Читать книгу Girl Alone: Part 2 of 3: Joss came home from school to discover her father’s suicide. Angry and hurting, she’s out of control. - Cathy Glass, Cathy Glass - Страница 5

Joss had a detention after school that Tuesday, so she didn’t return home until 5.30 p.m.

‘You know what happened, so don’t ask!’ she thundered as she came in. ‘Miss said she’d phoned you.’

‘She did phone,’ I said.

I closed the front door as Joss kicked off her shoes. She was clearly angry, so there was no point in trying to talk to her now. She marched upstairs to her room and I went into the kitchen to continue making dinner. A few minutes later she came down again, holding her school bag, which she plonked unceremoniously on the dining table. ‘I suppose I’ll have to do my effing homework before I go out.’

I turned to look at her. ‘You won’t be going out tonight, love,’ I said. ‘Not after the way you behaved at school today.’

‘But that’s not fair! I’m allowed out on a Tuesday. I’m not doing my homework, then. You can stuff it!’

Here we go again, I thought. Grabbing her bag, she stormed back upstairs. I heard her bedroom door slam and then her moving nosily around in her room, which was directly above the kitchen.

How much easier it would be, I thought, in the short term at least, if I let Joss do as she wanted instead of trying to put in place guidelines for good and safe behaviour. Here I was, at the start of yet another evening, tense and anxious, with my stomach tied in a knot. But letting Joss continue unchecked would do her no good and would have been irresponsible of me as a parent and carer. Someone needed to make Joss understand that there would be consequences if she kept behaving as she was, and who else was there to do that but me? Her mother and stepfather had tried and failed, so had an aunt and two previous foster carers, and it looked as though I was going the same way. I knew Joss and I were heading for a showdown – her will against mine – but it was essential she learnt to behave in a safe and acceptable manner.

Joss stayed in her room for the next fifteen minutes, until six o’clock when I called everyone to dinner. She came immediately and was no longer angry or even sulking; she took her seat at the table and spoke pleasantly to Lucy and Paula – Adrian wasn’t home yet. Naïvely I assumed that, alone in her room, she’d had time to reflect on her behaviour, had realized she was in the wrong and now accepted she wasn’t going out. She ate her main course, didn’t want any pudding, but remained seated at the table until we’d all finished. Then we took our dishes through to the kitchen and Joss returned upstairs to her room. I’d go up shortly and encourage her to come down, as I didn’t want her sitting alone all evening. However, a minute later, while I was clearing up, I heard her bedroom door open and then her footsteps on the stairs. I was expecting her to go into the front room where Paula and Lucy were, or possibly to come and find me, but a few moments later I heard the front door open and then close. I went straight into the hall to find it empty.

‘She’s gone out,’ Lucy called from the front room.

‘I don’t believe it! She wasn’t allowed out tonight. I’m going after her.’ I quickly pushed my feet into my sandals and opened the front door.

‘Be careful,’ Paula said, appearing in the hall.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t be long.’

I went out, down the front path and onto the pavement just in time to see Joss disappearing around the bend further up the road. I assumed she was heading for the bus stop on the high road, in which case I’d need to reach her before she got on the bus. It was a fine evening and still light. I walked quickly, but as I turned the bend I saw her standing on the pavement further up. She was looking away from me, concentrating on the top of the road, watching and waiting for someone to arrive, I guessed. I continued towards her and only at the last moment, when I was pretty close, did she turn and look at me, shocked and surprised.

‘What do you want?’ she demanded.

‘I told you to stay in tonight,’ I said none too quietly. ‘How dare you disobey me and go out.’

‘Go away,’ she hissed, glancing anxiously around. ‘You can’t make me stay in.’

‘I’m not going home without you. Who are you waiting for?’

‘No one. Leave me alone. I can do what I like.’

‘No, you can’t,’ I said. ‘No one can do as they like all the time, and certainly not at thirteen!’

Joss looked around, clearly embarrassed. It was a warm summer’s evening and people were out, on their way home from work and the shops, and of course I was making a scene.

‘I want you to come home with me now, Joss,’ I said quite loudly. ‘Then we can talk about this.’

