Jacqui Rose - BETRAYED

‘Can you step forward, number one, and then turn to the left and to the right, slowly.’ The tall man with dark hair stepped forward, nervously turning as instructed in both directions before stepping back to the wall.

‘Number two, can you step forward and then turn to the left and to the right, slowly.’ Without taking his eyes off Bronwin’s reaction to the men the detective stood up slightly as he realised he was too near the mike.

‘Number three, can …’

Bronwin’s mind wandered off. Her legs were getting tired having to stand up and she thought it was funny the way all the men were staring ahead. The lady had said they couldn’t see her, but she didn’t know how that was possible if she could see them.

‘Bronwin? Bronwin?’ The detective was talking to her. She didn’t know how long he had been, but she could tell he was cross; his cheeks were red like her mum’s cheeks went red when she was angry with her.

‘Do you recognise any of them? Were any of them there in the woods?’ The detective’s voice was urgent as he stared at Bronwin.

‘Detective, let me handle it.’ The social worker cut her eye at the detective. ‘Bronwin, do you recognise any of them? Were any of them there in the woods?’

Bronwin looked first at the detective and then at the lady. She didn’t know why they were asking her the same question and arguing about it.

The social worker sighed and looked at her watch. ‘Bronwin, this is very important. If you can remember anything , you need to tell us. Can you remember who it was?’

Bronwin nodded her head.

‘Show us then. Can you point them out?’

Bronwin nodded again, she raised her hand and pointed, speaking in a small voice. ‘It was him.’

The officer sprang into action. ‘Number eight.’

‘Yes. And him.’ She pointed again at the line-up.

‘Number two.’

‘Yes.’

The detective’s face didn’t give anything away. In a matter-of-fact manner he said, ‘Well done, Bronwin. You’ve done great.’

Bronwin looked at him, her elf-like face turned to the side. She swivelled around, turning her back to the line-up and staring towards the door where the man with the booming voice stood. ‘And him. I saw him in the woods as well.’

‘Bronwin do you understand what happens to children who keep telling lies?’

‘I ain’t lying, Dr Berry. It was him, it was that bloke. Why won’t you believe me?’

The psychiatrist tapped his pen on his leg absent-mindedly. ‘We’ve gone over this before and we both know why I won’t believe you, don’t we?’ The psychiatrist paused dramatically then said, ‘Because it’s simply not true. How do you think a person feels to be accused of bad things, Bronwin? How would you feel if I accused you of doing something bad?’

‘But you are. You’re saying I’m lying.’

‘That’s not the same, Bronwin, because you are .’

Bronwin’s eyes were wide with fear as she cuddled Mr Hinkles, her teddy bear. ‘Please let me go home. I think I should go home now; me mum will be missing me.’

Nastily, Dr Berry spoke in a whisper. ‘Bronwin, children who tell lies, especially vicious ones, don’t go home. How would you like to never go home? I can make that happen you know. I can make sure you never go home, Bronwin, so you need to start to tell everyone you’re sorry for telling lies about those nice men.’

‘They ain’t nice. They ain’t .’

Dr Berry grabbed hold of Bronwin’s arm and shook her hard, his face red with anger. ‘I’m warning you, Bronwin.’

Bronwin didn’t say anything. She didn’t even know why she was here and all she wanted to do was to go home. She curled up tighter in her sadness as she listened to Dr Berry continue to rant. ‘And you know what’s happened now, don’t you?’

Bronwin shook her head.

‘Now everybody thinks you’re a liar. The police, the courts, even your mum does. That’s why they were found not guilty.’

Hearing the psychiatrist mention her mother, Bronwin sat up, her face scrunched up in a mixture of hurt and anger.

‘No she don’t! She never said that!’

‘Bronwin, I don’t tell lies because I know it’s wrong.’

Rubbing away a tear with the back of her sleeve, Bronwin yelled, ‘You’re a big fat liar.’

Dr Berry slapped Bronwin hard across her face, causing an angry welt to appear on her cheek. Taking his glasses off to wipe them with the corner of his starched white doctor’s coat, Dr Berry didn’t bother to look at Bronwin as he spoke.

‘That’s why she hasn’t been to see you, Bronwin, because she doesn’t like liars. She told me she didn’t want you to come home. No one is ever going to believe a word you say. No one trusts you, Bronwin, which means no one’s ever going to believe you when you tell them what happened in the woods.’

At the word woods, Bronwin covered her ears.

‘It’s no good doing that, Bronwin. The only way to change this is by telling the truth and stopping these silly lies.’

‘But I keep telling you, it ain’t a lie. I want to go home. I want to see me mum and me sister.’

‘Bronwin, I’ve told you this before. Your sister is dead.’ Bronwin immediately began to scream. Her wail was fearful and high pitched; an adult’s cry within a child’s body. The scream resonated through her and began to take possession of her body as it started to shake, convulsing her into a fit. Dr Berry pressed a button and a moment later a white-gowned nurse entered the room.

‘Give her fifty millilitres, nurse.’

The nurse picked up a full syringe from the silver drugs trolley nestling in the corner of the room, then quickly and expertly administrated the powerful drug into Bronwin’s leg. Almost immediately, Bronwin’s eyes began to roll back. Her shoulders began to slump and her mouth gently opened to one side as she lay on the bed in the tiny whitewashed room.

After a couple of minutes, Bronwin’s eyes slowly regained focus and she sat staring ahead at nothing but the blank wall.

Today was her seventh birthday.

In the next room, Bronwin’s mother sat nervously pulling down the grey nylon skirt she’d bought from Roman Road Market the day before. She’d wanted to look presentable and it was only now she was realising that the skirt might be too short. Perhaps she should’ve got the other one, the longer one, but it’d been a fiver more and she’d needed the fiver for the electricity key. Taking off her jacket, she placed it over her knees.

She was nervous. Her hands were sweating and she could feel a prickly heat rash beginning to develop on her chest. She knew what these people were like. Knew how they judged; Christ, she’d been dealing with them since she was a kid herself, and now they had their hands on her daughter.

Week after week she’d called up to see Bronwin, but they’d told her she couldn’t. She’d even turned up a few times, hoping someone would show a bit of compassion, but she’d been turned away, not even being allowed to step foot into the children’s facility. All she’d been told was that social services and the doctors thought it was best for Bronwin to be taken into temporary care. That wasn’t going to stop her though; she was going to get her daughter back and bring her home where she belonged. Today was the first time she was able to see the doctor in charge and, as her nan used to say, she was shitting bricks .

Gazing around the room made her feel even more nervous. There were paintings of men in gilded frames on the wall, looking superior and mocking. It surprised her to see the doctor’s office void of any medical books, but instead filled with trinkets and thank you cards. She jumped as the glass door opened.