BURIED CRIMES: a gripping detective thriller full of twists and turns (10 page)

Chapter 14: Against the Cut

Saturday afternoon, week 2

Despite her words to Jade, Sophie was invited, as a senior police officer, to be present during the child protection officer’s visit. She thought about it and was about to turn the offer down but, before she could, Jade had a call from Asli. The two young girls wanted her to go to Asli’s house.

‘They want to talk things over with me,’ said Jade.

‘Well, that’s probably a good sign, but she needs to be back home for the child protection team visit at two thirty. They’ll want to speak to Safiyo to make sure she understands the meaning of the court order. I think you need to somehow convince her to go home. I think you’ll need to explain what you’ve done in terms of seeking further advice, but in a way that doesn’t scare her.’

‘Can I tell her that I talked to you about it?’

‘As long as you don’t tell them who I am. That might scare the living daylights out of Safiyo, and we don’t want that to happen. Just tell them that you told your mum. Okay? Maybe I’ll go along as an observer after all.’

‘Thanks, Mum,’ Jade said. She still looked worried. ‘I wish this had never happened. Why did Asli choose me to talk to?’

Sophie looked at her daughter. ‘Probably because she thought you were the right person, Jade. It isn’t just because you’re running the campaign at school. I’d guess it’s also because they like and trust you. It’s something you need to get used to if you plan to be a doctor. This is what working life is really like for someone with those kinds of responsibilities. What do you think my job is like? I’m always having to make important decisions based upon what people say and do. All the time I’m thinking, have I made the right decision? Why did that person say that? What might the consequences of this course of action be? I could chuck it all in and work behind the counter in a dress shop, and then I wouldn’t face these kinds of problems. But then I’d go round the bend with boredom. You are exactly the right kind of person for what you’ve chosen to do with your life, and it’s those qualities that your young friends saw in you. As a prefect, you’re in a position of responsibility, but they must also trust you. Otherwise they’d have chosen someone else to talk to. I’m proud of you, Jade. You’ve done exactly the right thing, so stop worrying about it.’ She gave her daughter a hug. ‘Now get round to Asli’s house and take the two of them home to Safiyo’s. There’s no time to waste. I’ll give you a lift. And you’ll have a lot to tell Hannah when she gets home this evening. She’ll be proud of you too.’ She glanced in the mirror. The same soft brown cord trousers and tan ankle boots she’d been wearing in the morning. No time to change now. She unhooked her tan leather jacket from the coat-stand and followed her daughter out to the car.

* * *

The visit to Safiyo’s home wasn’t easy, but it went as well as could be expected. Sophie suggested driving to the house in a plain car rather than in a police squad car, so she ended up driving the slightly overawed uniformed constable across to Wareham from police headquarters near Wool. They met the child protection officer outside the house, and the three women approached the front door together, with Sophie hanging back slightly. ‘If I can get away with saying nothing, then that’s what I’d prefer to do,’ she said.

Safiyo’s mother opened the door, and stood with her mouth open when she saw them on her doorstep.

‘Mrs Dalmar? We’re here to talk to you about your daughter, Safiyo. I’m Cheryl Walker, the duty child protection officer from the council, and these two ladies are police officers, as you can see. May we come in, please?’

As soon as Cheryl explained the reason for their visit, Safiyo’s mother burst into tears. Her husband came into the hallway to see what was going on. He looked annoyed.

‘Maybe we could find a more comfortable place to talk?’ suggested Fatima Sharma, the uniformed officer. ‘It’s rather crowded with us all in the hallway, and we will need to speak to Safiyo. Where is she, by the way?’

‘She is in her room, with some friends,’ the mother replied nervously. ‘I will get her.’ She looked at her husband. ‘Take them through, please, Habibi?’

He ushered the women through to a front room. He followed them in and stood stiffly, as if to attention. There was a lengthy silence.

‘Who are you again?’ he said finally.

Cheryl repeated her introduction.

‘I can see you are a police officer,’ he replied, pointing at Fatima. He looked at Sophie. ‘But you? Why are you not in a uniform like your colleague?’

‘I’m just a police observer, Mr Dalmar. I’m from county headquarters.’ Sophie indicated Fatima and Cheryl. ‘These are the important people here.’

His wife entered the room, wringing her hands.

