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  I don’t know if there were other girls involved. I certainly never saw any and I only ever went into one of the flats. It didn’t really look like anyone lived there. For example, there was no T.V. in the bedroom, or much furniture other than a bed, and the bathroom just had the basic essentials. I never really felt the need to go and explore and see what was behind the other doors.

  I certainly wouldn’t have said it was a brothel but then I’ve never seen what one looks like. However, as I’ve said before then maybe I was the one that Adam brought to the party.

  I wonder if they were happy when they found me waiting for them when they entered the room. The fat blob. That’s why I didn’t understand the thing about “child prostitution” at first. I don’t look like a child. To me that would be the whole point; the fantasy, or reality, element. In my opinion I’ve got the body of a 25 year-old Scummy Mummy who’s had three kids. Who’d want to pay for that? Well, quite a few people. According to the internet, I’m what is known as a “fetish”. Freakish more like.

  Chapter Eleven

  It’s been a long weekend. For both Jack and me. And he still doesn’t want it to be over. It’s like he knows that he might not get another chance after today to get me to “confess”. But is this a confession? Confessions of a Paki Shagger. That’s a horrible thing to say, but I’ve no doubt it’s what some people will call me.

  Me. The “victim”. The second time I’ve been a “victim”. But will they keep my identity a secret this time so that the public can’t stick their nose in ruin my life again?

  I’m probably going to have to move on again sooner or later. Without Jack. Without anyone. If this does go to court, and it’s anything like the last trial I had to put up with, I’ll be sixteen by then. Technically, I’d be free to fend for myself. But I know they wouldn’t let me. I’d be sectioned straight away. There’s other weird stuff I get up to as well which I do when other people are around so there’s no way I’d be set loose on the world.

  I wonder if I’ll ever be truly free. If someone like Jack can take such an interest in me then maybe I’m not the loser I’ve let myself think I am. But I know deep down Jack doesn’t like me for who I am. It’s what’s happened to me that has brought him here.

  To be honest, I don’t know if that bothers me, but just for once I’d like to meet someone who understands me and cares about me. But how would I ever be able to tell anyone about what has happened in my life? I wonder if Jack’s got anyone more my age he could recommend to me.

  I wonder what Jack’s friends are like. There’s definitely something about him. And he seems worried about his CRB check, especially as the police will be listening to our conversations that he’s recorded. But maybe my situation needs someone like Jack. Someone who’s determined that justice is done rather than political correctness is followed.

  At the moment though my head is a bit of a mess. And I’m thinking about this too subjectively. Too wrapped up on how this will affect me. What hardship I’m going to be put through and when the next stage is going to start.

  I’ve pretty much told Jack everything I know. Unless he wants me to go into minute detail of what happened in the bedroom department then there’s not really much more that I can say. But I know he doesn’t like me like that. And he certainly doesn’t like hearing about what I’ve been getting up to. Although, just for once it’d be nice if he put his arm around my shoulder, kissed the top of my head and told me that he was going to make everything okay for me. I’ve never been told that by a virtual stranger I’ve actually liked before. And that’s not me wallowing in self-pity again; that’s how sad my life has been.

  I’m feeling so fragile right now it’s unreal. I’m also feeling like the cheapest cut of Cheap White Meat available on the market. Jack asked me what Adam used to win my trust and all I could say was “Chicken nuggets.”

  No booze. No fags. No drugs. No presents. No cheesy chat-up lines. Just chicken nuggets and red salt. Maybe some free fries as well, if there were some leftover going spare.

  Am I that much of a fat whore?

  All that was needed to take advantage of me was some little bites of gristly chicken. Of course, I got paid by Adam’s “friends” but that was different. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting it when the first one gave me his twenty quid for me time. And because I have a problem speaking I couldn’t really ask him what it was for.

  Jack had to look away when I told him that I’d have done it all for free. That I was happy to have the thrill of a stranger touching me. But he doesn’t understand that I’m not worth anything. I’d never had anyone take an interest in me like that before. No one.

  Whenever I walked past someone in the street who was cute, and I’d look back round to see if they were checking me out, no one ever looked back. They probably thought that the front was bad enough so they weren’t going to be repulsed by the arse.

  Jack tells me again that I’m not fat. I still believe him but it doesn’t really make any difference. He might not think it but he’s definitely in the minority. Although since I cut out the chicken nuggets I have lost a bit of weight. And I haven’t eaten at all today.

  ‘Can we get a takeaway?’ I ask Jack.

  ‘Where though? I don’t eat halal.’

  ‘What’s halal?’

  Jack looks at me like I’m stupid. But Jack, if you read my file properly then you’d find out that I haven’t been to school properly for seven years.

  ‘It’s meat which has been prepared a special way.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

  ‘Would Adam eat halal?’

  Jack nods. But what difference does it make? Meat is meat. Sometimes I wish that Jack could just be himself with me. There’s so much that he looks like he’s dying to tell me but has to hold back. I don’t know what he’s scared of. I’m not about to go blabbing. And not because I don’t speak but because I’m on his side. I don’t want to upset him.

