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The following day I gave Jessie until two o’clock to telephone me and then I telephoned her. ‘It’s Cathy Glass,’ I said as she answered her extension. ‘Beth’s carer.’

‘Yes, I know who you are,’ she said. ‘How can I help you?’

The question threw me, as I’d assumed she’d realize what I wanted. ‘I was wondering if there was any news on Beth’s father,’ I said.

‘He’s still in hospital,’ Jessie replied.

‘Yes, I thought he must be. But do you know when Beth can start telephoning him again? She really misses him. And I haven’t been able to give her a reason why she can’t phone.’

‘Did you tell her my manager and I had made the decision?’

‘Yes. But it would be useful if I could tell her the reason for the decision.’

There was a short silence before Jessie said, ‘I was going to telephone you later. I need you to come in to a meeting, here at the council offices.’

‘Oh, I see,’ I said, taken aback.

‘I was thinking of Thursday at one o’clock,’ Jessie said.

‘How long will the meeting last?’ I asked, thinking ahead. ‘I’ll need to leave by two forty-five to collect Adrian and Beth from school.’ I’d also have to make arrangements to have Paula looked after, but that wasn’t Jessie’s worry, that was for me to sort out.

‘It’ll be about an hour, but best to have a contingency plan ready just in case.’

‘All right. Can you tell me what the meeting is about?’ I asked.

‘Beth,’ Jessie said.

Which I’d assumed. ‘Can you tell me when she can start phoning her father again? She knows I’m speaking to you today and is hoping you’ll be able to tell me.’

‘No. It’s something we’ll address at the meeting on Thursday.’

‘Oh, I see,’ I said. ‘Can I tell her why she’s not allowed to telephone her father?’

‘Is Beth asking?’

‘Yes.’

‘Tell her I’ll explain when I see her. I should be able to visit her some time next week. I’ll confirm a date and time when I see you on Thursday. Was there anything else?’

‘Err, no, I suppose not.’

‘I’ll see you on Thursday, then.’

I hadn’t learned anything new – apart from that I had to attend a meeting – and I was now even more confused (and worried), as I knew Beth would be. If there’s a problem, I’m a great believer in knowing what the issues are and dealing with them. It’s impossible to deal with what you don’t know. For me, ignorance is not bliss. It was Tuesday, and although the meeting on Thursday was only two days away, it stretched before me, an interminable distance to be got through before my questions could be answered and some of this would hopefully make sense.

When Beth came out of school that afternoon she ran up to me, her expression full of anticipation and hope. I didn’t wait for the question I knew would come.

‘I’ve spoken to Jessie,’ I said straight away. Beth’s eyes lit up. ‘We’re going to have to be patient. Jessie said to tell you she’d visit us next week and explain what is happening. In the meantime, we still can’t telephone the hospital, I’m afraid. Sorry, love.’

Tears immediately sprang to Beth’s eyes. ‘Why can’t I telephone my daddy?’ she said, utterly deflated.

I touched her shoulder reassuringly. ‘I honestly don’t know, love. I asked Jessie, but she said she wanted to tell you when she saw you next week. I’ve got to go to a meeting on Thursday, so I may learn more then.’

‘Can I go to the meeting?’ Beth asked, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes.

‘No, love. It’s for adults only.’

‘Will my daddy be there?’

Good question, I thought. Jessie hadn’t said who would be attending, but I felt sure she would have told me if Derek was going to be present. ‘No, I don’t think so,’ I said.

‘If he is there will you tell him I love him very much and I miss him with all my heart.’

‘Of course, love,’ I said. I swallowed the lump that had risen in my throat.

That evening I telephoned my friend Kay. She was happy to look after Paula while I went to the meeting on Thursday, and also to meet Adrian and Beth if I wasn’t in the playground at the end of school. Later, when Paula was in bed and Adrian was busy at the table putting the finishing touches to a model aeroplane he was making, Beth asked me if I would play snap with her. She produced a pack of cards from the cupboard where we kept our games and puzzles and we squatted on the floor of the living room. Beth began dealing the pack into two equal piles.

‘I play snap with my daddy,’ she said wistfully.

‘That’s nice,’ I said. ‘Did you play snap with him when you visited him at the hospital?’

