‘I guess it’s this bloke in the flats – and the rest of the cold stuff. Wrap it all up in five hundred words. And you’d better read this insider on St Vincent’s… Henry’s had the lawyer make some changes.’
Dryden tapped a key on his PC which brought up Charlie’s news list. The news editor’s judgement was often suspect, especially this close to opening time. Dryden scrolled down the list, checking that he’d called the right story as the splash – otherwise he’d be overruled by the editor at the last minute and Dryden would have to slash his copy and bump up a rival candidate.
* News Schedule: The Crow – Thursday December 29 2005
Front.
Mayor’s charity raises £2,000 for Christmas Appeal – PIX.
Pymoor
Three injured as car ditches in Thirty Foot Drain – PIX. Dryden Row over late licence for town club on New Year’s Eve. Pymoor Cold snap claims fresh victim: wrap up on the big freeze. X-ref pix inside. Staff and PA wire copy.
Page 2.
LEAD: New victims come forward in child abuse probe at St
Vincent’s. Dryden
Village school hit by Christmas arson. £12,000 worth of damage.
PIX. Pymoor
Dog which bit baby put down. Dryden
Eight drunk and disorderly cases dealt with by magistrates. ‘Binge culture’ attacked. Pymoor
Page 3.
LEAD: TV star to open bingo hall revamp – PIX. Pymoor
Littleport man ‘made life misery’ for whole street. PA court copy
Fen Skating Committee meets on go-ahead for race… file PIC.
My View: bishop writes blah blah…
Class Snap: Little Downham Church School 1923.
Page 5.
LEAD: Chittering man convicted of bigamy – again. File pix of all three weddings. Pymoor
Ice buckles sluice gates at Denver – PIX. Dryden
Lantern School tops county league tables – PIX. Dryden
Page 7
News In Brief
Insurers reclassify Fenland properties after survey shows flooding would inundate 100,000 homes. (lift from nationals)
Christmas burglaries round-up. Pymoor
Courts may reopen 30-year-old murder case – PA
Bolting horse destroys greenhouse at Manea. Dryden OAP heated tea mornings – listing for the week: includes cathedral Lady Chapel.
Dryden filed the list away. ‘Bloody hell. It’s a bit thin.’ He noted in particular that any story tagged ‘TV star’ clearly involved a nonentity as they hadn’t used the real name. Ely typically attracted those who had never made the A-list, but would one day see the Z-list. What was worse, the news editor had missed a good story. The magistrates warning over binge drinking could have been run up into a bigger story ahead of New Year and spliced in with the row over late opening. He sent Charlie an internal e-mail suggesting the change.
Then he called up the story he’d written on St Vincent’s, the latest wriggle in a long-running saga surrounding a local orphanage. The intro had been significantly altered from the original by the lawyers – toning down the drama. Dryden cut out his own byline and put in a generic replacement. If they wanted to butcher his copy he’d rather it didn’t carry his name.
By Our Own Staff
Lawyers probing abuse of children at a Catholic orphanage in Ely have uncovered evidence from two further potential victims who were at the home in the 1970s.
A spokesman said yesterday that they were now dealing with five separate cases of mistreatment of children aged 9–15 involving beatings, solitary confinement, and withholding food and bedding.
‘We feel the weight of evidence is now such that these complaints must be addressed in court,’ said Hugh Appleyard, of Appleyard & Co., solicitors for the alleged victims.
A civil action is planned which would seek substantial damages against the Catholic Diocese of East Cambridgeshire, which ran the Orphanage of St Vincent de Barfleur.
The orphanage, at Lane End, Ely, closed in 1989, although the nearby church is still open.
Fr Ignatius O’Halloran, a spokesman for the diocese, said: ‘We are co-operating with the authorities and will do everything we can to ascertain the facts of each of these cases.’
Ely police said they were in touch with the diocese and the county council’s social services department over the cases, and that a file may be submitted to the Crown Prosecution Service. Criminal charges may follow.
The priest in charge of St Vincent’s during the time when it is alleged most of the abuse took place has not been officially named, and has declined to make any comment.
‘The lawyer’s chucked a lot of the good stuff,’ said Dryden, rolling his cursor down through the 600-word story. Garry booed ritualistically. ‘And ditched the priest’s name.’
Charlie tugged at the collar of his blue shirt and Dryden guessed he’d cut it – rather than the lawyers – just to make sure the story was doubly safe.
Dryden filed the story back into the production basket, failing to suppress a surge of indignation on behalf of the victims of St Vincent’s. His own Catholic education had been largely benign, but there had been enough random violence and institutionalized cruelty to allow him some level of empathy with the abused.
He refilled his coffee, recycling the 1 euro coin which could be extracted from the rear of the vending machine, and then bashed out the rest of the splash, taking in 200 words from the Press Association on the weather, including reports of freak snowflakes due to the exceptional cold but dry conditions. A meteorologist was quoted as predicting that the world record – a flake fifteen inches by eight inches which fell in Montana in 1887 – was unlikely to be beaten.
Then Dryden rewrote Garry’s story on the cannabis supplier so that it made sense. Garry, pathetically grateful, offered to buy him a drink at The Fenman bar opposite now that the press-day lunchtime had officially arrived: it was 11.30am.
But Dryden was still haunted by the claustrophobic Declan McIlroy. He shared with him that oppressive fear of the locked door, and was still intrigued by the scent of freshly imbibed whisky. What kind of man has a final drink and then washes up? And whose was the other glass, stashed carefully back in the sideboard?
‘A walk first,’ said Dryden, standing. ‘Come on,’ he added to Garry. They headed for the door, both of them showing their mobile phones to Charlie. ‘Any questions, we’re news gathering.’ The news editor smiled, dreaming of his first pint.
5
The long shadow of High Park Flats fell just short of the allotments Dryden had seen from Declan McIlroy’s front room: the vast penumbra lay instead across wasteland, the centrepiece of which was the rusted chassis of an abandoned car – the make unrecognizable now – blotched with fire marks around the wheel arches and empty windows. Two boys in peaked US-style caps threw stones at the metal-work from a pitcher’s mound made of a pile of discarded wooden pallets. Schoolchildren, bored by the holiday and ejected from the warmth of the flats, had lit a fire in an oil drum and were poking it with sticks. A smaller child, just toddling, its skin chilled red under skimpy clothing, played with a plastic playroom oven.
Dryden and Garry crossed quickly into the weak sunlight beyond. Here a picket fence had once marked the boundary of the allotments and remnants of the whitewashed wood remained, interspersed with planks and flotsam, and a vicious spiral of razor wire.
‘What we looking for?’ said Garry, fingering his spots.
‘Let’s see if we can find someone. Anyone,’ said Dryden, ignoring the question and looking for signs of life. A scarecrow decorated with a child’s beach windmills caught his eye – a few sails turning in a sudden breeze – but otherwise the landscape was still.
Dryden crashed a foot down on the earth, managing only to dislodge a few crumbs of the hard-frozen soil.