by Angela Hart
We finished our tea and I took Susan upstairs to see Danielle, who was sitting in the living room watching one of her favourite DVDs. I’m sure she must have watched the same film at least six times in the last few months, and I can’t imagine how many more times she had watched it before she moved in with us, but it never failed to enthral her.
‘Can I finish watching this first?’ she said when Susan and I appeared. As Danielle spoke she turned her head slightly towards us but kept her eyes glued to the screen.
‘No, I’m afraid you can’t,’ I started, but Danielle immediately interrupted me and began asking Susan if she’d seen the film, and if she liked sci-fi and who her favourite Star Wars character was. Susan started to reply, but Danielle then interrupted her social worker and tried to talk to me again.
I walked across the room, paused the film and swapped a look with Susan.
‘I’ll leave you to it!’ I said, smiling.
‘Thanks a bunch!’ Danielle replied.
I went downstairs, made myself another cup of tea and treated myself to a slice of cake. It was wedding cake, given to me by one of our regular customers in the shop, and I’d been looking forward to it. The young woman had got married the week before and we’d done all her flowers. While she was on honeymoon she got her mum to bring Jonathan and me a slice of her wedding cake, which I thought was really lovely. It was delicious too. I savoured every mouthful and also nibbled the marzipan and royal icing from Jonathan’s slice, as he only likes the fruitcake.
‘Ah, the joys of being a foster carer!’ I thought as I tucked in.
After her chat with Danielle, Susan suggested we all might benefit from another respite weekend, sooner rather than later. I still had misgivings about the disruption this might cause to Danielle, but I trusted Susan’s professional judgement. However, she then said the respite weekend could be arranged with the same family Danielle had stayed with last time.
‘But what about the boy?’ I asked. My immediate reaction was that I was alarmed and concerned this was an option, given what Danielle had said about the foster carer’s son, and how she’d said she was considering having sex with him.
‘We’ve spoken about that, Angela. Danielle has admitted she made the whole thing up. When I asked her why, she said it was because she’d quite like to have a boyfriend. It was all in her imagination and I have no concerns about her staying with the same family again. In an ideal world I’d put her in a single placement, I must admit, but only because she can be so demanding. However, the foster carer is extremely experienced and is willing to have Danielle again. It’s the best option we have; you know how stretched we are at present.’
‘Oh,’ I said, thinking to myself, At present? The fostering service is permanently stretched!
‘And I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know that Danielle has admitted she made up the story about Deirdre taking a shine to Jonathan, too. She gave no explanation for that, but I think we can work it out.’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘Danielle seems to like upsetting the applecart, even if things are going well. It’s such a shame.’
‘Indeed – or especially when things are going well?’ Susan commented. ‘I’ve seen this behaviour in her before. She’s not used to being happy, Angela. It’s very sad, but I believe Danielle doesn’t know how to deal with it when things are normal and safe and stable. You’re doing an extremely good job with her. I take my hat off to you and Jonathan, I really do.’
I appreciated Susan’s kind words, and the fact she’d taken the time to share her views and theories about Danielle’s meddling behaviour, which I agreed with wholeheartedly. When I had a quiet moment to myself later, I found myself agonising about what Danielle had said. I had believed her ‘disclosures’. I desperately didn’t want to believe all those awful things had happened to her in addition to the sexual abuse she had suffered, but neither did I want to believe she was so troubled that she’d invented such stories, or falsely thought they were true.
‘It’s very hard to take all of this in, isn’t it?’ Jonathan said, appearing at the back door.
‘Are you reading my mind again?’ I joked.
‘Yes, as a matter of fact I am. You need to stop searching for answers you may never find and instead you need to give yourself a pat on the back, Angela. You’ve done brilliantly with Danielle. Well done.’
17
‘I’ll be out of your hair soon’
In the end it was agreed that Danielle would spend a weekend with Deirdre the next time she, and we, needed a break. It was Deirdre’s idea, Social Services agreed and Jonathan and I felt it was a better plan than having Danielle staying in a foster home with two other teenagers, even if her stories about the thirteen-year-old boy there were fabricated.
