I had done a little bit of work that morning. I watched the video – it was blurry at times and the light wasn’t brilliant but it was adequate in terms of seeing what was actually going on. The sound was muffled, I might need to tell people what the youths had been shouting, but even without the words the pictures said it all. Reviewing the behaviour of the gang made me tense with anger again. The cruelty of their taunts and the ugliness of their behaviour revolted me. I tried to work out how they must feel about themselves to be so ready to attack others?
I dispatched a courier with the videotape for Mandy Bellows. I included a note asking her to let me know as soon as possible whether the tape was all they needed. I could then return the camcorder.
I also checked the e-mail for answers from potential Jennifer Pickerings; everyone I’d contacted had replied and none of them was the right person. The woman in Scarborough even referred to the fact that she’d been contacted before, by a member of the family. Roger, I presumed. Of course he’d have checked for her online – it was his field of work but I consoled myself that at least I was being thorough.
On the Saturday night it was dry enough to have a bonfire and burn the debris from the garden along with some scraps of wood from the cellar that Ray had no use for. There was also an old wooden cupboard, riddled with woodworm, that had been rotting in the shed. The kids took great delight in helping to break it up.
There’s an old paved area at the bottom of the garden, in one corner. I’m not sure why it was laid there as it’s no suntrap but it works fine for the children to ride bikes on and it’s ideal for bonfires. I used a couple of rows of broken flagstones to form a small circular fireplace and then I built a pyramid of scrunched up paper, kindling and sticks. I lit the fire. It was smoky at first until it burnt off the moisture then the twigs crackled and hissed and I gradually added larger pieces of wood.
I called Ray and Laura and they brought out the food; baked potatoes with cheese and tomato sauce and sticks of carrot and celery to crunch on. Maddie and Tom drank dandelion and burdock, the rest of us had some bottled beer that Laura had contributed.
“When’s bonfire night?” asked Maddie.
“A while yet,” I said.
“How many weeks?”
“Can we have fireworks,” said Tom, “very, very loud ones?”
“I hate loud ones. We should just have sparklers. Is it next week?”
