by Cathy Glass
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 blasé 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 h
er 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.
‘I was hurt that you took me for such a fool and persuaded Chelsea to lie too.’
‘I didn’t. It was her idea,’ Joss said vehemently, jutting out her chin. ‘She thought it would look better if you checked up at the school.’
‘I realize that was the reason behind it, but it would never have worked long term.’
‘I won’t be here long term,’ Joss said tartly. ‘Did you tell Miss Pryce?’
‘No. There were more important issues to discuss.’
‘Like what?’
‘Your school work.’
Joss shrugged.
‘Miss Pryce said you were very able and had been getting good grades, but over the last year you’d fallen a long way behind. I’m hoping that now you are settled with me you will be able to catch up. We both want to see you do well.’
‘I don’t really care,’ Joss said.
‘I do. Education is important.’
‘I don’t have to do my school work. You can’t force me to, and I don’t see any point in doing it. It’s boring and it’s not going to do me any good.’
‘It might not seem so now,’ I said, ‘but a good education will help you to get a good job, so you can have a comfortable lifestyle and feel fulfilled in your work. It’s also interesting to learn new things.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Joss said moodily.
‘Maybe not, but from now on you’ll be doing an hour’s school work every evening before you go out, and at the weekend, so you can catch up.’
‘What!’ Her eyes blazed as she stared at me, defiant and annoyed. ‘You can’t do that. I’ll tell my social worker,’ she threatened.
‘That’s all right with me. I’m sure Amelia will agree. It says in your behaviour contract that you can go out after you’ve done your homework. I’m helping you by setting the guideline of an hour.’
‘I won’t do it!’ Joss said, folding her arms across her chest. ‘I’ll sit in my bedroom for an hour and listen to music and paint my toenails.’
‘No. You’ll be down here for the hour so I can help you with your work if necessary.’
Joss stood to leave.
‘Sit down now, Joss,’ I said forcefully. ‘I haven’t finished yet.’
‘What?’ she demanded. I waited for her to return to her chair.
‘The young men in the car you and Chelsea have been seen getting into. Miss Pryce is concerned and so am I. Who are they?’
Joss opened and closed her mouth, clearly trying to find the best-fit answer. ‘Chloe’s – I mean Chelsea’s – uncles,’ she said.
‘Both men are Chelsea’s uncles?’
‘No. One is, and the other is his friend.’
‘The uncle who brought you home last night?’
She nodded but couldn’t meet my gaze.
‘Does your mother know them?’
‘No. I met them after I left home.’
‘So they’re not old friends?’
‘Not really. Sort of.’
‘How old are they, Joss?’
‘Twenties, I guess.’ She shrugged.
‘Do they work?’
‘I think so.’
‘What do you do when you are out with them?’
‘Hang out and have a good time.’
‘You’ve been arriving back at school very late for afternoon lessons.’
‘I won’t again,’ Joss said.
I looked at her carefully. ‘Joss, I really don’t think it’s a good idea for two young girls to be joyriding in a car with much older lads.’
‘Why? What have you got against them?’ she demanded.
‘Nothing personally. But I think you and Chelsea are placing yourselves in an unsafe position. One thing can lead to another, especially when drink and drugs are involved. Do they give you the alcohol and cannabis?’
‘No. Sometimes,’ Joss said. ‘Is that all? Have you finished now?’
‘Joss, I can’t stop you from seeing them. If I tried, you’d go behind my back. But you are sensible, and I’m asking you to think about what I’ve said and make the right decision.’
‘Yeah, OK, I will,’ she said, eager to be away. ‘I’ll do my hour’s homework now and then I can go out straight after dinner.’
Chapter Seven
Letter from the Police
Joss couldn’t see the danger as I could. Having been a foster carer for a long time, I was aware of what could – and did – happen to vulnerable girls like Joss who were hurting, needy, had their guard down and desperately wanted to be loved. They were easy prey for unscrupulous older lads, and although Miss Pryce hadn’t said much about Chelsea, I’d formed the impression that she was as vulnerable and open to exploitation as Joss. However, as Joss’s foster carer I was limited in what I could do to keep her safe, so I hoped that with firm and consistent boundaries, praise, love and concern, and using what few sanctions I had, Joss would start to listen to reason and turn a corner before it was too late.
On a positive note, Joss did do her school work that evening as I’d asked her to – not graciously or happily, but she did it. I told her I wanted her to work at the table in the kitchen-cum-dining-room while I made dinner, and after some moaning, scowling and muttering she fetched her school bag, plonked it on the table. She asked for a Biro and then took out some books and began writing while I peeled the potatoes. As we both worked, every so often I praised her and asked her if she needed any help, but she didn’t. She sighed theatrically from time to time, looked pointedly at the wall clock, sighed some more and then continued writing. When Paula and Lucy came down to get a drink and ask what was for dinner, they looked surprised to see Joss sitting at the table, studiously pori
ng over her books.
‘You got homework?’ Lucy asked her.
‘Yeah. Your mum’s making me do it,’ Joss said, putting down her pen and sitting back in her chair, ready for a chat.
‘Cool,’ Lucy said.
‘No, it isn’t. Have you done yours?’
‘Most of it,’ Lucy said.
‘What subjects did you have?’
‘Maths and English.’
‘Yuk,’ Joss said. ‘Are you good at them?’
It was clear that Joss would much rather chat than do her homework, so once Lucy had her drink I asked her to leave Joss alone until she’d finished her school work.
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ Joss said, ready with one of her smart-alec retorts. ‘Do what your mum tells you. I can’t concentrate if you keep talking to me.’
Thankfully, Lucy didn’t rise to the bait.
At 5.45 p.m., exactly one hour after Joss had started her homework, she packed away her books with another theatrical sigh, stood and handed the Biro to me.
‘Keep it. You need a pen for school,’ I said. ‘Would you like me to check your work?’
‘No, thanks. Can I go out now?’
‘After dinner.’
‘I’ll get changed, then. As I’ve done my homework can I stay out later tonight?’
I looked up from what I was doing. ‘You can anyway,’ I said. ‘It’s Friday and you’re allowed out until ten-thirty, although I’d be very pleased if you came home before then. I think it’s far too late.’