by Angela Hart
Jonathan and I took Danielle on an enjoyable long weekend break to a mobile home park in the next county, although we did have one or two hiccups. One afternoon Danielle got ‘lost’ when she went into an arcade. We panicked for a few minutes when we couldn’t see her, but the drama was quickly over. She’d decided to give us the slip so she could have one last go on a particular machine.
‘Danielle, there was no need to have done that. If you’d have just told us you wanted another go we probably would have let you.’
‘Oh! Sometimes I forget I don’t have to tell lies! Can we have pizza tonight?’
‘Yes, we can have pizza tonight.’
On the last afternoon it rained heavily and I said we’d have to change our plans. We had wanted to visit an outdoor activity centre where Danielle had been looking forward to trying open-air rock climbing but I said we’d have to choose an indoor activity instead.
‘I can’t imagine the rock-climbing wall will even be open in this weather,’ I commented.
‘Well you would say that, wouldn’t you!’ Danielle said sulkily. ‘Jonathan wouldn’t be so B-O-O-O-RING!’
‘Actually,’ Jonathan said, ‘I think it would be dangerous to climb in this torrential rain. I wouldn’t want you to have an accident, Danielle, and nor would Angela.’
‘Oh,’ she said, looking bemused. ‘I thought she was just being mean to me.’
‘No. We’re both focused on your safety, Danielle. Angela is the same as me. She wants the best for you. Now then, how about bowling?’
‘Yes!’ she smiled. ‘Good idea. Sorry.’
We had plenty of conversations like this now. Danielle would set off on a negative track and we would manage to steer her back to a much more positive place.
‘Well done you,’ I whispered to Jonathan later, when Danielle was about to bowl at the alley and he and I were sitting behind the little scoreboard we had all typed our names into, so the electronic system could automatically record our scores.
‘I think we’re all doing well. We’re on a roll!’
As Jonathan said this we both looked up to see Danielle’s bowling ball clatter into the centre of the skittles, knocking the whole lot over and prompting the word ‘STRIKE’ to flash up in bright red on the big screen above the lanes.
‘How about that!’ Jonathan whooped. ‘Very well done, Danielle!’
It really did feel like we were all winning, and I felt so proud and happy that night as we drove home. Danielle snoozed on the back seat of the car and when I looked at her I was filled with a sense of wellbeing. In that moment I believed I could change her life, I really did. She was on track, and it was such a relief to see her like that.
14
‘You don’t know anything about me, Angela’
Ten days after our weekend break, Danielle went on a boat trip with Deirdre. The weather was pleasant and they drove out to a local beauty spot where you can hire various small crafts or go on a short pleasure cruise up and down the river. Danielle was really looking forward to going on the cruise, and she was in good spirits when they set out. Deirdre bought their tickets at the nearby tourist information office and chatted to Danielle about the different types of birds and wildlife that inhabited that part of the river. She was all ears, drinking in the sights and sounds around her.
‘This is like paradise,’ Danielle commented as they walked along the riverbank to the boarding point.
They got on the boat and found there were only a few other passengers taking the trip that day.
‘This is good,’ Danielle said. ‘There’s plenty of room. What are we going to eat?’
They always had a bite to eat together, and Deirdre told Danielle she was taking her to the cafe afterwards, which was next door to the boat museum, a five-minute walk from the information point. ‘We’ll have a look in the museum too, if we have time.’
‘Wicked!’
When the boat set off Danielle’s mood started to change for no apparent reason.
‘I’m thirsty!’ she said with a threatening tone in her voice. ‘Can I get a drink?’
There was a small kiosk on board selling tea, coffee and fizzy drinks.
‘I’ve got some cartons of orange juice in my bag,’ Deirdre said.
‘I don’t want orange. I want one of those bottles of pop. I want the blue one.’
Danielle then started kicking the backs of her heels into the base of the wooden bench seat they were sitting on, prompting the other passengers to look over disapprovingly.
