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‘Do you think you should stop working earlier than you planned so you can rest? We could spend more time together.’
She smiled. ‘I’ll see how it goes. I’ve only got another four weeks anyway. Then, after the baby is born, we will spend lots of time together.’
‘Good. I’ll look forward to that. I’m glad we’ve had this chat.’
‘So am I, Mum.’ We hugged some more.
‘Are you feeling a bit brighter now?’ I asked after a moment.
‘I am, thanks. Shall we have that trifle now?’
‘Yes, you take it and I’ll bring the fresh fruit salad.’
We returned to the garden carrying the bowls of dessert and Lucy seemed happier for our chat. I would keep an eye on her, though, and text or phone her each day and make a point of asking how she felt. I didn’t think she was depressed, just a bit up and down, which – as I’d told her – can happen in pregnancy. It was reassuring that she’d confided in Darren and I felt sure he would persuade her to go to the doctor if he felt it was necessary.
On Sunday Adrian and I went to see Mum in his car. Paula was doing some last-minute studying in preparation for her final exams the following week. We ate out and then Adrian did some odd jobs for Mum as I cleaned the kitchen floor. Some of the housework was becoming too much for Mum and I’d talked to her about getting a cleaner. She didn’t want one, claiming she could manage, so if I spotted something needed doing then I quietly did it.
Adrian and I returned home just before Tilly, then he went out to see Kirsty. Tilly said she’d had a nice weekend and that she, her mother and gran had walked to their local park. This was a first as far as I knew. Due to Nancy’s ill health and Heather’s ongoing concerns about Dave, the three of them hadn’t gone that far before. It was an achievement and gave hope for the future. Tilly said she’d replaced the SIM in her mother’s phone and had reassured her it was safe. She’d left it fully charged and switched on.
On Monday, after I’d seen everyone off, I booked an appointment online at my doctor’s for the medical I needed for my review, then did some housework and two loads of washing, which I hung on the line to dry. Shortly after one o’clock I took a sandwich lunch through to the front room and switched on the computer, ready to do some admin work. I was just about to start when the landline rang. I answered it at my desk. My heart fell as I heard Miss Jenkins’s voice. I knew it had to be bad news for the deputy head to phone halfway through Monday.
‘I’ve got Tilly with me in my office,’ she said. ‘She’s very distraught. When she switched on her phone at lunchtime some indecent images came through. She says they are of her, although her face isn’t visible. She’s claiming they are from her stepfather.’
‘They can’t be,’ I said. ‘He doesn’t have her phone number. When we converted her phone to pay as you go she had a new SIM, which gave her a new number. Unless he’s obtained it from someone or Tilly has given it to him, which I doubt.’
‘I’m not convinced the images are of Tilly or that her stepfather sent them,’ Miss Jenkins said. ‘Tilly was hysterical. But they are indecent and sending them is an offence. After everything I’ve said to the students! I’ve notified the police and also Tilly’s social worker, but she’s in court. Tilly’s in no fit state to return to lessons this afternoon so can you come and collect her, please?’
‘Yes, of course, I’ll leave straight away.’
‘Thank you. I’ve returned Tilly’s phone to her, but don’t let her delete the images as the police will want to see them.’
‘All right.’
I got into my car and drove as fast as the speed limit allowed to Tilly’s school, all manner of thoughts flashing through my mind. Tilly was waiting in reception when I arrived, as the deputy head’s room was being used for a meeting. She looked pale and shaken but relieved to see me. ‘Miss doesn’t believe me,’ she said as I signed us out. ‘It is me in the photos and Dave did send them.’
‘How can you be sure?’ I asked as we left the building.
‘The phone number is the same one that sent the other photo and text to Mum. She’s sure it’s him.’ But it was still supposition. We crossed the playground and let ourselves out of the main gate.
‘The police will get to the bottom of it,’ I said, unlocking the car doors. ‘Do we know when they are visiting us?’
‘No. But it is me,’ Tilly persisted. We got into the car. ‘Look,’ she said, tilting her phone towards me so I could see the screen. She swiped through three images. They were different shots of a naked female, who looked about the same age, colouring and build as Tilly. They weren’t posed photographs as the previous one she’d received had been, but more casual shots. The subject was always turned away, so it was impossible to identify the girl, but they were indecent. In two of them the subject had been caught bending over, exposing her bottom and genitalia. The background seemed to have been Photoshopped as it was a country scene.
