Читать книгу The Saddest Girl in the World - Cathy Glass, Cathy Glass - Страница 9

Adrian was not impressed. The phone had started ringing and, feeling unable to simply stand and desert the girls, I hadn't immediately answered it.

‘The phone's ringing,’ he said helpfully, coming in from the patio, with his Gameboy in his hand. He stopped as he saw the three of us and pulled a face, suggesting he didn't fully approve of this collective display of female emotion.

‘I'll answer it now,’ I said, throwing him a smile. ‘Everyone will be OK soon.’ This reassurance was enough for Adrian and he smartly nipped off into the garden, grateful he didn't have to be party to what must have appeared to a boy of his age to be blubbering nonsense.

I eased my arms from the girls and went to answer the phone on the corner unit. It was Jill.

‘You took a long time to answer. Is everything all right, Cathy?’

‘Yes. Donna is here.’ I glanced over to the sofa as Paula took up the gap I had left and snuggled into Donna's side. Donna lifted her arm and put it around Paula. ‘Yes, everything is fine,’ I said.

‘Cathy, I won't keep you now, as it's getting late. I just wanted to make sure Donna had arrived and there weren't any problems.’

‘No, no problems,’ I confirmed. ‘Edna only left ten minutes ago. She's going to phone you, and me, on Monday. She brought all the forms.’

‘Good. Well, enjoy your weekend. If you do need to speak to someone, Mike is back, and on call over the weekend; dial the emergency number.’

‘OK, Jill, thanks.’

‘And I'll phone on Monday, and visit as soon as I can next week.’

‘Fine,’ I said. We said goodbye and I hung up.

I glanced at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. It was 7.40 p.m., after Paula's bedtime and getting close to Adrian and Donna's. I crossed over to the girls; they had both stopped crying now and Donna still had her arm around Paula. Both were sitting very still, as though appreciating the moment, although Paula was the only one to look at me.

‘Girls,’ I said gently, drawing up the footstool and squatting on it so that I was at their level. ‘Are you feeling a bit better now?’

Paula nodded and, with her head still resting against Donna, looked up at her. Donna had her head down and rubbed away the last of the tears from her cheeks with the tissue. I put a hand on each of their arms. ‘I think we will all feel better after a good night's sleep, and it is getting late,’ I said. Paula looked up again at Donna for her reaction, but there wasn't one: Donna remained impassive, head lowered, with the little red paper bag in her hand. ‘Donna, love, would you like something to eat?’ I asked again. ‘I have saved you dinner.’ She gave her head a little shake.

‘What about a drink before bed then?’

The same small shake of the head.

I hesitated, not really sure how to proceed. In many ways it was easier dealing with a child who was angry and shouting abuse: at least the pathway of communication at some level was open and could be channelled and modified. With so little coming back from Donna — she hadn't said a word yet — it was difficult to assess or interpret her needs. I hadn't thought to ask Edna if Donna had eaten, but even if the answer had been no, I could hardly force her to have dinner. ‘Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?’ I tried again. ‘Not even a snack?’

The same shake of the head, so I had to assume she wasn't hungry, and if she hadn't eaten she could make up for it at breakfast. ‘I'd love to see your present,’ I said, looking at the little bag. ‘So would Paula. Will you show us?’

Paula raised her head from Donna's side for a better view and Donna withdrew her arm. ‘What did Mary and Ray buy you?’ I asked. ‘I bet it's something nice.’

Very slowly and not raising her head, and with absolutely no enthusiasm, Donna moved her fingers and began to open the top of the paper bag. Paula and I watched as she dipped in her fingers and gradually drew out a bracelet made from small multi-coloured beads.

‘Oh, isn't that lovely,’ I said. ‘What a nice present.’

Donna cupped the bracelet in the palm of her hand, and I continued to enthuse, grateful for this small cooperation, which I viewed as progress. ‘Can you put it on your wrist and show us?’

Donna carefully slipped the bracelet over the fingers on her right hand and drew it down so that it settled around her wrist. As she did, I thought of Warren and Jason's parting shot, when they had told Donna not only that were they pleased she was going but not to go back. I felt so sorry for her.

‘That's beautiful,’ I said. I could tell that Donna was proud; she supported the wrist with the bracelet with her other hand, as though displaying it to its best advantage. It wasn't an expensive bracelet; it was the type of ‘infill’ present that one child gave another at a birthday party. The beads were painted plastic, strung together on elastic so that the bracelet fitted most-sized wrists. But if Paula thought the gift wasn't as precious as Donna did, she certainly didn't say so.