‘I’m not coming. I’m waiting for my friends,’ she hissed.

‘Who? Zach?’

She nodded.

‘I’ll wait with you then and explain what’s happened.’

‘You can’t do that. Go home,’ she hissed again.

‘Not unless you come with me.’

‘He’ll be annoyed if he finds you here,’ she said, and it sounded like a threat.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll handle it. Is this where he usually picks you up and drops you off?’ I asked.

‘Yeah. Now go away, will you?’ She looked anxiously up the street.

‘I’m not going anywhere, Joss, without you,’ I confirmed, and remained standing beside her.

‘Oh, shit!’ she suddenly said.

I followed her gaze to the shiny black BMW that was now turning onto the road.

‘He’s here. Go away!’ She tried to elbow me away and a passer-by looked at us.

Clearly the driver of the BMW must have seen us, and for a moment I thought he was going to drive straight past, but then the car slowed and pulled in to the kerb, level with us. I could see Zach at the wheel, Carl in the passenger seat and Chelsea in the rear. The front windows stayed up, but Chelsea lowered her window and looked out.

‘What’s up?’ she asked Joss.

‘She says I can’t go out tonight,’ Joss said.

‘Aww,’ I heard Carl sneer from the front.

‘Come on,’ Chelsea said. ‘Don’t take any notice of her. Get in.’

Much to Chelsea’s surprise, I opened the rear door. ‘Hello, everyone,’ I said, looking in.

‘Hello,’ Zach said sombrely, while Carl gave a snort of derisive laughter. Both lads continued to look straight ahead.

‘Are you getting in or what?’ Chelsea asked Joss.

‘No, she’s not,’ I said. Joss stood beside me, embarrassed, agitated and not knowing what to do.

‘She’s not coming out tonight,’ I confirmed.

‘Do what your carer says,’ Carl sniggered. Then to Zach he said: ‘Come on, man, let’s go. We don’t want any trouble.’ Zach revved the engine.

‘You coming? Last chance,’ Chelsea said to Joss.

‘No, she’s not,’ I said.

‘Close the fucking door, man,’ Carl snarled from the front.

‘Bye then,’ Chelsea said, annoyed, and slammed the door. Immediately the car sped away, tyres screeching.

‘Now look what you’ve done!’ Joss cried, turning to me, close to tears.

My heart was pounding and my legs were like jelly. I hate confrontations, but this one had been essential.

‘I’ve done what is right to keep you safe,’ I said. ‘If I tell you you’re not going out, I mean it.’

‘They’ll all be laughing at me,’ Joss moaned. ‘And why didn’t Zach stick up for me?’

‘Because he’s not the friend you thought he was?’ I offered gently.

‘Yes, he is,’ Joss snapped. ‘It’s you. You’re ruining my life. I want to see my friends and have fun.’ We turned and began back down the street.

‘I’m not trying to stop you from having fun, Joss, but I’m very concerned that the type of fun you’re having at present isn’t safe. Why not invite a friend of your own age home? You could watch a film and eat takeaway pizza.’ This was the type of fun a thirteen-year-old should be having – innocent, age-appropriate fun – but Joss, with all her problems, was missing out on that and trying to bury her sorrow in drink and drugs.

‘Chelsea wouldn’t come,’ Joss said moodily as we walked.

‘Well, invite another friend, then. Perhaps someone from your class?’

‘I haven’t got any other friends,’ Joss said gloomily. ‘Chelsea is my only mate.’

‘I’m sure that isn’t true,’ I said. ‘You’re a nice person – when you’re not angry,’ I added with a smile.

‘No one wants to be my friend,’ Joss said, sadness now replacing anger. ‘They think I’m bad news because I’m always in trouble. Their parents tell them to keep away from me.’

Which I could understand. ‘There is a very obvious solution, Joss,’ I said. ‘Stop getting into trouble, behave yourself and then make some new friends. You don’t have to keep breaking all the rules. It’s not big and it’s not clever. You can change if you want to. Miss Pryce said she’s hoping that after the six-week summer holiday you’ll go back to school and start afresh.’

Joss shrugged despondently. I felt sorry for her now. ‘If I’m still there,’ she said. ‘They might have put me in lock-up by then.’