‘That’s my mole, there,’ Tilly said, pointing to the mark visible on the third photo.
Just above the subject’s left buttock was a mole. I’d never seen Tilly naked, but she would know if she had a mole or not. Yet how many thousands of other young women had moles in a similar place? I could understand why Tilly was so upset, and if they weren’t of her, why had they been sent to her?
‘OK, love,’ I said. She put away her phone and I started the engine and began the drive home.
‘I think Dave took them in my bedroom,’ Tilly said after a moment.
‘Without you knowing?’ I asked sceptically.
‘Yes. I didn’t let him take them!’ she said, her upset and anger flaring again.
‘I know, love. I’m not suggesting you did, but how could he have taken them without you knowing?’ Yet as I said it, I realized there was a way. ‘Through your phone,’ I added.
Tilly looked at me.
‘Spyware can be bought online that allows the user to look through the lens of a camera, laptop or tablet.’
‘Yes! That’s what’s happened. It must be!’ she cried.
‘No, Tilly calm down. I could be wrong.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ she insisted. ‘We’ll tell the police. I know those photos are of me. I didn’t take them and neither did Abby, and I certainly didn’t pose for him. I bet he took that other one too, and what else has he taken that I don’t know about?’ She stared at me, horrified. ‘The bastard! I’ll fucking kill him!’
‘Tilly, we’re jumping to conclusions. We’ll tell the police and they can investigate. Your friend who found the tracking software on your phone that time on the bus, he didn’t say he’d found spyware too, did he?’
‘No, he would have said. Perhaps Dave removed it before I left home.’
‘It’s possible, or maybe there is another explanation we haven’t thought of yet,’ I suggested. I pride myself on being level-headed and I was really struggling to believe someone, possibly Dave, had placed spyware on Tilly’s phone and taken indecent images of her. It was like a scene from a spy movie. Yet tracking software had been found on Tilly’s phone, so was it really such a huge leap to believe Dave had done this too? Assuming it was him, which had yet to be proved.
‘I hope the police come soon,’ Tilly said as I drove. ‘I’m seeing Gran and Mum this afternoon.’
‘You might have to give that a miss today,’ I said. ‘You’ll need to stay in until the police have been. They might not arrive until this evening or tonight.’ I’d had to wait in for the police before with other young people I’d fostered. They arrived when they could. I doubted this would be a priority, given all the other, more serious crimes and incidents they’d probably be responding to.
I was wrong.
As I pulled into our road and our house came into view, we could see a police car parked outside. ‘They’re here!’ Tilly cried.
‘Yes.’
I drew up and parked. A policewoman was at our front door.
‘Hello,’ I said, getting out. ‘Have you come to see Tilly?’
‘Yes. I’m Police Constable Macie Byrne.’
‘I’m Cathy Glass, Tilly’s foster carer.’
She said hello to Tilly. I let us in, and we went through to the living room.
‘I’ll need to take some details,’ PC Byrne said. ‘Are you able to stay with us?’ she asked me.
‘Yes.’ All minors should have an appropriate adult with them when they are interviewed by the police.
We sat down and PC Byrne took out a notepad and pen and asked Tilly for her full name, date of birth, mobile-phone number and address. She gave her the details, this address and also her gran’s, explaining she stayed there at weekends.
‘She used to live with her mother and her stepfather, Dave, at his house,’ I added. ‘He still lives there.’ I gave her that address too.
‘But this is where I can reach Tilly if necessary?’ she asked, meaning my home.
‘Yes,’ I confirmed.
‘Your teacher telephoned us and said you’d received some indecent images on your phone?’ she said to Tilly.
‘She’s not my teacher. She’s the deputy head,’ Tilly corrected.
‘Can I have a look at your phone, please?’
Tilly stood, went over and showed her the images on her phone, pointing out the mole that she felt confirmed the photos were of her.
‘It’s not nice for a young girl to receive these,’ PC Byrne said, and noted the number they had come from.