‘That is pretty,’ Paula said, touching it. ‘I like the red and blue ones.’ And I thought if anything typified the gaping chasm between children who had and those who did not, it was the bracelet. In our wealthy society with its abundance of acquirable material possessions, the gap between children from poor homes and those who enjoy all its advantages was widening. Paula had a couple of these bracelets, possibly three, and also a bedroom packed full of similar treasures which she'd received for Christmas and birthday presents, and treats from grandparents; but I knew from the way Donna cradled the bracelet that she certainly did not.

‘We will have to find a safe place for it in your bedroom,’ I said. Donna nodded.

I glanced at the clock again; I really had to start getting all three children upstairs and into bed. There was no way I was going to attempt Donna's unpacking now; it was too late, and we would have plenty of time the following day. ‘Now, love,’ I said, placing my hand on Donna's arm again. ‘We're going to take just what we need for tonight from your bags and sort out the rest in the morning, all right? Once you've had a good night's sleep everything will seem a lot better. I'd like you to come with me into the hall and tell me which bag has your nightwear and washing things.’ Then it occurred to me that Donna probably didn't know what each bag contained, as Edna had said Mary had done the packing that afternoon while Donna had been with Edna. ‘Do you know what's in each bag?’ I asked her.

Donna shrugged. ‘Wait there with Paula a minute,’ I said, ‘and I'll take a look, unless you want to come and help me?’

She shook her head, and I left her sitting with Paula, who was still, bless her, admiring the bracelet, while I went down the hall, hoping I wouldn't have to unpack every bag and case to find her night things. I peered in the various carrier bags and found that Mary had put everything Donna needed for the night in one plastic bag, presumably guessing it would be too late for us to unpack properly. Picking up this carrier bag, I returned to the lounge.

The girls were still together and Donna was slipping the bracelet from her wrist and returning it to the paper bag. ‘I've found what you need for tonight,’ I said. I went over and, opening the bag, showed her inside. ‘Nightdress, wash bag and teddy. Is there anything else you need, love?’

She shook her head.

The French windows were still open and Adrian was outside, now at the end of the garden having a last swing before he had to come in. It was nearly 8.30 p.m. and the air temperature was just starting to drop. ‘Adrian,’ I called from the step. ‘Five minutes, and then I want you to come in and get changed.’ He didn't say anything, but I knew he had heard me, for this scenario had been repeated most nights since school had broken up — I had left him playing in the garden, sometimes with the neighbour's children, while I got Paula ready for bed.

‘OK, girls,’ I said. ‘Let's go up and get you settled. Are you sure you wouldn't like a drink before you go, Donna?’

She shook her head.

With a different child on their first night I would probably have put Paula to bed and spent some time talking to the child and getting to know them before settling them for the night. However, because Donna was not communicating I felt, as Edna had done, that she was exhausted. I was now dearly hoping that I would have Donna's cooperation in going to bed, but I was starting to feel a bit uneasy. If Donna didn't move and ignored my requests, or answered them with a shrug or shake of the head, what was I supposed to do? She was far too big for me to carry upstairs as I might have done with a little one, and if she didn't respond to my cajoling and persuading there was virtually nothing I could do. It crossed my mind that maybe that was how Mary had received the bruise to her arm — perhaps Donna had refused to cooperate despite all their efforts, and Mary and Ray had resorted to physically moving her; but I quickly let that thought go, for if that was so, then I was in big trouble, as I had no ‘Ray’ to help me.

‘Right,’ I said, using an assertive tone. ‘I have got all you need for tonight, Donna. The three of us will go upstairs together. Donna, while I help Paula, you can get changed, ready for bed.’ I had said it as though I meant it, as a request not open to debate. Paula immediately stood and came to my side, aware she was going to bed later than usual and not wishing to overstep the mark. Donna remained where she was on the sofa, impassive, head down and once more clutching the little bag with her present. ‘OK, Donna, are you ready?’ I said, and I felt another twinge of anxiety. She still didn't move and I saw Paula look at me questioningly, also worried by Donna not doing as I'd asked.

‘Come on, Donna,’ Paula said in her little voice. I looked at Paula and shook my head to indicate to her not to continue. Her request had sounded like a plea and I needed Donna to do as I had asked as a matter of course; I wasn't going to plead with her.

I took Paula's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, and with Donna's carrier bag in my other hand, I turned away from the sofa, ready to leave the room. There was a limit to how many times I could politely say that I wanted her to go upstairs before I started to look ineffectual and lose my credibility and authority. ‘Right, we're going up now, Donna,’ I said and, still holding Paula's hand, I began slowly and steadily towards the lounge door. As I went I was frantically searching for plan B if she didn't follow me, which vaguely centred around taking Paula up and coming down and trying again. But I knew that was likely to be even less successful than the first time, and I couldn't have Donna sitting down here all night. As a last resort I would have to phone the fostering agency and ask for help, although practically I wasn't sure what they could do either.