‘Not if you stop your unsafe behaviour,’ I said. ‘I’m trying to help you do that.’ I pushed open the front garden gate and Joss followed me through. I paused on the doorstep and looked at her. ‘I know you’ve suffered, love, but don’t keep punishing yourself. You can start afresh and have a great life.’

‘What’s the point?’ she said. ‘We all end up dead anyway.’

‘Oh, Joss.’ I touched her arm reassuringly. ‘Let’s go indoors and have a talk. You shouldn’t be feeling like this.’

I unlocked the front door and we went in. I thought Joss might want to talk now and open up a little, but once inside she said, ‘Are Lucy and Paula in?’

‘Yes, they’re in the front room on the computer.’

‘You can come and join us if you like,’ Lucy called, having heard.

‘Yeah, OK.’ Joss disappeared into the front room, all animosity gone.

She spent most of the evening with Paula and Lucy, so it wasn’t until bedtime that I had a chance to talk to her again. Although Joss never wanted a hug or a kiss goodnight, I always looked in on her to make sure she was all right. She was propped up in bed, flipping through a magazine. She loved her girly magazines and seemed to be spending most of her pocket money on them.

‘You had a pleasant evening in the end,’ I said, standing near her bed.

‘It wasn’t bad,’ she returned, concentrating on the magazine.

‘You know what you said about friends?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, Paula and Lucy are your friends.’

‘Yeah, good,’ she said without looking up.

‘Can we talk?’ I asked.

‘What about?’ She turned a page.

‘Anything you like. I was worried by your comment earlier about not seeing any point in life. It sounded as though you might be depressed.’

She glanced up briefly. ‘Nah. I’m OK.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah.’

I hesitated. ‘You would tell me if you were feeling very low, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yeah, I guess.’

I hesitated. What else could I say? She didn’t want to talk to me. I couldn’t force her. ‘Well, goodnight then, love. You know where I am if you want me.’

‘Yeah.’

‘See you in the morning.’

‘Yeah.’

I came out and closed her bedroom door, but I was worried. Being a teenager can be difficult enough with all the confusing emotions and decisions that have to be made, without the baggage Joss carried. However, I couldn’t make her talk or seek counselling if she didn’t want to. She knew it was on offer, so, frustratingly, all I could do was be on hand, ready for if and when she needed me.

The following day was Wednesday, and the contract of behaviour, which we still hadn’t received a copy of or signed, and which Amelia said may now need updating, stipulated that Joss had to stay in on Wednesdays. Joss accepted this without argument and appeared a little relieved that the decision had been made for her. She did an hour’s homework and then after dinner she spent some time in Paula’s room playing with her doll’s house, while Paula sat on her bed reading Joss’s magazines. Wonderful, domestic harmony, I thought, and hoped we’d enjoy more evenings like this. Teenagers often appear grown up and in control of their lives, but inside they are children trying to find a way into adult life. It’s a bit like buying a new outfit: you try on different clothes until eventually you find something that suits you and feels comfortable. So teenagers try different personas until they find the one that fits them best, but during the process they need a lot of direction. It’s not cramping their style; it’s helping them choose a good outcome.

Unfortunately, the glimpse of domestic harmony I’d seen earlier, when Joss had been playing with Paula’s doll’s house, hid a more sinister picture, one that served as a harrowing reminder of just how disturbed Joss really was.

It was nearly nine o’clock. Joss was in the bath and I was downstairs talking to Lucy, who’d just returned from a friend’s house where she’d been working on an end-of-year presentation for school, which they could do in pairs. Paula was in her bedroom getting ready for bed when suddenly I heard her footsteps running down the stairs.

‘Mum, come quickly!’ she cried, arriving in the living room, her face pale from shock. ‘Come and see what Joss has done. It’s horrible.’

‘Whatever is it?’ I asked, immediately on my feet.

‘You need to see. Come.’

Lucy and I ran down the hall behind Paula and upstairs to her room.

‘Go and look,’ Paula said, standing just inside the door and pointing to her doll’s house.

Lucy was there before me. ‘Oh, my God!’ she gasped. ‘That’s horrible.’

