‘Shall we show Daddy?’ says the little boy, twisting to look up at her. There’s a dark pink scar on his temple.
‘No, Toby,’ says the young woman, her face anxious. ‘Not yet. We don’t want to disturb him. He’s happy where he is.’
***
Oxford Mail
1st May 2017
OXFORD’S OWN ‘FRITZL CASE’:
HOW COULD IT HAPPEN HERE?
By Mark Leverton
North Oxford residents are still in shock after the discovery earlier today of a young woman and a toddler in the cellar of a house in Frampton Road. It’s not yet clear how long she had been there, but parallels are already being drawn with the infamous ‘Fritzl case’, in which an Austrian man imprisoned his daughter for 24 years in the basement of his home and raped her repeatedly, resulting in the birth of seven children. Elisabeth Fritzl was only discovered when one of her children fell dangerously ill. Josef Fritzl had constructed a sophisticated underground prison for his daughter, behind eight locked doors, but there is no suggestion yet of any such construction in Frampton Road. Many concerned residents are already asking how the girl could have been concealed down there without anyone knowing.
‘It’s horrific,’ said Sally Browne, who lives nearby with her three children, ‘how could anyone do something like that and no one realise? There was apparently a social worker or someone coming to the house, so I don’t see how they couldn’t have known.’
Other residents are also questioning the role of Social Services, and that too may have tragic echoes of the Fritzl case, where social workers regularly visited the Fritzl home and yet saw nothing to arouse their suspicions, despite the fact that Fritzl claimed to have discovered three of his daughter’s babies as ‘foundlings’ on his doorstep.
The owner of the Frampton Road house has been named locally as a Mr William Harper, an elderly man who lives on his own. No one we spoke to had had any dealings with Mr Harper, though he was apparently seen being taken away by police earlier today.
Neither Thames Valley Police nor the Social Services department have yet issued a statement. The girl and her child are said to be receiving medical attention in the John Radcliffe hospital.
Do you live in Frampton Road or know anything about this story? If so we’d like to hear from you – you can email or tweet us.
154 comments
VinegarJim1955
That’s what Tory cuts does for you. No money for proper care
RickeyMooney
Not surprised no one noticed anything – those people round there, they don’t give a sh*t about anyone else
MistySong
This is just awful – I can’t believe it could happen in such a quiet place. Makes you worry about all the female students living alone.
VinegarJim1955
But she wasn’t a student was she? Couldn’t have been – if she was they’d have been looking for her the minute she disappeared and it’d have been all over the papers. Makes me sick.
Fateregretful77
I used to be a social worker and I know the pressure they’re under these days. You don’t get anything like enough time to spend with clients. And I’ve also had experience of dealing with Thames Valley Police and I think they do a fabulous job. Check your facts before you start accusing people
***
Tuesday morning. 8.45. The door is opened by a young woman in a white shirt and a cotton skirt. She makes you think of words like ‘fresh’ and ‘crisp’ and I suddenly feel rather worn and grubby about the edges. It’s happening a lot these days.
‘Yes?’ she says.
‘I’m DI Adam Fawley and this is DC Chris Gislingham. Thames Valley Police. Is Mr Gardiner in?’
Her face says it all. ‘Oh God. It’s Hannah, isn’t it.’ She puts her hand to her mouth. ‘When I saw the news yesterday, I just knew –’
Gislingham and I exchange a glance. ‘And you are?’
‘Pippa. Pippa Walker. I’m the childminder. Nanny. You know.’
I remember her now. I never met her during the original investigation, but I remember the name.
‘You knew Hannah, didn’t you – you were their childminder back then too?’
Her eyes fill with tears and she nods. ‘She was really nice to me. I never stop thinking about it. If I hadn’t been so ill she’d never have had Toby with her that day and everything might have been different.’
‘Can we come in?’
‘Sorry, yes. It’s through here.’
We follow her down the hall to the sitting room. Sunlight through tall windows, giving over the square. More windows behind looking over the garden. Cool yellow walls. Black-and-white framed prints. Every surface strewn with toys. Teddies, model cars, a train set. And on the mantelpiece, photos. Hannah and Toby, Rob and Toby on a little tricycle, the three of them on a beach somewhere. Sunlight and happiness.
‘Sorry about the mess,’ says the girl, picking things up distractedly. ‘Rob’s in his study. I’ll go and get him.’
After she’s gone I walk over to the rear window and look across. I can see the back of Frampton Road. Through the trees, the roof of William Harper’s shed is just visible. There are some large black birds pecking noisily at something dead in the long grass and four magpies skulking like assassins in the tree above. When I was a child you rarely got beyond ‘one for sorrow’, but now the bloody things are everywhere.
‘Blimey,’ says Gislingham, moving a stuffed toy cat and sitting down. ‘So I’ve got all this to look forward to, have I?’
He grins, and then wonders if he’s been tactless. Everyone does that. No one knows what to say to the parents of a dead child. It should make me better at dealing with situations like this, but somehow it never does.
‘You’ve found her, haven’t you?’
Rob Gardiner is standing in the doorway. His face is white. He’s changed since I last saw him. His dark blond hair used to be cut short at the sides but now he has a ponytail and one of those beards that invades your whole neck. I suppose these techy types can get away with it. But my wife would be making a face by now, if she was here.
‘Mr Gardiner? I’m DI Adam Fawley –’
‘I know. You were here last time. You and that man Osbourne.’
‘Why don’t you sit down.’
‘Policemen only ever say that when it’s bad news.’
He comes further into the room and I gesture towards the chair. He hesitates, then sits, but on the edge of the seat.
‘So have you? Found her?’
‘No. We haven’t found your wife.’
‘But you’ve got a new lead, haven’t you? It said on the news. This bloke – the one with the girl in his cellar – the Fritzl bloke.’
The young woman comes forward from the door and puts her hand on Gardiner’s shoulder. He doesn’t acknowledge the gesture. After a moment he moves, very slightly, and she takes her hand away.
There’s no point prevaricating. ‘Yes, we are looking at a possible connection with a house in Frampton Road.’
Gardiner gets up and walks over to the window. ‘Jesus, I can actually see that bloody house from here.’