‘Danielle, please don’t do that. You’re making a noise and you might damage the seat. Have some orange juice. It’s your favourite brand, the one you like best.’
‘No. I’m not having that, you tight cow!’
A couple of elderly female passengers looked horrified, but Deirdre smiled back at them with confidence, refusing to buckle. She was very used to being in situations like this, and her years of experience had taught her not to crumple with embarrassment when a child creates a scene of this nature. She was doing her job as best she could, and if she allowed herself to be bothered by the sideways looks of other people it would not help matters.
‘Danielle, please don’t be rude. That’s not a kind thing to say, and it’s untrue.’
‘Cow. Tight cow. You’re as bad as Angela. I’m gonna kill her one of these days.’
‘Danielle, please stop behaving and talking this way. Let’s enjoy the trip. Please don’t spoil it. And I know you don’t mean that about Angela.’
Deirdre began reading a leaflet about the boat museum, thinking the best tactic might be to ignore Danielle. She figured that if she engaged with her any further when she was making such rude and shocking remarks, it might only pour petrol on the flames.
Deirdre’s plan worked for a short while. Danielle harrumphed and moved to another seat, and stayed quiet for a few minutes.
‘I need the toilet,’ she suddenly announced. ‘I need it NOW!’
There was a sign pointing to the toilets behind the kiosk about ten metres away, and Deirdre told her to follow it. Danielle did as she was told, but as she walked off Deirdre saw that she’d already wet herself. The back of her trousers was damp, the vinyl seat cover she had been sitting on was sheened with a film of what must have been urine and she also left behind a nasty smell when she walked off.
Deirdre whipped a wet wipe out of her bag, moved next to the wet patch and discreetly cleaned it away. When Danielle returned from the toilet she was acting even more strangely, walking in a lopsided way and gnawing on her hand. Deirdre was watching the clock, desperately wishing for the trip to be over as quickly as possible, but they were only ten minutes into the thirty-minute cruise. Then she noticed that Danielle was watching something too – a bearded and tattooed man who was sitting beside the skipper. This man had checked the tickets when they got on the boat.
‘Danielle, it’s not good to stare,’ Deirdre said quietly, because she was looking at the man so intently and Deirdre was worried about her causing offence.
Danielle didn’t respond. Instead she sat as still as a statue, yet her breathing was loud and laboured.
‘Danielle, are you all right?’
There was no response at all, and Deirdre said afterwards it was as if Danielle was in a trance. The expression on her face was one of fear, loathing and incredulity. The man she was staring at was in his forties, overweight and scruffy. He had a few teeth missing and, amongst his many tattoos, he had the word ‘love’ inked on the knuckles of one hand and ‘hate’ on the other. It crossed Deirdre’s mind that this man might look like one of Danielle’s abusers, or at least someone she knew who she had reason to dislike, distrust or be afraid of.
At the end of the trip Deirdre had to guide Danielle off the boat; her eyes were glazed and she seemed completely unfocused and disconnected from her surroundings. There was an awkward step to navigate to cross from the boat to the jetty, and Danielle stumbled. As she did so a bottle of blue pop fell to the ground, co
ming from under her jacket. It was the pop Danielle had wanted from the kiosk. Deirdre swiftly picked it up, wondering how on earth Danielle had managed to get it without her noticing. She decided to tackle that issue later.
They went to the cafe and Danielle said she needed the toilet again. She was gone for what seemed to be rather too long, so Deirdre went to investigate. When she walked into the ladies’ toilets she was shocked and dismayed to see Danielle throwing up in one of the washbasins. On the side of the basin was a bottle of liquid handwash with the spout removed.
‘Danielle! Oh my goodness, what’s going on?’
‘I drank it,’ Danielle gasped. ‘I want to kill myself.’
When I heard the full story later I shed a tear. Danielle was taken to A & E as a precaution. Mercifully she had only ingested a very small amount of the handwash product and, after a couple of basic tests, she was discharged. Jonathan and I picked her up, and on the way home she said she was sorry and that she didn’t know what came over her. She also admitted stealing the pop from the boat kiosk when she went to the toilet. She would not say why she had done either of those things, and once she was back home she started to repeat, ‘I want to kill myself. I might as well die.’
