Eleanor is home, Elle is home, she’s home! I want to sing! She’s traumatized by her ordeal, but with care it is hoped she will recover. Four other English girls were also rescued with her. The police wanted her to go into foster care, but we refused.
“There’s nothing they could do that we can’t,” I said angrily. “What our daughter needs is love and care, and that’s what we’ll give her.” But we did agree for her to have psychological therapy, as her mind isn’t quite as it should be after what they did to her.
She’s not going back to school: I’m adamant about that. It would make it far too easy for those men to get at her. Instead, I’ve arranged a tutor. Kate is going to have lessons with her - I hope her company will help Elle recover.
I learnt that what happened to Elle has a name: trafficking. It happens all over the world, including a nice town in south-east London, where we live. It happens everywhere. It’s the fastest growing organised crime. It happened to my daughter. If there’s anything I can do to stop it, I will do it.