Ann Cleeves - A Day in the Death of Dorothea Cassidy

‘What’s he been done for?’ Ramsay asked. The name was unfamiliar.

‘Mostly drunk and disorderly. Some petty theft. And there was one charge of assault after a fight in a bar in Newcastle.’

‘Is he working now?’

‘He’s been unemployed since he moved in with Theresa, but this week he’s been helping with the fair on Abbey Meadow. He met up again with some old contacts. That’s partly why we’re so concerned.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Ramsay said.

‘There was some suspicious bruising on Beverley’s body,’ Hilary Masters explained. ‘When he’s drunk Joss is unpredictable, moody. We think it’s possible that he hit her.’

‘And on those grounds you took her into care?’

He realised, too late, that he sounded critical. She became embarrassed, defensive.

‘This is an impossible job, Inspector,’ she said. ‘When I was a student one of the social workers in the team where I was training was called before a public inquiry after the death of a child she was supervising. I’ll never forget it. The press camped out in her garden and followed her wherever she went. No one could withstand that sort of pressure and in the end she had a nervous breakdown.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. He wanted to tell her that he understood, that he too had once made a mistake which had ended in tragedy. ‘I wasn’t trying to tell you how to do your job.’

‘Why not?’ She shrugged. ‘Everyone else does.’ Then she smiled. ‘I’m sorry. Paranoia goes with the work.’ She paused. ‘You’re right, of course. In normal circumstances we wouldn’t take a child into care without stronger grounds. But in this case the circumstances were exceptional. I’ve explained that Joss had renewed his contacts with his friends on the fairground. The day before yesterday he and Theresa suddenly announced that they intended to leave Otterbridge and become travellers themselves, taking Beverley with them. And Clive if he wanted to go. Practical problems like where they would live or whether Joss could make enough money to keep them seem not to have occurred to them. They’re like children. It’s all a game.’

‘So that precipitated the decision about taking the girl into care?’

‘Of course. This is the last day of the festival. Tomorrow the fair will pack up and leave. We couldn’t risk the family disappearing.’ She hesitated. ‘I suppose I hoped it would shock Theresa to her senses. I suspect that Joss has got itchy feet and wants to be off. She won’t let him go.’

‘When did you suspect that Corkhill was ill-treating Beverley?’

The defensiveness returned. ‘We had no statutory involvement with the family,’ Hilary Masters said. ‘ Only through Clive. Beverley was going to nursery regularly and seemed to be thriving.’

‘Who alerted you to what was going on?’ Ramsay asked. Then it became obvious. ‘ Was it Dorothea Cassidy?’

Perhaps that explained some of the social worker’s hostility towards the vicar’s wife. An amateur had succeeded where she had failed. He could understand how Hilary must feel.

Hilary Masters nodded. ‘As I explained, Clive started going to church. Dorothea ran a youth club there and he started going to that. Then she persuaded him to go to the service on Sunday too. I wasn’t very happy about that development. What right had she to impose her beliefs on an impressionable boy? I got his social worker, Mike Peacock, to talk to him about it once. He told him that it wasn’t part of his supervision order and he didn’t have to go if he didn’t want to.’

‘What did he say?’

She shrugged. ‘That he enjoyed it. I think he had a teenage crush on Dorothea. Not many people have been kind to him. After a few weeks he started taking Beverley to Sunday school. I suppose Theresa was glad to be rid of her for an hour but it was probably Dorothea’s idea.’

‘And she thought Beverley was being ill-treated?’

‘Yes. At first she noticed a change of personality. Beverley had always been a bright, out-going child. She seemed unnaturally withdrawn and listless. Then Dorothea found the bruises. As I’ve explained she was an experienced social worker. She realised that it was unlikely that they had been caused accidentally.’

‘Did the child tell you that Corkhill had hit her?’

‘No,’ Hilary said. ‘She’s only two and a half. We couldn’t get her to talk about it. But anyway, that’s not unusual in child abuse cases, even with older children.’

‘But you were convinced that Corkhill was the culprit?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Hilary said. ‘We were all convinced of that. When he was sober he was helpful, courteous, but when he had been drinking he had a foul temper. He’s given Theresa a black eye after a row before now.’

‘And where’s the little girl now?’

‘With foster parents.’

There was a silence, and Ramsay remembered there was something else which the social worker had failed to tell him.

‘Can you tell me what happened at the case conference yesterday? What position did Dorothea Cassidy take?’

He thought at first Hilary would refuse to reply, but she answered reluctantly. ‘She believed we should leave Beverley at home. She liked Joss Corkhill. I think, despite her experience, she allowed herself to be manipulated. And she was extremely idealistic. There was a lot of talk yesterday at the case conference about a child being better off with its mother. She thought she could persuade Theresa to stay in Otterbridge.’

‘But you didn’t?’

‘I wasn’t prepared to take the risk. In the past Theresa has never been susceptible to rational persuasion. I said that if Joss Corkhill left the town with the fair and Theresa stayed at home, then of course there would no longer be any grounds to keep Beverley in care. Dorothea was going to Theresa’s house yesterday to talk to her about it.’

‘How did Mrs Cassidy seem at the case conference?’ Ramsay asked. ‘She wasn’t upset or unusually preoccupied?’

‘No,’ Hilary said. ‘She was enthusiastic, optimistic. Quite normal.’

‘Did you notice if she had a sticking plaster on her wrist? We think she may have cut herself at some point during the day.’

If Hilary was surprised by the question she gave no indication.

‘No,’ she said, ‘I’m sure she didn’t.’

‘What was the result of her meeting with Theresa after the case conference?’

‘I don’t know,’ Hilary said. ‘And that’s surprising. I would have expected Dorothea to call in or to phone me after she’d spoken to Theresa. I’ll be sending her social worker there this morning. We have to know what Theresa intends to do.’

‘Could I go with your social worker?’ Ramsay asked. ‘I have to talk to Miss Stringer about Dorothea’s visit yesterday. She might find it easier to talk to me if I’m with someone she knows.’

Hilary Masters stood up. ‘If you feel you need my staff’s protection,’ she said icily, ‘ I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.’

The sarcasm surprised him. He had thought that they had reached some understanding. Suddenly he felt a wave of sympathy for her and realised she must be as lonely as he was.

‘Thank you for your time and your help,’ he said. He wanted to show her that he admired her, that he realised she was good at her job. ‘ I must congratulate you. You have a very detailed knowledge of what must be only one of hundreds of cases your staff are supervising.’

She looked at him, unsure whether or not he was mocking her, but when she saw it was meant as a compliment she answered seriously.

‘I told you, Inspector, it’s never a trivial matter to take a child into care, no matter what the tabloid papers say. I always want to be sure of my facts. Besides, I know the family well. Before I was made a senior I was the Stringers’ social worker. It was the first case I took on when I arrived here, newly qualified. You might say that Theresa and I have grown up together.’