My Sister's Bones(91)

Somewhere in this hospital my sister is lying in a sterile box. Her life needlessly snuffed out by a psychopath who duped us all. I hear a clicking of heels coming up the corridor and I turn, half expecting to see her, arms outstretched, chattering nineteen to the dozen, asking what the hell just happened. But it’s not her, it’s a nurse, and as she walks past I feel something depart, something warm and glowing. In its place is a black hole; a dark, sister-shaped void.

She is gone.

‘Ms Rafter.’

I look up and see two figures coming towards me: a woman in a long tweed overcoat and a uniformed police officer.

‘DI Lipton,’ says the woman, extending her hand. ‘And this is PC Walker.’

‘Yes, I know who he is,’ I reply bitterly, recognizing the young man. ‘I tried to tell you what was happening in that house and you did nothing. Well, actually you did do something. You arrested me.’

He twitches and DI Lipton looks at him and frowns.

‘If you had taken me seriously that night, PC Walker, then my sister would still be alive. Instead she is lying in some lousy morgue.’

It’s all too much for me, all of it, and the tears that have been threatening for the last few hours come rushing forth.

‘I’m so sorry, Ms Rafter,’ says Lipton.

She pulls out a chair and sits down next to me. Walker remains standing.

‘This must have been a terrifying ordeal for you.’

I wipe my eyes and look at Lipton.

‘Is he alive?’ I ask. ‘Paul Cheverell; the man who did this to us. Have you got him?’

She nods her head.

‘Good,’ I say, clenching my fists.

I am glad he is alive because I want him to suffer like my sister suffered in her final moments. I want him to never know peace again for as long as he lives.

‘He’s in police custody,’ says Lipton. ‘We’ve obtained some information from Fida Rahmani and we’ll need to speak to you and Hannah too once you’re ready.’

‘Fida Rahmani,’ I spit. ‘She was part of all this. She needs locking up with him.’

‘From what we’ve gathered, it seems Miss Rahmani was as much a victim of Cheverell as your niece and sister,’ says Lipton. ‘We believe that Miss Rahmani was trafficked into the UK, and somehow Cheverell took advantage of her situation.’

‘What? I don’t understand.’

‘We’re still trying to find out the details,’ says Lipton. ‘But your sister’s neighbour told us that a woman of Miss Rahmani’s description went to see your sister yesterday, perhaps to tell her what was going on. We think Cheverell must have found out somehow, and attacked her. We found a cricket bat with blood on it in the garden.’

‘Right now I don’t care about Fida Rahmani,’ I say bitterly. ‘She had ample opportunity to tell me what was going on in that house. But she didn’t and now my sister is dead.’

‘She told us that Cheverell threatened to kill her and the boy if she spoke out,’ says Lipton. ‘He kept them all separated. Hannah was held in the shed and the rule was that David was to be kept away from her in case he got too attached. She just did what he said. It’s common that women like her grow to be dependent on their captors.’

I can’t believe the evil of this man.

‘Why didn’t I see it?’ I say to Lipton, tears running down my face. ‘I’ve reported on enough cases of this kind of abuse.’

‘I suppose it’s not something you’d expect to find right under your nose,’ says Lipton. ‘And in such a quiet residential street. I know it’s taken us by surprise.’

She looks up at Walker and smiles, perhaps hoping to exonerate him from his negligence.

‘Well it shouldn’t,’ I say abruptly.

She doesn’t know how wrong she is. We’re all of us, every day, just a hair’s breadth away from evil. If I’ve learned anything from over fifteen years of reporting, it’s that. But I couldn’t expect these people to understand.

I stand up.

‘Listen, we’ll be in touch, Ms Rafter, but in the meantime we’ve arranged for a social worker from Kent Child Services to come and speak to you. They can go through your options.’

‘Options?’

‘For the care of Hannah and David,’ she says. ‘They’ll be able to talk through the next steps. Temporary accommodation, counselling, possible foster care for the boy.’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ I say briskly. ‘I’ll be looking after Hannah and David now. It’s what Sally would have wanted.’

Lipton nods. ‘Well, the help is there if you need it,’ she says. ‘Hannah and David will need a lot of support and counselling to help them recover from this.’

‘I understand,’ I say, David’s cries still ringing in my ears.

‘And if there’s anything else you need,’ says Lipton, handing me a card, ‘please don’t hesitate to get in touch. You’ll find my direct number there and the contact details for your liaison officer at Kent Child Services.’

‘Thank you,’ I say, taking the card.

‘Oh, and there’s just one more thing,’ says Lipton. ‘Fida Rahmani has asked to see you.’