In addition, he had implemented ‘psychic driving’ which entailed strapping the subject into a blacked-out helmet, for sensory deprivation, and playing a recorded message though the inbuilt speakers for sixteen hours per day, for up to one hundred days.

Although all of the subjects were permanently damaged by the research, Alex felt that such institutions had provided an invaluable service over the years.

Alex tuned back in to her companion, who was still wittering on.

‘ … that the benefit did not outweigh the cost. Some patients went on to live ‘relatively’ normal lives, whilst others went on to murder, rape and commit acts of cruelty.’ He nodded towards her. ‘However that is a discussion for another time. Patty was released into the community, judged to be no danger to herself or anyone else. She was placed in a council flat in a high-rise building in Colley Gate and simply disappeared from the system.

‘Every patient was supposed to be monitored, but case workers had no chance of evaluating everyone, and so the quieter, less troublesome patients fell through the cracks.

‘Within a year, Patty was pregnant. No one ever knew who the father was. Patty was known as a bit of an oddball, “the local loon”, if you like. There was a neighbour that took an interest in Patty and made sure nobody gave her too much trouble. She was the closest thing to a friend that Patty had; her only visitor when she gave birth to twins.

‘She had a boy and a girl – named Michael and Kimberley. Because of her history she was placed under supervision. She left the hospital and the next few years are sketchy, but it is noted that the children were placed on and off the “at risk” register quite a few times. A lack of physical contact between mother and children was noted as was the boy’s slow developmental rate, both physically and mentally.

‘They fell off the radar for a couple of years until it was discovered that they hadn’t started school. The authorities got involved again and the children started school two terms behind everyone else. The girl soon caught up, and although withdrawn, was intelligent. The boy was kept in remedial class.

‘Reports were made about the children: their weight, cleanliness, refusal to interact. The girl was questioned but wouldn’t speak. She would just stand and hold her brother’s hand.’

‘You have amazing recall of the events,’ Alex noted. The facts were almost thirty years old.

He acknowledged her comment with a sad smile. ‘I lived and breathed this case while I was researching the book. The story of those two children has never left me.’

‘Was nothing done by the authorities?’ Alex asked.

‘The girl wouldn’t speak. I interviewed a Miss Welch, one of the school teachers who had taught Kimberly. She recalled one lesson when the sleeve of the child’s dress had risen up, revealing a red welt around her wrist. The child looked into the teacher’s eyes for a few seconds, as though trying to send a message, before quietly pulling the sleeve back down.

‘At break time Miss Welch sought Kimberly out and tried to ask her about the injury but, as usual, the child said nothing.’

‘Did the girl have no friends?’ Alex asked, with interest.

‘Apparently not. Each break time she would find her brother and hold his hand. They would sit or stand together somewhere in the playground. Children can be exceptionally cruel and they were bullied mercilessly for many reasons: they were scruffy, they smelled, he was underdeveloped and much smaller than the other kids and their clothes were atrociously ill-fitting. Fodder aplenty for primary school.’

He looked at Alex with real feeling in his eyes.

Oh God save me from nice, caring people, Alex thought.

‘And do you know, that girl never retaliated once. She simply held her brother’s hand tighter and walked away, just blanking them out.’

So this was why DI Stone’s barriers had been formed long ago. Alex’s interest was growing. She watched Arthur take a deep breath, eager for him to continue.

‘Spring half-term of 1987 came and went. The children didn’t return to school. Efforts were made to contact Patty, to no avail. A social worker who cared little for protocol persuaded a neighbour to help her break down the door.’

He lowered his head but continued. ‘I managed to interview that particular neighbour: a six-foot Nigerian drug-dealer who cried as he told me what they found. In the bedroom behind another locked door were the two children, chained to the radiator pipe. Michael was chained directly to the pipe and Kimberly was chained to him. It was a very warm week and the radiator had been left running. On the floor was an empty packet of cream crackers and a bone-dry Coke bottle.

‘The boy was dead and the girl was barely conscious. She had laid beside his lifeless body for two whole days. She was six years old.’

Alex placed a look of horror on her face, when what she really felt was excitement.

‘Did you follow the case after that?’

‘I tried to, but the people I really wanted to talk to weren’t saying very much by this time. The council conducted an internal investigation which was no more than a finger-pointing exercise, producing no real conclusions. Don’t forget, news was not what it is today. People bought their newspaper, read it, threw it in the bin and forgot about it. There was no public outcry for answers and this suited social services very well indeed. Compare that with the Victoria Climbie case which prompted a public inquiry and was the catalyst for major changes in the child protection policies for the whole country.’

‘What happened to Kimberly Stone after the trial?’

‘My understanding is that she went from foster home to foster home. As you can imagine, the poor child would have been significantly damaged and it would have taken a very special family to know how to help her. I have no idea where she is now but I still think about her and just hope that she’s found some measure of happiness.’

Well, Alex did know where she was and doubted very much that any true measure of happiness had befallen her. She recalled a passage from Milton’s Paradise Lost; ‘The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.’ Alex wondered what Kim’s mind had made of itself.

Sensing there was nothing more to gain here but emotional lamentation, Alex reached down for her handbag. She stood and offered her hand.

‘Thank you very much for your time, it has been incredibly helpful.’

Henry leaned down and extracted a book. ‘Here you are, my dear, I still have a few left. You’re welcome to a copy if it will help with your case.’

Alex again thanked him and took leave of his company. The man had no idea that the spring in her step was due to the detail of his recollections. He had offered her an armoury of ammunition and she couldn’t wait to get started on the biggest challenge of them all.

FORTY-ONE

‘You alright there, Guv?’ Bryant asked, pulling up at the school gates.

Even through the sealed unit of the car the sound of the school playground could be heard. It was a universal symphony conducted around the world. Loud, excited chatter from groups that moved and changed like the tide. Playing, screaming, chasing in the last few minutes of freedom before the start of the day.

Already ties were being loosened, backpacks abandoned in the corner to be grabbed on the way in.

She knew this playground well. She looked to the oak tree that still dominated the top right corner. She half expected to see herself there, playing tag with Mikey around the tree. Just the two of them.

On cue, the bell rang and startled her. The doorway acted like a vacuum as it sucked all the little bodies inside.