Mummy’s Little Girl: A heart-rending story of abuse, innocence and the desperate race to save a lost child
to take her chance. She stood up, steadied herself on legs that felt suddenly very weak and ran up the stairs to her bedroom.
Downstairs, she heard something crash, but she couldn’t tell what it was.
Miss Sawyer had been distracted all morning. Little Dani Sinclair’s bruises were terrible, and something hadn’t been quite right when her mother had turned up. Mrs Sinclair had seemed worried, certainly. Concerned. But not affectionate. There had been no kind words or hugs, just a vague impression that this was all a bit of an inconvenience.
It wasn’t just the mother. Miss Sawyer didn’t believe for a minute that it was Dani who had started the so-called fight – she was clearly just scared, protecting whoever the real culprits were. And in the wake of the social worker’s warning the previous week, it all seemed as if there was something more going on. So, come morning break, instead of joining her colleagues for a cup of coffee, she made her way to her office and phoned social services. Short of going round to the Sinclair house and getting to the bottom of this herself, it was all she could do.
Gina Sawyer just hoped she was doing the right thing.
It was mid-afternoon when the doorbell rang. Dani hadn’t dared venture out of her room all day. She was hungry, but not hungry enough to risk a trip to the kitchen. Curiosity, however, got the better of her now, and she pulled back a corner of the curtains that she had kept shut all day and took a peek to see who it was.
Her heart stopped when she saw the social worker, Kate. She was a nice lady, but her very presence scared Dani.
She had shoulder-length curly hair and was wearing a skirt with a smart matching jacket. Under her arm she had a leather case. Through the window Dani could tell that the door had been opened, and Kate spoke for quite a long time before she was finally allowed into the house. Butterflies fluttered in Dani’s stomach. What was she here for? What did she want? Please, God, she whispered in her mind. Don’t let her be here to take me away.
Walking as softly as she could, Dani crept out of her bedroom and tiptoed down the stairs, avoiding the third one from the top, which she knew creaked loudly when it was trodden upon. The door to the sitting room was ajar, and from inside she could hear voices. Her heart in her throat, she approached the door and stood outside, listening carefully.
Mum was crying. It was a strange sound to Dani’s ears, because Mum never cried. The little girl felt a sudden hot rush of shame. Was it her fault that Mum was so upset? She strained her ears to hear what her foster mother was saying between sobs.
‘I just can’t cope with her any more,’ she whimpered. ‘She’s gone off the rails and I can’t control her … not by myself. She’s always fighting, always bullying the little ones. We try to get her to behave and be part of the family, but she won’t do it. I’m at my wits’ end … I just don’t know what to do.’
Dani blinked furiously as she listened. She felt embarrassed by what she heard.
The social worker started to speak. Her voice was calm and gentle. ‘Mrs Sinclair,’ she said. ‘You have to understand how disruptive it would be for Dani to be taken out of the home environment she’s known all her life—’
But as she spoke, a fresh wave of sobbing drowned her words. ‘What about my children? My real children? It’s affecting them too.’ She dissolved once more into those strange-sounding tears.
‘Mrs Sinclair,’ the social worker asked, ‘may I talk to Dani, please? Is she in the house?’
Panic surged through the little girl. She stepped away from the door and hurried up the stairs, doing her best to stay light-footed despite the sudden rush. Back in her bedroom, she sat on the bed, aware that her breathing was a bit heavier than it should have been and unable to stop her face looking guilty.
There was a knock on her bedroom door. ‘Dani.’ Kate’s voice came softly. ‘Can I come in?’
Dani shrank against the wall of her bedroom and didn’t reply.
The door opened slowly and Kate appeared in the room. She had kind eyes, which Dani remembered from the last time she had been here; but those eyes suddenly widened when they saw the state of Dani’s face.
‘Mind if I sit down? Do you remember me?’
Dani nodded.
Kate gave her a smile. ‘You look as if you’ve been in the wars. Want to tell me about it?’
Dani looked down at her bedclothes, feeling suddenly uncomfortable under the glare of the social worker’s stare. Downstairs she heard the front door opening again – James and Rebecca coming back home from school. Having the whole family in the house, being the centre of attention when all she wanted to do was disappear into the background, made her feel even worse.
‘Your teacher told me you got into a fight,’ Kate persisted. ‘Did you get into a fight, Dani?’
She looked up, wide-eyed, and tried to put as much honesty in her face as possible; then she nodded her head. The moment she saw a look of suspicion in Kate’s eyes, however, she looked away.
‘I want you to know, Dani, that you can tell me anything you want without worrying that I’m going to tell anyone else. Do you understand that?’
Dani nodded her head again, still looking away.
‘Miss Sawyer said you started the fight, but you know what I think? I think you’re not the sort of girl who goes round picking fights with people.’ The social worker stretched out her arm and squeezed the little girl’s hand. ‘You’re not, are you?’
Dani shook her head.
A silence fell between them. It was broken only by the sound of Dani’s mum downstairs, shouting something at James and Rebecca. The noise of her voice made Dani start, and she looked guiltily up at Kate.
The social worker’s eyes narrowed, as if something had just made sense.
‘Is there anything you want to tell me about your mum, Dani?’
She shook her head again, quickly and emphatically.
Another silence. When Kate spoke again, it was almost in a whisper. ‘Dani,’ she said. ‘I want you to listen to me very carefully. Sometimes grown-ups do things that make children very sad. And sometimes, when that happens, children think it’s their fault. But it’s not their fault, Dani. If any grown-ups have done anything to make you feel sad, you must tell me. You won’t be in trouble, I promise, and we can try and make sure it doesn’t happen again. Ever.’
Dani clenched her teeth. Half of her wanted to tell Kate about what had happened; but the other half of her wanted to clam up, to keep it secret. If she told, it would only make things worse.
Kate squeezed her hand for a third time. ‘I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me what happened, Dani,’ she said quietly. ‘Who did this to you?’
It happened so quickly. Just a single word that seemed to escape Dani’s lips before she even knew she had said it. A single word that she never intended to say, but which was teased out of her by the kind eyes of the well-meaning woman in her room.
‘Mum.’
Then, astonished by her confession, Dani covered her mouth with her hand and she felt the tears coming again. She shook her head, as if a sudden denial would somehow take back the word she had spoken, but it didn’t. Kate’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she sat there in silence for what seemed to Dani an age, though in truth it was little more than a minute.
‘I want you to wait here, Dani,’ the social worker said finally. There was something steely in her voice.
‘You … you won’t tell, will you? You won’t say I told you?’
To Dani’s horror, Kate didn’t give a straight answer. ‘Just wait here, Dani. I’ll be straight back.’ She stood up and left the room.
Dani found herself