The Saddest Girl in the World (10 page)

Jason and Warren were all over the person I now took to be their mother, Rita, and she was all over them.

‘Is that mum?’ I asked Mary and Ray quietly.

They nodded. ‘And that woman next to her is Rita's neighbour,’ Mary said. ‘Not sure yet who the other woman is. We got here just before you.’

I looked at Rita. I knew from the Essential Information Forms that she was in her early thirties, but she could have easily been fifteen years older. She was a short dumpy woman, badly overweight, and with long unkempt thin fair hair straggling around her shoulders. She was wearing a faded cotton T-shirt and a short skirt, both of which were stretched tightly across her stomach and hips. The T-shirt had risen up to reveal a pierced belly button and stretch marks. She had an arm around each of the boys and couldn't get enough of them. I noticed she had completely ignored Donna's arrival. Donna, having received a hug from Granny Bajan, now stood watching her mother and the boys, perhaps waiting for her turn to be hugged, although she didn't seem to be expecting it.

‘Hello, Rita,’ I said, taking a step forward. ‘I'm Cathy, Donna's carer.’ Rita ignored me and continued hugging and tickling the boys. I thought they were going to be well hyped up by the time they got into school, and I wondered what the other parents and children who were passing on their way in were making of this noisy gathering.

Beside Rita stood a teenage girl, also badly overweight, and with her stomach showing and revealing a similar piercing. She was chewing gum and staring into space, and
I could see the likeness Edna had spoken of. Without doubt it was Chelsea, and she looked like Donna, more than Donna looked like her brothers, although Donna, Warren and Jason were supposed to have the same father.

‘You must be Chelsea?’ I said, smiling. She glared at me and continued chewing; I guessed she had assumed her mother's hostility towards me. Apart from the neighbour that Ray had pointed out, another white woman stood on the edge of the group. I took her to be in her forties; she had blonde hair and a walking stick. I looked at her and she made eye contact.

‘I'm May, Donna's aunt,’ she said. I smiled and nodded, and remembered that Donna had said she went to her aunt's sometimes for her meals; I wondered if this was the same aunt. I didn't know if May and Rita were sisters; I couldn't see any family likeness.

I looked again at Donna, who still hadn't been acknowledged by her mother but was clearly hoping that at some point Rita would leave the boys and at least look at her. I saw Mary and Ray looking at Donna too. I felt dreadfully sorry for her as she stood like an outcast on the edge of the group, while her two brothers competed for, and enjoyed, their mother's attention.

‘How are you, Donna?’ Mary asked. ‘You're looking great.’

Donna gave a shy half nod.

‘She is doing very well,’ I said, loud enough for Rita to hear. ‘I am so pleased with her progress.’

‘That's excellent,’ Ray and Mary both said. Rita said nothing and didn't even glance up.

It was nearly 8.45 a.m. and I was becoming mindful of the time. I wanted to go into reception before the bell rang
to buy Donna's uniform and make sure the school had my contact details, and also hopefully say hello to the head, Mrs Bristow. Donna would see her brothers later in the playground and also at lunchtime, and given that Rita was ignoring her, and no one else seemed in any rush to speak to her now that her gran had given her a hug and Mary and Ray had said hello, I thought there didn't appear to be much point in hanging around. Indeed there was every reason why we shouldn't: with each passing minute, as Donna stood on the edge of the group and was ignored, her rejection seemed more pronounced and pathetic. She looked so sad and I felt the indignation of her exclusion even if she didn't.

‘Donna,’ I said, ‘I think we should go into school now so that I can buy your uniform.’ She glanced at me and then looked anxiously at her mother, clearly hoping that her mother would seize this last opportunity to at least say hello, if not hug her, as she was still doing with the boys. Despite the appalling treatment Donna had received at the hands of Rita, Rita was still her mother, and there was doubtless a bond there. Time and time again I had looked after children who had been dreadfully neglected and abused but had still maintained a bond with their parents, and still sought their approval, affection and attention. Only in the absolute worse cases of horrendous (often sexual) abuse did children sever the bond as soon as they could and reject the parents. What I had seen happen, though (and what I thought might happen in Donna's case), was that as time went by and the child started to make comparisons, and judgements on the way they had been treated, they reduced their dependency on their parents and the bond weakened, disappearing altogether if
the child was adopted or placed with long-term carers. But for now Donna craved the attention of her mother, and it was pathetic to watch her being ostracised.