‘And there is this one,’ Tilly said, showing her the previous one of her posing in sexy underwear. ‘I convinced myself I’d taken it and had forgotten, but I knew I hadn’t really.’
‘Do you know who sent them?’
‘Dave, my stepfather,’ Tilly said decisively, and returned to sit next to me. ‘I used to live with him and Mum.’ She then explained the situation that had led to her coming into care: the dreadful arguments that had become physical, the abusive way Dave had treated her mother until she couldn’t stand it any more.
‘But why do you think your stepfather is responsible?’ the PC asked.
‘I know it’s him. He’s weird, and he’s angry because Mum and I escaped him. He sent us both the photo of me in my underwear. Who else would do that? Mum doesn’t know anyone apart from him, me and Gran. He saw to that.’
As PC Byrne finished writing, I said, ‘The other thing you need to know is that tracking software was found on Tilly’s phone. It was removed and we changed her number, so I’m not sure how Dave would have got hold of it, if it is him.’
‘Presumably you gave your new number to your friends?’ PC Byrne asked Tilly. ‘Could one of them be responsible?’
‘No! Why doesn’t anyone believe me!’ Tilly cried.
‘We do,’ the PC said. ‘But you have to understand, I need evidence your stepfather is responsible. I appreciate that all the photos have come from the same number, but couldn’t it be someone at school misguidedly thinking they’re having a bit of fun?’
‘I’ve never had a boyfriend and even if I had I wouldn’t let him take photos of me like that. They’re disgusting.’
PC Byrne nodded sympathetically, although I suspected she’d probably seen far worse indecent images in her job. Some of those circulating online are unbelievably shocking and depraved.
‘And you’re convinced they are of you?’ she asked Tilly. ‘You can’t really tell, as your face isn’t visible.’
‘Yes, I’ll show you my mole.’ Tilly jumped up from the sofa and pulled down the waistband of her trousers just far enough to reveal a small mole above her left buttock.
‘All right, thank you,’ the PC said, throwing me a small smile.
‘Will you arrest him?’ Tilly asked, sitting down again.
‘We’ll certainly speak to your stepfather and see what he has to say.’
‘He’ll lie. He always does,’ Tilly snapped.
‘We’re used to that,’ the PC reassured her. ‘Can I take your phone?’ she asked.
Tilly’s face fell. ‘I need it. I use it all the time. I can’t manage without it,’ she exclaimed.
‘I won’t take it now then, but we might need it in the future.’
Had Tilly been accused of taking or sending indecent images, as had happened with one teenager I’d fostered (see my book Finding Stevie), the police officer would have taken her phone as evidence against her. But Tilly was the innocent party in this, and she knew not to delete the images.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ PC Byrne said, and stood. ‘Here is my card if you think of anything else.’ She handed it to me.
I thanked her and saw her out. Tilly was still wound up and I calmed her down. There was time for her to visit her gran and mother, so she went upstairs to change out of her school uniform, then left to catch the bus.
Five minutes later Paula arrived home, made herself a drink and a snack and went to her room to study. She had her last exam the next day.
Ten minutes later Isa telephoned from her mobile, having just come out of court. I could hear the rumble of traffic in the background as I brought her up to date. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’ll speak to the police officer tomorrow.’
Twenty minutes after her call, as I was updating my log, Tilly telephoned, distraught. ‘He sent those photos to Mum too, with a nasty text message saying I was a slut just like her. The bastard! Mum’s in pieces. Can you tell that police officer? I haven’t got her number.’
‘Yes, I will. Were they sent from the same phone?’
‘Yes.’
This seemed to add weight to the assumption that Dave had sent them. ‘Does your gran know?’
‘No. I haven’t shown her. I’d be too embarrassed.’
‘OK. She doesn’t need another upset now.’
‘I’ll phone PC Byrne, and obviously don’t let your mother delete the photos or the message.’
‘No, I won’t. I’ve got her phone.’
‘Good. And Tilly, none of this is your fault. I want you to remember that.’
There was a small pause before she replied. ‘Thank you. I’ve been feeling it was.’
‘No. Absolutely not. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s certainly not your fault, love.’
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