Page 85 of Silent Scream
‘What do you do?’ Kim asked, bluntly.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Very nice place you have here. I was just wondering what you did to pay for it.’
Kim’s tact and diplomacy were somewhere back around eleven a.m. It was growing into a long day and the woman would either answer or she wouldn’t.
‘I’m not sure how it's your business as my work is certainly not illegal, but I'm a dancer, an exotic dancer, and I happen to be very good at it.’
Kim guessed that she probably was. Her movements were naturally graceful and lithe.
She carried a tray bearing two steaming mugs and a bottle of water. ‘I work at The Roxburgh,’ she said, as though that explained everything and for Kim it did. The club was membership only and provided adult entertainment for professional people. The stringent management ensured few visits from the local constabulary, unlike other clubs in Birmingham city centre.
‘You understand why we’re here?’ Bryant asked. Having made the mistake of sitting back on the plush sofa he was now struggling to sit forward before the furniture swallowed him whole.
‘Of course. I’m not sure how much I can help but feel free to ask me anything.’
‘How old were you when you were at Crestwood?’
‘It wasn't one whole stretch, Detective. My sister and I were in and out of care from the age of two.’
‘How old were you in that picture?’ Kim asked of a photo in a silver frame on the small table beside her.
The features of the two girls were as identical as their clothes. Both wore stiff white school shirts from the free uniform shop. Kim remembered those clothes well and the free taunts that came with them.
Both wore matching pink cardigans with an embroidered flower motif on the left hand side. Everything was identical but their hair. One had loose flowing blonde locks and the other had theirs tied back in a bobble.
Nicola reached for the photo and smiled. ‘I remember those cardigans so well. Beth lost hers and would steal mine. It was about the only thing we ever fought over.’
Bryant opened his mouth but Kim’s expression silenced him. The woman’s face had changed. She was no longer looking into the photo, but past it.
‘They may not look much but those cardigans were precious. Mary asked for a couple of volunteers to help wipe down all the paintwork. Beth and I offered because Mary was a good woman who did her best. At the end of the day she gave us a few pounds for our work.’ Nicola finally raised her eyes. Her expression was both sad and wistful.
‘You can’t even begin to imagine how we felt. The very next morning we went up into Blackheath, to the market. We spent all day roaming the stalls deciding what to buy and it wasn’t so much the cardigans but that they were ours, from new. Not hand-me-downs from the older girls or used garments from the charity shop. They were new and they were ours.’
A tear had escaped from Nicola’s right eye. She placed the picture back and wiped at her cheek.
‘It sounds silly and you can’t really understand ...’
‘Yes, I can,’ Kim said.
Nicola smiled indulgently and shook her head. ‘No, Detective, you really can’t ...’
‘Yes, I really can,’ Kim repeated.
Nicola met her gaze and held it for just a couple of seconds before nodding her understanding.
‘To answer your question, we were fourteen in that photo.’
Bryant looked to Kim and she gestured for him to continue. ‘Did you spend all your time in care at Crestwood?’ he asked.
Nicola shook her head. ‘No, our mother was a heroin addict and I’d like to say she tried her best but she didn’t. Until we were twelve it was a mixture of foster homes, children’s homes and our mother getting clean and taking us back. I don’t really remember it all that well.’
Kim could tell from her eyes that the recollection was no trouble at all.
‘But you had each other?’ Kim said, looking at the photo. For six years she had also known that feeling.
Nicola nodded. ‘Yes, we had each other.’