To my great and utter relief, as Paula and I stepped from the lounge and into the hall, Donna stood and began to follow us. I waited for her to catch up and then continued down the hall. I didn't praise her, for I had to give the impression that I expected her to follow my instructions and requests. Although I felt dreadfully sorry for Donna, and my heart went out to her, she was only ten and like all children she had to do as she was told.

Paula and I went up the stairs first with Donna a step or two behind. At the top of the stairs I said to Paula, ‘You go into the bathroom and do your teeth while I show Donna to her bedroom.’ I wasn't sure what was going to happen next with Donna, and I didn't want Paula being party to any sudden outburst. Donna was so quiet and withdrawn it was unhealthy, and I had the feeling, as I had done when she'd first visited and gone down the garden with Paula, that she was like a tinder box waiting to ignite and go up in flames — you can only suppress so much emotion before something gives. While Edna had reassured me that Donna was ‘a good girl’, social workers, no matter how efficient they are, don't see the child on a daily basis as Mary and Ray had done, and they'd had problems with Donna.

Paula did as I asked and went to the bathroom while I continued round the landing to Donna's bedroom, with Donna following me in silence.

‘All right, love,’ I said, kindly but firmly. ‘Here is your nightdress, teddy bear and wash bag.’ I took the items from the carrier bag and set them on the bed. ‘I'll leave you to get changed, and then I'll show you into the bathroom. We won't worry about a bath tonight. If you want the toilet, it is right next to your bedroom.’ I pointed out towards the landing. ‘I'll be back shortly.’

Without looking at her, and thereby not giving her room for refusal, I came out and closed the bedroom door; whether she did as I asked or not remained to be seen. I went round the landing and into the bathroom, where Paula was cleaning her teeth. I waited until she had finished and then went with her to the toilet, where I waited, as I did every evening at bedtime, outside the toilet door. The toilet, at the other end of the landing to the bathroom, was the room next to Donna's, and as I waited for Paula I listened, but I couldn't hear any movement. I prayed Donna was doing as I had asked and getting changed.

When Paula came out of the toilet I went with her into her bedroom and drew the curtains. Once she was in bed I took a book from her bookshelf and propped myself on the bed beside her with my feet up, as I did every evening, as part of our bedtime routine. ‘I'm only reading one story tonight, love,’ I said, ‘as I need to get Donna settled.’

I had chosen a short story, but a favourite of Paula's — The Very Hungry Caterpillar, which I had been reading to her since she was a toddler. Paula knew it by heart and could also read most of the words. She joined in as I read, poking her finger through the hole in each page where the caterpillar was supposed to have eaten. At the end, where the caterpillar changes into a beautiful butterfly, I said, as I always said when I read this book, ‘You are my beautiful butterfly.’ Paula grinned and snuggled her head into her pillow, and I kissed her goodnight. ‘Thanks for helping to look after Donna,’ I said. ‘I'm sure she'll be better tomorrow.’

Paula looked concerned. ‘Mum?’ she asked. ‘Does Donna talk?’

I smiled. ‘Yes, love, but she's finding it difficult at present because of everything that has happened to her. I am sure she will start talking to us soon.’

‘Good. Because I don't like her being so quiet. It's a bit scary.’

‘I know, love, but don't you worry.’ I got off the bed and kissed her goodnight again. ‘Everything will be all right. Now, it's late and I want you to go straight off to sleep.’

‘Is Adrian coming in soon?’ Paula asked.

‘Yes, just as soon as I've got Donna settled.’

‘Will she go to bed at the same time as me every night?’

I smiled. ‘No, she's older than you, and it's well past your normal bedtime.’

‘I know.’ Paula giggled and buried her head under the sheets.

‘Night, love,’ I said again. ‘Sleep tight.’ Coming out, I blew her one last kiss and drew the door to but left it slightly ajar as she liked it. I went round the landing and knocked on Donna's door. There was no reply, so I knocked again, then slowly opened the door and put my head round. Donna had changed into her nightdress and I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. She was sitting on the bed with the red paper bag in her hand. ‘Do you want to put your present in this drawer for now?’ I said, going in and opening one of the drawers in the wardrobe. ‘It will be quite safe in there.’

She shook her head and clutched the bag tighter.

‘OK, but you will have to put it down when you have your wash or else it will get wet.’ I picked up her wash bag containing the flannel and toothbrush, and in my firm but kindly tone said, ‘This way to the bathroom, love.’ I turned and left the room decisively as though I expected her to follow, which she did.

