Читать книгу The Saddest Girl in the World - Cathy Glass, Cathy Glass - Страница 7

No sooner had I returned downstairs than the front door bell rang. Resisting the temptation to peek through the security spy-hole for a stolen glance at my expected visitors, I opened the door. Edna and Donna stood side by side in the porch, and my gaze went from Edna, to Donna. Two things immediately struck me about Donna: firstly that, as Edna has said, she was a big girl, not overweight but just tall for her age and well built, and secondly that she looked so dreadfully, dreadfully sad. Her big brown eyes were downcast and her shoulders were slumped forward as though she carried the weight of the world on them. Without doubt she was the saddest-looking child I had ever seen — fostered or otherwise.

‘Come in,’ I said, welcomingly and, smiling, I held the door wide open.

‘Cathy, this is Donna,’ Edna said in her sing-song Scottish accent.

I smiled again at Donna, who didn't look up. ‘Hello, Donna,’ I said brightly. ‘It's nice to meet you.’ She shuffled into the hall and found it impossible to even look up and acknowledge me. ‘The lounge is straight ahead of you, down the hall,’ I said to her, closing the front door behind us.

Donna waited in the hall, head down and arms hanging loosely at her side, until I led the way. ‘This is nice, isn't it?’ Edna said to Donna, trying to create a positive atmosphere. Donna still didn't say anything but followed Edna and me into the lounge. ‘What a lovely room,’ Edna tried again. ‘And look at that beautiful garden. I can see swings at the bottom.’

The French windows were open and to most children it would have been an irresistible invitation to run off and play, happy for the chance to escape adult conversation, but Donna kept close to her social worker's side and didn't even look up.

‘Would you like to go outside?’ I asked Donna. ‘My children, Adrian and Paula, are out there having an ice cream. Would you like an ice cream?’ I looked at her: she was about five feet tall, only a few inches shorter than me, and her olive skin and dark brown hair suggested that one of her parents or grandparents was Afro-Caribbean. She had a lovely round face, but her expression was woeful and dejected; her face was blanked with sadness. I wanted to take her in my arms and give her a big hug.

‘Would you like an ice cream?’ Edna repeated. Donna hadn't answered me or even looked up to acknowledge my question.

She imperceptibly shook her head.

‘Would you like to join Adrian and Paula in the garden for a few minutes, while I talk to Cathy?’ Edna asked.

Donna gave the same slight shake of her head but said nothing. I knew that Edna would really have liked Donna to have gone into the garden so that she could discuss her situation candidly with me, which she clearly couldn't do if Donna was present. More details about Donna's family and what had brought her into care would follow with the placement forms Edna would bring with her when she moved Donna. But it would have been useful to have had some information now so that I could prepare better for Donna's arrival, anticipate some of the problems that might arise and generally better cater for her needs. Donna remained standing impassively beside Edna at the open French windows and didn't even raise her eyes to look out.

‘Well, shall we sit down and have a chat?’ I suggested. ‘Then perhaps Donna might feel more at home. It is good to meet you, Donna,’ I said again, and I lightly touched her arm. She moved away, as though recoiling from the touch. I thought this was one hurting child, and for the life of me I couldn't begin to imagine what ‘sibling rivalry’ had led to this; clearly there was more to it than the usual sibling strife.

‘Yes, that's a good idea. Let's sit down,’ Edna said encouragingly. I had taken an immediate liking to Edna. She was a homely middle-aged woman with short grey hair, and appeared to be one of the old-style ‘hands-on’ social workers who have no degree but years and years of practical experience. She sat on the sofa by the French windows, which had a good view of the garden, and Donna sat silently next to her.

‘Can I get you both a drink?’ I asked.

‘Not for me, thanks, Cathy. I took Donna out for some lunch earlier. Donna, would you like a drink?’ She turned sideways to look at her.

Donna gave that same small shake of the head without looking up.

‘Not even an ice lolly?’ I tried. ‘You can eat it in here with us if you prefer?’

The same half-shake of the head and she didn't move her gaze from where it had settled on the carpet, a couple of feet in front of her. She was perched on the edge of the sofa, her shoulders hunched forward and her arms folded into her waist as though she was protecting herself.