Cheryl coughed. ‘We have reason to believe that you have been planning to take Safiyo out of the country in order for her to be circumcised. We must make clear to you that such an action would be illegal and would be treated as serious child abuse under UK law. We have with us a court order forbidding you from taking Safiyo out of the UK by any means until we are satisfied that she is not in any danger. Do you understand?’ She looked at both parents in turn.

‘It is not to do with me,’ said the father. ‘It is a woman’s thing.’ He shrugged and vaguely waved towards his wife.

‘You would both be prosecuted if the cutting went ahead. Under the law, you share equal responsibility for the welfare of your children. If Safiyo is harmed in any way you will both share the blame. Do you understand? I must ask you both to make a commitment to keep her here and free from harm.’

‘But it is a tradition,’ said the mother. ‘I had it done when I was her age.’

‘It is a tradition that must stop, Mrs Dalmar. Everyone says so, all across the world. It does no good, only harm. Girls die because of it. Women can spend the rest of their lives in pain because of it.’ She took the official order from Fatima and handed it across to the girl’s father. ‘These two police officers have witnessed that you have received the order. Safiyo must remain in this country until we review her case at a child protection hearing. You will both be invited to attend.’

Fatima Sharma added, ‘Nothing has happened to Safiyo yet, so no law has been broken. There is nothing for either of you to worry about as long as you abide by the court order.’

‘Will anything else happen?’ asked the father.

‘We’ll inform the senior staff at her school, but not everyone will know. They will monitor her attendance and her wellbeing, as is their duty. Nothing will happen as long as you keep her here, and safe’.

Just then the door opened. Jade and two young girls came into the room. Jade was holding the hand of one of them, who held back, her hand at her mouth.

‘Do you know why we are here, Safiyo?’ Cheryl asked. The girl gave a small nod.

‘We are worried about your safety, so we have given your parents an order so they can’t take you out of the country. Do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘Jade has explained to me.’

‘Who are you? Why are you involved?’ asked the mother sharply.

Jade said, ‘I’m a prefect at the girls’ school. They told me about their concern late yesterday. It was me that told the authorities.’

The father nodded. ‘I am glad. It is better this way. It is wrong to live in a country like this and keep to old ways that do nothing but harm. I did not speak before, because it seemed to me to be a women’s thing and I shouldn’t be involved. But if my new country feels it is so wrong, then we must show respect to that. We will follow the order.’

‘Are you happy with your father’s promise, Safiyo?’ Cheryl asked.

‘Yes. If he has made a promise, he will keep it. He is the head of my family.’ Safiyo smiled at her father. She let go of Jade’s hand, ran across and flung her arms around him. Her affection for him was evident. ‘I was so scared,’ she said to him. He squeezed her tight.

Sophie looked across at Jade and smiled. A happy ending after all, she thought. Her phone rang. She took it from her bag and left the room, mouthing her apologies.

‘Hi, Barry. Has something happened? . . . Okay. I’ll be right in. Expect me in about half an hour.’

She poked her head back into the lounge, and mouthed to her two colleagues, ‘got to go to Dorchester in a hurry.’

‘I’ll give Fatima a lift back,’ Cheryl said. ‘It won’t be a problem.’

Sophie nodded to the Dalmars and left.

‘Who was she?’ asked Safiyo’s mother.

‘The Chief Inspector,’ Fatima answered.

‘She’s not smartly dressed like you two.’

‘I think she was off duty,’ Fatima said.

Jade managed to keep quiet.

‘Tight trousers and a leather jacket. Not right for a woman,’ said Mrs Dalmar.

Now Jade’s patience ran out. ‘If she hadn’t got involved, things might not have been organised so fast. You might have taken Safiyo away and got her cut. You’d have been prosecuted and probably put in prison when you got back. Safiyo and your other children would have been taken away from you. You should be grateful that she took an interest . . . Anyway, she’s my mum and I’m proud of her. She’d never dream of hurting me, not like you, planning to have your daughter mutilated!’ She turned on her heel and walked out of the house.

Chapter 15: Drama Queens

Sunday afternoon, week 2

Dorothy Kitson sat three rows back, in the middle, exactly six chairs from the left. She deliberately chose this position to avoid drawing any attention to herself. Who would notice her anyway? And, even if they did, why would anyone bother to chat to her? She knew what she looked like: a thin, stooped, middle-aged woman, prematurely grey. She was extremely shy, and avoided speaking to anyone she didn’t know. She rarely looked people in the eye. Dorothy folded her coat, placed it on the seat beside her and put her bag on top. Maybe her sister would attend this afternoon’s talk, although she didn’t hold out much hope. Her elder sister was a law unto herself. She always had been.

