Sweetie (20 page)

Within five minutes, the wailing of sirens was audible and Mrs Davy hugged Maria reassuringly 193

before leaving her briefly to go to the back entrance and show the emergency services the way. An ambulance and two police cars screeched to a halt.

Within moments officers and ambulance crew were swarming all over the school.

PC Watson was among the on-duty officers and took a brief statement from Mrs Davy who was clearly in shock. A female PC was kneeling down next to Maria, her face white at the sight of the little girl’s injuries. As the paramedics carried out their preliminary examination she was asking her softly,

‘What’s your address, love? Are your mum and dad at home?’

The WPC was new to the job and glanced up at Watson with tears in her eyes. ‘Who could do this, Ian?’ He could hardly believe it had happened again.

It was only two days since the discovery of Wayne Williams’s body. The attacker was getting cocky now, taunting them.

A crowd of onlookers had gathered to see what all the commotion was about. They saw Maria Foster being carried out on a stretcher and loaded into the back of an ambulance after about twenty minutes.

The usual suspects all stood watching the scene. A few men from the local pub had gathered at the school gate. Michael Potts was vocal in leading a chorus of disapproving boos as the police emerged, and a gang of local lads from the nearby secondary school, still in uniform, were hovering, smoking fags 194

and shouting out, ‘Useless plods! Stupid coppers!’

Mrs Davy climbed in after the stretcher, but as she looked into the crowd she noticed the caretaker. ‘Mr Rush!’ she called. ‘Mr Rush, I need to speak with you when I get in tomorrow.’ And then she clambered inside and held on to Maria’s hand for the duration of the short journey to the Queen Elizabeth Children’s Hospital. PC Watson followed on behind in a patrol car.

The group of angry men held their ground.

Michael Potts couldn’t resist the temptation to corner the young WPC as she emerged from the school and went towards her patrol car, parked on the main road.

‘What’s a nice little girl like you doing in a place like this in uniform, eh? Out for a bit of fun?’ He leaned casually on the car’s bonnet and she stared at him in sheer disgust.

‘If you don’t mind, sir?’

‘’Ere, lads! George . . . Harry . . . look what I’ve got

’ere.’

The others merely waved him off. George looked at Harry and smirked. ‘He’s a right twat, that Michael. Suppose he’s been boozing all day again.

What’s ’appened here then? I can’t get in to lock up.’

Harry stared straight ahead. ‘Not sure, mate. I was having a swift half when I heard all the commotion and made me way over. Think it’s another murder.’

*

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Upon arrival at the hospital, Maria was whisked off for examination and Mrs Davy and PC Watson stood by the coffee machine, going over the exact timings, trying to jog her memory about anything she might have seen before discovering Maria. There had been so many comings and goings with the concert, and so many people who didn’t usually go near the school hanging around tonight, that it was hard to get a clear picture of events leading up to the attack.

‘It had been such a wonderful evening, Officer,’

said the teacher sadly, when suddenly another thought occurred to her.

‘Christ, the mother! Someone needs to tell Maria’s mother.’ Mrs Davy’s hands flew to her face.

‘It’s OK. Two of our officers are already on their way.’

She looked up into Watson’s kind face and fought the urge to throw herself into his arms. Despite her own strong character and common sense, she felt shocked to the core.

‘I can’t believe it’s happened in our school. I mean, aren’t you supposed to be safe at school? Maria did so well tonight, such a little star. We had our end-of-term concert and she completely stole the show. Such a promising little girl . . . and now this. It’s not often a child shows so much promise, not in this com -

munity anyway, but Maria is different.’

‘We’ve got some fairly strong leads now. Hope -

fully it won’t be long before we make an arrest.’

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Watson tried to offer what consolation he could, knowing deep inside that although they had gained some ground, they were still a long way from making an arrest. This man was pure evil, but also incredibly clever. He stalked his prey, struck when he was safe, and continued to play cat and mouse with them.

Woodhouse, however, had asked to see Watson just before this last attack had been reported. He knew his guv had something, but there had been no time for their informal chat. He would speak to the DCI about it when he made his full report.

‘You know who it is?’ the teacher queried.

‘My DCI thinks he’s getting close. It’s got to be a local, someone who won’t arouse suspicion. People would have noticed a stranger hanging around, especially in a neighbourhood like this.’

