Aftermath

Easington was a pleasant change from Alderthorpe, Je

Je

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“I’m a psychologist,” said Je

Maureen Nesbitt looked up and down the street, then turned back to face Je

“I’m not a reporter.”

“Because they were all over me when it happened, but I told them nothing. Scavengers.” She pulled her cardie tighter over her chest.

“I’m not a reporter,” Je

When Maureen brought through the tray, including a plate of digestive biscuits, she said, “I do apologize for my behavior earlier. It’s just that I’ve learned the hard way over the years. A little notoriety can quite change your life, you know.”

“Are you still teaching?”

“No. I retired three years ago.” She tapped the paperback. “I promised myself that when I retired I would reread all my favorite classics.” She sat down. “We’ll just let the tea mash for a few minutes, shall we? I suppose you’re here about Lucy Payne?”

“You know?”

“I’ve tried to keep up with them all over the years. I know that Lucy – Linda, as she was back then – lived with a couple called Liversedge near Hull, and then she got a job at a bank and went to live in Leeds, where she married Terence Payne. Last I heard this lunch-time was that the police just let her go for lack of evidence.”

Even Je

“My sister works for the social services in Hull. You won’t tell, will you?”

“Cross my heart.”

“So what do you want to know?”

“What were your impressions of Lucy?”

“She was a bright girl. Very bright. But easily bored, easily distracted. She was headstrong, stubborn, and once she’d made her mind up you couldn’t budge her. Of course, you have to remember that she’d gone on to the local comprehensive at the time of the arrests. I only taught junior school. She was with us until she was eleven.”

“But the others were still there?”

“Yes. All of them. It’s not as if there’s a lot of choice when it comes to local schools.”

“I imagine not. Anything else you can remember about Lucy?”

“Not really.”

“Did she form any close friendships outside the immediate family?”

“None of them did. That was one of the odd things. They were a mysterious group, and sometimes when you saw them together it gave you a creepy feeling, as if they had their own language and an agenda you knew nothing about. Have you ever read John Wyndham?”

“No.”

“You should. He’s quite good. For a science-fiction writer, that is. Believe it or not, I encouraged my pupils to read just about anything they enjoyed, so long as they read something. Anyway, Wyndham wrote a book called The Midwich Cuckoos about a group of strange children fathered by aliens on an unsuspecting village.”

“That sounds vaguely familiar,” Je

“Perhaps you saw the film? It was called Village of the Damned.”

“That’s it,” said Je

“Yes. Well, it wasn’t quite like that with the Godwins and the Murrays, but it still gave you that sort of feeling, the way they looked at you, waited in the corridor till you’d gone by before talking again. And they always seemed to speak in whispers. Linda, I remember, was very distressed when she had to leave and go to the comprehensive before the others, but I gather from her teacher there that she quickly got used to it. She has a strong personality, that girl, despite what happened to her, and she’s adaptable.”

“Did she show any unusual preoccupations?”

“What do you mean?”

“Anything particularly morbid. Death? Mutilation?”

“Not so far as I noticed. She was… how shall I put this… an early developer and rather sexually aware for a girl of her age. On average, girls peak in puberty at about twelve, but Lucy was beyond prepubescence at eleven. Her breasts were developing, for example.”

“Sexually active?”

“No. Well, as we now know she was being sexually abused in the home. But, no, not in the way you’re suggesting. She was just sexually there. It was something people noticed about her, and she wasn’t above playing the little coquette.”

“I see.” Je

“Yes.” Maureen looked away, toward the window, but she didn’t look as if she were admiring the view. “Not my finest moment,” she said, bending to pour the tea. “Milk and sugar?”

“Yes, please. Thank you. Why?”

“I should have done something sooner, shouldn’t I? It wasn’t the first time I’d had my suspicions something was terribly wrong in those households. Though I never saw any bruises or clear outward signs of abuse, the children often looked undernourished and seemed timid. Sometimes – I know this is terrible – but they smelled, as if they hadn’t bathed in days. Other children would stay away from them. They’d jump if you touched them, no matter how gently. I should have known.”

“What did you do?”

“Well, I talked with the other teachers, and we all agreed there was something odd about the children’s behavior. It turned out the social services already had their concerns, too. They’d been out to the houses once before but never got past the front door. I don’t know if you knew, but Michael Godwin had a particularly vicious rottweiler. Anyway, when Kathleen Murray went absent without any reasonable explanation, they decided to act. The rest is history.”

“You say you’ve kept track of the children,” Je

Maureen paused a moment. “If you like. But I don’t think you’ll get much out of them.”

“Do you know where they are, how they are?”

“Not all the details, no, but I can give you a general picture.”

Je