I no longer felt a failure at the mention of Danielle having some respite care away from us. I acknowledged we all needed it, because her behaviour was getting more and more erratic. Ultimately, Jonathan and I agreed that railing against respite care would have been more of a failure than accepting it, for everybody’s sake.
When we talked to Danielle about staying with Deirdre she seemed delighted.
‘When will it be?’
‘Let me see, in about ten days’ time.’
‘Great. It will be like a holiday, and it will be so good to stay in a real home.’
This seemed like a strange thing to say, because how was Deirdre’s home any more ‘real’ than ours? Danielle elaborated, without me prompting her.
‘The thing is, she’s not a paid foster carer, is she? Deirdre’s inviting me over as a friend. We’ll have a good time. I won’t get all that nagging I got at that respite carer’s house.’
Again, I didn’t argue; it wasn’t worth it.
‘I think you’ll enjoy spending time at Deirdre’s,’ I said. ‘It’s always nice to have something to look forward to.’
‘Yes, it is. And by the way, when are you taking me to see Granny and Pops again? What have you arranged, Angela?’
This was typical of the way Danielle was now speaking to me. The longer she was with us, the more she seemed to see me as some kind of servant when it suited her, but again I didn’t feel it was a good idea to tackle her head-on about her attitude. I didn’t want an argument. The truth was, I was constantly trying to minimise the chances of a blow-up. I could sense that one might be brewing, and I was treading carefully.
‘We didn’t arrange anything last time, did we? But we could give Granny and Pops a call and see what we can fix up. Shall we do that?’
‘Yes please,’ she said. ‘Will you ring? I don’t like using the phone.’
In my experience most thirteen-year-olds aren’t keen on making phone calls. Even getting them to talk on the phone when the other person has made the call can be difficult; they’d typically much rather communicate with text messages – unless of course they are chatting non-stop to their ‘best’ friend. Danielle’s remark suddenly reminded me about her claims she had called Glennis and Mike at the start of her placement. I still had no idea whether or not Danielle had really phoned them and it didn’t matter any more. She hadn’t mentioned them for a long while, and I now thought it was unlikely she had ever contacted them. I knew Danielle so much better than I had a few months earlier. I knew she was very good at spinning tales, and the more I got to know her, the more I treated what she said with a healthy dose of scepticism.
I phoned Iris and, happily, she invited Danielle over the following morning.
‘Wicked!’ Danielle said.
After that Danielle seemed to be in a very good mood for the rest of the day. Mum came over and they played dominoes and Cluedo and watched an old black-and-white movie.
‘Can I get you anything, Thelma?’ Danielle checked before they settled in front of the TV.
‘No thank you, dear.’
‘OK, well, just let me know.’
If you didn’t know better, you’d have thought Danielle was the model of a perfect child.
; Later, Danielle cleaned out Scooter’s cage in the utility room. She played with him for ages, chattering away to him like a small child might, seemingly completely oblivious to her surroundings.
‘What an imagination she has!’ Mum said as she sipped a cup of coffee in the kitchen. ‘Have you heard the conversations she’s having, Angela? How delightful.’
I wasn’t tuned in to what Danielle was saying to Scooter as I was busy preparing dinner while she played with him on the floor in between the kitchen and utility room. Now I made a point of listening as I topped and tailed some runner beans Mum had brought from her garden. Danielle was asking lots of random questions, such as, ‘What do you dream about?’ and ‘What would you buy if you found £100?’ Then she pretended to listen to what Scooter said, holding him up to her ear. ‘No way! I have the same dream. Do you wish you could change it? I do. If I found £100 I’d buy a shield and a coat of armour. No, I wouldn’t waste it on birthday cake. No way!’
And so it went on.
