs to Paula’s room where the girls were still gathered and suggested that as everyone had to be up in the morning they’d better start taking turns in the bathroom. ‘You’re the youngest, so you can go first,’ Lucy said jokingly to Zeena.

      ‘That’s fine with me,’ Zeena said lightly. ‘It’ll be a treat. I’m usually last at home. I have to bath the little ones first and get them into bed.’

      ‘Not all of them? Every night?’ Lucy asked.

      Zeena nodded and went to fetch her wash things from her room before going to the bathroom.

      ‘She’s treated like a slave at home!’ Lucy said, annoyed, once Zeena was in the bathroom and couldn’t hear.

      ‘I think she’s expected to do too much,’ I said. ‘I’ve raised it with Tara. Has Zeena said anything to you about abuse?’ I asked them both.

      ‘Not really,’ Paula said. ‘Just what her life is like at home and that she’s missing her brothers and sisters.’

      ‘I know. Tara’s hoping to arrange some contact soon. The child protection police officer is coming at five tomorrow,’ I reminded them, so that they wouldn’t be surprised when they walked in and found a stranger in the house.

      When I went into Zeena’s room to say goodnight she was talking on her mobile. She cut the call as soon as I entered and I thought she looked almost guilty.

      ‘Is everything all right?’ I asked her.

      ‘Yes. It was just a friend,’ she said, not meeting my eyes.

      Like many teenagers, Zeena spent a lot of time on her phone, texting, and sometimes she would leave the room to answer a call. However, I was slightly surprised to see a second mobile phone lying on her bed. ‘Lucky you. Two phones?’ I said, nonchalantly.

      ‘I don’t use that one, it doesn’t work properly,’ she said, and quickly pushed it under the pillow.

      I thought no more about this at the time. It was later that I learned the horrific significance of that second phone.

      DI Norma Jones’s visit the following day didn’t go well. Despite her being a very pleasant plain-clothed officer with a reassuring, confident manner, Zeena wouldn’t talk to her. When she arrived she asked to see Zeena alone, so I left the two of them in the living room and busied myself in the kitchen. When a younger child had to see a child protection officer I was usually asked to stay to help reassure them. Fifteen minutes later Norma came to find me. ‘Zeena isn’t able to tell me anything at present, so I’ll be going,’ she said. I could see she was disappointed.

      ‘Is Zeena upset?’ I asked.

      ‘No. But she won’t give me any details of her abuse or abuser, so there is very little I can do at present. I’ve done all I can to try to reassure her but she’s been scared into silence. We’ll keep the file open and hope that she’ll be able to tell me in time. She has my telephone number, but here’s my card if you need me.’

      I took the business card, which had the police insignia in one corner and Norma’s rank, name and contact details beneath. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had a wasted trip.’

      ‘It’s frustrating,’ she admitted. ‘I’m a hundred per cent certain she’s been badly abused, but with no evidence I can’t proceed. Tara told me about the run-in she had with her mother last night. I’ll be seeing both her parents soon. I take it Zeena hasn’t disclosed anything to you?’

      ‘No, I would have told Tara,’ I said. ‘Zeena talks about her family and all the work she’s expected to do, but that’s all.’

      ‘All right,’ Norma said, with a small sigh. ‘When she’s been here a while and feels safer she may start to open up.’

      ‘I hope so,’ I said.

      I saw her out, and then checked on Zeena, who was still in the living room. She asked if it was

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