‘Perhaps later,’ Edna said.

I nodded, and sat on the sofa opposite. ‘It's a lovely day,’ I offered.

‘Isn't it just,’ Edna agreed. ‘Now, Cathy, I was explaining to Donna in the car that we are very lucky to have found you at such short notice. Donna has been rather unhappy where she has been staying. She came into care a month ago with her two younger brothers so that her mummy could have a chance to sort out a few things. Donna has an older sister, Chelsea, who is fourteen, and she is staying with mum at present until we find her a suitable foster placement.’ Edna met my eyes with a pointed look and I knew that she had left more unsaid than said. With Donna present she wouldn't be going into all the details, but it crossed my mind that Chelsea might have refused to move. I doubted Edna would have taken three children into care and left the fourth at home, but at fourteen it was virtually impossible to move a child without their full cooperation, even if it was in their best interest.

‘Donna goes to Belfont School,’ Edna continued, ‘which is about fifteen minutes from here.’

‘Yes, I know the school,’ I said. ‘I had another child there once, some years ago.’

‘Excellent.’ Edna glanced at Donna, hoping for some enthusiasm, but Donna didn't even look up. ‘Mrs Bristow is still the head there, and she has worked very closely with me. School doesn't start again until the fourth of September and Donna will be in year five when she returns.’ I did a quick calculation and realised that Donna was in a year below the one for her age. ‘Donna likes school and is very keen to learn,’ Edna continued positively. ‘I am sure that once she is settled with you she will catch up very quickly. The school has a very good special needs department and Mrs Bristow is flexible regarding which year children are placed in.’ From this I understood that Donna had learning difficulties and had probably (and sensibly) been placed out of the year for her age in order to better accommodate her learning needs. ‘She has a good friend, Emily, who is in the same class,’ Edna said, and she looked again at Donna in the hope of eliciting a positive response, but Donna remained hunched forward, arms folded and staring at the carpet.

‘I'll look forward to meeting Emily,’ I said brightly. ‘And perhaps she would like to come here for tea some time?’

Edna and I both looked at Donna, but she remained impassive. Edna touched her arm. ‘It's all right, Donna. You are doing very well.’

I looked at Donna and my heart went out to her: she appeared to be suffering so much, and in silence. I would have preferred her to have been angry, like so many of the children who had come to me. Shouting abuse and throwing things seemed a lot healthier than internalising all the pain, as Donna was. Huddled forward with her arms crossed, it was as though Donna was giving herself the hug of comfort she so badly needed. Again I felt the urge to go and sit beside her and hug her for all I was worth.

At that moment Adrian burst in through the open French windows, quickly followed by Paula. ‘I've brought in my wrapper,’ he said, offering the Cornetto wrapper; then he stopped as he saw Edna and Donna.

‘Good boy,’ I said. ‘Adrian, this is Donna, who will be coming to stay with us, and this is her social worker, Edna.’

‘Hello, Adrian,’ Edna said with her warm smile, putting him immediately at ease.

‘Hi,’ he said.

‘And you must be Paula?’ Edna said.

Paula grinned sheepishly and gave me her Cornetto wrapper.

‘How old are you?’ Edna asked.

‘I'm ten,’ Adrian said, ‘and she's six.’

‘I'm six,’ Paula said, feeling she was quite able to tell Edna how old she was herself. Donna still had her eyes trained on the floor; she hadn't even looked up as Adrian and Paula had bounced in.

‘That's lovely, isn't it, Donna?’ Edna said, trying again to engage Donna; then, addressing Adrian and Paula, ‘Donna has two younger brothers, aged seven and six. It will be nice for her to have someone her own age to play with.’ This clearly didn't impress Adrian, for at his age girls were something you dangled worms in front of to make them scream but didn't actually play with. And given the difference in size — Donna was a good four inches taller than Adrian — she would be more like an older sister than one of his peer group.

‘You can play with me now,’ Paula said, spying a golden opportunity for some girl company.

‘That's a good idea,’ Edna said to Paula. ‘Although we won't be staying long — we've got a lot to do.’ Placing her hand on Donna's arm again, Edna said, ‘Donna, you go in the garden with Paula for a few minutes, and then we will show you around the house and go.’