‘Donna,’ I said again, moving closer to her. ‘We really need to go now.’

‘Yes, and we should be going in too,’ Mary said.

It was always difficult ending these impromptu meetings; in contact the start and end times of the session were clearly stated to everyone, and strictly adhered to. ‘Come on, Donna,’ I said again.

It wasn't Donna who spoke next, but Rita. ‘Come on, boys,’ she said, ‘give me one last hug.’ She drew them to her and at the same time, looked over their heads to Donna. ‘And you can piss off, you cunt,’ she sneered, and then she spat.

I gasped. Ray and Mary looked at each other, horrified, and Granny Bajan said, ‘May the Lord forgive you, Rita.’ The neighbour remained impassive, as though it was a run-of-the-mill comment that she'd heard before. And Aunt May said, ‘Rita,’ in a cautionary tone. Chelsea grinned maliciously while Donna simply stood there, as though half-expecting this or something similar.

I touched Donna's arm. ‘Come on, love,’ I said quietly. ‘Let's go in now.’

With a final glance at her mother, who was still cuddling the boys, Donna came with me, and I quickly led the way up the short path to the main entrance. The door opened as we approached and Mrs Bristow appeared.

‘I was just coming out,’ she said, looking worried. ‘Are you all right?’

I nodded. Although Mrs Bristow couldn't have heard Rita's comment, being a very experienced head she would
have been aware that the meeting was not advisable at any level, and undoubtedly had had to deal with similar situations with looked-after children before. ‘Perhaps I could have a word with you once I've got Donna settled,’ I said.

Mrs Bristow nodded, but she was still anxiously watching Ray and Mary through the window in reception. They were trying to persuade the boys away from Rita. After another few moments the boys broke away and ran down the path and round the side of the building towards the playground, followed by Ray and Mary. Rita and her gathering slowly turned and wandered off.

Mrs Bristow let out a quiet sigh of relief and returned her attention to us. ‘It's lovely to see you, Donna, and to see you again, Cathy.’ We shook hands, and she gave Donna a hug. ‘Edna has given me your contact details,’ she said to me. ‘And I understand you want to buy Donna a new uniform.’ She smiled at Donna. ‘That will be nice, won't it?’

‘Yes,’ I said and I smiled too, hoping that an entire new school uniform might in some small way be recompense for her mother's atrocious rejection and comment. I was still appalled and shaken by what I had just seen and heard; I would obviously be logging the details and my observations in my notes when I returned home, and also making Edna aware of it.

Mrs Bristow took us through to the office. Kay, the school secretary, remembered me; we exchanged greetings and she too gave Donna a big hug. ‘Good to see you again, Donna,’ she said, ‘and looking so well.’ Kay was lovely, warm and welcoming, exactly what a school secretary should be. I guessed she had a soft spot for Donna and her
brothers, as she had done for the last child I'd looked after who had gone to the school. Edna had said that Donna liked school very much; clearly school had been her lifeline. For so many children who have appalling home lives, school is often the one place that can be relied upon to be constant, safe and secure.

Mrs Bristow left us and said she would be back later when I had sorted out the uniform. Kay took us through to the stock room, where I bought two school sweatshirts, three T-shirts to go underneath, two skirts, PE kit and a bag to put the kit in, together with another bag for Donna's reading book and homework; all of it was navy, with the school's logo in red.

Donna changed into the uniform, and Kay and I said how smart she looked; Donna dismissed the compliment with her usual self-effacing shrug. Kay gave me a carrier bag for the clothes Donna had changed out of, and we returned with Kay to the office, where I wrote a cheque for the uniform and accessories. Foster carers receive a grant to cover most of the cost of a new uniform. The bell had rung and Kay suggested Donna now went straight through to join her class. I gave Donna a hug, told her again how smart she looked and said I would be waiting in the playground for her at the end of school. I watched her disappear through the door that would take her to the classroom.

‘Poor kid,’ Kay said once Donna had left us.

‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘And do you know what her mother said to her?’ I was fuming, at last able to give vent to my fury. ‘I can't believe it!’

‘I can guess,’ Kay said dryly.

‘I won't repeat it, but it was foul.’

Kay nodded, and by her expression I could see that she had probably had similar dealings with Rita. ‘It's the drink,’ she said.

I said nothing; drink or not, it was a dreadful expression to use, especially to a child. I considered it the worst of all swear words, and for a mother to use it to her daughter was abominable.

Kay sorted out and gave me various printed sheets — a list of term dates for the year, forthcoming school events and PTA activities, and a copy of the school's new prospectus. Mrs Bristow reappeared and suggested we went into her office for a quick chat. Her office was as I remembered it from five years before: carpeted in bright red, the walls adorned with children's work, and with an area with toys for young children to play while their parents talked to her.

‘I'm still reeling from the way Rita spoke to Donna,’ I said as we sat down in the armchairs (I couldn't remember Mrs Bristow ever sitting behind her desk — she was far too ‘user-friendly’). ‘You will never believe what she called Donna! And she didn't even say hello, let alone hug her.’

Mrs Bristow looked at me, sombre and concerned. ‘Donna has been so badly treated by that family,’ she said. ‘I raised my fears about her and the boys when they first joined the school. I can't tell you how relieved I am that the children have finally been taken into care. Why did Donna have to leave Mary and Ray's?’

‘There were some problems between her and the boys,’ I said. ‘I don't know all the details.’ And I left it at that. If Edna hadn't seen the need to give Mrs Bristow all the details, it wasn't incumbent on me to do so. Although Mrs Bristow was a caring and highly professional head, I didn't want Donna's reputation in any way sullied at school by
my describing her aggressive behaviour at her previous foster home. Donna had moved on from that and I was dealing with her aggression and other issues at my home. At school Donna could just be Donna, a ten-year-old who would improve and make the most of her education. I felt sure that if there were any issues at school in respect of Donna's behaviour then Mrs Bristow would tell me. I doubted there were, though, because, as with many children like Donna, she had been operating a double standard — between acceptable behaviour at school and what went on at home.

‘I want to help Donna all I can with her school work,’ I said. ‘I understand she is in the year below the group for her age?’

‘Yes,’ Mrs Bristow confirmed. ‘Donna has mild learning difficulties, but to be honest I think a lot of her poor learning ability has been a result of her home life. Now she's settled with you I'm sure she'll make huge progress.’ Which was exactly my feeling. Then Mrs Bristow spent some time telling me about Donna's strengths and weaknesses in her school work, and said that she would give me a copy of Donna's PEP (Personal Education Plan), which all looked-after children have. It would help me to work alongside the school and reinforce the work her teacher was concentrating on.

‘Do you think Rita will be outside the school again?’ Mrs Bristow finished by asking.

‘I've no idea,’ I said. ‘I hope not. Donna and her brothers have supervised contact on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. We can do without that every morning.’

‘I'm thinking it might be better if you and Mary and Ray used the staff entrance to enter and leave by. It's at the
rear of the school and is security locked. I could give you the pass number. Rita has already been warned by Edna that she is not allowed on the school premises or else I will call the police, which is presumably why she waited outside this morning and not in the playground.’

‘I would appreciate that,’ I said. ‘It was very unpleasant for Donna. I understand Donna helps out at breakfast club, so we will be coming early in future.’

‘Yes, at eight fifteen. I'll update the class teacher, Beth Adams. She's hoping to meet you briefly at the end of school.’

Mrs Bristow wrote down the security code for the staff entrance on a piece of paper; we said goodbye and I left the building. Outside there was no sign of Rita, but then she had come to see the boys, not Donna and me.

I drove home, now even more aware of the dreadful injustice that had been inflicted on Donna by her mother, and telling myself it was little wonder Donna behaved as she did sometimes. I collected Adrian and Paula from my neighbour, and then the three of us spent a leisurely afternoon in and around the house and garden. And it would be dishonest of me not to admit that it was a lot easier to have just Adrian and Paula, and not have to be continually vigilant. However, I remained hopeful that, given time, Donna would improve to the point where I could trust her again with Adrian and Paula.