‘God, that’s even worse, somebody the children know and trust. How awful.’ Mrs Davy gazed into the distance. Watson eyed her thoughtfully. She was young, smart and attractive. Her clothes had an air of class, and she held herself well.

‘You’re not from round here, are you?’ he asked.

‘Does it show?’ She allowed herself a little smile. ‘I grew up on a farm in Hampshire.’ Anticipating his next question she said, ‘I came here because I was bored with country life and thought I could make a difference . . . but actually I don’t think I’ve made any at all. Inner-city kids are tough nuts to crack.

‘At my last school I taught a brilliant boy, a music 197

scholar who won a place at a cathedral school, but his parents had to turn it down because they couldn’t afford the uniform. Now he goes to a comp where they don’t even study music. Heartbreaking, really.’

‘Don’t give up. These kids need people like you, to show them another way.’ Watson coloured slightly at his own words.

‘You’re very kind . . .’ But before she could con -

tinue a commotion broke out at the reception desk and they turned to see Maria’s mother and grand -

mother demanding to see her.

‘My little girl, my baby . . . please, where is she? I want to see her now,’ Mary was saying.

Watson walked over to the desk and took the women to one side, gently explaining that they would be able to see Maria as soon as the doctors had finished their examination.

‘But I want to see her now! I’m her mother, she needs me!’ Mary, having only finished her shift an hour and a half before, was back in the same hospital, this time in her slippers.

‘You can’t stop us! We’re family, we’ve got a right to see our own flesh and blood,’ Lizzie was threaten -

ing the receptionist, who was trying to calm her without much success. The two women were a study in contrasts: Mary all tears and vulnerability, her mother dry-eyed and determined.

Lizzie had vowed before she left the house tonight that this was one battle she was going to win, and no 198

baby-faced police officer nor high and mighty recep -

tionist was going to tell her what she could or couldn’t do.

Watson managed to quiet them with the promise that he’d see if he could hurry things along, and in the meantime he introduced Mrs Davy as the lady who had found Maria. Mary thanked her tearfully and begged for information.

‘Was she badly hurt? Did he interfere with her?

She’ll be all right, won’t she?’

Mrs Davy did her best to calm the mother, knowing it wasn’t wise to say too much. ‘Well, obviously she was in a state of shock when I found her, but by the time we arrived at the hospital she had come round a bit. Maria was really magnificent in the concert earlier this evening. You would have been so proud,’ she said, trying to comfort Mary.

Lizzie harrumphed loudly and shot her an evil look. ‘Fucking concert!’

Mrs Davy shot her an evil look right back. She wasn’t afraid of the likes of Lizzie Foster; she knew that type only too well. The teacher stood her ground and turned back to Mary. ‘Maria’s a wonderfully talented little girl, and a pleasure to teach. She has a rare musical gift and I’m proud to be her teacher.’

Lizzie opened her mouth to say something scath -

ing then but Mary implored, ‘Mum, leave it!’

‘Well, what sort of a teacher are you, leaving kids on their own at school anyway?’ Lizzie got in.

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‘I can assure you that every single child had left the premises before I went home. I don’t know why Maria went back. I definitely saw her leave with two other girls before I left the building.’ Mrs Davy could feel herself growing rigid with outrage.

‘Yeah, right.’ Lizzie’s mouth tightened in disgust and Mrs Davy was bracing herself for a sharp reply when PC Watson came back and informed Mary that Maria had now been placed in a side ward off the main children’s ward, if they wanted to follow the nurse waiting for them by the desk.

Mary made to follow the nurse then turned back, quickly hugging Mrs Davy and saying tearfully, ‘I’m sorry, I know you did your best, and I know you like my Maria.’

Mrs Davy just nodded, afraid to speak in case she cried herself. Mary had to break into a little run to catch up with the nurse and Lizzie, already marching purposefully along the corridor. Mrs Davy watched them go and stood in silence with Watson for a few moments before gathering together her things.

‘If you wait a minute, I can get one of our officers to take you back to the school to get your car,’ he offered.

‘It’s OK. I’ll take a taxi, thank you.’

‘If you’re sure. It must have been quite a shock for you too?’