I looked at Donna and wondered if she would follow what had been an instruction from Edna rather than a request. Edna, Adrian and Paula looked too.

‘Come on,’ Paula said. ‘Come and play with me.’ She placed her little hand on the sleeve of Donna's T-shirt and gave it a small tug. I noticed Donna didn't pull away.

‘Go on, Donna,’ Edna encouraged. ‘A few minutes in the garden and then we must go.’

‘Come on, Donna,’ Paula said again and she gave her T-shirt another tug. ‘You can push me on the swing.’

With her arms still folded across her waist and not looking up, Donna slowly stood. She was like a little old woman dragging herself to do the washing up rather than a ten-year-old going to play in the garden.

‘Good girl,’ Edna said. We both watched as, with her head lowered, Donna allowed Paula to gently ease her out of the French windows and into the garden. Adrian watched, mesmerised, and then looked at me questioningly. I knew what he was thinking: children didn't usually have this much trouble going into the garden to play.

‘Donna is a bit upset,’ I said to him. ‘She'll be all right. You can go and play too.’

He turned and went out, and Edna and I watched them go down the garden. Adrian returned to his archaeological pursuits in the sandpit while Paula, still holding Donna's T-shirt, led her towards the swings.

‘Paula will be fine with Donna,’ Edna said, reading my thoughts. ‘Donna is good with little ones.’ While I hadn't thought that Donna would hit Paula, she was so much bigger, and it had crossed my mind that all her pent-up emotion could easily be released in any number of ways, including physical aggression. Edna gave a little sigh and returned to the sofa. I sat next to her so that I could keep an eye on what was happening down the garden.

‘I've had a very busy morning,’ Edna said. ‘Mary and Ray, Donna's present carers, phoned me first thing and demanded that I remove Donna immediately. I've had to cancel all my appointments for the whole day to deal with this.’

I nodded. ‘Donna seems very sad,’ I said.

‘Yes.’ She gave another little sigh. ‘Cathy, I really can't understand what has gone so badly wrong. All the carers are saying is that Donna is obsessively possessive with her brothers, Warren and Jason, and won't let Mary and Ray take care of them. Apparently they've had to physically remove her more than once from the room so that they could take care of the boys. Donna is a big girl and I understand there have been quite a few ugly scenes. Mary showed me a bruise on her arm, which she said Donna had done last night when she and Ray had tried to get her out of the bathroom so that the boys could be bathed. They are experienced carers, but feel they can't continue to look after Donna.’

I frowned, as puzzled as Edna was, for the description she had just given me of Donna hardly matched the silent withdrawn child who had slunk in unable even to look at me.

‘The boys are staying with Mary and Ray for now,’ Edna continued. ‘They all go to the same school, so you will meet Ray and Mary when school returns. They are both full-time carers; Ray took early retirement. They are approved to look after three children and have done so in the past, very successfully, so I really don't know what's gone wrong here.’

Neither did I from what Edna was saying, but it wasn't my place to second guess or criticise. ‘Looking after three children has probably been too much,’ I said. ‘It's a lot of work looking after one, let alone three, particularly when they have just come into care and are upset and still adjusting.’

Edna nodded thoughtfully and glanced down the garden, as I did. Donna was pushing Paula on the swing, but whereas Paula was in her element and squealing with delight, Donna appeared to be performing a mundane duty and was taking no enjoyment whatsoever in the task.

‘Is Donna all right doing that?’ I asked. ‘She doesn't have to push Paula on the swing.’

‘I'm sure she is fine, Cathy. She's showing no enthusiasm for anything at present.’ Edna returned her gaze to me. ‘I've been working with Donna's family for three years now. I have really tried to keep them together, but her mum just couldn't cope. I put in place all the support I could. I have even been going round to their home and helping to wash and iron the clothes, and clean the house, but by my next visit it's always filthy again. I had no alternative but to bring them into care.’ Edna looked at me with deep regret and I knew she was taking it personally, feeling that she had failed in not keeping the family together, despite all her efforts. Edna was certainly one conscientious and dedicated social worker, and Donna was very lucky to have her.

