Gay Manion planned her campaign very thoroughly. She returned to The Firs exactly two weeks after her meeting with Geoffrey Derricks, meeting him in his office. Geoffrey looked as though he had aged several years.
Gay came straight to the point. “Did you speak to the boy?’
Derricks nodded, avoiding her eyes.
‘Did he do it?’
Derricks shook his head. ‘I got Thomas to let him in, and left them alone together. Thomas said he tried making a pass at him, but Hoskins wouldn’t have it. Thomas was a bit disappointed, so he suggested saying that it had happened, even though it hadn’t.’
Gay Manion thought for a moment. This was a setback. But it was definitely better than nothing. ‘Will he made a statement?’
‘He will.’ Derricks nodded, but knew that he was making an understatement. Thomas had set his mind on publicity and possible newspaper payments, and was all for crucifying Hoskins as fast as possible. He began to sweat a little. Both Gay and Thomas were asking him to compound perjury, and he knew he could not both refuse and survive. The door to hell was opening before him, and he would have to pay with his soul.
Gay caught her breath. ‘Will he name Hoskins?’
Derricks nodded wordlessly.
‘Good.’ Gay muttered the word as though speaking to herself. ‘Where is he?’
Derricks looked alarmed. ‘You can’t speak to him.’
‘Why not?’ Mrs. Manion bridles. She was not accustomed to being denied.
‘I have to contact the County’s Social Services Department in Maidenhead.’
Gay scowled. Trust Derricks to split hairs. She would have to contact Carla to make sure she told the County’s Youthguard team at Maidenhead all about Freddie. She glowered at Derricks. ‘Has he made a written statement?’
Derricks nodded, and walked to his desk. He picked up a file, and handed it to Gay. The buff folder contained a lengthy, and most explicit, description by Thomas of being approached and seduced by Freddie Hoskins, and Thomas had revelled in his detail.
Gay reads through it quickly, and felt her excitement quicken. ‘Can I have a copy of this?’
Derricks paled. Gay Manion and Laura Owens were – as far as he knew – the only two people who knew anything of his involvement with Thomas, and they were already two gossips too many. Giving Gay a copy of Thomas’ statement might well open a floodgate. He shook his head, and tried to look stern. ‘I think I’ll have to treat it as an official document. Maidenhead might start asking questions.’
Gay shrugged. She would call Carla and tell her that a boy at The Firs was about to made an allegation against Hoskins. She would claim credit for forcing Derricks to interview the boy and obtain a statement, and Carla would do the rest. She made a mental note to have a persuasive word with Mrs. Owens. Something like a couple of hundred might do the trick – Laura would just have to keep her mouth shut.
Her plans slotted neatly into action. Carla paid immediate attention when she mentioned The Firs – though she had also heard rumours linking Geoffrey Derricks, the housefather at the home, with one of his charges. But a signed statement totally outvoted any whispers. She promised to pursue the matter, cleared Gay off her line, and called Detective Superintendant Brian Weatherall, the policeman in charge of the new Berks and Bucks police Paedophile Unit at the force’s headquarters in Reading. Thomas’ statement would go first to Alison Holderness, the Youthguard Team leader in Maidenhead, and Alison was a prim, pinched woman, with a great capacity for believing the very worst of any man in creation. Alison would then call Brian as well, and Brian could be counted on to pass the file down to Detective Inspector Jim Rowton at Slough. Carla just needed to know when Berks and Bucks planned to arrest Hoskins – because she could then feed a date back to Gay, Gay could whistle up the press, and her reputation as a woman with a finger in many different pies would be greatly enhanced.
The Hoskins file grew as smoothly as clockwork. Derricks faxed Thomas’ statement to Maidenhead, Alison called Jim Rowton and Wexham Park Hospital, and Alison and Jean Smithson, her deputy, arrived at The Firs the following afternoon, accompanied by Dr. Anwar Suratha, a senior paediatrician from Wexham Park Hospital. Both women were severe in dark business suits, and Alison had an almost mannish air about her. Jean was a hatchet-faced copy of her team leader. Dr. Suratha was a comfortable middle-aged Indian, balding a little, in a lightweight beige suit.