‘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 way they respond to each other, and I was shocked. Some of their behaviour is simply not appropriate for a father and his daughter.’

I stared at Jessie and felt my pulse quicken.

‘Beth flirts with her father,’ Jessie continued. ‘And he does nothing to stop it. In fact, he encourages her. She kisses and cuddles him in a manner that can only be described as provocative or seductive. He allowed her to go round giving kisses and cuddles to some of the other male patients. I stopped that. I also stopped Beth from organizing a game of kiss chase with the other men. She had no idea it was wrong. She gives her affection far too freely and appears to be sexually aware beyond her years. She shows signs of sexualized behaviour. I arranged a meeting with the psychologist who’s been treating Derek, and we’ve agreed that, combined with other concerns raised, there were grounds to act, which is why I stopped contact.’

I shivered despite the heat of the room. ‘So you think Beth’s been abused?’ I asked.

‘It’s possible,’ Jessie said.

‘By Derek?’

‘It’s possible,’ Jessie said again, and then looked down at her notepad. ‘Can we start with the photographs,’ she said.

A large knotted ball had settled in the pit of my stomach. I felt sick. Poor Beth, I thought. Whatever had she been through? And how long had it been going on? Yet while I felt dreadfully sorry for Beth, I also felt vindicated. I had spotted something was wrong, as had Marianne and Miss Willow, and I’d been right to contact Jessie and voice my concerns. Pity she hadn’t believed me then, I thought.

I began by telling Jessie why the framed photographs made me feel uncomfortable: because of the way Beth and her father were posing, and because Beth was wearing make-up, which made her look much older. ‘They look more like boyfriend and girlfriend than father and daughter.’ I said. ‘They’re not touching sexually. It’s more the overall impression. You’ll see it for yourself when you visit next week. It’s difficult to put into words, but there’s an intimacy in the way they are looking at each other that isn’t appropriate for a father and daughter.’

‘And the photograph Beth keeps under her pillow?’ Jessie asked. ‘I heard her tell her father that she sleeps with his picture, so it feels like he’s there in the bed with her.’

I nodded. ‘It’s the largest of the framed photographs and also the most intimate. She kisses it goodnight and then sleeps with it under her pillow. It appears to have been taken while they were on holiday. Beth and her father are in their swimwear. They’re kneeling in the sand, facing each other, and have their lips pursed ready to kiss. I persuaded myself that there was nothing wrong with the photograph, or the others,’ I added reflectively as Jessie wrote.

When she’d finished writing she looked up at me. ‘Beth told her father you’d taken some photographs of her.’

‘Yes, I have.’

‘He’s unhappy about that.’

‘Why?’ I asked, amazed. ‘They’re family photographs, in the park and on outings. I’ve given Beth a set.’

Jessie made a note. ‘I’ll need to see those photographs when I visit,’ she said.

‘Yes, of course,’ I said with a stab of unease. I felt that I too was being investigated.

‘Is there anything else you can tell me about the photographs that Beth brought from home?’ Jessie asked.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘There’s fifteen of them and I’ve arranged them on the shelves in her bedroom, but you know that already.’

Jessie nodded. ‘Now to the telephone calls. I appreciate you stopped staying with Beth when she phoned her father, but can you tell me what you heard when you were present?’

If only I’d made some notes, I thought, as I tried to think back and remember. Having been reassured there was nothing wrong, I’d put the details from my mind. However, once I started to remember, the phone calls seemed even more significant now, in the light of Jessie’s investigation.

‘Beth sprawls on my bed to speak to her father, more like a teenager talking to her boyfriend than a little girl talking to her father,’ I said. ‘She smiles and laughs almost seductively, and twiddles the flex around her fingers. She changes out of her school uniform when she comes home and chooses a pretty dress to wear just to make the telephone call. She always told her father in great detail what she was wearing. He wanted to know everything – the dress, the petticoat and any accessories she was wearing. Beth often says she likes to look nice for her daddy, and he appears to encourage her. Sometimes, when she was describing what she was wearing, she’d lower her voice and flutter her eyelids in a sexy way. I remember once he asked her if she had clean knickers on, which made her laugh. It doesn’t seem funny now.’