‘You obviously did all you could,’ I offered. ‘There can't be many who would have done all that,’ and I meant it.

Edna looked at me. ‘Donna's family has a long history with social services, and mum herself was in and out of care as a child. Donna's father is not supposed to be living at the family home but he was there only last week when I made a planned visit. The front door had been broken down and Rita, Donna's mum, said Mr Bajan, Donna's father, had smashed his way in. But he was sitting happily in a chair with a beer when I arrived and Rita wasn't exactly trying to get him out. I made arrangements to have the door repaired straight away, because there was no way they could secure the house and Chelsea is still living there.’

I nodded. ‘What a worry for you!’

‘Yes, it is. Chelsea hasn't been in school for months,’ Edna continued, shaking her head sadly. ‘And she told me that Mr Bajan hadn't been taking his medication again. He's been diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic, and if he doesn't take his medication he becomes very delusional and sometimes violent. I explained to him that he must keep taking it and that if he didn't I would have to have him sectioned again. He was very cooperative, but I don't suppose he will remember what I said. When he is taking the tablets he functions normally, and then because he feels better he thinks he doesn't need the tablets any more, he stops taking them, and becomes ill again.’

I thought what a lot Donna and her family had had to cope with, and I again glanced down the garden, where Donna was still laboriously pushing Paula on the swing.

‘Donna's mum, Rita, has a drink problem,’ Edna continued, following my gaze, ‘and possibly drug abuse, although we don't know for sure. The house is absolutely filthy, a health hazard, and I've had the council in a number of times to fumigate it. Rita can't keep it clean. I've shown her how to clean, many times, but there's always cat and dog mess on the floors, as they encourage strays in. Instead of clearing up the mess, they throw newspaper down to cover it. The whole house stinks. They have broken the new bath I had put in, and the cooker I gave Rita a grant for has never been connected. There is no sign of the table and chairs I had delivered, nor the beds I ordered. The children were sleeping on an old mattress — all of them on one. There's nothing on the floors but old newspaper, and most of the windows have been smashed at one time or another. Rita phones me each time one is broken and I have to make arrangements to have it repaired. There is never any food in the house, and Warren and Jason, Donna's brothers, were running riot on the estate. Neighbours have repeatedly complained about the family, and also about the screaming and shouting coming from the house when Mr Bajan is there.’

I nodded again, and we both looked down the garden, where Donna was still pushing Paula on the swing.

‘Mr Bajan is Donna's father and also the father of Warren and Jason, according to the birth certificates, although I have my doubts,’ Edna said. ‘Chelsea has a different father who has never been named, but she looks like Donna — more than Donna looks like the boys. Mr Bajan has dual heritage and his mother is originally from Barbados. She lives on the same estate and has helped the family as much as she can. I asked her if she could look after the children, but at her age she didn't feel up to it, which is understandable. She's not in the best of health herself and goes back to visit her family in Barbados for some of the winter. She's a lovely lady, but like the rest of the family blames me for bringing the children into care.’

Edna paused and let out another sigh. ‘But what could I do, Cathy? The family situation was getting worse, not better. When I first took Donna and her brothers into care they all had head lice, and fleas, and the two boys had worms. I told their mother and she just shrugged. I can't seem to get through to Rita.’

‘So what are the long-term plans for the children?’ I asked.

‘We have ICOs’ — Edna was referring to Interim Court Orders — ‘for Donna and the boys. I'll apply to the court to renew them, and then see how it goes. Having the children taken into care might give Rita the wake-up call she needs to get herself on track. I hope so; otherwise I'll have no alternative but to apply for a Full Care Order and keep the children in long-term foster care. I'm sure Rita loves her children in her own way but she can't look after them or run a house. I wanted to remove Chelsea too, but she is refusing, and in some ways it's almost too late. Chelsea is rather a one for the boys, and mum can't see that it's wrong for a fourteen-year-old to be sleeping with her boyfriend. In fact Rita encourages it — she lets Chelsea's boyfriend sleep with her at their house and has put Chelsea on the pill. I've told Rita that under-age sex is illegal but she laughs. Rita was pregnant with Chelsea at fifteen and can't see anything wrong in it. She's spent most of her life having children — apart from Chelsea, Donna, and the boys she's had three miscarriages to my knowledge.’

