The Saddest Girl in the World (8 page)

‘Cathy,’ Edna said, ‘I asked the boys separately if they hadn't thought what they were doing was wrong, and that it hurt Donna, and do you know what they said? That because Donna was so stupid she wouldn't feel it!’

‘She's not stupid,’ I erupted. ‘And she certainly felt it, although she probably didn't ever say so. And Edna, do you know what the poor girl had to eat when there was money for food? The stuff no one else wanted!’ I told her about the coleslaw and the shopping, although I didn't point out that the coleslaw had been at Edna's suggestion. ‘I persuaded her to have an ice cream today,’ I said. ‘It was only the second one she'd ever had in her life. The first one you bought her when you visited us. She's ten years old and living in an affluent society, for goodness sake! And I know not having ice cream doesn't amount to child abuse, but it is indicative of the miserable, deprived existence she led. I expect the boys enjoyed an ice cream when there was the money for treats!’

Edna was silent for some moments. ‘I know, Cathy. I remember when I bought her that ice cream she was so grateful. What I didn't know was the level of deprivation and also about the abuse that had been aimed at Donna. Warren called her the runt of the family. Now where on earth did a boy his age learn a term like that?’

‘I haven't a clue, but from what I'm picking up on here it sums up how they treated her — like the runt of the litter.’

We were both quiet. I knew I shouldn't have exploded: it sounded as though I was blaming Edna, who, bless her, undoubtedly had done her best, but apparently she hadn't
been able to see through the united front presented by the rest of this dysfunctional travesty of a family.

‘I'm going to see Rita and Chelsea tomorrow,’ Edna said after a while. ‘They weren't in today when I called. I pushed a note through their letterbox saying I would call back tomorrow. How has Donna been this afternoon?’

‘She has been organising games for Adrian and Paula,’ I said. ‘And also the boy from next door, who came to play.’

‘Good. I'll see you later briefly when you bring Donna to contact.’

‘Yes,’ I said, and, still subdued from what I'd heard, I replaced the receiver. I then checked in the lounge, where the three children were watching cartoons.

I left them for another fifteen minutes, then told Donna to have a quick wash and change into some clean clothes, ready for contact. At 4.45 p.m. I bundled everyone into the car — with some protest from Adrian, whose programme I had interrupted — and drove to the social services office in Brampton Road. It wasn't the social services' main office but a large Victorian detached house that was used as overspill, and housed the Children and Families team. I pulled onto the driveway and left Adrian and Paula in the car while I took Donna into the small reception area that had once been the hall. I gave our names to the receptionist and she phoned through to Edna, who appeared almost immediately through the security-locked inner door.

‘Hello, Cathy, Donna,’ she said with her warm encouraging smile. ‘I hear you've had a lovely time in the garden today, Donna. And also that you went out for the day yesterday?’

Donna nodded shyly.

‘Your mum and brothers are already here,’ she continued to Donna. ‘Dad won't be coming today, as he's not feeling so well.’ I thought I heard Donna give a little sigh and so too, it seemed, had Edna, for she threw me a pointed glance. ‘I shall be supervising contact as usual, Donna, so there is nothing for you to worry about.’ Then, looking at me, Edna said, ‘I'll see you at six thirty. Thank you for bringing Donna.’

‘You're welcome. See you later, Donna.’ I left the building and drove home, where Adrian managed to finish watching his programme before it was time to return for the end of contact.

Donna didn't say much in the car coming home and I knew Edna would tell me if anything had emerged at contact that I should know about. Once home, I began the bath and bedtime routine — Paula first, then Donna and Adrian.

As I said goodnight to Adrian, and was about to leave him reading, he said, ‘Mum, I need to ask you something.’

‘Yes, love.’ I returned to beside his bed. ‘What is it?’

‘Is Donna in charge of us?’

I looked at him carefully. ‘What do you mean exactly?’

‘Well, in the garden today she kept bossing us around and telling us to do things like she was our mother, only not like you do,’ he added quickly. ‘It was all right to begin with, when she was organising a game, but then she wouldn't let up. She kept telling us and Billy what to do. Paula said she was in charge.’

‘No, of course Donna isn't “in charge”. I'll have to explain to Paula.’

‘And will you tell Donna? I don't want her to keep telling me what to do the whole time,’ Adrian added.

‘Yes, I understand. I'm sorry. You should have said something to me sooner.’

‘It was difficult with her being there the whole time.’