‘Isn’t it lovely?’ Mum said. ‘It’s quite endearing to witness such innocence in a thirteen-year-old, isn’t it?’
I smiled and nodded. Mum knew nothing about Danielle’s past or about the troubles she had, and that was the way it should be.
‘It’s time for bed,’ I said to Danielle at the end of the evening. ‘You’ve got a busy day tomorrow.’
‘OK,’ she said cheerfully, getting to her feet. ‘Night night, Thelma. Thanks for the games. It was good to see you!’
‘You too. Goodnight, darling. Sleep well!’
As Danielle crossed the room I spotted the back of her trousers was wet and glanced at the chair she’d been sitting on – the one I’d covered in plastic. Danielle had clearly had an accident and so I followed her to the door, walking closely behind her to prevent Mum from noticing.
‘Sweetheart, you’ll need to have a shower before bed,’ I said softly.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘But can I use your bathroom because my showerhead is broken again.’
‘Is it? How did that happen?’
‘Dunno.’
‘OK. Go and fetch your towel first, so you have it ready.’
Danielle agreed and I told her I’d come up and say goodnight soon.
‘OK!’ she said brightly. ‘I’ll just have a quick shower.’
I discreetly cleaned the chair and Jonathan said he’d take Mum home. He had to get some petrol while he was out, and he asked if we needed anything from the garage.
‘No, we’re fine, thanks. Maybe just get a pint of milk as I used a lot in the egg custard and we’re running a bit low.’
‘OK, no problem.’
I said goodbye to Mum, emptied the dishwasher and gave the kitchen floor a quick sweep before I went up to say goodnight to Danielle. She wasn’t in her room, so I went down to the floor below to see if she was still in my bathroom. I could hear the shower was still running, even though Danielle had said she was only having a quick shower.
‘Danielle,’ I called, knocking on the door. ‘Are you all right?’
She didn’t reply. I knocked again, this time a bit louder.
‘Danielle. You’ve been rather a long time in there. Can you hear me?’
Again there was no reply and so I tried once more.
‘Danielle, can you get out of the shower now? Are you all right?’
I had an unsettling feeling in my stomach and I found myself wishing Jonathan was in the house and I was not alone with Danielle.
‘Danielle, if you don’t answer me I’m going to have to come in and check you are all right.’
Still she didn’t reply.
‘OK, I’m going to come in, Danielle. I’m going to open the door from this side. Can you hear me?’
We had one of those bathroom locks you could open from the outside by putting a coin in the slot in the handle and turning it. This had caused problems in the past, with one child in particular making trouble by deliberately breaking into the bathroom when another child was using it. I wished then that it wasn’t so easy to unlock the doors, but now I was very glad we had this type of lock. I fetched a coin from my bedside table and opened the bathroom door after knocking really loudly one last time, calling to Danielle to tell her what I was doing.
‘Danielle?’ I said as I opened the door. I didn’t want to barge in in case she wasn’t covered up, so I peered from the doorway. The room was filled with so much steam it took a moment to spot her. When the steam cleared a little I saw Danielle sitting on the toilet, wearing soaking wet clothes.
‘Are you all right, sweetheart?’
‘No, but what do you care?’
‘I do care. What happened?’
‘She made me, stupid cow!’
‘Who?’
‘That woman, whatever her name is. Stupid cow!’
‘Who?’
‘Oh, it doesn’t matter, does it? I’ll be out of your hair soon.’
With that Danielle suddenly lunged forward and grabbed a bottle of shampoo. Before I had a chance to realise what she was up to she began trying to squirt it in her mouth.
‘Stop it!’ I said, taking firmly hold of the bottle and just about managing to stop her. ‘You can’t put that in your mouth.’
‘I hate you! You spoil everything. Your mum is nicer than you! Everyone is nicer than you!’
‘Danielle, please calm down. I’m here to help you.’
‘How can you help me? Nobody can help me.’
She stared out of the window, or should I say at the steamed-up glass of the window.