‘Is there anything at all you would like to talk about? I want to help you. You know you can talk to me about anything.’
‘No, Angela. I don’t want to talk about it. If you don’t want me here I will understand. I can sleep in the shed if you like.’
‘The shed? Goodness me, of course you don’t need to sleep in the shed. We do want you here. We want to help you. We are here for you.’
A senior social worker came to the house to see Danielle, and a doctor visited, who prescribed a low dose of a common sedative. Jonathan and I were not very happy about this as Danielle was only thirteen and she seemed completely zombified already. Perhaps not surprisingly, the tablet knocked her out, putting her into a very deep sleep. This worried me and I didn’t like to see her like that, but we had to trust the doctor, who felt this was the best course of action for the time being.
‘It will help her have a good night’s sleep and she will hopefully feel a lot better tomorrow,’ he said.
Danielle’s next session with her psychologist was going to be brought forward and, in the meantime, Jonathan and I were advised to double-check the safety precautions we had in place at home. I did a full swoop of the house, making absolutely sure no chemicals of any kind were within reach. As I expected, anything and everything remotely dangerous was locked away; this is something that’s second nature to us after having this advice drummed into us time and time again on foster training courses. Similarly, as I’ve said before, we never have potentially dangerous items like lighters, matches or sharp objects lying around either. Even Jonathan’s tool shed is always kept under lock and key, and he’s very vigilant about never leaving it unattended when he needs to open it up to get the lawnmower out or use something from his toolbox.
Despite our home being as safe as possible, when Jonathan and I climbed into bed that night my mind was working overtime. I kept thinking of all the things Danielle might still find that she could drink or try to harm herself with.
‘What if she really is determined to kill herself?’ I said to Jonathan. ‘There are probably all sorts of things she could do. But we can’t run the house as if it’s a high-security prison, can we?’
‘I know, Angela, but I don’t think she really wanted to kill herself. It was a cry for help, wasn’t it? She only swallowed a very small amount of that stuff. If she meant it, she’d have downed the whole bottle, or chosen something that was properly poisonous.’
I barely slept. Every time I heard a creak in the house I imagined Danielle was tiptoeing down the stairs to search for something she could use to harm herself. The knives in our cutlery set are deliberately blunt and the sharp kitchen knives are kept in a locked cupboard. But what about the pizza cutter or the cheese grater? I remembered that time she said something odd about Scooter, when I was cutting the carrots for him. What was it she said? He might get a knife and stab you!
I had to tell myself to calm down. This was ridiculous. Danielle had had a bad day and things would get better tomorrow. But what if she drank all the shampoo and handwash in all the bathrooms? Or ate the toothpaste or swallowed the sun cream that was on the windowsill in the kitchen? The possibilities and risks suddenly seemed endless.
‘Are you awake?’ I said to Jonathan.
‘No,’ he said sarcastically, but kindly.
‘What do you think triggered it? The man on the boat who Deirdre described? Or something else, something that sparked a bad memory?’
‘I don’t know. Hopefully she will tell one of us.’
‘I’d better let Hatty know. Oh God, Danielle’s supposed to have tuition tomorrow. What do you think?’
‘Angela, we’ll work it out tomorrow. You need to get some sleep.’
‘You’re right. Night. Sleep well.’
I stared at the ceiling and thought about Danielle lying in her bed upstairs, knocked out with pills. How would she feel when she woke up tomorrow? Would we be able to get through this? I had really thought I could help her turn her life around, and now I wasn’t so sure. The abuse she’d suffered had been so horrific. Was she beyond help? Was she always going to suffer relapses like this? Was there any hope she could grow into a normal, happy adult and lead a fulfilling, productive life, away from her demons?
I left Danielle sleeping until 9.30 a.m. the next morning and then I tapped on her door and went into her bedroom.
