11

I TALKED TO RONA FOR MORE THAN AN HOUR. WHEN WE WERE tired of watching the river, we got up and wandered down Bankside. At the bridge we turned back again and joined the crowds admiring the black and white, surprisingly tiny, circular theatre. Everything she told me was off the record. She wasn’t prepared to press charges, just wanted someone to talk to. She told me how two more boys had arrived, the older one she thought was seventeen, the younger, her age – fifteen. The five boys had stripped her naked and then the two new arrivals had taken turns to rape her. Then they’d forced her to kneel at the foot of the bed and perform fellatio on each of them. It was an act, she told me, known as a lineup. When that was over, the oldest of the boys had turned her face-down on the bed and raped her anally. Only when they saw how much she was bleeding did they let her go. Just before she half crawled out of the front door, Miles had given her the money for her bus fare home.

We both knew this case was never coming to court. Rona knew other girls who’d suffered in the same way, she knew the form. If she brought charges against the boys, they’d either deny anything had happened or they’d claim she consented. The fact that she already had a sexual relationship with one of the boys and had gone willingly to his flat would be held against her. The boys had used condoms, again implying some level of consent. Even if they were charged, they were young and could well be released on bail and be back in the neighbourhood. They would have friends, who would be only too happy to intimidate potential witnesses. If Rona went public, she wouldn’t be safe.

When she’d finished, it would have been difficult to say which of the two of us was the more exhausted.

‘What can I do for you, Rona?’ I asked. ‘I understand that you don’t feel able to press charges right now, but is there anything I can do? Do you need medical attention? I can probably arrange for you to see a counsellor if you like.’

She shook her head. ‘Can you sort out protection?’ she asked.

‘Protection?’ I repeated. ‘For you?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘There’s been talk, at school. Girls say they got their eye on Tia now.’

‘Tia?’ I was lost.

‘My sister. People are saying Miles and the others are coming after Tia next.’ She stopped, and for the first time I thought perhaps she might be close to tears. ‘Miss Flint, you have to do something,’ she said. ‘She only twelve.’