Girl Alone: Joss came home from school to discover her father’s suicide. Angry and hurting, she’s out of control.

Girl Alone: Joss came home from school to discover her father’s suicide. Angry and hurting, she’s out of control. Cathy Glass Aged nine Joss came home from school to discover her father's suicide. She's never gotten over it.This is the true story of Joss, 13 who is angry and out of control. At the age of nine, Joss finds her father’s dead body. He has committed suicide. Then her mother remarries and Joss bitterly resents her step-father who abuses her mentally and physically.Cathy takes Joss under her wing but will she ever be able to get through to the warm-hearted girl she sees glimpses of underneath the vehement outbreaks of anger that dominate the house, and will Cathy be able to build up Joss’s trust so she can learn the full truth of the terrible situation? (#u50ec7cd7-d34c-5179-9e5e-945635f0f694) Copyright (#u50ec7cd7-d34c-5179-9e5e-945635f0f694) Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect the family’s privacy. HarperElement An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk) First published by HarperElement 2015 FIRST EDITION © Cathy Glass 2015 A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library Cover photograph © Deborah Pendell/Arcangel Images (posed by model) Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015 Cathy Glass asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books. Find out about HarperCollins and the environment at www.harpercollins.co.uk/green (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk/green) Source ISBN: 9780008138257 Ebook Edition © September 2015 ISBN: 9780008138264 Version: 2016-08-10 Contents Cover (#u961e1002-d1a8-5db5-9719-4da1cdcf23f2) Title Page (#ulink_21c33364-17da-5c1b-ae3d-ee766c9baff6) Copyright (#ulink_15c2e91a-335d-5f00-99cb-1a90c8f2cd90) Acknowledgements (#ulink_180f047c-b424-5f45-b703-4eea1bcd4b32) Chapter One: Unsafe Behaviour (#ulink_3c8a8a84-5928-5a43-9c69-9d725bfbe81c) Chapter Two: I Thought You Loved Me (#ulink_429320b5-79cf-5c7d-8574-56f2f1e8c8c4) Chapter Three: Contract of Behaviour (#ulink_db4e4f63-72d7-59a7-82a1-9b5a858f046e) Chapter Four: No Daddy Doll (#ulink_795a2bc4-fc05-5ec4-9d07-03ddeef55751) Chapter Five: Eric (#ulink_cc4ed870-2111-509f-8130-429d765153aa) Chapter Six: Deceived (#ulink_f23c12cf-a689-5d78-bf6a-fc856ae15475) Chapter Seven: Letter from the Police (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eight: Out of Patience (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nine: On Report (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Ten: A Positive Sign? (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eleven: No Progress (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twelve: Not My Father (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirteen: End It All (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fourteen: Turning Point? (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fifteen: Doing the Right Thing (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Sixteen: Failed to Protect Her (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seventeen: Remorse, Guilt and Regret (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eighteen: Lying? (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nineteen: Alone (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty: Monday (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-One: Waiting for News (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Two: Missing (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Three: The Endless Wait (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Four: Unbelievable (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Five: And She Wept (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Six: Bittersweet (#litres_trial_promo) Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo) Suggested topics for reading-group discussion (#litres_trial_promo) Exclusive sample chapter (#litres_trial_promo) Cathy Glass (#litres_trial_promo) If you loved this book … (#litres_trial_promo) Moving Memoirs eNewsletter (#litres_trial_promo) About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo) Acknowledgements (#u50ec7cd7-d34c-5179-9e5e-945635f0f694) A big thank-you to my family; my editors, Holly and Carolyn; my literary agent, Andrew; my UK publishers HarperCollins, and my overseas publishers, who are now too numerous to list by name. Last but not least, a big thank-you to my readers for your unfailing support and kind words. Chapter One Unsafe Behaviour (#u50ec7cd7-d34c-5179-9e5e-945635f0f694) I hate you!’ Joss screamed at the top of her voice. ‘I hate you. I hate your house and your effing family! I even hate your effing cat!’ Our beloved cat, Toscha, jumped out of Joss’s way as she stormed from the living room, stomped upstairs and into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. I took a deep breath and sat on the sofa as I waited for my pulse to settle. Joss, thirteen, had arrived as an emergency foster placement twelve days earlier; angry, volatile and upset, she wasn’t getting any easier to deal with. I knew why she was so angry. So too did her family, teacher, social worker, previous foster carers and everyone else who had tried to help her and failed. Joss’s father had committed suicide four years previously, when Joss had been nine years old, and she and her mother had found his lifeless body. He’d hanged himself. This was trauma enough for any child to cope with, but then, when Joss was twelve, her mother had tried to move on with her life and had remarried. Joss felt rejected and that her mother had betrayed her father, whom she’d been very close to. Her refusal to accept her new stepfather as her younger brother had been able to had seen family arguments escalate and Joss’s behaviour sink to the point where she had to leave home and go to live with an aunt. The aunt had managed to cope with Joss’s unsafe and unpredictable behaviour for a month, but then Joss had gone into foster care. Two carers later, with Joss’s behaviour deteriorating further, she’d come to live with me – the day after Danny, whose story I told in Saving Danny, had left. It was felt that, as a very experienced foster carer, I’d be able to manage and hopefully improve Joss’s behaviour, but there’d been little progress so far. And, while I felt sorry for her and appreciated why she was so upset and angry, allowing her to self-destruct wasn’t going to help. Her present outburst was the result of my telling her that if she was going out she’d have to be in by nine o’clock, which I felt was late enough for a girl of thirteen to be travelling home on the bus alone. I’d offered to collect her in my car from the friend’s house she was supposedly going to, so she could have stayed a bit later, but she’d refused. ‘I’m not a kid,’ she’d raged. ‘So stop treating me like one!’ It was Friday evening, and what should have been the start of a relaxing weekend had resulted in me being stressed (again), and my children Adrian (sixteen), Lucy (thirteen) and Paula (twelve) being forced to listen to another angry scene. I gave Joss the usual ten minutes alone to calm down before I went upstairs. I wasn’t surprised to find Paula and Lucy standing on the landing looking very worried. Joss’s anger impacted on the whole family. ‘Shall I go in and talk to her?’ Lucy asked. The same age as Joss and having come to me as a foster child (I was adopting her), Lucy could empathize closely with Joss, but I wasn’t passing the responsibility to her. ‘Thanks, love, but I’ll speak to her first,’ I said. ‘Then you can have a chat with her later if you wish.’ ‘I don’t like it when she shouts at you,’ Paula said sadly. ‘I don’t either,’ I said, ‘but I can handle it. Really. Don’t worry.’ I threw them a reassuring smile, then gave a brief knock on Joss’s door and, slowly opening it, poked my head round. ‘Can I come in?’ I asked. ‘Suit yourself,’ Joss said moodily. I went in and drew the door to behind me. Joss was sitting on the edge of her bed with a tissue pressed to her face. She was a slight, petite child who looked younger than her thirteen years, and her usually sallow complexion was now red from anger and tears. ‘Can I come and sit next to you?’ I asked, approaching the bed. ‘Not bothered,’ she said. I sat beside her, close but not quite touching. I didn’t take her hand in mine or put my arm around her to comfort her. She shied away from physical contact. ‘Why do you always stop me from having fun?’ she grumbled. ‘It’s not fair.’ ‘Joss, I don’t want to stop you from having fun, but I do need to keep you safe. I care about you, and while you are living with me I’ll be looking after you like your mother.’ ‘She doesn’t care!’ Joss blurted. ‘Not for me, anyway.’ This was one of Joss’s grievances – that her mother didn’t care about her. ‘I’m sure your mother does care,’ I said. ‘Although she may not always say so.’ It was a conversation we’d had before. ‘No, she doesn’t,’ Joss blurted. ‘She couldn’t care a toss about me and Kevin, not now she’s got him.’ Kevin was Joss’s younger brother. ‘Him’ was their stepfather, Eric. ‘I know it can be very difficult for children when a parent remarries,’ I said. ‘The parent has to divide their time between their new partner and their children. I do understand how you feel.’ ‘No, you don’t,’ Joss snapped. ‘No one does.’ ‘I try my best to understand,’ I said. ‘And if you could talk to me more, I’m sure I’d be able to understand better.’ ‘At least you have time to listen to me. I’ll give you that. She never does.’ ‘I expect your mother is very busy. Working, as well as looking after her family.’ Joss humphed. ‘Busy with him, more like it!’ I knew that with so much animosity towards her stepfather it would be a long time before Joss was able to return to live at home, if ever. However, we were getting off the subject. ‘Listen, love,’ I said, lightly touching her arm. ‘The reason you were angry just now wasn’t because of your mother or stepfather; it was because I was insisting on some rules. As you know, when you go out I expect you to come in at a reasonable time. The same rules apply to everyone here, including Adrian, Lucy and Paula.’ ‘Adrian stayed out later than nine last Saturday,’ she snapped. ‘It was nearly eleven when he got back. I heard him come in.’ ‘He’s two years older than you,’ I said. ‘And even then I made sure he had transport home. Lucy and Paula have to be in by nine unless it’s a special occasion, and they only go out at weekends sometimes.’ ‘But they don’t want to go out as much as I do,’ Joss said, always ready with an answer. It was true. Joss would be out every night until after midnight if I let her, as she had been doing with her aunt and previous foster carers. ‘I don’t want you going out every night, either,’ I said. ‘You have school work to do and you need your sleep. It’s not a good idea for a young girl to be hanging around on the streets.’ ‘I like it,’ she said. ‘It’s fun.’ ‘It’s unsafe,’ I said. ‘No, it isn’t.’ ‘Trust me, love, a teenage girl wandering around by herself at night is unsafe. I’ve been fostering for fifteen years and I know what can happen.’ I didn’t want to scare her, but she had no sense of danger and I was very concerned about her unsafe behaviour. ‘I’m not by myself. I’m with my mates,’ Joss said. ‘You’re paranoid, just like my aunt and those other carers.’ ‘So we are all wrong, are we, love? Or could it be that, being a bit older and having more experience, we have some knowledge of what is safe and unsafe?’ Joss shrugged moodily and stared at her hands clenched in her lap. ‘I’m still going out tonight,’ she said defiantly. ‘I’ve said you can. It’s Friday, but you will be in by nine o’clock if you are using the bus.’ ‘What if I get a lift home?’ she asked. ‘I offered that before and you refused.’ ‘Not from you – one of my mates’ parents could bring me back.’ I looked at her carefully. ‘Who?’ ‘One of my mates from school, I guess.’ ‘Joss, if you are relying on a lift then I would like to know who will be responsible for bringing you home.’ ‘Chloe’s parents,’ she said quickly. ‘She’s in my class. She’s a nice girl. You’d like her.’ I continued to look at her. ‘And Chloe’s parents have offered to bring you home?’ ‘Yes. They did before, when I was at my last carer’s. You can ask them if you like.’ On balance, I decided she could be telling the truth, and if she wasn’t, questioning her further would only back her into a corner and make her lie even more. ‘All right, then,’ I said. ‘I trust you. On this occasion you can come in at ten o’clock as long as one of Chloe’s parents brings you home.’ ‘Ten’s too early if I have a lift,’ she said, trying to push the boundaries even further. ‘Eleven.’ ‘No. I consider ten o’clock late enough for a thirteen-year-old, but if you want to raise it with your social worker when we see her on Monday, that’s fine.’ ‘It’s not fair,’ she moaned. ‘You always fucking win.’ ‘It’s not about winning or losing,’ I said. ‘I care about what happens to you and I do what I think is best to protect you. And Joss, I’ve told you before about swearing and that you’d be sanctioned. There are other ways to express anger apart from swearing and stomping around. Tomorrow is pocket-money day and I’ll be withholding some of yours.’ ‘You can’t do that!’ she snapped. ‘It’s my money. The social services give it to you to give to me.’ ‘I will be giving you half tomorrow, and then the rest on Sunday evening, assuming you haven’t been swearing. If you do swear, I’ll keep the money safe for you and you can earn it back through good behaviour.’ ‘Yeah, whatever,’ she said, and, folding her arms, she turned her back on me. I ignored her ill humour. ‘Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes. I think Lucy wants to talk to you. Is that OK?’ ‘I guess.’ I went out of Joss’s room, called to Lucy that Joss was free and then with a sigh went downstairs to finish making the dinner. I knew I’d have another anxious evening worrying about Joss, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have doubts that I’d made the right decision in agreeing to foster her. I was especially concerned about the effect her behaviour could be having on my children. But I hadn’t really had much choice. I was the only experienced foster carer available at the time, and the social services couldn’t place Joss with an inexperienced carer, as they had done the first time. Joss had been that carer’s first placement and she’d only lasted two weeks. I hoped she was given an easier child for her next placement, or she might lose hope and resign. Once dinner was ready I called everyone to the table. Adrian had stayed in his room while Joss was erupting, and now greeted her with an easy ‘Hi’. There wasn’t an atmosphere at the meal table as there had been on Tuesday and Thursday when I’d stopped Joss from going out at all. Now she was happy at the prospect of a night out and ate quickly, gobbling down her food and finishing first. ‘I’m going to get ready,’ she said, standing and pushing back her chair. ‘Wouldn’t you like some pudding first?’ ‘Nah. I need to get ready.’ ‘All right. Off you go, then.’ Normally I encouraged the children to remain at the table until everyone had finished, as it’s polite. But with a child like Joss, who had so many issues, I had to be selective in choosing which ones I dealt with first. I couldn’t change all her behaviour at once, and coming home at a reasonable time for her own safety and not swearing were more important than having exemplary table manners. It was the beginning of June and therefore still daylight at seven o’clock when Joss yelled, ‘Bye. See ya later!’ from the hall and rushed out. I was in the living room drinking a cup of coffee, with the patio doors open and the warm summer air drifting in, thinking – worrying – about Joss. I’d thought about little else since she’d arrived. Although I’d been fostering for a long time, Joss was possibly my biggest challenge yet. I was also thinking about her mother, Linda, whom I would be meeting for the first time on Monday. Judging by what I knew from the social services, Linda had been a good mother and had done her best for Joss and her younger brother, Kevin, supporting them through the tragic loss of their father and then, more recently, gradually and sensitively introducing them to her new partner, Eric. I certainly didn’t blame Linda for wanting to move on with her life and remarry. I was divorced, so I knew what it was like bringing up children alone, and it’s not easy. Yet, sadly, it had all gone horribly wrong for Linda – by introducing Eric into her family she’d effectively lost her only daughter. I never completely relaxed while Joss was out in the evening, but there was always something to do to occupy myself. I cleared up the kitchen, sorted the clean laundry and then returned to the living room and wrote up my fostering log. Foster carers are required to keep a daily record of the child or children they are looking after, which includes appointments, the child’s health and well-being, significant events and any disclosures the child may make about their past. When the child leaves, this record is placed on file at the social services. Once I’d finished, I watched some television. Lucy, Paula and Adrian were in their rooms for much of the evening; the girls were doing their homework so that it wasn’t hanging over them all weekend, and then they chatted to their friends on the phone, and Adrian – who was in the middle of his GCSE examinations – was studying. By ten o’clock all three of them were getting ready for bed and I was listening out for Joss. I prayed she wouldn’t let me down this time. If she hadn’t returned by midnight I’d have to report her missing to the police, as I had done the previous Saturday. Then, doubtless, as before, she’d arrive home in the early hours, having wasted police time, and be angry with me for ‘causing a fuss’. I hadn’t given Joss a front-door key as I’d learnt my lesson from previous teenagers I’d fostered who’d abused the responsibility. My policy – the same as many other carers – was that once the young person had proved they were responsible, then they had a key, and it gave them something to work towards. But, of course, not having a key was another of Joss’s grievances that she would be telling her social worker about on Monday. Joss wasn’t open to reason; she felt victimized and believed she was invincible, which was a very dangerous combination. At five minutes past ten the doorbell rang. I leapt from the sofa and nearly ran down the hall to answer it, grateful and relieved she’d returned more or less on time. ‘Good girl,’ I said as I opened the door. ‘Well done.’ I heard a car pull away. ‘Well done,’ she repeated, slurring her words. And I knew straight away she was drunk. ‘Oh, Joss,’ I said. ‘Oh, Joss,’ she mimicked. Keeping her eyes down, she carefully navigated the front doorstep. ‘I’m going to bed, see ya,’ she said, and headed unsteadily towards the stairs. As she passed me I smelt the mint she was sucking to try to mask the smell of alcohol, and also a sweet, musky smell lingering on her clothes, which was almost certainly cannabis – otherwise known as marijuana, weed or dope. I’d smelt it on her before. My heart sank, but there was no point in trying to discuss her behaviour with her while she was still under the influence. Greatly saddened yet again by her reckless behaviour, I watched her go upstairs. I gave her five minutes to change and then went up to check on her. Her bedroom door was closed. I knocked but there was no answer, so I went in. She was lying on the bed, on her side, asleep, and fully clothed apart from her shoes. I eased the duvet over her legs, closed the curtains and then came out, leaving the door slightly open so I would hear her if she was sick or cried out. Joss often had dreadful nightmares and screamed and cried out in her sleep. On those nights I would immediately go to her room to comfort and resettle her, but that night – possibly because of the alcohol – she didn’t wake. She was still asleep when I got up the following morning. As it was Saturday and we didn’t have to be anywhere I left her to sleep it off. She finally appeared downstairs in her dressing gown shortly after twelve. I was in the kitchen making lunch. ‘Sorry,’ she said, pouring a glass of water. Joss apologized easily, but it didn’t mean that she wouldn’t do it again. ‘Joss, we need to talk,’ I said. I heard her sigh. ‘Can’t we make it later? After I’ve showered. I feel like crap.’ ‘I’m not surprised. Have a shower and get dressed, then, and we’ll talk later. But we do need to talk.’ She returned upstairs to get ready and then half an hour later came down, and we all sat at the table for lunch. She looked fresher and chatted easily to Lucy, Adrian and Paula as though nothing untoward had happened, which for her it hadn’t. Arriving home drunk and smelling of dope was a regular occurrence – at her parents’, her aunt’s, her previous foster carers’, and now with me. She didn’t talk to me, though, and after lunch kept well away from me all afternoon, although I heard her chatting and laughing with Lucy and Paula. Not for the first time, I hoped their good influence would rub off on Joss and not the other way around. The girls were a similar age to Joss and it was a worry that her risky behaviour could appear impressive and exciting. I’d talked to them already about the danger she placed herself in, and would do so again. It was nearly five o’clock before Joss finally came to find me. I was on the patio watering the potted plants. I knew why she was presenting herself now, complicit and ready to hear my lecture: she would want to go out again soon. ‘You wanted to talk?’ she said, almost politely. ‘Yes, sit down, love.’ I put the watering can to one side, pulled up a couple of garden chairs and in a calm and even voice began – the positive first. ‘Joss, you did well to come home on time last night. I was pleased. Well done. But I am very worried that you are still drinking alcohol and smoking dope after everything I’ve said to you.’ She looked down and shrugged. ‘I thought you understood the damage alcohol and drugs do to a young person’s body.’ ‘I do,’ she said. ‘So why are you still doing it, Joss? You’re not daft. Why abuse your body and mind when you know the harm it’s doing?’ ‘Dunno,’ she said, with another shrug. ‘It’s not only your physical and mental health that are being damaged by drink and drugs,’ I continued. ‘You’re putting yourself in great danger in other ways too. When someone has a lot to drink or smokes dope, they feel as though they haven’t a care in the world – that’s why they do it. But their awareness has gone; they lose their sense of danger and are more at risk of coming to harm.’ I was being careful to talk in the third person and not say ‘you’ so that she wouldn’t feel I was getting at her – another complaint of Joss’s. ‘Joss, apart from your health, I’m worried something dreadful could happen to you. Do you understand?’ ‘Yes.’ She glanced at me. ‘So if I promise not to drink or smoke, can I go out tonight?’ ‘Where?’ ‘Chloe’s.’ ‘Did Chloe’s parents know you were drinking and smoking drugs last night?’ ‘We weren’t,’ Joss said. I held her gaze. ‘Joss, I’m not stupid.’ ‘No, they didn’t know. They weren’t in,’ she admitted. ‘So who brought you home last night?’ ‘Not sure,’ Joss said easily. ‘Her uncle, I think.’ ‘You think?’ Joss could have just admitted to eating too many sweets for all her lack of concern. ‘Joss, are you telling me that you were so off your head last night that you don’t even know who drove you home?’ ‘I’m sure it was her uncle,’ she said. I looked at her carefully. ‘Joss, I’m very worried about you.’ ‘I know, you said before. I’m sorry, but I can look after myself.’ I wish I had a pound for every teenager who’s said that, I thought. ‘Joss, I don’t want to stop you from having fun and spending time with your friends, but I do need to keep you safe. Given what happened last night, and last weekend, the only way you’re going out this evening is if I take and collect you in my car.’ ‘But that’s not fair!’ she cried, jumping up from her chair, all semblance of compliance gone. ‘You treat me like a fucking baby. I hate you and this fucking family! I hate everyone.’ Chapter Two I Thought You Loved Me (#u50ec7cd7-d34c-5179-9e5e-945635f0f694) I left Joss to calm down for a little longer than usual, allowing her time to reflect and me a chance to recharge my batteries. I found her outbursts exhausting and stressful. I was never sure what she might do or what she was capable of – the carers who’d looked after Joss before had reported that she’d hit one of them – and, although she hadn’t physically threatened me (yet), I always put some distance between us when she was very angry. I continued to water the plants on the patio, largely as a displacement for my anxious thoughts. How could I get through to Joss before it was too late and she came to real harm? Continue as I had been doing with firm boundaries, love, care and concern? It had worked in the past with other young people I’d fostered, but would it work now? Joss was coming close to being the most challenging child I’d ever looked after, and it wasn’t something for her to be proud of. Deep in thought, I set down the watering can and was about to go indoors to find Joss to talk to her, as I always did after one of her flare-ups, when she appeared on the patio. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘You can take and collect me tonight if you want.’ ‘To Chloe’s?’ I asked, slightly surprised by the sudden turnaround. ‘Nah. To the cinema. We’ve decided to see a film.’ ‘OK. That sounds good. Which film are you going to see?’ Joss rattled off the title of a film I knew was showing at the local cinema and then said, ‘It starts at seven-thirty, so I’m meeting Chloe there at seven to give us time to buy our tickets and popcorn. The film finishes at nine-forty-five, so you can collect me at ten.’ It did cross my mind that this all sounded a bit pat, but I had to trust Joss, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt. ‘All right. We’ll leave here at six-forty,’ I said. ‘Lucy is seeing a friend this evening, so I’ll drop her off on the way.’ ‘I’ll tell her,’ Joss said helpfully, and went back indoors. We ate dinner at six and then, having explained to Adrian and Paula that I was dropping off Lucy and Joss and I’d be gone for no more than an hour, we left. Sometimes I feel I’m running a taxi service with all the driving I do, but I’d much rather that and know the children are safe than have them waiting for buses that don’t always arrive, especially at night. Both girls sat in the rear of the car, and as I drove they chatted to each other, mainly about the film Joss was going to see. Lucy wanted to see it too and was hoping to go to the cinema with a friend the following weekend. I dropped Lucy off at her friend’s house (her friend’s mother was going to bring her home later) and then I continued to the cinema. ‘Chloe will be here soon,’ Joss said, opening her car door. ‘You can wait in the car until she arrives if you like,’ I suggested. ‘Nah, it’s OK. She might be waiting inside.’ Joss got out and closed the door. I lowered my window. ‘I’ll see you at ten o’clock, then,’ I said. ‘If Chloe doesn’t arrive, phone me and I’ll come back to collect you.’ ‘Sure,’ Joss said. Then she spotted her waiting to cross the road. ‘Hi, Chloe!’ she yelled, waving hard. ‘Hiya!’ the girl yelled back. I pulled away, pleased that I’d believed Joss. She’d come to me with a history of lying, so I found myself doubting everything she told me, which wasn’t good, and not like me. Usually I trusted people and accepted what they said, unless experience proved I should do otherwise. I was so pleased I hadn’t doubted Joss or questioned her further on her trip to the cinema with Chloe, as it could have undermined our already very fragile relationship. At home, Paula and I watched some television together and then I suggested to Adrian that he left his studies for tonight and relaxed. The examinations he was revising for were important, as he needed good grades to continue to the sixth form, but I was concerned he was overdoing it. Half an hour later he joined us and we had a game of Scrabble before it was time for me to leave to collect Joss. Although I was ten minutes early, Joss was already waiting outside the cinema with Chloe. They came over and I lowered my window. ‘Can you give Chloe a lift home?’ Joss asked. ‘It’s on the way.’ ‘Of course. Get in,’ I said. Both girls giggled, climbed into the back and giggled some more – possibly from teenage self-consciousness or embarrassment, I didn’t know. Chloe was a largely built girl with jet-black, chin-length hair, heavily made-up eyes and a very short skirt. She looked older than Joss, but then Joss was so petite she looked younger than thirteen. Both girls reeked of cheap perfume, which I assumed was Chloe’s, as Joss hadn’t been wearing any perfume when she’d left. It was so strong I kept my window open a little. ‘Was the film good?’ I asked as I drove. ‘Yeah,’ they said, and giggled again. ‘And you’re in the same class at school?’ I asked after a moment, trying to make conversation. ‘Yeah,’ Joss said, while Chloe remained silent. ‘Where do you live?’ I asked Chloe. ‘I’ll take you to your door.’ ‘We pass it,’ she said. ‘I’ll shout when we’re there.’ There was more giggling and then whispering as I drove, and finally Joss yelled, ‘Stop! We’re here!’ I checked in my mirrors and pulled over. We were outside a small parade of shops about five minutes from where I lived. ‘I’ll take you to your door,’ I said to Chloe. ‘You have!’ Joss shouted, laughing. ‘She lives here.’ ‘I live over the newsagents,’ Chloe explained. ‘Thanks for the lift.’ ‘You’re welcome.’ There was more giggling as Chloe got out, and then before Joss closed the car door she yelled to her, ‘See ya Monday!’ ‘Yeah, see ya, you old tart!’ Chloe yelled back. Joss shut the car door with more force than was necessary and I pulled away. As we passed Chloe walking along the pavement Joss banged on her window. Chloe grinned and put up her middle finger in an obscene gesture. I didn’t comment. Chloe was the only friend of Joss’s I’d met so far and I didn’t want to criticize her, but she was so unlike Lucy’s and Paula’s friends that I had to stop myself making an instant judgement. If I felt Chloe might not be the best choice of friend for Joss, who was drawn to trouble, I didn’t say so, and reminded myself that first impressions can be deceptive. ‘How does Chloe get into her flat?’ I asked out of interest, for there hadn’t been an obvious front door. ‘Round the back of the shops and up the fire escape,’ Joss said. ‘You’ve been to her flat?’ ‘Yeah, we hang out there sometimes.’ Now that the smell of perfume was starting to clear – with Chloe’s departure and the window open – I was beginning to catch the smell of something else, which I thought could be dope, but I wasn’t sure. I knew that just as mints are used to mask the smell of alcohol, dope, tobacco, glue and other substances on the breath, so perfume and cologne can be used to try to hide the smell from clothes, skin and hair. I wasn’t going to accuse Joss unjustly, but I wanted her to know I was aware of the possibility that she may have been using again. ‘What’s the perfume?’ I asked. ‘It’s Chloe’s. I don’t know what it’s called.’ ‘It’s very strong,’ I said, and I glanced at her pointedly in the mirror. Joss immediately looked away. ‘I haven’t been smoking, if that’s what you think,’ she said defensively. ‘Good.’ I guessed that Joss would want to go out again on Sunday, as previous carers had complained that she went out as soon as she was dressed and didn’t return until after midnight, and then she was too tired to get up for school on Monday morning. Joss had been out both Friday and Saturday evening, so I thought it was reasonable that she spent Sunday with us. I look upon Sundays as family time, as many others do, and I like us to try to spend most of it together, as a family, which obviously includes the child or children I am fostering. When my children were little I used to arrange an activity on a Sunday, visiting a park or place of interest, or seeing family or friends, but now they were older I accepted that they didn’t always want to be organized every weekend and liked to spend time just chilling. However, we hadn’t been out together the previous two Sundays, so I thought a family outing now would be nice for everyone, including Joss. Doing things together encourages bonding and helps improve family relationships – something Joss was a bit short on. I knew Adrian would want to do some exam revision first, so I would make it for the afternoon only. I racked my brains for an activity that wasn’t too far away, preferable outdoors as the weather was good, and that they’d all enjoy. I came up with the Tree Top Adventure Park. It was an assault course set in the treetops of a forest about half an hour’s drive away. It had zip wires, swing bridges and rope ladders, and was suitable for ages ten and above. I’d taken my children before but not for a while. I mentioned it to Lucy and Paula first, who liked the idea, and then to Adrian, who agreed that taking the afternoon off would be fine. Then I knocked on Joss’s door. ‘Yeah? Come in!’ she called from inside. She was propped up on her bed using the headboard for support, earphones in, and flicking through a magazine. I motioned for her to take out an earphone so she could hear me, then I explained about the proposed outing, emphasizing how much fun it would be and that it was suitable for teenagers, girls and boys. ‘You’ll need to wear something a bit looser than those tight jeans,’ I suggested, ‘so you can climb. And trainers rather than sandals.’ ‘Nah, it’s OK,’ she said, returning her attention to the magazine. ‘You can go. I’ll stay here.’ ‘Joss, I’d like you to come with us, so would the girls and Adrian. While you’re here you’re part of this family and it’s nice to do things together as a family sometimes.’ ‘Nah, thanks,’ she said. ‘I’m OK.’ ‘I want you to come, Joss,’ I said. She looked up. ‘If you don’t trust me here alone I can go out and meet up with my mates. That’s what I did when the other carers went out.’ ‘But I won’t do that,’ I said more firmly. ‘I would like you to come. It’s just for the afternoon and I’ve chosen an activity you’ll like.’ ‘What if I don’t like it?’ Joss said. She challenged me on everything if she had a mind to. ‘Then you’ll put it down to experience and won’t ever go again. But at least you will have tried it.’ ‘Nah,’ she said again. ‘It’s not my thing.’ She went back to the magazine and flipped a couple of pages. There was no way I was leaving Joss alone in the house having heard about the mischief she’d got up to at her previous carers’ when she’d been left alone – underage drinking and smoking dope with friends, the house trashed and the police called. Neither was I agreeing to her going out and spending the afternoon on the streets, with the potential for getting into more trouble. Apart from which, I wanted Joss to come with us as part of the family and have a good time. ‘I think you’ll enjoy it,’ I said. ‘Nah. I won’t,’ she said. I took a breath. It was hard work. ‘OK, Joss, the bottom line is: you come with us, which is what I would like, or I can take you to another foster carer for the afternoon.’ I knew carers who would help me out if necessary, as I would help them, but whether they were available at such short notice on a Sunday, I didn’t know. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to put it to the test. ‘I don’t want to go to another carer,’ Joss moaned, her face setting. ‘I don’t want you to go either. I want you to come with us.’ I smiled. ‘Is it only for the afternoon?’ ‘Yes. We’ll leave here around twelve-ish and we’ll be back about six.’ ‘OK. You win. Again,’ she said. ‘But I won’t enjoy myself. I’ll be miserable all afternoon.’ ‘Joss, I bet you two pounds you do enjoy yourself. If you do, you’ll win; if not, I win.’ It took her a moment to work this out and then she smiled. Despite her appalling behaviour and bravado, I liked Joss. I felt that underneath there was a nice kid trying to get out. I appreciated that losing her father in such tragic circumstances and then not getting on with her stepfather was a bad deal, but I was hoping that coming to live with me would give her the chance to sort her life out. Joss did thoroughly enjoy herself at the Tree Top Adventure Park, despite staying in the very tight jeans that pinched her legs when she climbed. She was confident and tackled even the very high walks, wires, swings and ladders fearlessly. So much so that the supervisors stationed throughout the park warned her a few times to take it more steadily or she could fall and injure herself. But then, of course, that was part of Joss’s problem. She had no sense of danger. Paula and Lucy took the course together at a steadier pace, and Adrian met a friend from school and they went off together. I completed one circuit and then sat on a bench in the shade of the trees reading my book and also watching the young people having fun. By six o’clock they were all tired and hot and sitting with me in the shade eating ice creams. Our tickets allowed us to stay until the park closed at eight o’clock, but everyone agreed they were ready to go. As we left, Joss actually asked if we could come again. ‘We could,’ I said. ‘But there are other fun places to go on a day out.’ ‘But I like it here. I’ve had a good time,’ she said. ‘Great. You win the bet,’ I said. I handed her the two pounds. On the way home we picked up a takeaway, and after we’d eaten Adrian resumed his studies, Lucy and Paula went up to Paula’s room and Joss went to hers. I was just congratulating myself on a successful day when Joss appeared in the living room. I knew straight away from her expression she was in challenge mode. ‘As I did what you wanted me to this afternoon, can I go out now?’ she said. ‘No, Joss. Not tonight, love. You were out Friday and Saturday, and you have school tomorrow. It’s already seven-thirty.’ ‘I’ll be back by ten. Just for a couple of hours.’ ‘No, not tonight. Two nights out over the weekend is plenty.’ ‘But that’s not fair.’ ‘I think it is fair, but you can raise it with your social worker tomorrow if you wish.’ ‘I fucking will!’ she said, stamping her foot. ‘And you can’t stop my pocket money now, because you’ve already given it to me! Cow!’ She stormed out of the living room and upstairs into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. I felt my heart start racing. Another confrontation. It was so stressful. But I reminded myself that at least she was doing what I’d asked and was staying in, which was a huge improvement. At her previous carers’ she’d come and gone as she’d liked, often defying them when they said she had to stay in. Foster carers (and care-home staff) are not allowed to lock a child in the house or physically prevent them from leaving, even if it is for the child’s own good. It’s considered imprisonment. With your own child you’d do anything within reason to keep them safe, and I think the whole area of what a carer can and can’t do to keep a young person safe is something that needs to be looked into, with practical guidelines set up. I tried not to take Joss’s words personally. I knew she was angry – not only with me, but with life in general – and I was an easy target, especially when I put boundaries in place. Once she’d calmed down she usually reverted to being pleasant and often apologized. Sure enough, ten minutes later I heard her bedroom door open. She came down and said she was sorry. Then she joined Lucy and Paula in Paula’s room, where the three of them sat chatting and listening to music until it was time to get ready for bed. Joss had another nightmare that night. I heard her scream and was out of bed in a heartbeat, going round the landing to her room. As usual, she was sitting up in bed with her eyes closed, still half asleep. Normally she didn’t say anything as I resettled her, and in the morning she would have no recollection of the nightmare, so I no longer mentioned it. But now, as I gently eased her down and her head touched the pillow, she said softly, ‘Daddy used to take us on outings too.’ ‘That’s a lovely memory,’ I said quietly. Her eyes were still closed. I sat on the edge of the bed and began stroking her forehead to soothe and comfort her. I guessed the memory had been triggered by our day out. Her eyes stayed shut, but then her face crumpled in pain. ‘Why did you leave us, Daddy? Why? I thought you loved us.’ A small tear escaped from the corner of her eye and ran down her cheek onto the pillow. I felt my own eyes fill. The poor child. She didn’t say anything further and appeared to be asleep. I continued to stroke her forehead and soothe her as she drifted into a deep sleep. Then I stood and quietly came out and returned to bed. Joss had never talked about her father to me, but I guessed the horrific memory of that day was probably as fresh as ever. There are so many feelings connected with the suicide of a loved one, apart from the immense sadness at losing them: regret and remorse at things that were said and unsaid; rejection because the person chose to go; guilt (was it something I did?) and anger – perhaps the most difficult to cope with – that the person has gone. Joss was clearly still hurting badly, and I didn’t think her behaviour would improve until she had dealt with all the conflicting emotions she must still be wrestling with following her father’s death. The following morning Joss didn’t mention her dream. I assumed that, as before, she hadn’t remembered it, so I didn’t say anything. She had her usual cereal and a glass of juice for breakfast, and then, as I saw her off at the door, I reminded her that she had to go straight to the council offices after school for the meeting with her social worker. I was going too, and so was her mother. I’d offered to collect Joss from school, which would have guaranteed that she arrived, and on time, but she’d refused, and I felt it wasn’t something I needed to take a stand on. ‘Make sure you catch the first bus as soon as you come out of school,’ I emphasized to Joss as I said goodbye. ‘No chatting with your friends tonight.’ ‘I know. I’ll see you there,’ Joss said. ‘But if Mum brings him to the meeting, I’m leaving.’ As usual, ‘him’ meant her stepfather, Eric, whom Joss so deeply resented. I hadn’t met her mother or stepfather yet, and I didn’t know if Eric would be there, but it wasn’t for me to tell the social worker whom to invite to a meeting. She was aware of the animosity between Joss and her stepfather, so hopefully would have advised Joss’s mother, Linda, accordingly. During the morning, Jill, my supervising social worker, telephoned to see how the weekend had gone, so she had an update from me prior to the meeting. She would be there too. All foster carers in England have a support social worker, also known as a supervising social worker or link worker, supplied by the agency they foster for. Jill had met Joss a few times and was aware of her history. I gave Jill a brief r?sum? of our weekend, good and bad, but emphasizing that we’d had a good afternoon on Sunday, and Jill said she’d see me at four o’clock at the meeting. Chapter Three Contract of Behaviour (#u50ec7cd7-d34c-5179-9e5e-945635f0f694) I arrived in the meeting room that afternoon five minutes early; even so, Amelia, Joss’s social worker, whom I’d met when she’d brought Joss to me, was already there, talking to another woman I took to be Joss’s mother. I smiled as I sat down but Amelia didn’t introduce me, so I said, ‘I’m Cathy.’ ‘Sorry,’ Amelia said. ‘This is Cathy, Joss’s current foster carer. Cathy, this is Linda, Joss’s mother.’ ‘Nice to meet you,’ I said. Linda managed a small smile. She looked anxious and a little intimidated. ‘Joss is coming here on the bus, straight from school,’ I clarified, and Linda nodded. ‘You’re Joss’s third carer, aren’t you?’ Amelia now said, looking at me. ‘Yes, and I need to be her last. She’s had too many moves.’ ‘I’m pleased to hear you say that,’ Linda said quietly. ‘It’s been an added worry for Eric and me.’ ‘I can imagine.’ I sympathized. ‘The social services were talking about putting Joss in a secure unit if her behaviour didn’t improve,’ Linda said. This was news to me. I looked at Amelia. ‘It’s something that we might have to consider if Joss doesn’t turn her behaviour around, to keep her safe,’ she said. No pressure then, I thought. ‘But you know how to look after Joss, don’t you?’ Linda asked me, desperation in her voice. ‘They said you were very experienced.’ ‘Yes, I am,’ I said. ‘And I’ll do my very best. I think there are a lot of things we can do to help Joss.’ ‘Thank you so much,’ Linda sighed gratefully. I’d taken an immediate liking to Linda and felt sorry for her. Quietly spoken and unassuming, she was petite – I could see where Joss got it from – and in her early forties. She must have suffered dreadfully after her husband’s suicide, and then her stab at happiness had ended in disaster with her daughter becoming out of control and leaving home. It’s every parent’s worst nightmare. ‘Is Joss doing what you tell her?’ Linda asked. ‘Amelia says her behaviour has already improved.’ Since Joss had been placed with me Amelia had telephoned twice for updates and had obviously passed these on to Linda, although with a little embellishment by the sound of it. ‘There haven’t been any major incidents,’ I said, ‘although the first weekend I had to report her missing to the police. There have been a couple of instances of her drinking and, I believe, smoking dope when she’s out with her friends, but no violence. I’ve sanctioned her and she’s not happy with me, nor with the boundaries I’m putting in place. I know she wants to talk about these today, but it’s early days yet, so I’m hopeful.’ ‘So you haven’t had to call the police to her?’ Linda asked. ‘She hasn’t hit you?’ ‘No. Joss obviously has a lot of anger and I wonder if counselling would help?’ ‘She won’t go,’ Linda said. ‘Our doctor has offered it a number of times. When my first husband …’ Linda paused and took a deep breath. ‘When my first husband took his life, our doctor thought it would help Joss to come to terms with the bereavement, but she wouldn’t go. I did. Then, more recently, after I married Eric and Joss’s behaviour deteriorated badly, I went to our doctor again. But when I told Joss I’d been she got so angry. She accused me of betraying her father and even said that I’d made him so unhappy that he took his life.’ Her eyes filled. ‘It’s not true. We were happy together. No one was more shocked than me. There was nothing in our lives that could have made him do that.’ She stopped and looked away. The room was quiet for a moment and my heart went out to her, then Amelia said, ‘It’s often the case that loved ones have no idea their partner is thinking of suicide.’ Linda gave a small nod and, taking a tissue from her handbag, blew her nose. ‘I’ll ask Joss if she will attend counselling at CAMHS [Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services],’ Amelia said. ‘I suggested it when she first came into care, but she refused. Maybe she’s changed her mind.’ The door opened and Jill came in. ‘Sorry I’m late – the traffic’s heavy,’ she said. Then to Linda, whom she hadn’t met before: ‘I’m Jill, Cathy’s supervising social worker.’ ‘Hello,’ she said. Jill sat next to me. I glanced at the wall clock. It was now five minutes past four. ‘I told Joss to come straight here,’ I said, feeling responsible for her lateness. ‘I hope she comes,’ Amelia said, a little weakly. ‘One of the items on my agenda is to draw up a contract of behaviour, and I can’t do that without Joss.’ A contract of behaviour is a signed agreement between the young person and the adult(s) responsible for them, sometimes known as a home rules contract. It’s a set of rules and expectations to modify the young person’s unsafe or unacceptable behaviour, with rewards for improving it and consequences for not doing so. For example, the young person may have to be in at a certain time, or do their homework, or stop swearing, smoking or drinking. The consequence of breaking a rule is usually the loss of a privilege. ‘What do you do if Joss doesn’t do what you tell her?’ Linda now asked me. ‘I explain why I’m asking her to do – or not do – whatever it is, and if she still won’t cooperate I warn her that I’ll have to sanction her. Then I make sure I see it through.’ ‘What sort of sanction?’ Linda asked. ‘Sometimes I remove the television from her bedroom. All teenagers like to relax on their beds and watch television. It’s just for a set period – for example, an hour – then I return it. It’s a statement as much as anything, saying that she has to do as she’s told. I’ve also withheld her pocket money and she earns it back through good behaviour. She’s not happy with that and it’s something else she wants to raise today.’ ‘Eric and I tried all sorts of things,’ Linda said. ‘But it just made Joss hate me and become more angry.’ ‘Joss doesn’t hate you,’ Jill said. ‘She’s upset by everything that’s happened. It’s coming out in her behaviour. We tend to hurt the ones we love.’ At that moment the door opened and Joss came in. ‘Are you talking about me?’ she asked confrontationally. I saw Linda tense. ‘Of course,’ Jill said lightly. ‘You’re the most important person here.’ ‘We haven’t really said much so far,’ Amelia said timorously. ‘We were waiting for you.’ Joss pulled out a chair at the far end of the table, away from us all, sat down and tucked her earphones into her bag. She hadn’t said hello to her mother, nor had she looked at her, although Linda was looking at Joss very anxiously. ‘Now we’re all here, let’s start by introducing ourselves,’ Amelia said. ‘I’m Amelia, Joss’s social worker.’ We took it in turns to state our name and role. When it was Joss’s turn she gave a snort of embarrassed laughter and said, ‘Joss, the foster kid.’ ‘Thank you,’ Amelia said to Joss as she wrote in her notepad. ‘I’ll be taking a few notes of the meeting, although we will be keeping it very informal so there’s nothing for you to worry about, Joss.’ I heard the patronizing edge in her comment, and so did Joss. ‘Whatever,’ Joss said with attitude and a dismissive shrug. Linda looked at her daughter but didn’t say anything, and I formed the impression that she was frightened to chastise her. ‘This meeting gives us a chance to work together and plan how we can best help you,’ Amelia said, addressing Joss. ‘First, perhaps you’d like to tell us how you feel you are settling in at Cathy’s. You’ve been there two weeks now.’ ‘OK, I guess,’ Joss said with a shrug. ‘Cathy has children of a similar age to you,’ Amelia said. ‘How are you getting on with them?’ ‘OK, I guess,’ Joss said again. ‘She’s getting on well with everyone,’ I said. ‘I can confirm that,’ Jill said. ‘Joss has settled in well.’ Although Joss’s stay with me so far had been far from easy, it was important we stayed positive as well as addressing the negative issues so that Joss could hear good things said about her too. ‘So you’re happy to stay at Cathy’s for the time being?’ Amelia now asked Joss. This wasn’t the right thing to say, and I saw Jill look at Amelia. The question suggested to Joss that she could leave whenever it suited her, which shouldn’t have been an option. Every child in care needs to feel secure by putting down roots with their foster family and bonding with them. I was half expecting Joss to reply with something like, ‘For now, maybe,’ but to her credit and my relief she said, ‘Yeah. It’s OK.’ ‘Good,’ Amelia said, making a note. ‘Is there anything you want to add about living at Cathy’s? Anything you particularly like or dislike?’ ‘Not really,’ Joss said, and shrugged again. ‘All right,’ Amelia said. ‘Let’s start by looking at the contact arrangements with your natural family. As you know, you’re in care voluntarily, under what is known as a Section 20. That means you and your mother agreed it was best for you to come into care, so the department didn’t have to go to court for an order. We can therefore decide on the level of contact, and at present you go home when you want. I think it would be a good idea to formalize the contact arrangements so that you have set days when you see your family. For example, you could spend all day Saturday with them so you can see more of your brother.’ ‘Yeah, I want to see more of Kevin,’ Joss said. ‘But not if he’s gonna be there.’ He, of course, was her stepfather. Amelia looked at Linda for her response. ‘I can’t ask Eric to go out every Saturday,’ Linda said quietly. ‘It wouldn’t be right. It’s his home too.’ Which was a fair comment. ‘There! Told you!’ Joss exclaimed. ‘It’s always him!’ ‘Perhaps Eric could go out for part of the day?’ Amelia suggested. ‘Or maybe you and the children could go out? To the cinema, shopping or to the park, or similar?’ ‘It’s possible,’ Linda said. ‘I’d have to ask Eric. He likes to do things together as a family at the weekends.’ ‘That’s right. You go and ask him! What about me?’ Joss snapped. The problem Linda was experiencing is one faced by many stepfamilies: trying to be fair to all family members and cater for everyone’s needs. It’s a juggling act and plenty of stepfamilies struggle in the early years. For some it never works out, and sadly either the children leave home as soon as they can or the parents end up separating. ‘What do you think about going out with your mother and Kevin?’ Jill asked Joss, who was now tapping her fingers on the table and looking very moody. ‘Would you like to give it a try?’ ‘Yeah, OK,’ Joss said. ‘I’ll talk to Eric and see what I can do,’ Linda said. ‘In the meantime, can we carry on as we have been, with Joss popping in when she’s free? I only work part-time so I’m home after school. Even if it’s only for a few minutes, it’s nice to see her.’ Again I felt so sorry for Linda, who was caught in the middle and trying to please everyone. ‘Or we could formalize it,’ Amelia persisted. ‘We could set some days when Joss definitely goes to you after school – say, Tuesdays and Thursdays, from four till six?’ ‘No, that won’t work,’ Joss said. ‘I won’t know if I’m seeing my mates until the day.’ Joss liked to hang out with her friends after school, and that in itself was causing a problem, as she was getting into trouble with them. ‘I think I’ll leave it as it is,’ Linda said. ‘Then Joss can pop in when she wants to.’ Amelia accepted this and made a note. ‘But you will ask Eric about Saturdays?’ ‘Yes,’ Linda said. ‘I need some more of my stuff from home,’ Joss now said. ‘I want my sound system.’ ‘I’ve told you, you can have it,’ Linda said. ‘It’s yours. But I’m concerned it might get damaged if you take it on the bus.’ ‘Perhaps I could bring Joss in my car to collect what she needs?’ I offered. ‘Thank you,’ Linda said. ‘It was an expensive present and I don’t want it broken.’ ‘Shall we set a date for that then?’ Amelia asked. ‘Wednesday,’ Joss said. ‘That’s all right with me,’ Linda said. ‘And me,’ I confirmed. ‘What time?’ ‘Five,’ Joss said. I made a note in my diary. ‘You’ll need to come straight home after school, or I can pick you up in my car?’ I said. ‘I’ll use the bus,’ Joss said. ‘But I’m not speaking to the creep.’ ‘Don’t talk about him like that, please,’ Linda said softly. ‘It’s very hurtful. He’s my husband.’ ‘And I’m your daughter! Or was!’ Joss snapped. Linda didn’t respond, but I could see she was upset. It was the first time I’d seen mother and daughter together, and it was painful and pitiful to watch. Joss was clearly very angry with her mother and appeared to have the upper hand. I guessed Linda felt guilty that her marriage had resulted in Joss going into care and therefore she didn’t like to speak more firmly to her. ‘Is there anything else you need to make your stay at Cathy’s more comfortable?’ Amelia now asked Joss. ‘A front-door key,’ Joss said. ‘I’m sure Cathy has a spare one she can let you have,’ Amelia said, turning to me. ‘I have a spare key,’ I said. ‘But I’ve explained to Joss that she won’t be having it just yet. Not until she can show me she is responsible enough to own one – by coming home on time and improving her behaviour at school.’ Amelia and Linda looked slightly taken aback and glanced at Joss for her reaction. ‘I think that’s fair,’ Jill said. ‘So do I,’ Linda said, emboldened by the stand I was taking. ‘I made the mistake of giving Joss a key too young, and so did her other carers. I agree with Cathy. When Joss has proven she is adult enough, then she can have a key.’ ‘Is that all right with you?’ Amelia asked Joss. Of course it wasn’t all right with Joss, and it wasn’t wise to ask her. Young teenagers don’t always know what is best for them, and sometimes the adults responsible for them have to take charge for their own good. ‘No,’ Joss predictably said. ‘Supposing I get home before Cathy. I won’t be able to get in.’ Amelia looked at me. ‘I always make sure I’m home first,’ I said. ‘It hasn’t been a problem yet, has it, Joss?’ ‘Supposing I get taken ill at school and have to come home on the bus and you’re not in?’ Joss said, ready with an answer as usual. ‘I’ll have to wait outside in the freezing cold and it’ll make me even more ill.’ I didn’t point out that it was summer. ‘If you’re taken sick at school then the school will telephone me,’ I said. ‘I will come and collect you. No school would ever send a sick child home on the bus. It would be irresponsible of them.’ I’d had a lot of experience of looking after children, and if Joss thought she had an answer for everything, then so too did I. Amelia, on the other hand – in her twenties and, I guessed, newly qualified – didn’t have the same experience. ‘Is that all right, then?’ she asked Joss. Joss shrugged. ‘I’m sure Joss will earn the right to a front-door key soon,’ Jill said positively, then moving the meeting on she added: ‘What’s next on the agenda? Counselling?’ ‘Yes,’ Amelia said, glancing at her notepad. ‘Joss, you remember when you first came into care I explained about CAMHS and asked if you wanted to talk to someone? I was wondering if –’ ‘I’m not going,’ Joss said adamantly before Amelia could get any further. ‘Why not?’ Amelia asked. ‘I don’t want to.’ ‘Anything you discuss with the counsellor would be confidential,’ Jill said. ‘It can help to talk to a professional.’ Joss hesitated briefly, but then said, ‘No. I don’t want to.’ ‘OK. Tell me if you change your mind,’ Amelia said, and made another note on her pad. ‘What’s next?’ ‘I want to go out more,’ Joss said. ‘I want that discussed.’ ‘Good,’ Amelia said, pleased Joss was engaging with the meeting. ‘Tell us what you would like.’ I sighed inwardly and thought I heard Jill sigh too. Amelia was pleasant enough but so na?ve. ‘I want to go out with my mates every night,’ Joss said. Amelia nodded thoughtfully. ‘What about your homework?’ Jill asked. ‘I’ll do it before I go out,’ Joss replied. ‘I think you should stay in one evening,’ Amelia said. ‘All right. I’ll stay in one,’ Joss said. ‘Monday. There’s not much going on at the mall on Mondays.’ Joss regularly congregated with her friends at the shopping centre in town, often after the shops had closed. It was one of the places where Joss had come to the attention of the police, and on at least one occasion they had tipped away the alcohol she and her friends were too young to have and sent them on their way. ‘I think Joss should be at home with us more than just one night a week,’ I said. ‘She’s only thirteen and she’s behind with her school work. Also, we’d like to see more of her.’ That being at home would also reduce the number of opportunities for Joss to get into trouble I left unsaid, as Amelia, Linda and Jill would be aware of this, and I wanted to stay as positive as possible. ‘I’ll make sure I’m back on time,’ Joss said. Amelia didn’t respond. ‘Most teenagers I know just go out at the weekend,’ Jill said. ‘Not the ones I know,’ Joss said. ‘My friend Chloe can see her mates whenever she likes. I go to her place sometimes, so I’m not always on the streets. I can sleep at Chloe’s if I like.’ ‘Joss is welcome to bring her friends home,’ I said. ‘I always encourage the children I foster to invite their friends back.’ ‘I’d rather go to her place,’ Joss said. ‘How would you feel about staying in two nights a week?’ Amelia now asked her. ‘Would that be all right?’ ‘I guess,’ Joss said. ‘I don’t think that’s enough,’ I said. ‘I would suggest she goes out on Friday and Saturday only during term time, unless there is a special occasion.’ ‘No,’ Joss said forcefully, jutting out her chin. ‘That’s not enough. I’m not a kid. And I want to stay out later than nine. That’s ridiculous.’ The discussion about how often Joss could go out and when she had to come home continued for another ten minutes, until Joss and Amelia decided between them that Joss would stay in two nights, Sunday and Wednesday, but could go out the other nights as long as she did her homework first. It was agreed, though not by Joss, that she had to be back by 9.30 p.m. on a weekday and 10.30 p.m. on Friday and Saturday, unless there was something special on, when she would negotiate a later time with me. Even so, I felt this was too much for a girl of thirteen with a history of getting into trouble. While Joss was out of the house it was impossible for me to protect her, but I could see that Amelia hadn’t wanted to sour her relationship with Joss by going against her. As a foster carer you have to do what the social services decide, unlike in parenting when you can make whatever decisions you deem appropriate for the good of your own child. ‘We’ll include all of this in the contract of behaviour,’ Amelia said as she wrote. ‘And that you will stop smoking and drinking alcohol.’ ‘I can’t,’ Joss said. ‘You can try,’ Jill said. ‘Can we include that Joss needs to improve her behaviour and grades at school?’ Linda asked. ‘Yes, of course,’ Amelia said, and Joss sighed. Smoking dope wasn’t included in the contract of behaviour, as there was no conclusive evidence that Joss had been smoking illegal substances, although her mother, aunt, previous carers and I had all smelt it on her. The sanctions for not complying with the rules of the contract were loss of privileges: not being allowed out and loss of television time. Jill also said that it should be included that if Joss arrived home more than an hour late then, following current fostering practice, I should report her missing to the police. ‘Do you understand that?’ Amelia asked Joss. ‘Fine with me, but I don’t want my pocket money stopped. It’s not fair. It’s my money and I need it.’ ‘I understand,’ Amelia said. ‘It’s withheld, not stopped,’ Jill said. ‘Foster carers are very limited in the sanctions they can use, and withholding pocket money for negative behaviour is something our agency approves of, especially for teenagers. They can and usually do earn it back through good behaviour, and if they don’t then it goes into a savings account for them. They don’t lose it.’ ‘We tried stopping her pocket money,’ Linda said, ‘but Joss said she’d steal what she needed.’ Joss glared at her mother. ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t be that silly,’ Jill said to Joss. Although we all knew that Joss had been caught twice stealing alcohol from small corner shops. ‘So shall I include stopping your pocket money in the contract?’ Amelia asked Joss ineffectually. ‘Is that all right?’ ‘No. But you’ll do it anyway,’ Joss moaned. I saw Amelia hesitate. ‘How would you feel if I put that only half of your pocket money could be withheld? Then you’d always have some.’ ‘Whatever,’ Joss said. ‘Don’t be rude, love,’ Linda said gently. ‘Why not?’ Joss snapped. ‘You can’t tell me what to do. You lost that right when you married him.’ Joss’s anger was vehement and I felt for Linda, just as I’m sure Jill did. Without counselling I couldn’t see how Joss was ever going to move on with her life or accept that her mother had a right to another chance of happiness, and that remarrying didn’t mean she loved her any less. Amelia glanced at the clock on the wall. It was now 5.40 p.m. We’d been here over an hour and a half. ‘Is there anything else you want to discuss, Joss?’ she asked. Joss shrugged. ‘Well, in that case I think it would be a good idea to finish now,’ Amelia said. ‘I’ll have the contract typed up and printed, and then I’ll arrange for us to sign it. I’m so pleased you were able to come to this meeting, Joss. I think it’s been very positive.’ The silence from the rest of us spoke volumes. Chapter Four No Daddy Doll (#u50ec7cd7-d34c-5179-9e5e-945635f0f694) Because Amelia was inexperienced she was trying to be Joss’s friend, and it didn’t work. Parents, carers, teachers, social workers and others responsible for a child can’t ingratiate themselves with the young person and still hope to have the authority necessary to put boundaries in place for their safety and acceptable behaviour. Once the child is a responsible adult it’s different – parents often become their friend – but while they are growing up, especially if they are angry and rebellious, as Joss was, then the adults responsible have to take control and accept that sometimes the child won’t like them. I’d seen some very good contracts of behaviour that had worked well, but I thought Joss’s was simply a licence to do whatever she wanted. It wasn’t long before I was proven right. On the way home in the car Joss lost no time in telling me that, as it was Monday, she was allowed out until 9.30 p.m. ‘After you’ve done your homework,’ I said. ‘I haven’t got any,’ she replied. I doubted this and I’d asked for a meeting with her teacher to discuss Joss’s education, but for now I had to accept what Joss told me, so she could go out. Once home, she quickly changed out of her school uniform into leggings and a T-shirt, gobbled down her dinner and then left, shouting goodbye as she went. Although Adrian, Lucy and Paula didn’t comment, I knew they felt as I did that it wasn’t good for Joss to be out so much, and they would have liked her to stay in more. Their friends’ parents had similar rules to me, so they generally accepted the boundaries I put in place. They were upstairs getting ready for bed when Joss returned at ten o’clock. When I let her in I could smell alcohol on her, although she didn’t appear drunk. I was worried more than annoyed. ‘Joss, why do you keep drinking when you know how bad it is for your health?’ I asked wearily. ‘To forget,’ she said, kicking off her shoes. This was far more revealing than any of her previous responses of ‘dunno’ or ‘none of your business’ or ‘I like it’, so I felt she might want to talk. ‘Joss, I understand you don’t want to see a counsellor, but can you try to share with me what exactly you are trying to forget?’ ‘You know already,’ she said. ‘My dad and him.’ ‘Do you want to talk about your dad?’ I asked. ‘No.’ ‘Do you want to talk about your stepfather?’ I tried. ‘No.’ She began upstairs. ‘Joss, do you talk to anyone – Chloe maybe? – about the things that worry you? We all need someone to talk to.’ She shrugged and continued upstairs. ‘Are you going to stop my pocket money because I was late?’ ‘Not if you are back on time tomorrow.’ She paused on the stairs and turned to look at me. ‘Why do you foster? It can’t be much fun.’ I smiled as I met her gaze. ‘Because I like fostering. I like to try to help young people, and if I can make even a small difference I feel very pleased.’ ‘But what if you can’t help them?’ she said. ‘It hasn’t happened yet. I always find a way to help a little.’ ‘Not with me, you won’t,’ she said bitterly and, turning, continued upstairs. ‘Even with you, Joss,’ I called after her. ‘No. I’m beyond your help.’ Joss cried out in the night, and as usual I went round and resettled her. She wasn’t awake, but I stayed with her until she was in a deep sleep again. It was indicative of the high level of her inner turmoil that she had so many nightmares, but until she opened up and started talking about her profound unhappiness the nightmares would continue – and so too, I thought, would her angry and self-destructive behaviour. She had breakfast with us as usual on Tuesday morning and I saw her off to school at the door. Then at 9.30 a.m. her school’s secretary telephoned to say that Joss hadn’t arrived. It was school policy to notify the parents or carers if a young person hadn’t arrived by 9.30, and it had happened before. I assumed that, as before, Joss would arrive late, and sure enough at 9.50 the secretary telephoned again to say that Joss had just arrived – an hour late – and that she would be kept in a sixty-minute detention after school to make up the work she’d missed. This was also school policy. I thanked the secretary for letting me know and asked if she’d remind her form teacher that I would like a meeting with her to discuss Joss as soon as possible. She said she’d pass on my message. School finished at 3.30 p.m., so, allowing for the sixty-minute detention and half an hour on the bus, I was expecting Joss home at about five o’clock. In fact, she arrived home at 5.30, which wasn’t too bad, so I let that go, but I did ask her why she’d been an hour late for school that morning when she’d left the house on time. ‘I went home first,’ she said. ‘What for?’ ‘To get a book I needed for school. I thought I might have left it there. They give you a detention if you keep forgetting your books.’ ‘And did you find the book?’ ‘No. I think I’ve lost it. I tried to tell my teacher the reason I was late, but she didn’t believe me.’ I was suspicious too, but I didn’t say so. ‘Joss, in future it’s better to forget a book than arrive an hour late for school. I was worried where you might have got to.’ ‘OK. I did my homework in detention, so can I go straight out? It’s Tuesday and I’m allowed out.’ ‘I know, but you’re having your dinner first, and really, Joss, I’d like it if you stayed in. We could watch some television together, or you could spend some time with Lucy and Paula. They’d like that.’ ‘I’ll see them tomorrow evening instead,’ Joss said, ready as always with a reply. ‘It’s Wednesday so I’m not allowed out. And you’re taking me to get my sound system from home.’ ‘I hadn’t forgotten. If you go out tonight, where will you be going?’ ‘To Chloe’s.’ ‘I can take you in the car.’ ‘No, thanks.’ ‘I’ll collect you, then.’ ‘No, thanks.’ I couldn’t insist on this as a condition of her going, as I had done with her trip to the cinema, because the contract of behaviour had overridden me. ‘Make sure you’re back by half past nine, then,’ I reminded her. ‘No later.’ She nodded. Joss arrived back at ten minutes past ten – forty minutes late – and smelling of alcohol, so I told her I was stopping half her pocket money and that she could earn it back through good behaviour: by coming home on time and not drinking for the rest of the week. ‘That’s not fair!’ she yelled angrily. ‘It is fair, Joss. I warned you last night when you were late back that I would stop your pocket money if the same happened again tonight.’ ‘I hate you!’ she yelled, and stomped upstairs. ‘I fucking hate you!’ Lucy suddenly appeared from her bedroom in her pyjamas. I could see she was angry. ‘Don’t you dare yell at my mother like that!’ she shouted at Joss as she arrived on the landing. ‘Who the hell do you think you are? You want to be bloody grateful my mum took you in. No one else would!’ ‘Lucy!’ I cried, running up the stairs. ‘Calm down.’ I’d never seen her so angry before. ‘You can shut your face too!’ Joss shouted at Lucy. Lucy raised her hand as if she was about to slap Joss as I arrived on the landing and moved her away. ‘No, Lucy,’ I said firmly. ‘Don’t.’ She lowered her hand and Joss grinned provocatively. ‘Go to your room, now!’ I said to Joss. She hesitated. ‘I said now!’ Smirking, she went round the landing to her room, slamming the door behind her with such force that the whole house shook. Lucy was still fuming and looked as though she might go after Joss. I took her arm. ‘Come on, let’s go and sit in your room and talk.’ She came with me into her bedroom and we sat side by side on the bed. We could hear Joss stomping around in her room, nosily opening and closing drawers. ‘Who does she think she is?’ Lucy said. ‘I’m not having her talk to you like that.’ I slipped my arm around her waist and held her close. ‘It’s all right, love.’ ‘I’m going to really hit her hard one day,’ Lucy said, clenching her fists in her lap. ‘I just know it. I won’t be able to stop myself.’ I took her hand in mine. While I was touched by Lucy’s loyalty, we both knew that physical violence was never right in any circumstances and if she ever did hit Joss, it would put an end to our fostering forever. I held her close and gently stroked her hand as she slowly calmed down. ‘I know I shouldn’t have threatened her,’ she said at last. ‘But she gets to me.’ ‘That’s what she’s aiming for,’ I said. ‘Joss thinks that if she pushes us too far then I’ll ask for her to be moved, as the other carers did. And that will confirm to her that she really is as bad and unlovable as she believes.’ ‘But why?’ Lucy asked, raising her head from my shoulder. ‘She doesn’t have to behave like this. My life was hell for a long time before I came into care. I just wanted to die, so I know how she feels. But she’s safe here, and at some point you have to let go of your anger and move on. You can’t feel sorry for yourself forever.’ Lucy had been through a lot before she came to me two years previously – I tell her story in Will You Love Me? ‘That’s true, but Joss hasn’t reached that stage yet; far from it. She’s harbouring a whole lot of unresolved feelings around her father’s death and her mother remarrying. She feels very rejected.’ Lucy sighed. ‘I know, but how long is this going to go on for?’ A knock sounded on Lucy’s door, and we both looked over as it slowly opened and Adrian poked his head round. ‘Are you two all right?’ he asked, concerned. ‘Yes, thanks, love. We’re OK.’ It was all quiet in Joss’s room now. ‘Paula wants to talk to you when you’re free,’ Adrian said. ‘Please tell her I’ll be with her in a few minutes.’ ‘Will do,’ Adrian said, and went out. ‘Joss’s behaviour upsets Paula a lot,’ Lucy said. I felt even more worried. ‘I’ll talk to her in a moment, but other than keep going as we have been, I’m not sure what else we can do for Joss right now. You’re the same age as her. Have you got any suggestions of how I can help her more?’ ‘Not really. I know I was angry about everything that had happened to me, but it came out in different ways. I stopped eating, for one.’ I nodded thoughtfully. Lucy had been anorexic when she’d come to me, but she had recovered now. ‘Could I have done anything differently with you?’ I asked. ‘I don’t think so. You gave me the space and time I needed. I felt safe here, and you were always ready to listen to me when I wanted to talk. You still are.’ She kissed my cheek and I hugged her. ‘Mum, I’ll try to be more patient with Joss, but it’s difficult. Paula and I have welcomed her like a sister, so it makes us really cross when she is horrible to you.’ ‘I understand.’ Fostering changes the social dynamics within the family, and the foster child’s age, experience before coming into care, disposition and coping mechanisms all have an effect and create an individual whom the fostering family have to adjust to and accommodate – quickly. Although Lucy was the same age as Joss and knew what it was like to be a foster child, they were very different personalities and at different stages in their lives. I thought it would be best if, for the time being, Lucy put some distance between her and Joss to avoid another flare-up. Lucy certainly wasn’t a violent child, but she was protective of me, and I could see how Joss would wind her up. ‘Lucy, I don’t want you to worry about me, love,’ I said. ‘I appreciate all you’ve done to welcome Joss and help her settle in, but you have your own life to lead, and you’re doing very well. Leave her to me until she’s calmer. I’ll call you if I need your help.’ Lucy threw me a small smile. ‘I think that’s a good idea, or I might do something I later regret.’ ‘Good girl. Now you’d better get into bed. It’s late and you’ve got school tomorrow.’ Lucy nodded. ‘I was in bed when I heard Joss kick off.’ I waited until she was back under the covers and then hugged and kissed her goodnight. Reassuring her again that she mustn’t worry about me, I came out and closed her door. I went to Paula’s room next. She was sitting up in bed, using the headboard as a backrest, with her lamp on, and gazing pensively across the room. I went over and she made room for me on the bed, resting her head on my shoulder. We often sat like this for our bedtime chats, but it was getting late – nearly eleven o’clock. ‘You won’t be able to get up in the morning,’ I said gently. ‘I’m not really tired now,’ she said. ‘Try not to let Joss’s behaviour upset you. She’s angry. I don’t take her words personally.’ ‘But what I don’t understand is how she can be nice one minute, wanting to play with my doll’s house, and then stomp around and be revolting the next.’ Paula had a really nice doll’s house that she was given as a special present when she was four. Since then she’d bought beautiful furniture for it, so it was really a collector’s piece now. Although she no longer played with it as such, given that she was twelve, it still stood majestically on a small table in the corner of her bedroom where she could see and admire it. I knew Joss liked to play with it, role-playing the family as a much younger child would. She always asked Paula first if she could play with it and Paula always let her. ‘Joss is very confused,’ I said. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to try to ignore her mood swings. Don’t take it to heart. She’s had a rough time.’ ‘I know. Her dad died and she hates her stepfather,’ Paula said. ‘Does Joss ever talk to you about it?’ ‘Not really. But I’ve noticed she never plays with the daddy doll in the house. She hides him in the garage and then plays with the mummy doll and the two children. I almost understand why she hides the daddy, and yet I don’t. My dad doesn’t live with us, but when I used to play with my doll’s house I always included him. I mean, it’s OK to pretend, isn’t it?’ ‘Of course it is, love, but then you still see your dad, even though he doesn’t live with us. Joss can’t ever see her dad again, can she? Perhaps that’s why she hides the daddy doll. Perhaps it’s too painful for her to even pretend.’ Paula nodded. ‘That makes sense. I think I might be a child psychologist when I leave school and help children who’ve suffered. It’s interesting the way the mind works.’ ‘It is,’ I agreed. ‘And a child psychologist is a very good career,’ I added, although I knew, of course, that Paula was young and could easily change her mind before she decided on a career. ‘Will Joss see a psychologist?’ Paula now asked. ‘Hopefully, or a counsellor, when she feels ready.’ ‘I think it could help her, don’t you?’ ‘I do,’ I said. ‘I don’t like it when she’s so angry.’ ‘I know, love, it’s frightening to watch, but you know I’ll always protect you.’ She hugged me hard. ‘Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?’ ‘Not really. I just wanted to make sure you were all right, and tell you I love you.’ ‘I love you too,’ I said. ‘I’m fine, so don’t you worry about me. And, Paula, it’s nice that you let Joss into your room whenever she wants, but you know you don’t have to. If you want time alone, you can just tell her politely that you’ll see her later.’ I wondered if perhaps Paula was intimidated by Joss’s angry outbursts and felt she had to do whatever she asked. ‘I usually let her in because I feel sorry for her, and she’s OK to be with sometimes.’ ‘That’s fine. But remember you don’t have to. It’s your room.’ We hugged and then I kissed her goodnight and came out. Thankfully, Paula and Lucy could talk about their worries. It was all quiet in Joss’s room, but I wanted to make sure she was OK too, so I went round and, giving a small knock, quietly opened her bedroom door. She always slept with the light on low, so I could easily see from the door that she was in bed and fast asleep. I closed the door again. There was no sound coming from Adrian’s room either, so I lightly knocked on his door and then slowly opened it. His room was in darkness, so I knew he was in bed asleep. ‘Night, love,’ I whispered. ‘Night, Mum,’ came his muffled, sleepy reply. I closed his door and went downstairs. Thankfully, Adrian had taken the last of his GCSE examinations that day, so I no longer had the added worry that Joss’s rages might be disturbing his studies. Downstairs I settled Toscha in her bed for the night and then locked up. By the time I climbed into bed it was nearly midnight and I was exhausted. Despite my concerns about Joss and the impact her behaviour was having on the rest of the family, I soon fell asleep. Joss must have been exhausted too, for she slept through without a nightmare and I had to wake her in the morning. ‘A new day, a fresh start’ is my motto, but there was an atmosphere at breakfast between the girls. No one was usually very talkative at breakfast anyway, but this morning there was a frosty silence, broken only by the sound of cutlery on china. When Joss stood to take her empty cereal bowl into the kitchen she caught the table and it jolted against Lucy, who was sitting opposite. Possibly it was an accident, although Lucy clearly didn’t think so. ‘It’s not clever,’ she hissed at Joss. ‘Touchy!’ Joss retaliated with a sneer. I motioned for Lucy not to say anything further, and Joss put her bowl in the sink and then went upstairs to get ready. ‘Sorry,’ Lucy said after she’d left the room. I nodded and let it go. Joss had provoked Lucy – intentionally or by accident – and Lucy had retaliated instead of ignoring it. She’d apologized, so that was the end of the matter. When Joss was ready I saw her off at the door, reminding her to come straight home, as we had to be at her parents’ house at five o’clock. ‘Mum’s house,’ she corrected. ‘It’s not his.’ ‘OK. See you later,’ I said. Adrian, Lucy and Paula left soon after. Although Adrian had taken his exams, he was still expected to attend school until the end of the summer term, in six weeks’ time. Jill telephoned mid-morning and, having asked how we all were, she said she’d raised concerns about the behaviour contract with Amelia. She’d pointed out that it was too lax to be of any use, but Amelia had said she felt that if the rules were any stricter Joss would rebel against it and not cooperate at all. ‘She’s barely cooperating now,’ I said. ‘I hope Amelia appreciates that while Joss is out of the house I cannot be held responsible for her safety or what trouble she might get into.’ ‘I made that clear,’ Jill said. ‘Sadly, Amelia thinks a secure unit might be the only option for Joss in the end. You can only do your best.’ Chapter Five Eric (#u50ec7cd7-d34c-5179-9e5e-945635f0f694) Because there were so few opportunities to praise Joss, I tended to go over the top when one arose. So on Wednesday afternoon, when she came home straight from school as I’d asked, I was very effusive in my praise and told her she’d earned back one pound of her pocket money. This led to Lucy taking me to one side and remarking a little sarcastically, ‘What’s the occasion? Have I missed something here? I thought I came home on time every day.’ ‘I know you do, love,’ I said. ‘I’d assumed you knew how grateful I was that I don’t have to worry about you, or Adrian and Paula, as I’m having to do with Joss. It’s very stressful.’ Lucy looked suitably embarrassed and went quietly into the garden to join Paula, who was sitting on the bench in the shade of the tree. Adrian had stayed behind at school with some of his friends to use the gym. I’d made quiche for our evening meal, which we could heat up quickly later when I returned from taking Joss to collect her sound system from home. I told the girls that if they and Adrian were hungry they could eat before I got back, and do some new potatoes and peas to go with the quiche. Once Joss had changed out of her school uniform, I said goodbye to the girls, and Joss and I got into the car. She was wearing a very short skirt and a tiny little T-shirt that didn’t cover her middle. While this was just about acceptable for a hot afternoon and riding in the car, it wouldn’t have been acceptable for going out in the evening with her friends and using public transport. The way Joss dressed was something else I needed to advise her on one day, but not yet. There were other, more pressing matters to address first; for example, her drinking and drug-taking. Joss hadn’t said hello or goodbye to Lucy and Paula, and as I drove she kept her earphones in so she didn’t have to talk or listen to me. She didn’t remove them until I pulled onto the estate where she lived – as I slowed the car, uncertain of where her house was, she finally took them out and gave me directions. The small, well-maintained estate had been built about fifteen years before, and was a mixture of social and private housing. Joss’s house was semi-detached in a street of similar houses, each with an integral garage and a neat, open-plan front garden. ‘Perfect timing,’ I said as I parked by the kerb and cut the engine. ‘It’s exactly five o’clock.’ ‘Sod it, I’ve forgotten my front-door key,’ Joss said. ‘I’ve left it in my school bag.’ ‘Your mother will be in, won’t she?’ ‘Yeah, I guess,’ Joss said. We got out and I followed her up the short path to the front door. ‘Will your stepfather be in too?’ I asked. ‘No,’ she said, pressing the bell. ‘He doesn’t finish work until six.’ Linda opened the door and Joss said a frosty ‘Hi’. ‘Come on in, love,’ Linda said, smiling and welcoming her. ‘Hello, Cathy.’ As we entered, a young boy ran down the hall, yelling ‘Joss!’ at the top of his voice. ‘Kevin!’ Joss cried. ‘How’s my little brother?’ She spread her arms wide and he ran into them, laughing. ‘Good to see you, mate,’ she said, and hugged him hard. Joss’s sulky ill humour, which had dominated the last couple of days, immediately lifted. Now I saw a loving older sister, as pleased to see her little brother as he was to see her. Her tenderness gave me a glimpse of another, much warmer side to Joss that she usually kept well hidden under a tough exterior. ‘Come through to the living room, Cathy,’ Linda said. ‘Can I get you a drink?’ ‘Could I have a glass of water, please?’ ‘Sure.’ She showed me into a tidy and tastefully furnished living room at the rear of the house that overlooked a garden with recently mown grass and borders of shrubs and flowers. I sat in one of the armchairs as Joss and Kevin appeared in the garden from the back door, laughing and throwing a ball to each other. Linda returned with two glasses of water and set them on the coffee table. ‘You’re not in a rush, are you?’ she said. ‘It’s nice if they spend some time together. I’ve already packed Joss’s sound system and some other things she might need.’ ‘Thanks. I can stay for a while. It’s lovely to see them playing together. I expect Kevin misses Joss a lot.’ ‘He does,’ Linda said. ‘For all Joss’s bad ways, she’s always been a good sister to Kevin.’ I nodded. ‘We had to wait a while for Kevin,’ Linda said. ‘There’s an age gap of five years, but right from the start Joss adored him. She liked to help me feed and change him when he was a baby, and she’s always looked out for him and protected him. Even now, big as she is, she’s still happy to have a rough and tumble with him.’ The patio doors were slightly open and through the gap the sound of Joss and Kevin laughing drifted in. I smiled and took a sip of my water. ‘How has Joss been?’ Linda asked, concerned. ‘About the same,’ I said. ‘She has been late back the last two evenings, so I’ve stopped half her pocket money, as was agreed at the meeting. Joss wasn’t happy, but she can earn it back.’ ‘I didn’t think much of that behaviour contract,’ Linda said. ‘Neither did Eric when I told him. He wanted to put in a formal complaint. He’s never liked that social worker.’ I wasn’t going to be drawn into a discussion about Amelia; clearly she’d thought she was doing what was right, so I steered the conversation in a different direction and now asked Linda something that had been on my mind for a while. ‘Joss has a lot of nightmares. Did she have them here?’ ‘Yes, and at her other carers’.’ ‘When did they start?’ ‘A few days after her dad died, but they got a lot worse about a year ago. I don’t know why. Eric says it’s the drink and drugs affecting her brain.’ ‘They certainly won’t help,’ I said. ‘But I suppose Joss still carries the memory of her father’s death with her. It must have been very traumatic for you all.’ ‘Yes, it was. Although it was over four years ago now, if I think about it I can still see it as clearly as though it were yesterday – and I had bereavement counselling for two years. Joss would never talk to anyone about what happened. She began bed-wetting and having nightmares a few days after her father died. The bed-wetting stopped as she got older, but the nightmares continued on and off. Thankfully Kevin didn’t witness the horror as Joss did. You don’t forget it.’ She took a deep breath and swallowed hard before continuing. ‘I’d collected Joss and Kevin from school that afternoon. Kevin had just started nursery. Steven, their father, had taken the day off work sick. He said he had a stomach ache, that was all, and then he’d spent most of the afternoon tinkering in the garage. The car wouldn’t always start and he thought he knew what was wrong with it. He seemed fine, normal, when I left. There was nothing to say he was about to take his life. I called goodbye as I left the house, and when he didn’t reply I assumed he couldn’t hear me because he had the radio on. He usually had the radio on when he was working in the garage. I now know he could have already been dead.’ Linda paused and took another breath. My heart went out to her. ‘The coroner put the time of his death at around three o’clock, which was the time I left the house. If Steven wasn’t already dead then he was about to kill himself. Of course, I’ve tormented myself with what if, instead of calling goodbye, I’d gone into the garage to say goodbye – could I have saved him? I’ll never know. ‘When I returned from school with the children,’ Linda continued, ‘Joss – always a daddy’s girl – wanted to be with him in the garage. She liked to be with him, helping him, passing him a spanner or a rag to wipe his hands on when they were oily. She was by my side as I opened the door, that door in the hall.’ Linda nodded in the direction of the hall. ‘It goes straight into the garage. Joss ran in slightly ahead of me and screamed. He’d tied a rope to a rafter in the roof of the garage and hanged himself by stepping off the car roof. I grabbed Joss and pushed her out of the garage, but it was too late. She’d seen what I had. I knew straight away he was dead. ‘I closed the door and phoned for an ambulance. They played the call in the coroner’s court and you can hear Joss screaming in the background. It’s blood curdling. The paramedics and police arrived, and my parents came over and looked after Joss and Kevin while I gave a statement to the police. Mum and Dad were as devastated as we were – they loved Steven like a son. No one had expected it, absolutely no one. The police notified Steven’s parents as I couldn’t make that call. After they’d got over the initial shock, they blamed me for not noticing Steven was depressed. But he wasn’t. Perhaps I should have seen something, but try as I might I don’t know what it could have been. His parents don’t see us any more.’ Linda stopped. ‘I’m so very sorry,’ I said. ‘Thank you, Cathy. You never forget something like that, but I told myself that Joss was young and in time she would get over it. I was going to move us away, but this house was our home and it had seen happy times too. The counselling helped me. I never dreamed I’d marry again, but then eighteen months ago I met Eric and he proposed five months later. Joss was cold towards him from the start, but I assumed it was just a matter of time. Eric has been very understanding, but it hasn’t helped. Joss has said some awful things to him – that she wishes he’d hang himself.’ I grimaced. ‘I know, awful, isn’t it? Kevin has been far more accepting, but then, of course, he’s younger and didn’t see what Joss and I saw. To be honest, Cathy, if I could have foreseen how this would turn out, I wouldn’t have remarried. I thought we’d all be happy, but we’re not.’ Linda’s eyes filled and she reached for a tissue. I felt so sorry for her, but it was difficult to know what to say. Sometimes a tragedy is so great that words are completely inadequate. We were both quiet for some moments. My gaze went to the garden where Joss and Kevin were now playing badminton, laughing and shouting as they hit or missed the shuttlecock. In their play I saw the happy, carefree family that had lived here before tragedy struck. ‘Joss is only thirteen,’ I said. ‘Perhaps in time, and with her living away from home, she might start to see things differently.’ ‘That’s what I thought when she first went to stay with my sister. I thought, give her time and she’ll mend her ways and come back. But it hasn’t happened. As you know, her behaviour was so bad at my sister’s that we had to ask the social services for help. Then the first two carers weren’t able to cope, and now I’m so worried they’ll put her in a secure unit before long. Imagine your thirteen-year-old daughter in prison … although they don’t call it that.’ Linda’s brow furrowed. ‘I’m doing all I can to try to stop that from happening,’ I said. ‘I know you are. And I am grateful. It just gets to me sometimes.’ ‘Is Eric supportive?’ I asked. ‘Yes. Very. He couldn’t do more for us.’ We both looked down the garden as Joss screamed, having narrowly missed a shot. ‘Beat you!’ Kevin shouted, also laughing. Then another noise came from the hall – a key going into the lock of the front door. Linda visibly tensed. ‘It must be Eric home early,’ she said anxiously. Standing, she left the room. I heard the front door open and Linda say, ‘Hi, love, you’re home early.’ ‘I left work early so I could meet Cathy and see Joss,’ Eric said. ‘Cathy is in the living room and the kids are in the garden,’ Linda told him. A moment later Eric strode into the living room and I stood to shake his hand. ‘Eric, Joss’s stepfather,’ he said. ‘Lovely to meet you at last.’ ‘And you,’ I said. Of average height and build, I guessed he was at least ten years older than Linda – in his mid-fifties. He was dressed in grey trousers with a light-grey open-neck shirt and was clearly very hot – beads of perspiration glistened on his forehead. ‘Would you like a cold drink, love?’ Linda asked him. ‘I’ll get it. You stay here and talk to Cathy. I’ll join you when I’ve said hello to the kids.’ Linda still looked very tense and waited until Eric had left the room before she spoke again, and then it was in a lowered tone. ‘In some ways I think it would be better if he stopped trying to be friends with Joss and just left her alone. He keeps trying in the hope that one day he’ll get through to her, but it’s having the opposite effect.’ I nodded. ‘It must be very difficult.’ ‘It is,’ she said. A few moments later Eric appeared in the garden and we heard him call ‘Hello’ to Joss and Kevin. Joss let the shuttlecock fall to the ground and threw her racket after it. I could see the anger on her face. She stormed up the garden, past Kevin and Eric and into the house. She came into the living room looking like thunder. ‘What the fuck is he doing here?’ she demanded. ‘Joss, don’t, please,’ Linda said. Standing, she went over to her daughter. ‘He just wanted to see you and meet Cathy. He was trying to do the right thing.’ ‘Right thing my arse! I’m going to my room,’ Joss said. She went out of the living room as Kevin and Eric could be heard coming in from the garden. ‘Kev!’ she called. ‘Come with me to my room. But make sure that creep doesn’t come or I’ll kick him where it hurts.’ Linda looked so embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry, Cathy.’ ‘Don’t worry. I’ve heard worse. I’ll speak to Joss later about her language and behaviour.’ ‘Thank you. I’m afraid we just let her get away with it now, as nothing we say makes any difference.’ Eric came into the living room with a glass of water, mopping his brow with a piece of kitchen towel. He sat on the sofa beside Linda and patted her arm. ‘Try not to worry, pet,’ he said. Linda shrugged despondently. Easier said than done, I thought. ‘Linda tells me you’ve been fostering a long time,’ Eric said, making conversation. ‘Yes, over fifteen years.’ I smiled. ‘That’s marvellous. It’s something I’d like to do, or adopt. I understand there’s a shortage of foster carers.’ ‘Yes, there is,’ I said. ‘Linda and I have talked about it, haven’t we, pet?’ Eric said, turning towards her. ‘I think we need to sort out Joss’s problems first,’ Linda sensibly said. ‘I’ll go up and see her.’ Linda stood and left the living room. Eric drank some of his water and then set the glass carefully on the table. ‘At least Kevin likes me,’ he said awkwardly. ‘It can be very difficult raising stepchildren,’ I offered. He gave a small laugh. ‘You can say that again. I’m sure it would be much easier raising our own child.’ I nodded politely. Footsteps sounded on the stairs and then Joss’s voice called from the hall. ‘Cathy! We’re going!’ I smiled at him and stood. ‘It was nice meeting you,’ I said. ‘And you,’ he said, also standing. He followed me down the hall. Joss stood at the front door with Kevin and her mother, holding a bag each. ‘What do you want?’ Joss said to Eric as soon as she saw him. ‘Joss!’ Linda chastised. ‘I just wanted to say goodbye,’ Eric said. ‘Well, you’ve said it, so bugger off.’ Linda sighed. Given Joss’s animosity towards Eric, I felt it would have been wiser if he’d stayed in the living room and had called goodbye from there, but it wasn’t for me to say. Joss opened the front door and went out first, carrying the largest of the bags, followed by her mother and brother. Eric followed me out and we went down the path. He stood with the others on the pavement as I unlocked the car and lifted the boot lid. ‘Do you want some help, pet?’ he asked me, stepping forward. ‘Not from you!’ Joss snapped. And again I felt Eric would have done better keeping his distance (as Linda had suggested), for clearly anything he did or said antagonized Joss. ‘It’s OK, thank you,’ I said to him. I helped lift the bags into the boot, checked that the bag containing the sound system was secure and couldn’t fall over, and then closed the boot lid. Joss hugged and kissed Kevin, said a stiff ‘Goodbye’ to her mother and blanked Eric. I said goodbye to the three of them, and Joss and I got into the car. ‘Creep,’ Joss said, loud enough for Eric to hear, before she closed her car door. I started the engine, gave them a brief wave and drove away. I couldn’t ignore Joss’s bad language and behaviour, for to do so would suggest I was condoning it. ‘Joss, you obviously love your brother a lot. Don’t you think you should set him a good example? I’m sure you would be appalled if he started behaving as you do.’ ‘He’, meaning Eric, ‘shouldn’t have come home,’ Joss said, still angry. ‘He only did it to annoy me.’ ‘Why would he do that?’ I asked. ‘Because he knows I hate him. He never leaves work early. He always comes in at the same time – that’s why I call in at Mum’s on the way home from school. I know he won’t be there. He did it to upset me.’ ‘But why would he want to upset or annoy you?’ I asked. Joss shrugged. I glanced at her as I drove. ‘Joss, there could be another reason why Eric came home early, a nicer reason: that he’s trying to build a relationship with you.’ ‘Bullshit,’ Joss said. ‘He’s a wanker. I hate him and he knows why.’ ‘Whatever you may think of him, I don’t want you using that language. Not to me, your parents or anyone, and certainly not in front of your younger brother. Swear again and I’ll remove your television from your bedroom for the rest of this evening.’ ‘Whatever!’ Joss said, and she put in her earphones and turned up her music. Chapter Six Deceived (#u50ec7cd7-d34c-5179-9e5e-945635f0f694) The following afternoon I received a telephone call from Joss’s form teacher, Miss Pryce. She apologized for not being in touch sooner, she’d been very busy, and she invited me to go into school to meet her the next day at 12.30 p.m. ‘I’m afraid my lunch hour is the only time I have free,’ she said. I thanked her, confirmed I’d be there and felt marginally guilty for taking up her lunch break. When Joss arrived home from school that afternoon I told her I was seeing her teacher the following day. ‘So I hope she’s going to tell me lots of good things about how well you’ve been doing,’ I said. ‘And that all your homework is up to date.’ ‘I doubt it,’ Joss said with her usual shrug. ‘Well, in that case you need to do your homework before you go out this evening. That’s what the contract of behaviour says.’ ‘I haven’t signed the contract yet,’ Joss said, ready with a retort as always. ‘Anyway, my homework is up to date.’ I wasn’t convinced this was true, but I would wait until I’d heard what Miss Pryce had to say before I said anything further to Joss about her school work. The atmosphere at dinner that evening was less strained than it had been during the last few meals, after Lucy and Joss’s set-to – they made an effort to speak to each other, while Paula and Adrian kept a low profile and concentrated on eating. As soon as Joss had finished her pudding she stood to leave. ‘Joss, would you remain at the table, please, until everyone has finished,’ I said. ‘It’s polite.’ ‘Do I have to?’ she grumbled. ‘You sound like my mum.’ ‘Yes, please. It’s only six-twenty; you’ve still got plenty of time to go out.’ She pulled a face but did as I asked, and sat down and waited until we’d all finished. ‘Done?’ she asked as Paula, the last to finish, set her spoon in her bowl. ‘Yes, thank you,’ I said. ‘You can go now.’ Joss took her dishes to the kitchen sink, then went into the hall, put on her shoes and called goodbye as she left. I am sorry to say that I always felt more relaxed when Joss was out of the house, as I never knew when she would erupt in another angry outburst or confrontation. Although, of course, when she was out I also worried – about the mischief she could be getting up to and whether she was safe. I was expecting her to return home late – she hadn’t managed to return on time after an evening out with her friends yet – and if she did I would be stopping one pound from her pocket money (the one pound she’d earned back for coming home on time the previous afternoon). She would still have half her allowance, as Amelia had stipulated she should. However, to my surprise and delight, she returned at exactly 9.30 p.m. ‘Well done, good girl,’ I said. ‘I am pleased.’ ‘Can I have a door key now, as I’m back on time?’ she asked. ‘Not yet, love. “One swallow doesn’t make a summer.”’ She looked at me slightly oddly, and slipped off her shoes. ‘You’re working towards it,’ I said. ‘A couple of weeks of coming home on time and then we’ll see.’ ‘What’s a couple?’ she asked. ‘Two.’ She pulled a face. ‘I can’t do that,’ she said. ‘Two weeks is far too long. I’m not an angel.’ I had to smile. She had a dry sense of humour sometimes. ‘Joss, you’ve come home on time tonight, as you did yesterday afternoon, so there is no reason why you can’t do it again, and again.’ ‘I had a lift tonight,’ she said. ‘From Chloe’s mother?’ ‘Her uncle.’ ‘I trust he hasn’t been drinking too?’ I could smell alcohol on Joss’s breath, although she wasn’t drunk. ‘Only one. He’s sensible,’ she said. She said she wanted a glass of water and went into the kitchen. I wandered in too. ‘Was Chloe in the car with you as well?’ I asked casually. ‘I think so,’ she said as she took a glass from the cabinet. ‘You must know, love.’ ‘Yeah, she was.’ Joss concentrated on filling her glass from the cold-water tap. I looked at her carefully. ‘Joss, I’m only trying to protect you and keep you safe. I care about you, and while you’re with me I’m responsible for you.’ ‘Yeah, I know, you said. Thanks. It’s much appreciated,’ she said dismissively. She switched off the tap, said goodnight and went upstairs to bed. Joss’s hostility and constant rebuffs were without doubt a defence mechanism – to stop others from getting close. The logic behind this is that if you don’t form an attachment, with the possibility of losing that person, then you won’t be hurt again. Only, of course, it doesn’t work like that, and one of the scariest places to be is a teenager isolated, alone and suffering in silence. The following day, at 12.15 p.m., I parked my car in a side road close to Joss’s school and made my way round to the main front entrance. The weather was warm and the students were allowed off the school premises during lunch break. I passed small groups of kids chatting and laughing and also smoking quite openly, although out of sight of the main building. I thought it was a great pity that so many young people still thought smoking was cool and hadn’t got the message that it was damaging their health. The school was in the older part of town and didn’t have the best reputation. From what I’d heard and read in the local newspaper, the standard of teaching was reasonable, but there were ongoing concerns about discipline and the students’ behaviour, both inside and outside the school. Shopkeepers in the area complained about pilfering, and residents said that gangs of students roamed the streets after school, graffitiing fences and walls, throwing rubbish into gardens and bad-mouthing anyone who came out to complain. I went in through the main doors and gave my name to the receptionist, explaining that I had an appointment with Miss Pryce at 12.30. She said she’d let her know I was here and asked me to sign in the visitors’ book and take a seat in the waiting area, which was over to the left. The corridors were noisy at lunchtime with students milling around. They wandered past me in pairs and small groups on their way outside. Many of the girls wore their skirts very short, as Joss did, with knee-length socks, which were fashionable. Both girls and boys had their ties loosened, or weren’t wearing them at all, and some had multiple ear piercings, as Joss did. Presently, Miss Pryce appeared. She introduced herself – ‘Lisa Pryce’ – and then led the way down a corridor and into a room on the right. ‘We shouldn’t be disturbed in here. Do sit down,’ she said, waving to the four chairs that stood around a small table in the centre of the room. A photocopier, filing cabinets and cupboards stood against the walls. ‘Thank you for making the time to see me,’ I said. ‘Not at all. It’s important we meet. I’m very worried about Joss, and all the moves haven’t helped. She won’t be moved again, will she?’ ‘I hope not. But ultimately it will be for the social services to decide what is best for her in the long term.’ Miss Pryce tutted. I guessed she was in her mid-thirties, about five feet six inches tall, and her brown hair was cut in a neat bob. She was wearing a pale-blue summer dress. She would be aware of Joss’s past. ‘I feel very sorry for Joss,’ she said. ‘But that’s not going to help her achieve or get back on course. She’s like a runaway train at present, heading for disaster. Up until a year ago she was a grade-A pupil, but now she’s barely achieving Ds. Much of her work is unfinished or completely missing, so it is ungraded. Worryingly, Joss doesn’t seem to care. I have to treat all my students the same, and it’s no help to Joss if I just keep letting her off.’ ‘No, indeed,’ I said. I’d immediately warmed to Miss Pryce’s direct, no-nonsense approach, and I formed the impression that she would be firm but fair with her pupils. ‘We’ve offered Joss counselling,’ she continued. ‘The school may not have the best academic results in the county, but we are a very caring school. Joss knows she can talk to the school counsellor, or me, or any other member of staff at any time, but she’s never taken up this offer. She’s often late for school, especially after lunch. As you probably saw, pupils are allowed off the premises during the lunch break, as long as they return on time. We’ve had instances of Joss returning late, with another girl, smelling of smoke and possibly under the influence of something – perhaps cannabis. She’s had one exclusion and she’s heading for another. If she continues like this she’ll be excluded permanently, which will mean more uncertainty for her and a move to a new school, possibly miles away. I know Joss’s mother, Linda, and I’ve met one of Joss’s previous foster carers, so I’m aware that her behaviour at home is causing great concern too. Joss is on a path of self-destruction and, to be honest, I’m at a loss to know how to help her. I’m sorry this all sounds so negative, but you need to know.’ I felt utterly deflated. ‘I knew things weren’t good at school,’ I said. ‘But I hadn’t realized they were this bad. Some children I’ve fostered have misbehaved at home but tried their best at school.’ ‘Not with Joss, I’m afraid,’ Miss Pryce said. ‘She’s a capable girl, but she’s destroying any chance she has of achieving academically. I’m also worried about her on a personal level. I’m a mother and I’d be devastated if this was happening to my daughter. Who are the two men who collect her from school sometimes? Do you know?’ ‘No, I don’t.’ ‘They’ve been seen a number of times, waiting further up the road, at lunchtime and also after school. Members of staff have spotted Joss and Chelsea getting into their car.’ ‘I didn’t know about any of this. Do the social services know?’ ‘We informed them, but as far as I know no action has been taken. Although in fairness to them, what can they do? The car is parked on a public highway and they are not committing any offence. Both Joss and Chelsea were spoken to by a member of staff, but the girls were blas? and couldn’t see any danger. They insisted the lads were old friends. Perhaps they are.’ ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I’ll try to talk to Joss about this, but she’s not very communicative with me yet. I sanction her if she’s late in, and now I know she’s behind with her school work I’ll make sure she does it before she goes out.’ ‘Thank you. It’s a pity she can’t find another friend. Chelsea has so many problems of her own.’ ‘Who’s Chelsea?’ I asked. ‘I haven’t heard Joss mention her.’ Miss Pryce looked slightly surprised. ‘They spend all their time together. Chelsea is two years older than Joss, but they’re inseparable. If there’s trouble, you can be sure they’re in it together. A biggish girl with long black hair.’ I realized this sounded like Chloe. ‘And Chloe?’ I asked. ‘Is she part of their group?’ Miss Pryce frowned, puzzled. ‘No. Chloe who?’ ‘I don’t know her surname. She’s in Joss’s class?’ ‘There is a girl called Chloe in the class, but she and Joss aren’t friends. They don’t have anything to do with one another. Chloe is a quiet, shy child, very studious and hard-working. Her parents would never let her out to wander the streets with Joss or Chelsea.’ I felt the criticism personally. ‘You appreciate that, as a foster carer, I’m very limited in the sanctions I can impose on Joss. For example, I can’t stop her from going out if she wants to.’ ‘I know. It’s ridiculous. We have other children in school who are in care, so I am aware of what foster carers can and can’t do. If these were our own kids, we’d lock them in the house if necessary to keep them safe.’ ‘Exactly. I’m doing all I can to try to get Joss back on track, but it may take time. If you could inform me of any incidents at school, I’d be grateful. Joss needs to see we are all working together in this.’ ‘Of course. As I said, Joss is an intelligent girl, but she’s throwing it all away.’ Miss Pryce glanced at her watch. ‘I’ll show you some of Joss’s work and then I’m afraid I’ll have to go. I’ve got to see a pupil at one o’clock. But do phone me if you have any concerns.’ ‘Thank you. One last thing: does Joss ever talk about her father or stepfather in school, do you know?’ ‘Not as far as I know.’ ‘Thank you.’ Miss Pryce showed me Joss’s English, Maths and Science folders, which as she’d said held poor-quality or incomplete work, together with a list of work that was entirely missing. I thanked her for her time, said again that I would do all I could to help Joss and then she saw me to reception where we said goodbye. I signed out of the visitors’ book and returned to my car with a heavy heart. While I wasn’t wholly surprised by what Miss Pryce had told me in respect of Joss’s school work, I was surprised and hurt by the level of Joss’s lying about Chloe/Chelsea. I thought back to the time I’d met Chelsea, whom I’d been led to believe was Chloe, when I’d given her a lift home from the cinema. I remembered the girls laughing and sniggering in the back of the car, which I’d put down to self-conscious teenage giggling, but now I guessed they’d been laughing at the deception they’d played on me. I could see the logic in choosing Chloe – an exemplary, hard-working, well-behaved student – for if I did make enquiries at school I’d be told what a good girl she was, which would reflect well on Joss, as opposed to Chelsea, who appeared to attract as much, if not more, trouble than Joss. But as a parent or foster carer, you can’t afford to stay hurt for long, and by the time I arrived home I was trying to work out the best way to approach Joss without damaging our already frail and rocky relationship. It would have been very easy to make Joss squirm and look small by not telling her I knew of her deception and asking her about Chloe, and then hearing more of her lies before I told her I knew the truth. However, that wouldn’t have given me any satisfaction and certainly wouldn’t have helped my relationship with Joss, so I decided that honesty was the best policy and that I needed to tackle the matter head-on. ‘I’m hot,’ Joss moaned as I opened the door to her that afternoon when she returned home from school. ‘And Miss wouldn’t let me leave the class for a drink of water. It’s against my human rights.’ It was a constant gripe of Joss’s that ‘Miss’ (read: most teachers) had contravened her human rights by not allowing her to leave the class during a lesson – to get a drink, go to the toilet, find a missing book, and so on. But had Joss been allowed to leave, she would have spent more time out of lessons than in them. ‘It’s summer,’ I said. ‘That’s why you feel hot. Fetch yourself a glass of water and then come into the living room, please. I need to talk to you.’ ‘Tell me now,’ she said, dumping her school bag in the hall. ‘I’m tired. I need to lie down before I get ready to go out later.’ ‘You won’t be going out until we’ve had a chat,’ I said firmly. ‘Do as I ask, please.’ Joss looked at me, slightly taken aback. ‘I don’t want a drink. I’ll come with you now and get it over with.’ ‘All right.’ I led the way down the hall and into the living room. The patio doors were slightly open and the fragrant summer air wafted in. Adrian wasn’t home yet, and Lucy and Paula were both in their rooms chilling out. ‘What is it?’ Joss demanded as we sat down – me on the sofa and Joss choosing the chair furthest away from me. ‘I saw Miss Pryce today,’ I said. ‘Yeah, I know. What’s the old bat been saying about me?’ ‘She was very pleasant and said you were a clever girl but you’d slipped behind with your work. She said you were capable and had been doing well, but now you had a lot of catching up to do. She wants to help you achieve, as I do, but Joss, why did you lie to me about Chloe?’ ‘I didn’t!’ she snapped defiantly, as a reflex action. ‘You did, love,’ I said evenly. ‘Surely you must have known you’d be found out at some point.’ I held her gaze. ‘OK. I did then. Sorry.’ But there was no sincerity in her apology. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/cathy-glass/girl-alone-joss-came-home-from-school-to-discover-her-father-s/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.