‘No,’ she said.
‘What games did you play?’ I now asked, mindful of Marianne’s comment that Jessie had stopped Beth from playing a game of kiss chase.
‘I can’t remember,’ Beth said emphatically.
I didn’t question her further. I wouldn’t have raised the matter had Beth not mentioned playing snap with her father, but now I felt sure she wasn’t telling me something. Her expression, the way she couldn’t meet my eyes and the decisiveness of her denial suggested she could remember what she’d played with her father, but wasn’t going to tell me.
On Wednesday evening John telephoned, and although he didn’t have much time to talk it was lovely to hear from him – and, of course, Adrian and Paula were delighted to talk to their father. He also said a few words to Beth. But after he’d gone, Beth asked me, ‘How come they can speak to their daddy but I can’t speak to mine?’
While the two situations were obviously very different, I could appreciate how unfair it must appear to her, but there was little I could say beyond reassuring her that I hoped to learn more at the meeting on Thursday. Presently, Beth said she was going to her room and disappeared upstairs. I didn’t go after her. She wasn’t upset and I could hear her moving around in her room and her bedroom door was open, so I wasn’t worried. Fifteen minutes later she came downstairs, having changed her dress to the one she’d worn the Friday before when she’d visited her father in hospital. She’d also applied similar lashings of thick make-up, including bright-red lipstick, mascara and scarlet eye shadow. She’d painted her nails luminous turquoise. Adrian took one look and burst into laughter, while Paula, remembering when Beth had been similarly dressed, innocently asked, ‘Are you going to see your daddy tonight?’
‘No. I’m not allowed to,’ Beth said. ‘But no one can stop me looking nice for my daddy. It makes me feel closer to him.’
It was pitiful and sad, and Adrian, now appreciating that she was striving to be closer to her father, stopped laughing. Beth spent the rest of the evening in her finery, flouncing around haughtily with an air of sophistication. I didn’t like what she was wearing, but I didn’t say anything. She looked much older with all the make-up, but not in a nice way. I was pleased when it was time for her bath and she could wash it all off. I used acetate on cotton wool to remove her nail varnish.
‘When I get home from school tomorrow, I’m going to put it all on again,’ Beth said to me, a little defiantly.
I let her comment go. I thought that if this made her feel closer to her father and lessened her sense of loss, then there was little harm in it. She wouldn’t be going out like that while she was living with me. Although how her father could find this endearing – his little daughter all tarted up – I’d no idea.
On Thursday – the day of the meeting – I made an early lunch for Paula and me, and then at twelve fifteen I changed into a smart pair of black trousers and a cream blouse. I’d explained the arrangements to Paula – that she was going to play with Vicky for the afternoon, and I’d collect her from Kay’s or I’d meet her in the playground, depending on when my meeting finished. I’d also told her that if I wasn’t back in time Kay would collect Adrian and Beth from school when she collected her own son and look after everyone until I arrived.
‘Yes, it’s all right, Mummy, I understand,’ Paula said sweetly, reaching up to kiss my cheek.
After I’d taken Paula to Kay’s – about five minutes away – I continued to the council offices in town. I parked in one of the visitors’ bays and went into reception. Jessie hadn’t told me which room the meeting was to be held in, so I asked the receptionist. She checked on her list of scheduled meetings and told me Jessie had booked Room 3.
‘It’s on the first floor,’ she said. ‘Up the stairs and down the corridor on your left.’
I thanked her and, having signed the visitors’ book, began up the wide balustraded staircase. I knew from the previous meetings I’d attended in the council offices that the meeting rooms on the first floor were small compared to the larger committee rooms on the second floor, so I assumed there wouldn’t be many of us at the meeting. The door to Room 3 was closed, so I knocked and then gingerly pushed it open and went in. The room was empty, but I was five minutes early. It was hot and airless, but I knew better than to try and open a window. The building was old and most of the windows had either been jammed or painted shut, or, having been forced open, didn’t close properly and remained draughty in winter. A small oblong table stood in the centre of the room with a chair at each side. Two more chairs were stacked in a corner. That was the only furniture in the room. I took off my coat and draped it over the back of a chair at the table and then sat and waited. I found the quiet rather pleasant after the busy morning I’d had. Paula had been very excited at the thought of playing with Vicky and had chatted gaily (and loudly) for most of the morning, planning the games she’d play with Vicky. Now all I could hear was the occasional creek of the radiator and the muted footsteps of those walking along the carpeted corridor outside the room.
At ten minutes past two, just as I was thinking of going down to reception to check I had the right room, the door opened and Jessie burst in carrying a pile of folders.
‘Sorry to have kept you,’ she said, flustered. ‘It’s been one of those mornings!’
I smiled. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said.
She sat in the chair opposite and dumped the folders on the table in front of her, then hooked her shoulder bag over her chair. ‘God, it’s hot in here,’ she said, glancing at the windows. ‘I take it none of them open.’
‘I daren’t try,’ I said. ‘But I doubt it.’
Jessie laughed. The state of the windows in the building was a commonly shared joke. ‘OK, let’s make a start then,’ she said. ‘My manager is hoping to join us later. She’s in a meeting.’ She took her notepad from the top of the pile of folders and unclipped the pen.
‘Is it just us and possibly your manager?’ I asked.
‘Yes. I needed you to come as I have to clarify some of the things you’ve told me. Let’s start with the photographs. I’ll see them for myself next week when I visit, but I want to hear what you have to say.’
I was taken aback. Why was she asking about the photographs now? I thought I was coming for a meeting, but it seemed it was more of an interview and I felt ill prepared.
‘You mean the framed photographs that Beth has in her bedroom?’ I asked.
‘Yes, the ones she brought with her from home.’
‘They are all of Beth and her father,’ I said, not really understanding what Jessie wanted from me.
‘Yes, I know,’ Jessie said a little impatiently, pen poised over her notepad. ‘You said you thought they were inappropriate. Can I have the details?’
I shifted in my chair. ‘I’m sorry. I’m confused,’ I said. ‘I thought when I raised this with you before you said I was mistaken and there was no reason to be concerned about the photographs or any of the other issues.’ I felt my cheeks flush hot.
‘I didn’t say you were mistaken,’ Jessie said defensively, glancing up at me. ‘But at the time we didn’t have enough evidence to act.’
‘And do you now?’ I asked, with unease.
‘Possibly. One of the reasons you are here is so I can gather evidence.’ She met my gaze. There was a moment’s silence as the obvious question hung in the air between us: what had changed to make her act now?
Jessie lowered her pen and sat back slightly in her chair. ‘I’ll explain,’ she said. ‘When I took Beth to see her father at the hospital, I stayed with them for most of the time – not because I had any concerns then, but because I wasn’t sure if Beth would want to stay the whole hour, or if Derek would find her visit too upsetting and have to cut it short. As a result I was able to observe the