“I dunno. Maybe it hurts a bit at first, but usually you’re so off your face with vodka and weed, or whatever, you don’t feel anything.”

“All the girls did this?”

“Eventually. Had to. Yeah.”

“To be with lots of men for sex?”

“Yeah.”

“Always older men?”

“Yeah. Like businessmen and whatever, but some of them were like, you know, more rough, like they worked in factories or garages and stuff.”

“Did Faisal take money from the men you went with?”

“I didn’t ever see him do it, but I’m sure he did.”

“So they were pimping you, renting you out as prostitutes?”

“It didn’t seem like that.” Jade’s voice was a plaintive wail for acceptance. “It really didn’t. They always said how we were welcome to everything they’d given us, and kept on giving us—drinks, food, free taxi rides, jewelry sometimes, mobiles, top-ups, and later some coke and phets and weed. Even money. None of us had, like, jobs, or parents that had any money to give us. Maybe we felt what we did, you know, was like a way of paying for it, doing a favor for a friend. I mean, men wanting sex with me was no big deal. They’ve been doing it since I was twelve, including my first foster father and my stepbrother. I didn’t get a chance to say no to them, either, and they didn’t even pay me for it. Didn’t even offer me a fucking drink. It was the same with Becca and Kath. And Mimsy always had older blokes around her wanting a feel or a quick wank. Even her psychological counselor from the social fucked her and he was supposed to take care of her.”

“Was that your present foster father who raped you?”

“No. This was in Sunderland. It’s better here. They don’t touch me at all, not even a pat on the shoulder or a hug.” She snorted. “They hardly even talk to me.”

“So you were just returning a favor for Faisal?” Gerry said.

“That’s right. Favors.”

“Is that why you didn’t go to the authorities? The social services or the police?”

“Partly. None of us had had an easy time whenever the polis or the social came on the scene. They were bastards. It was like everyone had just given up on us. We knew they’d just blame us, say we’re thick, like retards or something, and we’re sluts and whores and we were doing it for the drinks and drugs and free meals. What did they call it? A ‘lifestyle choice.’ Some fucking lifestyle.”

“Weren’t you doing it for the drugs and drink?”