by Cathy Glass
‘Go on, run along,’ he said to her.
‘Will I see you later?’ Chelsea asked Joss.
Joss shrugged.
Chelsea came with us to the door and said a very quiet goodbye to Joss before closing the door behind us. I breathed in the fresh air, grateful to be out of there with Joss and without a scene. I was as shocked by the state of the flat as I was by finding Joss and Chelsea with the two men. Joss knew she was in trouble and walked with me in silence to my car. Once in the car, I put the key into the ignition but didn’t start the engine. I turned in my seat to look at her.
‘What?’ she asked defiantly. ‘We weren’t doing anything.’ Meaning, I supposed, that they weren’t having sex.
‘Joss, you went to your mother’s. You were supposed to come straight home after, not go to Chelsea’s flat.’
‘But I wanted to see Zach. He’s my boyfriend. I knew you wouldn’t let me.’
‘For good reason. How old is he – twenty-three?’
‘Twenty-two. He’s Chelsea’s uncle,’ Joss said, as though that made it all right.
‘And you are thirteen, Joss. Who was the other man?’
‘Zach’s friend. Chelsea’s boyfriend.’
‘Does he have a name?’
‘Carl,’ Joss said.
‘And their surnames?’ I wanted to find out as much as possible about them.
‘Don’t know.’
‘Are these the men you’ve been seen with at school?’ I asked.
Joss gave a reluctant nod. I continued to look at her, trying to work out how I could begin to make her see the danger she was placing herself in.
‘We weren’t doing anything,’ she said again. ‘Zach respects me. He treats me nice.’
‘Joss, it didn’t look like that to me. The place reeked of cannabis and clearly you were all drinking. When I came in he was groping you on the sofa – I don’t call that respectful.’
She shrugged dismissively.
‘Does Chelsea really live in that flat?’
‘Yeah. Can we go now? I’ve got to do my homework before I can go out tonight.’
I looked at her aghast. ‘You’re not going out tonight.’
‘I’m allowed to! It’s Saturday!’ she shouted.
I started the engine and pulled away.
‘Joss, it would be completely irresponsible of me to let you go out this evening now that I’ve seen what’s going on at Chelsea’s flat with those two men. I want to speak to your social worker first, on Monday.’
‘Why?’
‘To see how best to keep you safe. Who else lives in that flat?’
‘Dunno. Chelsea’s dad, and some of his friends, I guess.’
‘And Zach?’ I asked as I drove.
‘Sometimes.’
‘Where’s Chelsea’s mother? Do you know?’ I navigated the traffic.
‘She left years ago.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Who was upstairs with the television on?’
‘Her dad. He never gets up until evening. He’s a lazy sod.’ Joss gave a little laugh.
I didn’t think it was funny. ‘So he knew that you and Chelsea – two underage girls, one of whom is his daughter – were downstairs smoking drugs and drinking alcohol?’
‘He doesn’t mind,’ Joss said. ‘He’s cool. He smokes and drinks too.’ As if that made it all right!
‘It’s not cool, Joss,’ I said, pulling up to the traffic lights. ‘It’s completely irresponsible. I appreciate you and Chelsea can’t see the danger, but he should be able to. He’s an adult and her father.’
‘I don’t care what you think,’ she said. ‘I like him. He’s my friend.’
I was even more worried now than I had been before when I’d believed Joss had been on the streets with friends more her own age. She’d got into trouble with them, but what I’d discovered this afternoon raised my concerns to a whole new level. Not only was Joss placing herself in an unsafe situation by going to that flat with those men and smoking and drinking, but also Chelsea appeared to be living with it on a daily basis. I would telephone Amelia first thing on Monday to inform her of what I’d found and discuss what could be done to better protect Joss (and Chelsea). I would be pushing for Joss to stay in more.
The rest of the journey continued in silence, with Joss staring straight ahead, clearly very annoyed with me. Once home she stomped up to her bedroom, and then she stomped back down again a few minutes later and joined Paula in the garden. I took the opportunity to telephone Linda as I’d promised. Eric answered and said that Linda had popped to the local shops and would be back in about half an hour.