Mrs Davy just nodded. He was right, she was 200

trembling inside. That gin and tonic would be a very large one tonight.

‘Quite sure, thanks.’ She hesitated before asking him, ‘You will catch this man, won’t you?’

‘We’re doing our very best.’ Silently they shook hands and then Mrs Davy made her way out of the hospital towards the taxi rank.

Lizzie went into the room ahead of Mary and immediately took the big chair by the side of her bed.

The sight of Maria’s swollen and bruised face made Mary give a little cry.

‘Oh, my baby, what has he done to you?’ She placed her arms gently around her daughter, afraid of hurting her.

Maria began to cry. ‘Oh, Mum! I’m sorry, Mummy, I just went back to get my music. I know I shouldn’t have . . . I’m so sorry.’

Mary cuddled her daughter gently and the pair of them cried and comforted each other. As she hugged her daughter, Mary was filled with guilt. She should have been there, she should have gone. Lizzie’s face was impassive, betraying nothing.

The nurse looked on awkwardly before gently saying to Mary, ‘Miss Foster, when you’re ready, the doctor would like a word.’

Mary nodded and followed her out of the room and into an office where a middle-aged black doctor was waiting to speak with her. A handsome man, his 201

tight, wiry hair flecked with grey, she recognised him as one of the paediatric consultants, apparently one of the hospital’s best. That was something, at least.

He took her arm gently and led her to a chair where he motioned for her to sit before he took her through the list of injuries that Maria had sustained.

‘Miss Foster, your daughter has suffered a terrible ordeal. We have managed to clean her up, but she will need surgery in the next couple of hours. She’s on a drip at the moment, and will shortly need some blood. Do you know your own blood group? We try to encourage relatives to donate when necessary.

She’s weak at the moment, but with surgery we hope to put her back together. Her rectum has been split in several places, and her hymen is broken.’ He paused to look at Mary. ‘Do you understand, Miss Foster?’

She nodded, gulping with the shock.

‘We haven’t been able to ascertain the full extent of Maria’s injuries as she is obviously in great pain and we want to wait until she is under sedation. I need your signature to proceed, Miss Foster.’

He placed a form in front of Mary which she signed without even reading it. She was still lost in the realisation that her child had been brutally violated, that she was no longer a virgin. The doctor interrupted her thoughts.

‘I want to get her into theatre as soon as possible.

If you’d like to wait, I will talk to you again as soon as I know more. The nurse will take you off 202

to check your blood type and to take some if it’s a match. Don’t worry, Miss Foster, Maria will be OK.’

Mary felt herself lifted from the chair. She steadied herself and managed a bleak smile at the doctor. The nurse, who had been standing quietly by, took her by the arm. ‘This way, Miss Foster.’ And she gently led Mary out of the office and down the corridor to the pathology lab. As Mary walked slowly, her arm held tight by the nurse, she stopped and looked over her shoulder.

‘My baby! I want to see my baby before they operate.’

‘Its OK, Miss Foster, there’s plenty of time. Her gran is with her, and I promise to take you back as soon as we’re finished.’ The nurse led her back down the corridor and the pair of them disappeared around a corner.

Back in Maria’s room, Lizzie picked up her grand-daughter’s hand and studied the grazes on her knuckles. She’d never felt close to this child, always thought she was different, but she was a Foster nonetheless, and tonight Lizzie felt strangely proud of her.

Maria had shown she was a survivor. ‘Right then, young lady, stop crying for a minute,’ said Lizzie briskly, ‘I want you to tell me everything you can remember.’

‘Oh, Nan, please! I’m tired and I want to go to 203

sleep. Everything ’urts, can’t it wait? I’ve just done all this with that police lady.’

‘Never mind them, this is me. Now, talk.’

As Maria whispered quietly into Lizzie’s ear, the nurse came in and gave her a sedative shot. A new drip was being placed in her hand and the nurse told Lizzie, ‘She’s got to be prepared for surgery now.

She’s going to get drowsy in a few minutes.’

‘I know,’ Lizzie replied harshly. ‘I’ll stay with ’er till her mum gets here and then I’ll leave.’

Mary walked back into the side ward, looking ashen-faced. She laughed grimly. ‘My blood don’t match hers. I can’t even get that right.’