DI Rowton arrived with a young woman constable in a police car a few minutes later. Both were in civilian clothes at Alison’s request, to avoid creating any judgmental overtones.
Jean Smithson held a state of the art video camera, and all five were grim-faced as they entered The Firs. Freddie Hoskins was a well-known local figure, and Thomas’ allegations could be counted on to win the case a very high profile. Regional and national media were bound to took a close interest, and names and reputations might well be made as well as broken. Both Alison and Jean were determined to climb their career ladders, and the Hoskins case might be expected to generate promising promotion opportunities. Dr. Suratha and DI Rowton were equally ambitious. Rowton, a keep-fit enthusiast with the lean hungry look that comes from early morning jogging, knew that multiple spotlights might well highlight his promotion prospects, whilst Helena Johansson, the young woman constable, blonde and hard and disdainful of all men, had just started her first specialist assignment since arriving at Slough police station, and was as keen as mustard.
Alison took command immediately. ‘We’ll sit around Geoffrey’s coffeetable, to put Thomas at ease.’ She waved the doctor and the two police officers into two of Geoffrey’s comfortable chairs. ‘Geoffrey and I will sit on the sofa, Thomas will have a chair facing us all, and Jean will video everything.’ She watched her companions take their allotted places, and looked stern. ‘Thomas is making a very serious and shocking allegation, and must be allowed to develop it in his own way, without any questioning or prompting. We will listen to him read his statement, and then I will ask him whether he would like to add anything. Dr. Suratha will then examine him, to see whether there is corroborating medical evidence, and will write a formal report. He will provide the county and the police with copies.’
Dr. Suratha nodded, wriggling in his chair like a dog eager to please.
Alison continue briskly. ‘I will draw up my own report after I have read Dr. Suratha’s comments, and send copies to the police and Wexham Park Hospital. It will then be up to the police to decide whether to present the file to the Crown Prosecution Service, and the CPS will decide what action to take.’
DI Rowton nodded. Alison Holderness was off to a good start – she plainly knew her Memorandum of Good Practice, and could be counted on to follow official guidelines to the strict letter.
She looked at Derricks. ‘Right, let’s start. Bring Thomas in to meet us.’
Thomas sat waiting in a little room alone the passage leading to Derricks’ office. He was in his best t-shirt and jeans, and had been passing his time toning up his muscles. He smiled his most winning smile as Derricks beckoned to him. ‘Are they ready? Can we have a bit afterwards?’
Derricks blenched and looked around quickly to made sure nobody was within earshot. ‘Sshh, don’t talk like that.’
‘But it’s exciting. It makes me all eager.’
Derricks backed away from the boy. Thomas was at his most dangerous being winsome. ‘You’ve got to be serious.’
Thomas pouted, but reluctantly walked ahead of the housefather towards his office. He switched his backside cheekily as he reached the door and pushed it open. But he entered the room as demure as a young angel.
Alison Holderness smiled at him with a look melding briskness and pity and curiosity in equal proportions. Dr. Suratha and DI Rowton and WPC Johansson glanced at him quickly and averted their eyes. Jean Smithson was already focussing her video.
‘Sit down, Thomas.’ Alison’s voice had a sickly, saccharine quality. ‘My name is Alison, and I’m from Youthguard. These two gentlemen and the lady are a doctor and a policeman and a policewoman. Do you know why we are here?’
Thomas lowered his eyes shyly. ‘You’ve come because of my statement.’
Alison nodded, and gestured at a copy lying on the coffeetable. ‘Would you read it to us?’
Thomas picked up the sheet of paper as though handling something rather less than clean. ‘Do I have to?’ His voice caught, as though he was prey to some strain.
‘I think you should.’