‘Could you tell Linda I’ve found Joss,’ I said. ‘She was at Chelsea’s.’
‘That is good news,’ Eric said. ‘Our Joss can be a little minx sometimes. I hope you punish her.’
‘She’ll be staying in tonight,’ I said. ‘Please tell Linda that too, and that I’ve spoken to Joss. She can phone me if she wants to, but Joss is safe.’ I didn’t go into all the details, as it would worry Linda. If she telephoned me and wanted to know more, I’d tell her. Eric said he’d pass on the message and we said goodbye.
When I went into the garden Joss had a school book open on her lap. I guessed why.
‘As I’m doing my homework, can I go out tonight?’ she said.
‘No. Not tonight, love.’
‘What if I don’t see Chelsea?’
‘I want you to stay in with us tonight. We’ll have dinner and then we can play some board games or watch a film together. Adrian’s out tonight so it’ll be a girls’ night in.’
Joss pulled a face, but didn’t argue further. I think even she knew she’d overstepped the boundaries enough for one day, and she read her school book for a while. After dinner Adrian went to a friend’s house and the girls and I watched a film and shared a bowl of microwave popcorn, then we ate ice cream from the freezer. Joss relaxed, got over her pique and appeared to be enjoying herself, although she didn’t admit it. The film was a romantic comedy and we all laughed together. I hoped that, once I’d spoken to Amelia, Joss would be staying in more and we could all enjoy further family evenings together.
Joss slept well that night and was up and dressed early the next morning, and in a very good mood. I’d invited my parents to lunch and I was looking forward to seeing them, as were Adrian, Lucy and Paula. Joss had met them briefly once, a few days after she’d arrived, when they came for dinner, but she’d been on her way out. Today would give her and my parents the opportunity to get to know each other better. Mum and Dad are the classic grandparents: loving and doting, they welcome the children I foster with open hearts, and the children very quickly call them Nana and Grandpa. But it soon became clear that Joss had different plans.
‘Pity I’ll miss them again,’ she said as we finished breakfast.
‘You won’t. They’re coming here today, at twelve,’ I said.
‘Yeah, but I’m going out soon.’
‘No, you’re not. It’s Sunday. You stay in on Sundays.’
‘You’re wrong,’ Joss said. ‘I’m not allowed out in the evening, but I can go out during the day. That’s what the behaviour contract says.’ I felt the atmosphere around the breakfast table shift as Adrian concentrated on his food and Paula and Lucy looked at Joss.
‘It was agreed you’d stay with us on Sundays,’ I said. ‘I remember distinctly.’ We hadn’t been sent a copy of the contract yet, but I felt sure I was right. ‘I’ll ask Amelia on Monday when I phone her, but until I’ve checked I want you to stay in today. You’ll enjoy it.’
‘No, I won’t,’ Joss said, her face setting. ‘I was in all last night.’
‘Nana and Grandpa are lovely,’ Paula tried.
‘Good for you,’ Joss snapped, ‘but they’re not my fucking grandparents.’ She jumped up from the table, stamped upstairs to her room and slammed the door.
‘I don’t know why you bother,’ Lucy exclaimed, annoyed.
‘Because I care.’
We finished our breakfast in silence.
I went up to see Joss a couple of times during the morning, but she refused to even look at me and kept her earphones in and her eyes down while I tried to talk to her. I knew it would be impossible for my children and I to enjoy my parents’ visit if Joss stayed in her room, angry and upset, so half an hour before they were due to arrive I went up to her room and tried again. She was no longer listening to music but was flicking through some magazines. I began talking to her gently, again explaining why I put in place boundaries and why I wanted her to come down and join us, but she continued to ignore me and eventually I ran out of patience.
‘Joss, it would be very rude of you and discourteous to my parents if you didn’t come down, so I want you downstairs in five minutes or I’ll ground you for the whole of next week.’
Joss suddenly found her voice. ‘You can’t do that!’ she cried, turning to face me, her eyes blazing.