In the bathroom I put her flannel on the towel rail with ours and her toothbrush in the mug with ours. ‘The toothpaste is there,’ I said. ‘That tap is the hot water and that one is the cold.’ Obvious to us, but less obvious to a newcomer because the red and blue marks on the taps had worn away with use. ‘This is your towel,’ I said, pointing again to the towel rail. ‘Do you need anything else?’ Donna shook her head. ‘OK, when you have finished, go to the toilet and then I will come and say goodnight.’

I came out, and went downstairs and into the lounge. The light was fading now at nearly 9.00 p.m. and there was a nip in the air. I stood at the French windows and called Adrian in, and unusually he came with the first calling.

‘Good boy,’ I said. ‘Now straight upstairs and change into your pyjamas. Donna will be finished in the bathroom by the time you are ready to go in. You can leave your shower until the morning as we're late.’

‘Cool,’ he said, which was his favourite expression, used to denote most things that met with his approval.

‘And not too much noise when you go up: Paula is going off to sleep.’

‘I'll have a drink first,’ he said, and he went through to the kitchen, while I closed and locked the French windows.

Leaving Adrian to pour himself a glass of milk, I returned upstairs, taking a couple of Donna's carrier bags with me, which I placed in her bedroom. The water had stopped running in the bathroom and I went round and knocked on the bathroom door, which she had left ajar. ‘All right?’ I asked, going in. She nodded. ‘Have you had your wash and done your teeth?’ I noticed she was once more clutching the red paper bag. She nodded again.

‘Good girl. Straight into bed then. It's after nine o'clock.’

She followed me silently round the landing and into her bedroom. I pulled back the sheet — there was no need for a duvet, as it was too hot — and I stood aside and waited for her to get into bed. ‘Do you have your teddy bear in bed with you?’ I asked, picking up the clearly much-loved threadbare soft toy.

She nodded.

‘Has he or she got a name?’

She shrugged and laid her head on the pillow. I tucked the teddy in beside her and then draped the sheet over her. I drew the bedroom curtains and returned to stand beside the bed. ‘We'll unpack all your things tomorrow,’ I said, leaning slightly forward. ‘Have a good sleep and you can have a lie-in if you wish: there's no rush tomorrow. If you need me in the night, you know where my bedroom is. Just knock on the door. I'm a light sleeper, so I will hear you.’ I hesitated and looked at her. She was on her side, facing out into the room. She was staring straight ahead and had one arm around the teddy. There wasn't much else I could say or do that night, although I felt there was plenty I should be saying and doing to help her. ‘Sleep tight, love, and see you in the morning. Would you like a goodnight kiss?’ I always ask the fostered child this when they first arrive; it's an intrusion in their personal space to just assume they want a kiss.

She nodded slightly and I leant further forward and kissed her forehead. ‘Night, love, sleep tight. We'll have a good day tomorrow. We'll unpack first — it's nice to have all your things around you. I'm so pleased you have come to stay with us.’

I hesitated again, hoping, wishing, she would say something, some verbal acknowledgement that she was all right and not in need of anything. But there was absolutely nothing.

‘Night, love,’ I said again. ‘Would you like your bedroom door open or closed?’ She gave a small shrug. ‘OK, I'll close it a little.’

With a final glance at her I came out and pulled the door to without shutting it fully. Adrian was in the bathroom, having changed into his pyjamas, and was now finishing his washing and teeth brushing. I waited on the landing until he came out, and then I saw him into bed. ‘If you're reading tonight, it's only for a short while,’ I said. Although we didn't have to be up early for school in the morning, if Adrian didn't have enough sleep, he was not at his best, to put it mildly. Kissing him goodnight, I left him reading by the light of his lamp and came out and shut his bedroom door right to, as he liked it. I looked in on Paula, who was fast asleep; then I listened outside Donna's door. There was no sound, but I didn't go in in case I disturbed her. I would check on her later on my way to bed.

I went downstairs, locked the back door, and then flopped on to the sofa in the lounge and put my feet on the footstool. I was absolutely exhausted, and it seemed incredible that only ten hours had passed since I had received Jill's call about Donna. It wasn't only anxious anticipation of Donna's arrival, and welcoming her, that had drained me, but the relentless effort to get any form of acknowledgement from her, and the worry about what was really going on inside her head. As I sat on the sofa and slowly, gradually, began to relax, I realised that even though I had fostered over thirty children, Donna was the first to have spent an entire evening in the house and gone to bed without uttering a single word. I wondered just how long she could keep it up.