‘I'll keep an eye on it tomorrow and if necessary I'll speak to her, OK?’

‘Yes.’

I kissed him goodnight again and came out feeling that perhaps he was overreacting, being a bit sensitive to having a child living with us who was the same age, physically bigger and in some respects more mature. But I would watch more closely tomorrow. I had already noticed that Donna could be a little forceful in her desire to organise. When she had been helping me with some chores in the house I had found that more than once she'd tried to take over and tell me how it should be done. And whereas, as an adult, I could laugh it off and subtly direct her to doing something as I wished, at his age Adrian obviously didn't have such resources and had taken it personally. Well, that was how I saw it — until the following morning.

I
t was raining in the morning and I suggested we went to the cinema for the eleven o'clock show to see the new Walt Disney film. Adrian, Paula and Donna were upstairs, taking turns in the bathroom to brush their teeth and have a wash while I cleared away the breakfast things. Suddenly there was a cry from Paula, and Adrian came flying down the stairs.

‘Mum! Come quick! Donna's hit Paula!’

I dropped the tea towel and flew out of the kitchen, along the hall and upstairs. Paula was in the bathroom, standing beside the basin with her toothbrush in her hand and tears streaming down her face. Donna was standing beside her.

‘Whatever's happened?’ I asked, taking Paula and cradling her in my arms.

‘She hit her!’ Adrian said, coming in behind me.

I looked at Donna, who was standing expressionless in front of me. ‘Did you hit her?’ I asked sternly.

‘She did!’ Adrian yelled from behind me.

‘All right, Adrian. I want to hear it from Donna or Paula.’

Donna said nothing and I looked at Paula. ‘Did Donna hit you?’

She nodded, tears still running down her face.

‘Where?’

Paula stretched out her left hand and I saw a large red mark on the back of it. ‘Did you do this, Donna?’ I demanded.

She nodded slowly, not at all abashed. She looked sad, but then Donna always looked sad, even when she was playing, apart from the couple of times she'd smiled yesterday. ‘Paula wouldn't do as I told her,’ Donna said at last. ‘I told her to do her teeth properly and she didn't.’

‘That's no reason to hit her!’ I said. ‘No one in this house hits anyone, ever. I'm surprised at you, Donna! You know how much hitting hurts! Now go to your room while I see to Paula, and then I want to talk to you.’

She hesitated, and in that hesitation I saw the first sign of resistance, an insolence, a ‘take-me-on-if-you-dare’ look, and I thought of the bruise Mary had received to her arm — from a similar incident, perhaps? ‘Now! Donna!’ I said, and I held her gaze.

There was another second's hesitation, and my heart pounded as I felt a cold shudder of fear. She was nearly as tall as me and sturdy. I knew that if she'd wanted to she could have done real damage — to people and property. Gone was the downtrodden-victim look and in its place I saw insolence and determination. Then she stamped her foot and pushed past me, knocking into me as she went. She stomped round the landing and then slammed her bedroom door shut. Paula was holding on to me tightly and Adrian was very still and pale.

‘It's all right,’ I reassured them both. It was one of the few times I'd actually felt threatened by a foster child, and clearly Adrian and Paula had felt so too. I had looked after children before who had kicked and screamed and tried to
thump me when they'd been very upset, but they'd been smaller and more easily contained. Again, my thoughts went to Mary and Ray, and the two of them having to struggle with Donna to remove her from their bathroom, after she had done what? I needed to find out. Was this a new development, or a repetition of something that had happened at Mary and Ray's?

I continued to hug Paula, then I put my arm round Adrian and drew him to my side. ‘It's OK,’ I reassured them once more. ‘I'll speak to Donna and make sure it doesn't happen again.’ Although in truth I wasn't at all sure how I was going to do this. I didn't know what I was dealing with; Donna had suddenly turned on Paula and for no apparent reason.

‘All right, love?’ I asked Paula gently, easing her from me and looking at her. She had stopped crying, but her hand was still red. ‘That was very naughty of Donna. I'm going to tell her off,’ I said, reinforcing the point. I didn't want Paula or Adrian believing that hitting was in any way acceptable. I'd known foster carers whose own children's behaviour had deteriorated in line with a foster child's, rather than the foster child following the example of the carer's ‘well brought up’ children.

I gave Paula and Adrian another hug, and Adrian said, ‘I'm fine now, Mum.’

‘Good boy. Will you look after Paula for a bit while I speak to Donna?’