‘Danielle, you are going to get cold in those wet clothes. Please can you get yourself out of them, dry yourself off and put on your pyjamas.’
‘Of course I can, do you think I’m some kind of baby?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Then I’ll do it!’
‘Right. Here’s your towel. Dry yourself off here and then go to your room and put on your pyjamas, please.’
‘OK, OK! Nag, nag, nag. You should be called Nag-ela, not Ang-ela. I think you’ve got the letters muddled up!’
I scooped up the shampoo and conditioner, the shower gel and my tube of toothpaste, as I didn’t want Danielle to have a go at putting anything else in her mouth.
‘I’ll come up and see you very shortly. Please be as quick as you can.’
As I left the bathroom I noticed my toothbrush was on the side of the washbasin – a big mistake. I make a point of removing my toothbrush if a child is using my bathroom, but I’d forgotten on this occasion. I didn’t trust what Danielle might have done with it, because in the past I’ve had children tell me they’ve stuck my toothbrush down the toilet or cleaned their toenails with it. I never knew if they were telling the truth or just taunting me, but of course it wasn’t worth taking any chances. With Danielle, I really could not be sure what she might have done in that room. Her behaviour was unpredictable and untrustworthy in the extreme. I threw the toothbrush in the bin, and willed Jonathan to get home quickly.
When I finally got Danielle into bed I felt shattered, but that was not the end of the drama. Later, just as I was falling asleep, I heard Danielle padding around upstairs. It sounded like she was opening and closing doors and deliberately making a noise. I got straight out of bed and went to investigate.
‘Shall I come with you?’ Jonathan asked.
We looked at each other in alarm. Had it got so bad that I needed protection to go and check on Danielle in her bedroom?
‘No, I can deal with this, thanks.’
It seemed ridiculous that a thirteen-year-old girl could instil fear in either of us, and I was determined not to go down that road. When I got upstairs I found Danielle sitting on the floor of her bathroom. Both taps and the shower were running, and there was water everywhere. The door to the shower cubicle was open and as the showerhead was broken, water was squirting in all directions. Danielle had the window wide open too, and there was a cigarette stubbed out on the windowsill.
‘R
ight, let’s sort this out,’ I said, taking a deep breath.
I switched off the taps and the shower and, before I dealt with the water on the floor and splattered up the walls, I asked Danielle for her cigarette lighter.
‘Haven’t got it,’ she said. She was hugging her knees, rocking back and forth and staring into space.
‘I can see you’ve had a cigarette up here. You’ve left the butt on the windowsill. Please give me the lighter. You know the rules. If you are going to smoke, you do it out of the house, and I look after your lighter in the house.’
‘Can’t give it to you.’
‘Why?’
‘I threw it out the window. What are you going to do about that, An-ge-la?’
I wasn’t entirely sure. I’d never had to deal with so many random problems all at once, and I’d never been so unsure about whether a child was telling the truth or not. Danielle was capricious, unreliable and impetuous: an incredibly demanding combination.
I quickly took stock and made a decision. It was late, I didn’t think Danielle was going to smoke again this evening – in fact she’d probably only smoked that one cigarette so I would find it – and I had to do everything in my power to keep her calm and get her to bed, and asleep, without further incident.
‘You have two choices, Danielle,’ I said. ‘You can go and find the lighter now and give it to me, and I’ll come with you to search the garden, or you can go to bed quietly and without a fuss, and we’ll talk about this in the morning, before you go to Granny and Pop’s.’
‘Can I still go?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right. I’ll go to bed. I’m tired. It’s far too late. How could you even think about going into the garden now? Are you crazy?’
I bit my tongue as I scanned the bathroom. By rights I knew I should get Danielle to help me clean this mess up, but I just wanted her in her bed and out of my way. The sooner she was fast asleep and this day ended, the better.
I gave the bathroom a wipe down and, after checking Danielle’s light was off and all was quiet, I went back to bed myself.
‘Everything OK?’ Jonathan asked.