The Girl Who Just Wanted to Be Loved

by Angela Hart

  ‘They can, and I think they will,’ I said.

  Unfortunately my prediction was right, though I could never have foreseen the chain of events that unfolded next.

  17

  ‘Eric made me do things if I lost at cards’

  One Saturday night, in July, Jonathan and I were invited out to a friend’s birthday party and my mum came over to babysit for Carl, Phillip and Keeley. We didn’t go out until 8 p.m., everybody had eaten and the last thing I said to my mum as we left the house was, ‘Just relax and enjoy yourselves!’

  The boys were planning to watch a James Bond film and Keeley and my mum were going to play a few board games, and perhaps watch the video of Mary Poppins that I’d rented. I’d promised I would rent the film if it wasn’t on television any time soon as Keeley still hadn’t seen it, and my mum said she’d love to watch the old favourite again.

  Everybody seemed to be in a good mood when we left, although I did have a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach as Jonathan and I drove off.

  ‘Do you think they’ll be all right?’ I asked nervously.

  ‘Of course! Your mum is an old hand at this now. She’ll keep them all occupied, no problem at all.’

  ‘But what if Keeley is difficult?’

  ‘Look, your mum can cope. She’ll keep Keeley entertained brilliantly, you know she will. Besides, the boys are doing their own thing, so there’s less opportunity for an argument to break out, isn’t there? Relax, it’ll do us good to have a night out.’

  I gave a half-hearted nod, trying to convince myself Jonathan was talking sense, as he undoubtedly was. The two of us hadn’t had a night out together for a long time. Jonathan was quite right; it would do us the power of good to let our hair down a bit, away from the children and the stresses of home, and we really did have nothing to worry about, did we? My mum was holding the fort as she had done very successfully on many other occasions, the kids enjoyed her company and if anything did go badly wrong, we were not far away.

  The party was in a function room in a hotel just across town and it was already in full swing when we arrived. Loads of our old friends were there, the buffet table was groaning under the weight of a fabulous array of salads and finger foods, and the DJ was playing a really good mix of classic dance tracks and some popular favourites that got everybody on the dance floor.

  I chatted to a few people and Jonathan and I had a dance, but to be honest my mind kept wandering back to home. What if Keeley was giving my mum a hard time? What if something happened and we were out at a party? What would Social Services think of us? Looking back, these thoughts were unnecessarily bleak, but that was how I was feeling, and I just couldn’t switch off and fully engage with the party or our friends.

  The last straw was when the words I’d spoken after Keeley was sick in the car came into my head, the words I’d said after Jonathan questioned: ‘things can’t get any worse, can they?’ ‘They can, and I think they will,’ I’d responded.

  Now I just couldn’t get the words out of my head and I told Jonathan I felt tired and out of sorts, which was true, and that I didn’t want to stay late. In the end we left before most of the other guests, although hopefully not too early so as to be rude. I counted every minute, just wanting to get home and make sure nothing had gone wrong.

  ‘What’s the matter, Angela?’ Jonathan asked when we got back into the car.

  ‘I can’t put my finger on it, really,’ I replied. ‘I just wasn’t in the mood, and even though common sense tells me they’ll be fine, I couldn’t help thinking about the kids, and worrying.’

  Jonathan nodded sagely. ‘I know what you mean. After trying to put your mind at rest I must admit, I found it a bit of an effort tonight too.’

  We got home to find my mum sitting tensely in the kitchen, which was half-lit.

  ‘Mum!’ I exclaimed, my stomach dropping like a stone. ‘Is everything all right?’

  Normally she would be watching television in the lounge, or at least relaxing on the settee, reading or doing a crossword, and it alarmed me to see her in the kitchen like that, stiff and in the shadows.

  ‘Yes, dear,’ she said calmly. ‘All the children are in bed. Keeley went up hours ago and the boys both turned in at around half past ten. I haven’t heard a peep out of them.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it!’ Jonathan smiled. ‘For a moment there, you had me worried, Thelma. Why are you sitting in the kitchen in the dark?’

  He switched on the main light and went to put the kettle on.

  ‘Oh! I didn’t realise how dark it was! Silly me. Now, if you don’t mind I won’t stay for a cup of tea. Would you take me home, Angela?’

  Neither of us had had a drink and Jonathan volunteered to run Mum back to her house, which was only a few minutes’ drive away.

  ‘No, don’t worry, Jonathan. Angela can take me, can’t you, dear? Come on, I’ll get my coat.’