‘Watch me,’ I said. ‘Five minutes. Understand? I’ve had enough. It’s bad enough you’re rude to me, but I’m not having you being disrespectful to my parents.’ I came out and closed her bedroom door.
My heart was racing. I was annoyed and stressed. I’m a patient person, but I wasn’t going to have my parents hurt and another day ruined because of Joss. I knew what I’d said was a gamble. If Joss didn’t come down or ran out of the house, my authority would be severely damaged and Joss would see my ineffectiveness as a passport to do whatever she wanted in the future.
An anxious five minutes passed, and then ten. Paula and I were in the kitchen preparing the meat and vegetables for lunch. Adrian and Lucy were setting up the garden chairs and the sun umbrella so we could all sit outside. Another five minutes passed and then I heard Joss’s bedroom door open above, followed by her footsteps on the stairs. Paula and I both paused as she neared the bottom of the stairs. To my utter relief Joss didn’t go out the front door but went down the hall and into the sitting room. Paula and I continued with the preparations for lunch. I didn’t rush in and praise Joss – she should have done as I’d asked in the first place instead of creating a scene. It doesn’t do young people any harm to feel a parent’s or carer’s disapproval for a short while after they’ve done something wrong.
Ten minutes later the doorbell rang, signalling my parents’ arrival. Joss was still in the sitting room and she didn’t come to the front door to greet them as the rest of us did. But as soon as they were in the living room, saying hello and asking her how she was, she dropped her grumpiness and began to answer them politely. From then on the day went as I’d hoped. It was a pleasant and relaxing family day, with Joss eventually joining in unreservedly. Perhaps she didn’t want to lose face in front of my parents, or perhaps she had simply reflected on what I’d said, but whatever the reason I was pleased. She helped me serve dinner, played badminton in the garden after we’d eaten and when it was time to say goodbye to my parents she came with us to the front door to see them off. Once they’d gone, I told her I was pleased she’d joined in.
‘So am I,’ she said with a small smile.
Chapter Nine
On Report
Amelia was out of the office when I telephoned her on Monday morning, so I left a message with a colleague asking her to telephone me when she returned. She did so later that afternoon.
‘Did you have a nice weekend?’ she began.
‘Mixed,’ I said. ‘We had a nice day yesterday with my parents, but there are a number of matters I need to talk to you about.’
‘Yes?’ she asked, concerned.
‘I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but Joss and her friend Chelsea have been spending a lot of time with two men in their early twenties. I saw Miss Pryce, Joss’s teacher, on Friday and she said that the school had raised concerns, as members of staff have seen Joss and Chelsea getting into a car at lunchtimes with some men. Miss Pryce said the social services had been informed, but the school hadn’t heard anything further.’
‘That’s possible,’ Amelia said a little guardedly.
‘Then on Saturday Joss went to her mother’s in the morning, but instead of coming straight back here she went to Chelsea’s flat. I went to the flat to collect her. Chelsea’s father was upstairs while Chelsea and Joss were downstairs with the same two men, smoking cannabis, drinking alcohol and cuddled up on the sofa and an old mattress. Joss said they’re called Zach and Carl. She said she didn’t know their surnames.’
‘Did you see Chelsea’s father at the flat?’ Amelia asked.
‘No. He stayed up in his bedroom. I was shocked by the state of the flat and that Chelsea was living there.’ I then continued with a description of what I’d seen.
‘The social services are aware of Chelsea,’ Amelia said, ‘although she’s not one of my cases. I’ll tell her social worker what you’ve said and she may want to talk to you.’
‘Thank you. I’m very concerned. Also, Linda telephoned me on Saturday morning,’ I continued. ‘She’s received a final warning letter from the police in respect of an incident a few weeks ago. Joss was found drinking alcohol again in a public place and then she swore at a police officer.’
‘I’ll need a copy of that letter,’ Amelia said, taking it in her stride. ‘I’ve got to phone Linda soon; I’ll ask her for it then.’
