Helen briefly appraised the room they were in. Even in the patchy light shed by the car, the space looked filthy. The walls were damp with old peeling paper and mildew, forming grotesque-looking patterns across the ceiling. There was no carpet – just old and uneven bare floorboards. An ancient brown sofa stood against one wall, stuffing hanging out of the arms and seat cushions so threadbare there was more foam showing through than fabric. A side panel of glass was broken in the bay window and held together with brown parcel tape, utterly useless for keeping out the cold February night. A television stood in one corner on an upturned box, its wide screen and shiny black newness incongruous with its surroundings.

Valerie continued to speak calmly to the children, attempting to gain their trust. Then turning to Helen she whispered, ‘Go and fetch the blankets from the boot of my car.’

Helen hurried off, grateful to be out in the fresh air but simultaneously feeling guilty about her revulsion for the situation inside. The first policeman stood by his car on his radio reporting in to the station while his colleague searched upstairs. Helen retrieved the blankets and took them back into the house as the second policeman came downstairs.

‘No sign of anyone else. Who knows how long those kids have been alone; the fridge is all but empty. Poor little sods.’ He nodded to Helen. ‘You taking them now?’

‘Er, yes, we are.’ Helen was floundering. Having longed for something to happen, this situation had thrown her. The smell was making her feel sick and she longed for a hot shower and her bed, although it was doubtful whether the images she’d seen could be erased sufficiently to allow a peaceful night’s sleep.

Taking the blankets to Valerie, she found her colleague trying to persuade the little girl to move away from her brother. Valerie took a blanket and draped it around Joanne’s shoulders, but the child still clung to her brother. It looked as if they’d have to lift them out as one. As Helen leaned over to help, the girl bit into her arm and scratched at her face.

Valerie managed to wrap the girl’s flailing arms in the blanket but was rewarded by a piercing feral scream, making the boy cry even louder. The senior social worker held the girl tightly and motioned her colleague to do the same with her brother. Helen was so stunned that it took a few seconds to respond. The boy wriggled in her arms, screaming, almost deafening her. He wore only a thin vest and his legs were covered with excrement, the smell of which was overpowering.