  Okay, he doesn’t eat halal. If it’s that special then there are probably loads of people who don’t eat normal meat. Whatever counts as “normal meat” anyway.

  ‘Are we going to get a takeaway then? You must be starving.’

  ‘Are you allowed to order one?’

  ‘I’m sure if you told them then we’ll be allowed.’

  We get pizzas at birthdays and that but I’ve never been involved in the ordering of one. If I ever wanted something then I’d just walk out of the gates. But it would be nice to get a pizza today, just me and Jack. It would sort of be a nice way to end the weekend. We could even make it a tradition every Sunday night.

  Me and Jack, already planning for the future. Except we’re not. It’s all inside my head. Am I hearing voices again? Nah, I didn’t even hear voices in the first place. It was just assumed of me. There has to be some explanation as to why I’m so weird. As to why I won’t make any attempt to get to know girls who are my own age and who I have so much in common with. As to why I won’t speak to anybody older than me. Will hardly make eye contact with some of them.

  I don’t know when I first stopped speaking. I don’t think it happened over night. I think it happened gradually. Whenever something happened that I didn’t like I wouldn’t talk about it. Talking about it only brought it out into the open. Brought back the pain. And over the years it got to the point where I wouldn’t talk to anyone. No matter what they said to me. No matter what they called me, I wouldn’t react.

  At first it was really hard to keep it up with but after a while it became easier. People sort of expected it from me. They were probably pre-warned about the “phase” I was going through. I know Gillian was. That’s why she gave it to me with both barrels; the most questions I’ve ever been asked in five minutes. She probably thought that she’d ask me so many questions all at once that there was bound to be one that I’d answer. But what she didn’t know is
that she ruined any chance she had with me in the first five seconds.

  “I’ll be the one to change your life,” was the first thing she said to me. Well, she certainly changed my life and let me go off into the hands of the sort of people who shouldn’t have been allowed into the country in the first place.

  Where did that come from?

  Must be Jack’s influence. Jack, the bad influence on me, or, Jack, the one who’s made me see the light? Maybe I’ll give up eating halal too. Apparently, it says on the door, or window, of a takeaway whether or not it’s halal so I’ll have to look out for the signs and avoid those type of places.

  I wonder what else I should avoid. Jack could become my guru on how I should live my life. He’s already decided what meat I shouldn’t eat. Next he could tell me what kind of people I should be friends with. I wouldn’t need to cut anyone out so that shouldn’t be too difficult, but perhaps I could start going to places where there would be loads of similar minded people to Jack. Boys like Jack. Boys my age.

  Even though I’m nothing much to look at I could dress to impress – well show off my boobs – and I’m sure that if Jack said that he knew me, and said a few complimentary things, then somebody would take an interest in me. I don’t think there’s anything much wrong with the way I dress, but improvements can always be made.

  For once I’m actually looking forward to the future. I just need to get a difficult couple of days out of the way and then I can let my life begin. I wonder what Jack normally does at the weekend. I know I’m too young to drink still but there are other things I can do. And if Jack introduced me to people he knew then I’d be able to speak to them. They wouldn’t have to know anything about the mute “phase” I’m going through. They could think I was a perfectly normal girl, or, at least, as normal as I can ever come across to people.

  But Jack’s going coy on me. He doesn’t want to commit to anything past today. He knows that it’s not his choice whether he can see me again. It only takes Gillian to say that Jack being here is not good for my situation and he’d be gone.

  And she’d do that. Gillian. As soon as she finds out that I’m laying the blame at her feet she’ll never let me see Jack again. But I’m still going to do it and I want to be there when she finds out. When she listens to today’s tapes for the first time. I want to see her face. I want to see her try and squirm her way out of it.

  Jack thinks I shouldn’t be so harsh on her and that maybe she was only doing what she thought was best. But I know that she didn’t care. She’s not the same as me and Jack.

  The quadroon.

  Should she even be in the country? Look at the evidence; all the people who’ve taken advantage of me are a different colour to me and Jack. They’re all against us. Only looking out for themselves. Taking advantage of vulnerable people for their own gain. Sexual or monetary; it’s all the same.

  What should happen is: when they hear the tapes, Gillian should be suspended straight away. Of course I’d still need a Key Worker but Jack should be given more responsibility. After all, look at what he’s done for me. And in such a short space of time. He made me wake up and realise that I don’t deserve to be taken advantage of just because I’m fat and live in care. My life is actually worth living. My life; which is being ruined by people who don’t even belong in my country.

  Thank you Jack. Thank you for everything you’ve done and taught me. Thank you. And long may it continue.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dan and his subordinate are back to torment me some more. Unfortunately, Gillian is still by my side, but at least Jack is here. We’re in what they like to call the “Chill Out Zone” but it should really be called the “Interrogation Zone”. Because that’s all that ever happens in here. Whenever something goes missing in the house, this is where some of the staff bring us to be interrogated whilst the rest search our rooms. And even though I’ve never stolen anything I still get dragged in. Accused even though I’ve done nothing wrong.