‘But it wasn’t very nice.’ Thomas had a natural talent for acting, and this was the first time he had ever had an opportunity to explore it in front of an audience, and to explore it to its full. He would have fun with these people, and he would laugh afterwards.
‘I’m sorry, but you must.’
Geoffrey Derricks had positioned himself where none of the four visitors could see his eyes. He knew Thomas had his bit between his teeth, and he feared for the outcome.
‘All right.’ Thomas heaved an almost theatrical sigh. He begins to read, pausing and lowering his voice as he reached his most explicit descriptions, and then cantered through to the end.
DI Rowton watched him covertly out of the corner of his eye. He was an experienced policeman, and had worked on many, many cases. He felt his first enthusiasm starting to ebb, for he was not sure that he liked the look of this young man. Thomas seemed to be playing to his audience, and it was a bad sign.
Alison nodded approvingly. ‘Well done, Thomas, you have been very brave. Do you want to add anything?’
Thomas nodded reluctantly, and now he looked like a fallen angel. ‘He came back again.’
Alison was like a bloodhound. ‘Who?’
Thomas hesitated, as though the name was being forced out of him. ‘Freddie.’
‘Go on.’
‘He asked me to go for a walk with him, because he was afraid someone might have seen us together.’
Alison nodded.
‘He asked me to sit with him on a bench, and then came right up close and wanted to kiss me.’
Geoffrey Derricks dug his nails into the palms of his hands. He wanted to scream, but he could not.
‘Go on.’
‘He wanted us to have a quick one, but I didn’t want to. So he put his hand on the zip of my jeans, and unzipped me.’ Thomas illustrated his words with a quick unzipping gesture.
Alison flinched. But Youthguard was her responsibility. ‘Go on.’
‘I came up hard, and he took me into the bushes.’ Thomas paused, lowering his eyes again. ‘He came up tight behind me, and pushed my pants down, and then he buggered me. He was all slimy, ‘cos he had started to come, so it didn’t hurt as much as the first time, but it still wasn’t very nice. I told him so, and he went down on his knees and sucked me off. He said that would make up for it.’
Alison closed her eyes. There were times when, as Youthguard’s team leader, she had to enter sick and depraved worlds, and this was such a time. Duty and responsibility and conscience were the only forces driving her forward. ‘Go on.’
‘That was it. He told me to tell nobody – he said we’d both find ourselves in a lot of bother.’ Thomas’ voice tailed away.
Alison waited, but he shook his head. ‘That’s all there was.’
The room was silent. The Youthguard team leader took a deep breath. ‘Thank you very much, Thomas.’ She eyed Dr. Suratha, who nodded eagerly. ‘The doctor just needs to have a quick look at you.’
The two women from Youthguard, Rowton and the young police constable, trooped out of the room, followed by Derricks. Dr. Suratha was already donning a pair of latex gloves. He examined Thomas quickly, dropped the gloves in a disposable bag, and opened the door. ‘Very good, very good. Now I must wash my hands.’
The assessment was over, and now the dice were cast. Dr. Suratha paused for a moment, close to Alison, as he prepared to leave. ‘Anal penetration, it was very clear. It will be in my report.’
Alison nodded gravely. She waited for Jean Smithson to load the video camera back into her car, and drove off, looking very serious. The boy’s allegations were dynamite.
DI Rowton also left, deep in thought as he drove back towards Slough. Helena, his keen young companion, glanced at him from time to time, hoping that he would initiate a discussion, but he said nothing, and she realised that she must speak herself if she was to secure any guidance.
She cleared her throat tentatively. ‘Sounded pretty cut and dried, sir.’
Rowton shrugged.
‘Do you think Brian will let us push it through?’
Rowton grunted non-commitally. He was sure that Brian would devolve responsibility to Slough, because Brian Weatherall was much too astute a copper to involve himself in detailed detection if he could delegate. He would direct from on high, and take all the kudos.
‘When do think we’ll be able to pull Hoskins in, sir?’
Rowton’s mouth tightened a little. He planned to play this oen by the book. ‘We’ll need reports from Youthguard and the hospital. Maybe a week or so.’