Dorothy took out the programme and scanned through the sparse details. The afternoon’s activities were all to do with the campaign to reduce female genital mutilation, whatever that was. The way they described it, it did sound horrible, and probably ought to be stopped. It seemed to mainly involve people from far-away countries with exotic names. She wasn’t particularly interested in any of these talks at the local Arts Centre, but didn’t like to admit it. Nobody asked her anyway. Because she came along to many of the Sunday afternoon events, people assumed that she must be genuinely bothered by goings on in the wider world. In reality, she only came because she had free tickets for the less popular events. She was a part-time cleaner at the centre, and this allowed her twenty free admissions per year. Her few friends were bemused by the events she chose to attend. They were even more bemused by the performances she didn’t go to, some by well-known performing arts groups. If anyone bothered to think about it, they would have noticed that she never attended the evening events. Why would she choose to come out of an evening, with so much available at home on the telly? But Sunday afternoon was a different matter. It was a good opportunity to get out of her small flat.

Three people walked onto the low stage at the front of the room. She glanced at her watch and popped a peppermint sweet into her mouth. It didn’t look as though her sister would make it after all. Nothing new there. She became aware of unexpected movement to her right as a figure squeezed along the row and sat down beside her. How typical. A choice between sliding to her seat in front of five people from the left aisle or ten if moving in from the right. Which would have the greater impact? There you go.

* * *

On stage, Hannah Allen went up to the microphone, introduced herself and gave a short description of the charity she represented.

‘You’ll only see me between speakers, you’ll be glad to hear,’ she said. ‘They’re experts and I’m not, and I’m so grateful to them for agreeing to talk this afternoon. It’s the first time we’ve been to Dorchester. We’re mainly based in London, but I grew up in Dorset, so I’m doubly pleased to be back in my home county, although I’m a bit nervous because my dad and Gran are here watching me.’ She smiled and gave a small wave. ‘Please don’t think that the problem of FGM doesn’t occur here in Dorset. I happen to know that only yesterday a twelve-year-old girl from a Somali family who live near Poole was saved from being flown out of the country to be cut. We must all be vigilant until FGM has become a thing of the past.’

Hannah introduced the first speaker and returned to her seat to one side of the platform. The stage was Hannah’s natural home. She loved being there, having an audience in front of her, alive with anticipation. This was a very different kind of audience of course, assembled for a lecture, but it had still given her the familiar thrill. And she’d spotted Jade sitting next to her grandmother. She’d made it after all.

The two fifteen-minute talks were followed by a question and answer session, that Hannah chaired. Once that was over, the assembled company gathered around a table at the rear of the hall. Tea and biscuits were being served. One of the regular staff was ill, so Dorothy had volunteered to help. Not that there was much work involved. All she had to do was stand behind the table, pour teas and beakers of orange squash, put biscuits onto plates and push them towards anyone who approached the table.

Hannah broke away from her family and went over to the table to return her empty cup. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but the woman sitting to your right during the lecture looked familiar. Do you happen to know if she was an actress at one time?’

Dorothy put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said. ‘No, I don’t.’

‘Not to worry. She arrived just as I was about to start speaking, so I waited for her to settle before I started the talk. I thought it looked as if you knew her.’

‘Um . . . no.’

Jade came up beside her sister. ‘Hi! I saw you in the café yesterday morning. I was with my mum. You left in a bit of a hurry. I wanted to tell you that you dropped your hankie. I spotted it, so Lily at the café kept it behind the counter. Did you realise you’d lost it?’

Dorothy looked frantically around, looking for an escape route. Why was this happening? Why were these two young women plying her with questions? Where had her sister gone? Why must she always panic when strangers started talking to her? And then, miraculously, Dorothy’s sister appeared, as if from nowhere. She was smiling, ready to take control as she lifted a cup to her lips.

‘Um . . .’ Dorothy pointed to Hannah and managed to add the words, ‘asking about you.’

‘I hope you don’t mind. I saw you from the platform as you arrived and I thought you looked familiar. It took me a while to put a name to the face, but are you by any chance Pauline Stopley, the actress? It’s just that I’m in my last year at drama college in London and I’ve seen a couple of your photos from the nineties.’

Pauline lowered her cup, revealing a warm smile. ‘Yes, that’s me, although I no longer act. I work for the Arts Council now. I had to stop acting well over a decade ago because of a spell of bad health. It took me a long time to recover and I lost the motivation to get back on the stage.’