‘Hi,’ she said groggily. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. What did happen?’
‘It’s OK, love. You’re safe here. How are you feeling?’
‘Tired. But OK, I think. My head aches a bit. Can I have some water?’
‘I’ve brought you a glass. Here you are. Can I sit down?’
She nodded and I perched myself on the edge of her bed. I noticed her eye twitch. It was like a nervous tic and I thought it must have been driving her mad because it refused to go away, although she didn’t seem to notice.
‘My dad used to smoke drugs,’ she said. ‘Did you know that?’
‘No. I didn’t know that. He smoked drugs, did he?’
‘He said if I behaved myself, when I was bigger he’d let me have some. You don’t know anything about me, Angela.’
A sheen of sweat appeared on her brow. She took a large gulp of water and then shot out of bed and darted to the bathroom.
‘I’m going to be sick,’ she said, but when she retched over the toilet bowl nothing came out.
She went back to bed, and after a short while I told her I needed to go downstairs and that I would check on her in ten minutes. I’d promised I’d call Nelson to give him an update on Danielle.
‘Good morning, Nelson,’ I said as brightly as I could manage, but Nelson sounded hesitant and a little anxious.
‘Oh, hi, Angela. Er, how are you all this morning? Yes, I’m glad you’ve called . . .’
I could tell he had something to tell me, something he was worried about saying.
‘The thing is, we’ve decided it would be a good idea if Danielle went into respite care for a few days, to give you and Jonathan a break.’
My heart sank and I felt my throat constrict.
‘I see. When are you thinking?’
‘If she is up for it, in terms of being able to get herself up and dressed, we can arrange to have her collected this afternoon.’
‘Right. Do you not think the disruption might have a negative effect?’
‘We’ve had a meeting with senior social workers and the feeling is that this will be best for everyone. Danielle is a complex case and this is absolutely no reflection on you and Jonathan. All being well, a spell in respite care will be all Danielle needs. It will help all of you, and hopefully then the placement will be able to resume in a more positive way.’
I felt like a failure and I was so upse
t. We’d never had a child removed in this way before, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had no children living under our roof. This was awful.
‘You mustn’t look at it negatively,’ Jonathan said. ‘Social Services are giving us all a break, because they hope it will help us carry on, and help us to best care for Danielle in the future.’
I wasn’t convinced. I felt a bit naive for having thought I could turn Danielle’s life around so quickly. Look what had happened to her! Maybe I wouldn’t be able to help turn her life around at all. She was in a worse state than when she arrived with us.
I spoke to Hatty and Deirdre; they both reiterated what Jonathan had said and were very supportive.
‘We all need help sometimes,’ Hatty said. ‘The wise thing is to recognise that and accept it.’
‘Thanks, Hatty. You always know exactly what to say.’
‘I only speak the truth, Angela. Trust in your abilities. You’re doing a great job, and you will do an even better job in the future, I’m sure.’
15
‘What’s she done now?’
‘Let’s make the most of the break,’ Jonathan said. ‘What shall we do tonight? It’s Friday, after all.’
‘I’m not bothered about going out. I’ve got loads to do in the house this afternoon and I’m already feeling shattered. Shall we just get a takeaway and watch a film?’
‘Great idea. Chinese? And what d’you fancy watching? How about The Devil Wears Prada?’
‘Chinese sounds good to me. I don’t mind what we watch. You choose.’
We’d treated ourselves to a couple of new DVDs as there had been an offer on in our local supermarket, and I knew Jonathan was itching to watch Casino Royale, even though we’d seen it at the cinema when it first came out.
‘Let’s go for The Devil Wears Prada,’ he said. ‘We could do with a bit of a laugh.’
I smiled. Jonathan was so kind and thoughtful, and he was really doing his best to cheer me up. The house felt very strange without any children in it, and I’d got so used to Danielle being around I kept half expecting her to spring up in front of me, yell for a towel or bang on the bathroom door when I went to the toilet.