Helena frowned. She had only been working with the DI for a couple of weeks, and was still relatively new to this sort of case. But Rowton’s manner seemed to lack the enthusiasm she had seen him focus on other work. She wondered whether he had doubts, because some of her older colleagues had sometimes treated child abuse victims sceptically, and even accused them of introducing fabrications into their complaints.
She herself had no doubts at all. She was a tall well-built girl, with Swedish blood on her father’s side, and knew how dirty-minded men could be. Teenagers had sometimes been a problem at school, before her self-defence course, and some of her male colleagues at Hendon had thought to try her during basic training, before finding out the hard way that she also held a judo black belt. She had watched Thomas carefully throughout his interview, and knew how greatly the poor boy suffered. She made up her mind to keep her boss on course. Dirty-minded middle-aged men had no place at liberty on the streets.
The Youthguard and Wexham Hospital reports reached DS Weatherall’s desk a couple of days later. Weatherall read them slowly, and then read them again. Dr. Suratha’s report was a dry summary of medical observation: Thomas had been buggered. Alison Holderness was more insistent: the Youthguard leader wanted Hoskins arrested and detained at the earliest possible opportunity. She argued that he represented a major danger to vulnerable young men, and must be taken out of circulation as quickly as possible.
Weatherall addd a brief memo recommending immediate action and despatched the reports to Slough. Rowton read them and arranged for a car to bring Hoskins in the following morning. Helena Johansson smiled to herself. The wheels of justice had begun to turn.
Freddie sat enjoying a quiet cup of coffee with a valued customer – a friend of old Mrs. Hartland – when the police car stopped outside his shop. He glanced at it idly. Perhaps the police were having a blitz again on truant shoppers parking along the kerb. He shrugged: he was safe in the carpark behind the shop.
A policeman and policewoman came in and looked at him. Freddie apologised to his customer, and summoned Leticia from making herself coffee in the utility room behind the shop. He was busy.
But the policeman ignored Leticia, staring at him coldly. He held up a card in a little wallet. ‘Are you Frederick Jenkins Hoskins?’
Freddie stared back at the policeman, and began to sweat a little. He mopped at his brow with a large polka dotted handkerchief matching the bow tie he was wearing. He was lost, totally bewildered. What was happening, why was this man talking to him in this way?
‘I am Detective Inspector Rowton, from Slough Police Station. A statement had been made by a minor, alleging that you sexually abused him on more than one occasion, and I have a warrant for your arrest. I must ask you to accompany me. I must also tell you that you do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something that you later seek to rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence against you.’
Freddie’s jaw sagged. He blinked, swallowing, and fought for breath. After a moment he managed to conjure up a few faltering words. ‘I don’t understand.’
Rowton’s eyes were stony. ‘You must come with us.’
‘But what have I done? Who says…?’
‘Do you have a solicitor?’
Freddie nodded weakly. He was suddenly in a nightmare world, wholly beyond his understanding.
‘You’d better ask your young lady to call him.’
‘But I don’t know any minors.’ Suddenly Freddie began to understand the enormity of what was happening. The policeman said somebody had made a statement, and he remembered a boy at The Firs making eyes at him.
Things were spiralling out of control, and Jennifer was out shopping. He turned to Leticia, trying to fight back tears he could feel gathering on his lashes. ‘Can you call Gaskins, and get hold of Jennifer? Tell her what has happened. Tell her it must be some dreadful mistake.’
Leticia nodded, trying to fight back tears of her own. She knew Freddie like she knew herself, and he was the last man in the world even to think of molesting a child. She also knew that she would fight to her last drop of blood to defend him. Somebody must have a grudge against him, and he needed protecting. She scoured her brain. She had no great opinion of Daniel Gaskins, the shop’s solicitor, a man keen to make as much as possible for a minimum amount of exertion. She remembered that Charlie Tindal had been a journalist, before going into the City. Charlie was a good man. She would beg him to help.