He took her hand. ‘Come on, Paula, you can play on my Gameboy.’ Which was a real treat for Paula — to be allowed access to the much-coveted ‘Super Mario’ leaping over obstacles. Pacified, Paula trotted round the landing with Adrian and into his bedroom.

I took a moment, and then went round to Donna's room. I was feeling far from composed. I was going to speak to Donna, and then I wanted to talk to Mary and Ray and try to find out more. If I had a child in my house who could threaten my children, I needed to know exactly what I was dealing with. Edna had dismissed Mary and Ray's failure to look after Donna, as I had done, as it being too much for them to look after three children, with the inherent suggestion that Mary and Ray could have handled it better. Now I had big doubts and I was wondering if I had done them something of a disservice.

Donna's door was shut right to from her having slammed it. I drew myself up, took a deep breath and, knocking briefly on the door, opened it and went straight in. She was sitting on the bed, looking morose, with her arms folded across her chest and rocking back and forth.

‘Donna,’ I said firmly, ignoring the pang of pity I now felt for her at seeing her so dejected. ‘I need to talk to you.’ I didn't sit next to her but stood a little way in front. I wanted to keep the height and distance between us, just in case she went for me. ‘Donna, you need to understand that in this family, as in most other families, we don't hit each other. I don't hit you or Adrian or Paula or anyone. And children do not hit each other. Do you understand?’

She didn't say anything. Her eyes were trained on the ground and she continued to rock back and forth. In a different situation I would have immediately gone and comforted her, for she looked so lonely and unloved, but now I needed to make sure that she understood her behaviour was totally unacceptable. Although Paula had recovered, and the injury was relatively minor, it had nevertheless been an assault, which would have hurt Paula
emotionally, and reduced her trust not only in Donna but in other children. And with Donna twice the size of Paula, who was to say that another attack wouldn't be a lot worse? I needed to keep everyone safe.

‘Donna, this is a safe house,’ I said in the same firm manner. ‘Paula feels safe here, Adrian feels safe here and you are safe here. No one purposely hurts anyone else. I need to hear you tell me that you understand, and that you won't do it again.’ I waited. Donna continued looking down and rocking. I waited some more. I wasn't sure how to proceed now. ‘Look, Donna,’ I said in a less authoritative tone, ‘I know lots of bad things have happened to you, but you must try to leave them behind. We all look out for each other here, and you will find if you look after Adrian and Paula they will be just as keen to look after you.’

I paused again, but there was no response; Donna hadn't looked up or stopped rocking. I decided she could do with a few minutes to reflect on what I'd said, before I hugged her and we put the incident behind us. ‘OK, Donna,’ I said, ‘I want you to think about what I've said. Then when you feel able, come down and tell me that it won't happen again. And I also think you need to say sorry to Paula.’

Still nothing. I turned and slowly left the room, drawing the door to behind me, but not closing it. I went downstairs, and to the phone on the hall table, and dialled Edna's number.

‘Edna,’ I said as soon as she answered. ‘It's Cathy, Donna's carer.’

‘Hello, Cathy?’ I could tell by her tone she guessed something was wrong.

‘We've had a bit of a problem here,’ I said. ‘And I would like some more information.’ I explained what had just happened and finished by saying that I thought it would be useful if I could speak to Mary and Ray and find out exactly what had happened there.

I could hear the relief in Edna's voice, for doubtless she had thought that with Donna hitting Paula I would be calling an end to the placement and asking for Donna to be moved. ‘Yes, of course, Cathy,’ she said. ‘I have their telephone number here. I'm so sorry you've had to deal with this. I don't understand what has got into Donna. I've never seen that side of her.’

I waited for her to read out the telephone number, which I wrote on the pad I kept beside the phone in the hall and repeated back to her. ‘I'm going to phone them now,’ I said.

‘Yes, Cathy. I'll speak to them myself later as well. I'm so very sorry.’

I severed the line and keyed in the numbers to Mary and Ray. It was all quiet upstairs — Adrian and Paula were still ensconced in his bedroom with the Gameboy, and I assumed Donna was contemplating, and I hoped taking on board, what I had said, ready to offer an apology to Paula. I listened to Mary and Ray's phone ringing; then a female voice answered.

‘Is that Mary?’ I asked.

‘Speaking.’

‘This is Cathy Glass, Donna's carer.’

‘Oh, hello.’

