LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter 18

      And it was to the future, and only there, that I now resolved to look. Which was why when, a few days later, at the end of half-term week, I got an unexpected call from Danny, I had all but forgotten our recent conversation. Or, if not quite forgotten, had put out of my mind. It had been something of little consequence, after all; just my usual need to have loose threads tied up, with a fanciful bolt-on of imagining there might be something in Keeley’s file that might give her self-esteem a boost – a link to her past that we could perhaps revisit without causing her more pain. After all, I knew more than one retired social worker personally who sometimes wrote to former charges, sent birthday cards even – and, oh how precious those connections were once made.

      But it turned out that there was much more to it than that. ‘I tracked her down,’ Danny was saying, once he’d reiterated why he was calling and my brain had finally clicked into gear. ‘I felt bad, to be honest,’ he said. ‘You know, after that chat we’d had before.’

      ‘Why on earth?’ I was shocked to hear this, having accepted his reasoning.

      ‘Because you made a valid point. That her future had been decided – her extremely lonely future – on the basis of a statement made by a traumatised four-year-old. Anyway, suitably humbled, I bring tentatively positive news.’

      I begged to differ. One of the plus points of being at the sharp end, i.e. living with a child who was in the care system, as opposed to just visiting, was that, with a fair wind and a keen ear, there were all sorts of occasions where ‘right place, right time’ dynamics kicked in. I’d been lucky. It was often thus. I said so. ‘Anyway, what news?’ I added before he could disagree with me.

      ‘Tell you what – I’ll pop round, shall I? Better to run through it in person. Well, if you can come up with a time when Keeley’s otherwise engaged? I know it’s half-term, but –’

      ‘No problem,’ I said, excited now. ‘Leave it with me.’

      So it was that the same afternoon, with Tyler out anyway, and having sneakily dispatched Keeley round to Riley’s (so she could help with some firework-night kids’ party she was making decorations for – totally spurious but credible) I opened the front door to a decidedly cheerful-looking twenty-something social worker, clutching a manila folder against his jacket.

      ‘I’ve managed to comb through a load of old material,’ he said after settling down on the sofa with a mug of tea and a plate of biscuits. From my stock of posh biscuits. I had a hunch he’d be deserving them. ‘Did you notice the gap in her records?’

      I shook my head. I’d not paid that much attention to the dates. I rarely did.

      ‘Well, there is one. The small matter of an unaccounted-for couple of months. I don’t suppose you would notice – not unless you were actually looking for it. As I was, of course, because I was trying to marry up this Mrs Higgins with the dates on Keeley’s file.’

      ‘So what happened in the gap?’

      ‘Precisely my question. It wasn’t long after she entered the system – a matter of days, that’s all – and my first thought was that she might have left the system for a bit, obviously. Gone to a family member or something.’

      Which could have been the case, because this happened reasonably regularly. Children were taken into care as emergencies and then a relative would step in, step up and offer to take them on, and, after all the necessary checks were undertaken this was sometimes what happened. A win-win situation for all concerned. And no more contact with social services, file closed.

      But sometimes caring relatives bit off more than they could chew, and the children were subsequently returned to the system, creating a lose-lose situation instead. A child traumatised, then relieved at being back with known faces, then, their hopes dashed, traumatised all over again. I knew gaps in records were often because of situations like these.

      But this hadn’t apparently been the case with Keeley. Mrs Higgins had been assigned to her after a couple of days in care, and had been looking after her when she was moved to her intended long-term foster carer, a Mrs Stewart, where Keeley had spent the first fortnight.

      ‘By the time the children were interviewed the other four had already been moved along,’ Danny explained. Only Keeley had remained where she was.’

      I nodded. We both already knew this was often the case – a troubled ten-year-old probably being harder to place.

      ‘So at that point, the four-year-old’s statement had already been made?’ I asked. ‘And Keeley, in her own interview, had confirmed it?’

      Danny nodded. ‘But there the plot thickened. Apparently Mrs Stewart had called Mrs Higgins a couple of days later, to report a disclosure Keeley had subsequently made, which cast doubt over the interpretation of the earlier things she’d said. In fact, it was Mrs Stewart’s belief that Keeley had in fact meant the opposite.’

      ‘About guarding the door for him?’

      ‘Exactly. Apparently Keeley had been guarding the bedroom door, but to try and keep the man out, not in. He’d gone in anyway, and apparently she’d followed him and tried to fight him, but he’d thrown her out, and she’d fallen at the door. And there she’d stayed, sobbing, while whatever went on happened, and there she’d been found when the police arrived at the scene. Mother was apparently downstairs, tripped out.’

      ‘So – obvious question – why has nobody seen this before?’

      ‘Simple answer. Because Mrs Higgins, pretty old school – liked to write stuff, apparently – I know, weird – had duly entered it in her log, but, ill with flu at the time, hadn’t called into the office with her report. Would have put it in an email eventually, no doubt, but events overtook her. She developed pneumonia and was hospitalised, meaning Keeley got reassigned to Mrs Banks, and then, shortly after that, moved on to the Burkes. And Mrs Stewart – who I’ve now spoken to – obviously thought it had, and that the decisions had been made about contact between the siblings had been made with the benefit of that new information. Or, more accurately, despite it. It was only after she twigged that Mrs Higgins might not have even relayed that information that she called the line manager to make sure it had.’

      ‘But it hadn’t.’

      ‘It hadn’t. So she reiterated what Keeley had told her. And was told that it didn’t really make a lot of difference now. Though there was no evidence that Keeley had ever behaved inappropriately around her siblings, they knew she’d been sexually abused herself – she was seeing a counsellor for that by this time – and the consensus was that it was a can of worms that was better off remaining closed. The children were settling, as would Keeley, and they didn’t think any good would come of raking the whole thing up all over again.’

      ‘“They”,’ I said, finding myself both stunned and very angry. ‘Bloody hell.’

      ‘I know,’ Danny said. ‘But to be fair, we weren’t there. And Mrs Stewart did say Keeley displayed some worrying behaviours when she had her. Said they were all very relieved when the Burkes agreed to take her on. So, on balance,

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