I shuddered. ‘How dreadfully sad.’

‘It is. It would be best if Rita didn't have any more wee babies and I'm trying to persuade her to be sterilised, but I'm not getting anywhere at present. She has learning difficulties like Donna and Chelsea. Warren and Jason are quite bright — in fact Warren is very bright. He taught himself to read as soon as he started school and had access to books.’

‘Really? That's amazing,’ I said, impressed.

Edna nodded, and then looked at me carefully. ‘You won't give up on Donna, will you, Cathy? She's a good kid really, and I don't know what's gone wrong.’

‘No, of course I won't,’ I reassured her. ‘I'm sure she'll settle. I've taken an immediate liking to Donna and so has Paula by the look of it. ’ We both glanced down the garden again. ‘Although from what you've said Donna is going to miss her brothers,’ I added.

‘I think Donna is blaming herself for the three of them being taken in care,’ Edna said. ‘Donna was the one who looked after Warren and Jason, and tried to do the housework. Chelsea was always out, and mum sleeps for most of the day when she's been drinking. But you can't expect a ten-year-old to bring up two children and run a house. Donna blames herself, and the rest of the family blame me. Rita hit me the last time I was there. I've told her if she does it again I'll call the police and have her arrested.’ Not for the first time I wondered at the danger social workers were expected to place themselves in as a routine part of their jobs.

We both looked down the garden. Paula was off the swing now, talking to Donna, who was standing with her arms folded, head cocked slightly to one side. She had the stance of a mother listening to her child with assumed patience, rather than that of a ten-year-old.

‘Donna and her brothers will be seeing their parents three times a week,’ Edna said. ‘Monday, Wednesday and Friday, five to six thirty, although I've cancelled tonight's contact. I'm supervising the contact at our office in Brampton Road for now, until a space is free at the family centre. Do you know where that is?’

‘Yes.’ I nodded.

‘Will you be able to take and collect Donna for contact?’

‘Yes, I will.’

‘Good. Thanks. Rita is angry but you shouldn't have to meet her. I'll bring the placement forms with me this evening when I move Donna. It's going to be after six o'clock by the time we arrive. Ray wants to be there when Donna leaves in case there is a problem. He doesn't finish work until five thirty. And Mary has asked that I keep Donna away for the afternoon. She said she will pack her things and have them ready for five thirty.’ Edna sighed again. ‘Donna will have to come with me to the office for the afternoon, and I'll find her some crayons and paper to keep her busy. Really, Cathy, she's a good girl.’

‘I'm sure she is,’ I said. ‘It's a pity she can't come with us to the park this afternoon.’ But we both knew that couldn't happen, as until all the placement forms had been signed that evening I was not officially Donna's foster carer.

‘I think that's all then, Cathy,’ Edna said. ‘I can't think of anything else at present.’

‘Food?’ I asked. ‘Does Donna have any special dietary requirements?’

‘No, and she likes most things. There are no health concerns either. Well, not physical, at least.’ I looked at her questioningly and she shrugged. ‘Mary said she thought Donna was suffering from OCD.’

‘OCD?’ I asked.

‘Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.’

‘Oh, I see,’ I said, surprised. ‘Why does she think that?’

‘Apparently she keeps washing her hands.’ Edna gave one of her characteristic sighs. ‘I don't know, Cathy. You seem pretty sensible. I'm sure you'll notice if there is anything untoward.’

‘It's probably just nerves,’ I offered.

‘Yes. Anyway, we'll leave you to go to the park now. Thanks for taking Donna and sorry it's such short notice. I know I have to phone Jill and update her later.’

‘Yes please. Would Donna like to look around the house before you go?’

Edna nodded. ‘We'll give her a tour, but don't expect much in the way of response.’

‘No,’ I said, smiling. ‘Don't worry. I'm sure she'll soon thaw out when she moves in.’ Edna seemed to need more reassurance than I did, and I thought that over the three years she had worked with the family she had probably built up quite a bond with the children. She appeared to have a particularly soft spot for Donna, and I could see why: Donna was crying out for love and attention, although she didn't know it.