‘I’d like to keep Joss at home with me more,’ I said. ‘Her teacher said that Joss is a capable student, but she is very behind with her work. Staying in more would allow her to catch up and also give me a better chance of keeping her safe. Joss calls Zach her boyfriend, but he’s a man and appears to be leading her into bad ways. She’s so vulnerable and I fear she could easily be taken advantage of and exploited.’
‘You can’t keep Joss in all the time,’ Amelia said. ‘Have you spoken to her about contraception?’
I was shocked. ‘No! She’s thirteen. She’s a child. At her age I will be telling her not to have a sexual relationship, not encouraging her.’
‘It’s not encouraging her,’ Amelia said. ‘But it would be more responsible for her to go on the Pill than to have a baby. Can you talk to her about choices, please?’
‘Yes – but she may not have a choice. If she’s plied with drink and drugs she may be coerced or forced into having sex.’ I felt Amelia and I were coming from very different places. ‘I want to keep Joss in more to protect her,’ I said bluntly. ‘Is that all right with you?’
‘What does Joss say?’
‘She obviously wants to go out. It’s fun to her. But at her age she doesn’t necessarily know what is best for her and she can’t see the danger. The schools break up in three weeks’ time for the summer holidays. There’ll be even more opportunity for her to get into trouble if she’s out all day, every day.’
‘Perhaps we could renegotiate the contract of behaviour with Joss,’ Amelia said.
Stuff the contract, I thought but didn’t say. ‘Sundays,’ I said, coming to my next point. ‘My understanding is that Joss is with me all day on Sunday. She seems to think she can go out during the day as long as she is in for the evening.’
‘I can’t remember what we agreed,’ Amelia said. ‘Just a minute, I have Joss’s file here.’ I waited and then Amelia said, ‘It’s not clear. We agreed at the meeting that she’d stay in Sunday and Wednesday evenings, but there is no mention of during the day on Sundays.’
‘So I can assume she’s in with me? She enjoyed the last two Sundays when we’ve all been together.’
There was a small pause before Amelia replied. ‘I think this is something we need to discuss at Joss’s review. She’s due a review and I was going to suggest a week on Wednesday. Four o’clock so Joss can be present.’
‘Joss doesn’t get home from school until four-thirty at the earliest.’
‘We’ll make if four-thirty, then. Can you tell her? I’ll send out invitations to all parties. Is it all right to hold the review at your house?’
This was usual practice when a child was in care under a Se
ction 20.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And until the review, I can keep her in more during the week and also next Sunday?’
‘If Joss agrees, yes.’
As I said before, Amelia was pleasant but naïve.
Children in care have regular reviews. The child’s parent(s), teacher, social worker, foster carer, the foster carer’s support social worker and any other adults closely connected with the child meet to ensure that everything is being done to help the child, and that the care plan (drawn up by the social services) is up to date. The reviews are chaired by an independent reviewing officer (IRO), who also minutes the meeting. Very young children don’t usually attend their reviews, but older children are expected to, as it is about them.
I made a note of the date of Joss’s review in my diary, and when Joss came home from school, just before five o’clock, I told her.
‘Not another review!’ she exclaimed. ‘What a waste of effing time. Nothing ever happens and no one listens to me.’ Which I knew to be the view of many teenagers in care.
It was Monday, so Joss was expecting to go out in the evening, and given that she’d spent all of Sunday at home I didn’t feel I could protest. Parenting a teenager with challenging behaviour often requires give and take, and of course at present the contract of behaviour stipulated that Joss could go out, although I wondered how many other thirteen-year-olds were out on the streets in the evening. Certainly none I knew.
I asked Joss where she was planning to go and she shrugged.
‘To the park, maybe.’
‘Not to Chelsea’s?’ I asked.
‘Nah.’
Clearly I didn’t know if she was telling me the truth, but because Joss knew going out relied on her doing an hour’s homework first, she immediately took her school bag to the dining table and worked while I made dinner. I felt this part of Joss’s routine was going well, and as usual I praised her and asked if she needed any help, which she didn’t. As soon as the hour was up, she packed away her books.
‘Have you finished your homework?’ I asked.