‘I hope you don't mind my phoning. Edna gave me your number. We've had a bit of an incident here this morning and I felt I needed to speak to you to try to learn more.’

I thought there was a small hesitation before she said, ‘Sure, go ahead.’ I also heard boys' voices in the background and I assumed they were those of Warren and Jason, playing.

I began positively, and said that Donna was settling in well, but that out of the blue she'd smacked my daughter this morning, and I was wondering if Mary had had any similar incident when Donna had been living with her. I didn't say that I knew Mary had received a bruise, or add any more; I wanted to hear what she had to say. What Mary told me didn't in any way lighten my concern.

‘Donna was fine when she first arrived,’ Mary began. ‘A bit quiet and too compliant, but otherwise OK. She was used to looking after her younger brothers, although they often teased and bullied her. She was more like their mother or carer than an older sister, and I thought I should take some of the responsibility from her. So many of these children come into care having never had a childhood because of all the responsibility they've had at home.’ I agreed and knew from what Mary was saying that she was a sensible, level-headed and experienced foster carer, and that what she was giving me was an objective and rational account. ‘The problems began when I tried to discourage Donna from continually fussing around the boys. She fussed around them so much that they really resented it. She also tried to discipline them, which they resented, and I stopped it. It was unhealthy; she wouldn't let them be, and she couldn't see that they were making fun of her. They are a bright pair and can easily get the better of her. I was very shocked when they admitted to Edna that they'd beaten her with a skipping rope. You know Edna came here and spoke to them?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘The situation quickly deteriorated and really, Cathy, there was no way the three of them could stay together. Donna was trying to control not only the boys' lives but ours as well. My husband is a full-time carer and stood by me. But Donna even tried to order him around and resented either of us doing anything for the boys. She actually started to physically push us away if we went near Warren and Jason. We asked for her to be moved after a particularly ugly scene in the bathroom. Ray and I were trying to get the boys ready for bed. They were a bit hyper but no more so than usual. Donna wasn't having any of it. She came storming in and demanded to know what we were doing. She grabbed my arm and bent it back — I thought she was going to break it. Ray had to drag her off. I've still got the bruise.’ Mary stopped as my worst fears were confirmed.

‘Thank you, Mary,’ I said slowly. ‘I'm going to have to think carefully how to handle this.’

‘How old are your children?’ she asked.

‘Six and ten.’

‘I only have my seventeen-year-old son living with me now. I'd be very careful if I were you, Cathy. Donna's a big girl and could really hurt someone smaller.’ She paused. ‘Will she stay with you?’

‘I hope so. I don't want her to feel rejected, but I'll have to see how it goes. Donna has obviously come from a highly abusive family, and I know it's not her fault, but I can't have my children placed in permanent danger.’

‘No. Quite,’ Mary said. ‘Ray felt I had been placed in danger.’

I paused. ‘Mary, one last thing. Edna mentioned the term OCD. I think you had suggested it?’

‘Yes. Donna displayed some strange habits here. She kept washing her hands in a really agitated way, over and over again. I had seen a programme on television about OCD, and it looked very similar to what Donna was doing. Has she done that with you?’

‘Not to my knowledge.’

‘To be honest, it's the least of her problems. I think Donna is like a firework waiting to go off. Goodness knows what has gone on in that family, but I think Donna bore the brunt of it. I was sorry to see her go, but Ray and I couldn't have looked after her and the boys: it was impossible.’

‘Yes, I understand. I'm going to have to make sure she doesn't try to replicate the situation here with my children, which is possible. Thanks for your time, Mary.’

‘You're welcome. Please say hello to Donna for me. I've got my fingers crossed for you. I hope it works out. We'll probably bump into each other at school when the term starts.’

‘Yes. Thanks,’ I said again, and I slowly put down the phone.

As I did, I heard Donna's bedroom door open and she appeared on the landing. Very slowly she came downstairs. Her head was down and her shoulders were hunched forward; her whole stance was dejected, as it had been when she'd first arrived. She came to a halt just in front of me and slowly raised her head. Her large brown eyes were so full of sorrow my heart went out to her.

‘I'm sorry, Cath-ie,’ she said, pronouncing the two syllables separately. ‘I'm sorry I hit Paula. Shall I say sorry to her?’

‘In a minute, Donna. First I need to talk to you. Come with me into the lounge, please.’

Compliant and subdued, she followed me down the hall, and we sat together on the sofa. Outside the French windows the rain was sheeting down; today was set for a mixture of sunshine and showers.