I stood and went to the French windows. ‘Paula!’ I called from the step. ‘Donna has to go now.’

I saw Paula relay this to Donna, who was still standing, arms folded and head lowered, not looking at Paula. Donna didn't make a move, so I guessed Paula repeated it; then I watched as Paula slipped her hand into Donna's and began to lead her up the garden and towards the house. It was sad and almost comical to see little Paula in charge of, and leading, this big girl, and Donna walking a pace behind her, allowing herself to be led.

‘Good girls,’ I said, as they arrived.

Paula grinned but Donna kept her eyes down and carefully trained away from mine.

‘Cathy is going to show us around now, Donna,’ Edna said brightly. ‘Then we must be going.’

‘Can I come to show Donna around?’ Paula asked.

‘Yes, of course.’ I smiled at her, and looked at Donna, but she didn't look up, and sidled closer to Edna, taking comfort in her familiar presence in what was for her an unfamiliar house. I could see that Donna thought a lot of Edna, as Edna did of Donna.

I gave them a quick tour of the downstairs of the house and pointed out where all the toys were. As we entered each room Edna said, ‘This is nice, isn't it, Donna?’ trying to spark some interest. Donna managed a small nod but nothing else, and I wasn't expecting any more, for clearly and unsurprisingly she was finding all this very difficult. She didn't raise her eyes high enough to see any of the rooms we went into. As we entered what was to be her bedroom and Edna said, ‘This is nice, isn't it?’ Donna managed a small grunt, and I thought for a second she was going to look up, but instead she snuggled closer to Edna, and it was left to Paula to comment on the view out of the bedroom window.

‘Look, you can see the swings in the garden,’ Paula called, going over to the window. ‘And next door's garden. They've got children and they come round and play sometimes.’

Donna gave a small nod, but I thought she looked sadder than ever. I wondered if that was because she was going to have to settle into what would be her third bedroom in under a month; or perhaps it was because of the mention of ‘children’ and the realisation that she wouldn't be playing with her brothers on a daily basis.

‘It will look lovely when you have your things in here, Donna,’ Edna said encouragingly. Donna didn't say anything and Edna looked at me. ‘Thank you for showing us around, Cathy. I think it's time we went now. We've got a lot to do.’

Edna led the way out of the bedroom with Donna at her heels, and Paula and me following. Paula tucked her hand into mine and gave it a squeeze; I looked at her.

‘Doesn't she like her bedroom?’ Paula asked quietly, but not quietly enough; I knew Donna had heard.

‘Yes, but I'm sure it must seem very strange to begin with. You're lucky: you've never had to move. Don't worry, we'll soon make her feel welcome.’

Paula came with me to the front door to see Edna and Donna out. ‘Say goodbye to Adrian for me,’ Edna said. ‘Donna and I will see you as soon after six o'clock as we can make it. Is that all right with you?’

‘Yes. We'll be looking forward to it.’

‘Bye, Donna,’ Paula said as I opened the door and they stepped out. ‘See you later.’

Edna looked back and smiled, but Donna kept going. Once they had disappeared along the pavement towards Edna's car, I closed the door and felt relief run through me. Although Donna wasn't the disruptive child I had thought she might be, kicking, screaming and shouting abuse, the weight of her unhappiness was so tangible it was as exhausting as any outward disturbing or challenging behaviour.

Paula followed me down the hall and towards the French windows to call Adrian in. ‘Do you think Donna will want to play with me?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I am sure she will, love. She's a bit shy at present.’

‘I'll make her happy playing with me,’ she said. ‘We can have lots of fun.’

I smiled and nodded, but I thought that it would be a long time before Donna had genuine and heartfelt fun, although she might well go through the motions and cooperate with Paula, as she had done when pushing the swing. Despite all Edna had told me about Donna's family, the circumstances for bringing her and her brothers into care and now moving her to me, I was really none the wiser as to why she was having to move and why she was so withdrawn. But one thing I was certain of was that Donna carried a heavy burden in her heart which she wasn't going to surrender easily.