I joined her at the front of the doll’s house and my heart lurched. Like many doll’s houses, the front of this one opened to show all the rooms with their furniture and doll people inside. The garage was at the bottom to the right, and the daddy doll, which Paula had previously told me Joss never played with, was now hanging by its neck with a piece of string from the roof of the garage. Its head had been bent grotesquely to one side in a parody of a broken neck, and the corpse dangled beside the car as though it had jumped off the bonnet. This was obviously a grizzly reproduction of what Joss had seen when her father had committed suicide in the garage, and it was truly disturbing.

‘Why would Joss do that with the doll?’ Lucy asked, still staring at the corpse.

My family knew that Joss’s father had died in distressing circumstances, but they didn’t know the details.

‘Joss’s father committed suicide,’ I said.

‘By hanging himself in the garage?’ Lucy asked, clamping her hand over her mouth in horror.

‘Yes,’ I said.

I reached in and unpinned the doll from the ceiling and then untied the string from its neck. Paula was still by the door, watching from a distance, and I returned the daddy doll to the miniature sofa in the living room. ‘That’s better,’ I said, hiding my shock and trying to restore normality.

‘I’m not letting Joss play with the doll’s house again,’ Paula said, clearly upset.

‘No, I wouldn’t,’ Lucy agreed.

‘I’ll talk to Joss when she’s finished in the bath,’ I said, closing the front of the house. ‘But you know, girls, perhaps this is a positive sign that Joss is getting ready to talk about what happened, which would be a very good thing.’ Although I wished she hadn’t used Paula’s doll’s house to express it. The atrocity had sullied its childlike innocence, and I knew the taint would remain for some time.

When Joss had finished her bath and was in her bedroom, I knocked on her door and went in.

‘What?’ she asked, already on the defensive. I guessed she knew what I wanted.

‘Paula is upset by what she found in her doll’s house,’ I said gently.

‘Not half as upset as I was!’ Joss snapped, referring, I assumed, to her father’s actual death.

‘I appreciate that, love. It must have been absolutely horrendous for you. I can’t imagine how you coped.’

‘I didn’t,’ she said, climbing into bed. ‘But shit happens. There’s nothing you or anyone can do about it. And before you ask me, no, I don’t want to talk about it.’ She picked up a magazine and pulled it open.

I waited. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘All right, I’ll leave you to it, then, but you know where I am if you need me.’

Joss gave a small nod and I said goodnight and came out of her room.

That night she had a nightmare. It was about her father. As I soothed her back to sleep, she whispered, ‘Daddy. Daddy gone. Dead.’ And a tear slipped from the corner of her eye. It was heartbreaking. I knew she had all that hurt buried deep inside her and it was trying to find a way out. Interestingly, the following morning she remembered some of her dream, which she didn’t usually.

‘I had a really bad dream last night,’ she told me.

‘Do you remember what it was about?’ I asked carefully, aware I needed to handle this sensitively.

‘It was about my daddy,’ she said quietly. ‘I think, the day he died.’

‘Do you remember anything else?’

‘Not sure. Were you there?’

‘I heard you call out and came into your room to make sure you were all right. I always check if I hear one of you call out in the night. You went back to sleep quite quickly.’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t really remember. It’s a blur.’

Joss didn’t offer any more and I left it at that, but my amateur psychology told me that Joss hanging the doll and then starting to remember her dreams could mean that the shocking memories of her father’s suicide were starting to work their way to the surface to be dealt with.

That afternoon Jill came for one of her scheduled four-weekly visits – to make sure I was fostering Joss to the required standard, to give support and advice as necessary and to sign off my log notes. I updated her on events since the last time we’d spoken on the phone, finishing with the incident of the doll and Joss’s most recent nightmare.

‘I’m no psychiatrist,’ Jill said, ‘but it could certainly be a positive sign. Keep doing what you have been doing – providing a safe and supportive environment – and Joss may feel able to start counselling before long and address her demons. Once she comes to terms with what happened and stops blaming herself, she’ll be less angry and her behaviour should start to improve.’

I greatly valued Jill’s opinion, so I was pleased to hear this, but what happened next showed Joss still had a very long way to go.