by Cathy Glass
‘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 righ
t 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
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 we
eks 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.