  Gillian’s looking stressed today. It’s her third day on the trot and I can tell she’s looking forward to her three days off. But she’s going to have next weekend off as well, if I get my way. And there’s no reason why I shouldn’t now that I’ve got Jack by my side.

  But Jack looks tired. Unshaven. And I don’t think he washed his hair last night. To be honest he looks like he wasn’t expecting to be here today. He was already having a little “chill out” when I strolled in so we haven’t had a chance to chat and plan our activities for the day.

  Dan’s looking smug. It must be because he’s been listening to my tapes and he’s ready to arrest Gillian for neglecting me. But his subordinate looks like she means business as well. She’s an old friend of Gillian’s so no doubt she’ll have a mountain of excuses ready in preparation to defend her with.

  Looking at Dan and his subordinate though, I get the feeling that something is not quite right. I’m not sure what’s happened to the recordings. Jack didn’t even bother to check that the device was working properly and even recording what we said.

  ‘Let’s get started shall we?’ Dan says, like I’ve put him out for taking so long to make an appearance this morning. ‘We’ll start with you Mr Ford, shall we?’

  “Mr Ford”? Jack Ford. That must be his full name. Dan sounds smarmy when he speaks, but Jack’s looking relaxed. Perhaps too relaxed, slouching in a chair to my left.

  ‘We’ve just had the results of your CRB check come back. Came back clear of course. Just like your last one. But they don’t always show everything up without some proper police work.’

  I look at Jack. He’s still slouching in his chair. He’s looking towards Dan but not at him. It’s like he knows what he’s about to say but he’s waiting for Dan to say it, rather than give the game away in case he’s bluffing.

  ‘What would you say your political views are Jack? Off the record.’

  “Off the record”, what does that mean? I want to ask, but you know all about my situation.

  ‘I don’t vote,’ says Jack.

  ‘Why’s that? None of the parties represent your views?’

  Again Jack doesn’t flinch. But I don’t understand where this is going. What this has got to do with me. After all, this is all about me, isn’t it? Otherwise what am I doing here?

  ‘If you had to define your political views into “left” and “right”, as in left-wing and right-wing, which side would you be on?’

  Again, no response.

  ‘Come on Jack, Gillian says you’ve been doing nothing but talking all weekend. And I’ve listened to some of the tapes. Was there a reason why you paused the recording sometimes when you started speaking?’

  I’d noticed him doing that but I didn’t think it was significant. After all, it matters what I said, not what he said. He was recording himself asking the questions but sometimes pressed pause when he gave his response to my answer.

  ‘Not talking today Jack?’ Dan asks.

  But I want to talk. I want to ask why this is relevant. A couple of days ago they were desperate for me to talk; now they’re more bothered about what Jack’s been saying.

  ‘I showed your picture to a colleague of mine: D.C. Iain Thompson. Do you know him?’

  ‘Short-arsed Scouse get who thinks he’s funny?’ Jack says instantly. I think it’s funny but don’t laugh. Dan, his subordinate and Gillian aren’t impressed.

  ‘This might be off the record Jack but if I was you I’d still be careful about what you say. He recognised you. But then you’d probably know that. To be fair, he didn’t know your name. But then he certainly knows some friends of yours. They’re very active in a far right protest group who’ve made quite a name for themselves. And not a name you’d want to be associated with. Well, certainly not if your wanting to pursue a career in this sector.’

  Jack’s still not ruffled. He’s still slouched in the same position. But as Dan said,
he’s not done anything wrong. His CRB check came back clear; it’s just that he knows some people. He might have known them for a long time. It doesn’t mean anything significant.

  ‘You ever been to one of their marches Jack?’

  ‘You know I have.’

  ‘Why did you go on it?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Well, it’s not something everyone would do. Can be quite dangerous if things get out of hand.’

  ‘Whose side are you on?’

  Four pairs of eyes stare at me. They can’t quite believe that I’ve finally spoken. Spoken up for Jack. Spoken up for myself. Questioned what Dan wants to achieve by all this.

  ‘It’s not about sides,’ Dan says. ‘It’s about finding out what happened and who are the best people to be dealing with the situation.’

  I look at Jack. I want him to tell Dan and his subordinate what I told him about Gillian. She’s definitely not the best person to deal with my situation. So what if Jack has “right-wing views”, whatever that means. At least he cares. At least he wants to make sure that Adam and his “friends” can’t take advantage of anyone else.

  ‘These checks have to be made,’ Dan says. ‘I’m only doing my job.’

  I hate that phrase. A job. That’s all this will ever be to these lot. A way to pay the bills. Once my case has been solved then I’ll be forgotten about. That’s how they feel, the Three Mongamigoes. All for one and one for all within their little group. So I was right. There is only Jack who I can rely on. And no doubt they’ll take him away from me. Stop me from seeing him. All to make their job easier. All to make sure they can carry on “doing my job”. Even though one of them clearly isn’t up to doing their job.

  Although I’ve finally spoken to someone in authority for the first time in years, I’ve got to leave the room. They want to decide the next step forward. More like they want to listen through all the recordings to see if they need to destroy the evidence that Jack has got me to confess.