But then she would remember: Paul’s breath against her ear, his hands on her, his scent. She remembered how he used to talk about his dream of becoming a doctor, the way his hair fell over his face, their first kiss in the cinema. And then she wondered how everything could have gone so horribly wrong. She was just grateful that it hadn’t got reported to the police. They’d asked her of course, but she’d protested adamantly.

As Rose gradually quietened down, Claire could feel the slim frame of the girl in her arms. Even though Rose was tall at five foot seven, she would have had no chance against men intent on violating her, but here she was, brave enough to speak up about her experience, to take those who had hurt her to task through the British courts. Suddenly Claire knew what she had to do. She would fight for Rose to be heard, to have her say. Claire would fight, not from the side lines, but from the ring itself, front and centre, and leading the charge.

Still holding Rose, the girl’s face hidden behind her hair, she leant down, bringing her lips close to the young girl’s ear.

‘I’m here for you, Rose, and we’re going to do our utmost to fight this,’ whispered Claire, and hoped her actions would go some way to alleviate her own pain and guilt.

28

Paul looked at his printed name and signature on the sign-in sheet at Manchester Royal Infirmary hospital where he worked as one of the caretakers: Paul Jacobs. He avoided writing his name down as much as possible, but the hospital employee registration system was down, and everyone had to fill in the timesheets. He’d been Jacobs for so long now but seeing it in print always reminded him of the events leading up to his name change, triggered by that fateful afternoon with Claire.

Things had quickly spiralled out of control. Thanks to that squawking parrot bitch Charlotte, who had burst in on them, the incident had spread throughout the school and then around Castlefield and he, and his parents, had become social pariahs. He’d railed and protested but expulsion had been swift and immediate, and he’d felt the familiar rage within. But this time he couldn’t control himself and he’d flown at the head teacher, fists clenched. Afterwards, when all his pent-up frustration had been released, he’d cried in the privacy of his bedroom, tears of anger and shock.

But not even he could imagine how much worse the situation would become.