  It was one of those moments when you know not to argue, and I dutifully escorted my mum to the car. As soon as we’d turned the corner she asked me to pull over for a moment.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked, feeling very worried about what she was about to say. I wanted to blurt out, ‘It’s Keeley, isn’t it? What has she done?’ but I bit my tongue.

  Mum looked uneasy, like she wasn’t quite sure how to tackle this situation. Normally she’s very self-assured and forthright, so of course this added to my fears. I held my breath, wondering what was coming.

  ‘The thing is, Angela, I know that everything about the children is confidential, and you never tell me, or anybody else, anything about their backgrounds, do you?’

  ‘No, that’s right,’ I said slowly. ‘It’s always been like that, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But tonight, something happened that I think I need to tell you about. It’s something Keeley said, something I think I should share with you, because it might be very important.’

  My heart was thumping in my chest now.

  ‘Go on,’ I said, exhaling and then dragging in a deep breath. ‘If you think it’s important to tell me, please go ahead, and then I can decide if I need to pass it on to Social Services.’

  Mum put her hand on mine.

  ‘It’s terribly sad, Angela. I don’t know how you deal with these children, knowing what they’ve been through.’

  ‘What happened, Mum? Please, just tell me now.’

  ‘Well, the boys gave up on their film halfway through and asked if we could all play cards together. Keeley wasn’t keen because, as you know, she does like to have one’s full attention, doesn’t she? The boys said they’d teach her how to play a few games though, so she reluctantly agreed.

  ‘“I know how to play,” Keeley told them. She seemed to be quite angry when she said this, and I thought she was cross that they’d assumed she couldn’t play, perhaps because she was younger than them, and a girl . . .’

  Mum’s voice trailed off.

  ‘Go on, Mum,’ I encouraged.

  ‘Well, everything was fine to begin with. Keeley actually could play cards, very well indeed, as it happened. The boys were impressed, and so was I. I’ve never seen Keeley concentrate so hard. She was watching every move like a hawk and she won the first few games easily.’

  ‘And . . . then what happened?’

  ‘Well, Keeley lost a game, and then she went, well, I honestly don’t know how to describe it, Angela.’

  Mum looked forlorn and tongue-tied.

  ‘Did she lose her temper? Is that it? How did she react, Mum?’

  Mum was still clearly struggling to find the words but she took a sip of breath and gamely carried on.

  ‘Keeley panicked, Angela. I think that is the best word to describe it. She started shaking and crying hysterically. I’ve never seen anything like it. It was such a sudden and shocking reaction, like she’d seen a ghost, and been scared out of her skin. Then she ran away and locked herself in the bathroom. It took quite a lot of coaxing to get her to come out, and I’m
afraid I resorted to bribery.’

  My mother tapped her handbag and gave a weak smile. ‘I had a bag of pick and mix and I told her she could choose whatever she wanted. I hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘No, Mum, I don’t mind at all. I’m glad you were there. I’m glad you got her out of the bathroom.’

  ‘Yes, I was very relieved. She seemed to calm down quite quickly, once she’d had the sweets. I got her a glass of milk and asked her if she was all right, and did she want to talk about what happened. Eventually she said that she did want to talk about it, and then she told me something that I’m hoping might mean a little more to you than it does to me.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry to say that she told me if she lost at cards “Eric” made her do things to him.’

  ‘OK,’ I said, feeling an icy grip around my heart. ‘Thanks, Mum. Is that exactly what she said, and is there anything else at all?’

  Mum didn’t know that Eric was Keeley’s grandfather, and I wondered if this was deliberate from Keeley. Had she chosen not to call him granddad as she so often did, because she didn’t want my mum to know this detail?

  Mum thought for a moment before she spoke again.

  ‘Well, she said it was rude things that he made her do. “Eric made me do things if I lost at cards. Rude things.” That’s precisely what she said. I know you have to be careful about these things, and that’s why I was sitting in the kitchen when you came in. I wanted to remember it all as accurately as possible, and to tell you as soon as I could. I was thinking it through, and if you hadn’t come in as early as you had I was going to write it down.’

  I thanked my mum and reassured her that I would handle things from here on in, and that she didn’t need to worry about Keeley. ‘It’s very good that she has talked to you,’ I said. ‘I know it’s upsetting, but I think it can only be a positive thing for Keeley. Thank you for being there, and listening to her.’

  ‘Well, I hope you’re right, Angela, but what a dreadful thing for a young girl to have been through. I was very sorry I’d agreed to play cards.’