‘I’m so sorry to hear that. I wondered what happened to you after I read about your acting career.’ Hannah paused. ‘Do you miss it? I hope you don’t mind me asking.’

‘Of course I don’t mind. In your position, I’d ask exactly the same question. And strangely, the answer is no, not really. I do enjoy my current job, and I like the security it brings.’

‘And my Gran thinks she remembers you. She saw you in a couple of productions at the Bristol Old Vic. She’d love to meet you, if you don’t mind. She still lives in Bristol.’

Pauline smiled and nodded. Hannah beckoned to her grandmother.

‘Gran, I was right. This is Pauline Stopley. Pauline, this is my grandmother, Susan Carswell. She’s a great theatre-goer and is probably to blame for putting the idea of acting into my head when I was a teenager.’

While the women chatted, Jade looked back at the table. Dorothy appeared to have vanished.

‘Where did that serving lady go?’ she asked.

Pauline shrugged. ‘No idea,’ she said. She wasn’t going to let on that the serving lady, as Jade had called her, was her younger sister. She was sure that Dorothy wouldn’t have said anything either. Better not to have people wondering about their somewhat strained relationship. She was glad that she’d changed out of the short, gold-zipped, black dress and high-heeled shoes that she’d been wearing for her evening with John Wethergill. The outfit would have been just a little over the top for the crowd who’d turned up for this talk. Her conversation with these women wouldn’t have gone so well if she’d been dressed as though she’d just come out of a nightclub. That man who’d come over with the older woman looked rather charming too. Pity he was wearing a wedding ring. Maybe she was being too greedy, thought Pauline. After all, she’d just had a very enjoyable night with the courteous, thoughtful and rather old-fashioned John Wethergill. She smiled brilliantly at the woman.

‘I understand you saw me a couple of times at the Old Vic in Bristol. Can you remember which productions?’

Susan Carswell said, ‘I was trying to remember after Hannah here mentioned your name. They could have been farces, possibly by Michael Frayn, but I can’t be sure.’

‘It’s possible. I did several of those. At one point it seemed as if I was permanently on the road. It was great fun, but often I felt I was missing out on a stable, settled life. Once or twice I found myself wondering whether it was what I really wanted, after all. In the end the decision was made for me when I became ill. I pulled through but things weren’t the same for me.’

‘What was the illness, if you don’t mind me asking?’

‘Hepatitis. I was weak for a long time afterwards.’

‘How sad,’ Hannah interjected. ‘Ending your career in that way. I find it such a thrill, being on stage. There’s nothing like it. Did you find that?’

‘Oh, yes. But life has to go on. And you find other things to do, other things to give you that rush of excitement and tension. It’s not the end of the world, believe me.’

‘Do you enjoy the work you do now?’

‘Yes, I do. My job with the Arts Council takes me all over the place and I meet lots of interesting people. I’m quite heavily involved in theatre grants, so I haven’t wasted all the years I spent acting. I don’t approve of performing arts administrators who’ve never had any first-hand experience themselves. They can either be too harsh in their decisions or too . . . lovey-dovey.’ She glanced at a clock on the wall. ‘I have to be going, I’m afraid. It was lovely to chat to you all. Hannah, if you want to stay in touch, just call or email me. I’d be glad to help your career in any way I can.’ She handed the aspiring actress a business card, then left.

‘What a pleasant woman,’ Hannah said to her grandmother. ‘And she’s right. The people in charge ought to have some first-hand experience.’

‘I’m not so sure, Hannah,’ Susan replied. ‘Look at me. I’m the practice manager of a GP medical centre, yet I’ve had no formal medical training of any type. I’ve been on lots of training courses, and I think I do a good job. So do the doctors I work with. It’s the motivation to do a good job that matters, more than anything else. That’s what I think.’

Martin Allen nodded, trying to keep a straight face. ‘I agree, Susan. Give me a sensible, well trained, dedicated person over a drama queen any day.’ He winked at his mother-in-law.

Hannah’s mouth opened, and then she realised that her father was teasing her. She gave him a sweet smile, and kicked his ankle.

‘Dad, you’re just an incorrigible mischief-maker.’

* * *

Dorothy Kitson stood outside, in the shadows at the rear of the building, trembling and drawing nervously on one more cigarette. Could she tell anyone? Should she? What would happen to her if she did? It was all too much for her, all of it.