  ‘No, you shouldn’t be. You have done nothing wrong at all and, as I say, telling you might be a good thing; it might help her. Usually it helps when children talk, and unburden themselves of things that have upset them in the past.’

  The boys had apparently just shrugged and left Keeley to it, thinking she was simply having a particularly bad strop as she lost at cards, which was no bad thing. I have always been extremely cautious about protecting each child’s privacy within the house, and the last thing I wanted was for the boys to start speculating about Keeley’s past.

  I relayed the entire conversation to Jonathan, made the necessary notes and phoned Social Services as soon as possible. As a result, Joan arranged to come and see Keeley a few days later. I told Keeley why Joan was coming, gently explaining that the social worker needed to talk to her about what she had said to my mum about Eric.

  ‘Your mum’s an interfering old bag!’ she snapped.

  ‘Keeley, my mum cares about you a great deal. She had no choice but to pass on what you said to her. We all care about you, and that is why I have had to pass it on to Social Services. This needs to be looked into properly, and you know the rule. If there is something you say that I feel needs to be passed on, then I have to do so. It’s for your own good. That is the only reason this rule is in place, Keeley, to help you.’

  She stormed off and we didn’t discuss it again, but when Joan came round Keeley was polite and cooperative. I wasn’t present for the conversation, but afterwards Joan explained that Keeley had quite readily agreed to go to the police interview room in the next town, to talk about what her grandfather had done.

  I knew about this interview room from past experience with several other children. It’s a specially adapted room in an ordinary-looking house, designed to help children feel at ease by reducing the fear they might have about going to a police station to give an interview, or make a statement. The room is fitted out with cameras and tape recorders and there are dolls of both sexes, which the children can use to demonstrate what happened to them, in case they can’t find the words.

  Joan phoned later to give me the date and time of the appointment, which was after school at the end of the following week, and told me that she had explained to Keeley that Jonathan and I would be taking her there and back and waiting in another room while she talked to the police. We immediately started making arrangements for the shop to be staffed and for the boys to be babysat by my mother that afternoon, and I told Keeley that if she had any questions at all or just wanted to talk about the appointment then she should feel free.

  ‘No, thanks,’ she said rudely. ‘I don’t need your help.’

  18

  ‘You and Jonathan are bullying me’

  Ever since her arrival we’d continued having trouble trying to encourage Keeley to shower on a regular basis. I’d noticed that her knickers and school trousers were often damp when I came to wash them too, and she was still hiding wet knickers in her bedroom from time to time. I was constantly reminding Keeley to go to the toilet as soon as she needed to, and not to wait until she’d had a bit of an accident, but she clearly didn’t listen and refused to acknowledge there was even a problem.

  ‘But there is a problem, Keeley,’ I’d said on more than one occasion. ‘Your knickers are wet and your school trousers are damp.’

  ‘How can they be?’ she’d say. ‘I always go to the toilet when I need to.’

  ‘Well they are wet, Keeley, so you need to be more careful. It can’t be nice for you, walking around with damp clothes on.’

  Even when I found wet knickers hidden under her toys or in the corner of her room, which I did on a fairly regular basis, she wouldn’t admit a thing.

  ‘I don’t know how they got there,’ she’d say defiantly. ‘It wasn’t me.’

  ‘But who else was it, Keeley?’

  One time I was actually holding the wet underwear in my hand but Keeley still claimed she had no knowledge of how her knickers could have possibly got wet, or how they came to be stuffed under her rows of dolls.

  ‘Someone must have come in and spilt water in my room when I wasn’t looking,’ she said, and on another occasion she tried to completely ignore me and started talking very loudly to her dolls instead.

  ‘Who is doing this?’ she said to Jinty. ‘Somebody’s messing with me, and I’m going to get them for this!’

  She said the same thing when I tackled her about her hair, and why it looked like it had been cut in several random places, which I’d noticed after she was sick in the car.

  ‘No idea,’ she said brazenly, and even when I eventually found clumps of hair stashed under her pillow and rug she still claimed total ignorance.

  ‘I’ll get them,’ she said, waving her fist. ‘Whoever’s doing this to me, I’ll get them. Nobody messes with me!’

  The day after Keeley had agreed to go to the police interview house I told her she really needed to have a shower, as she’d made excuses the day before and I had reluctantly let her off because of the social worker’s visit. Now, though, her hair was overdue a wash and she didn’t smell very fresh at all. Despite the problems we’d had with the wet knickers and her resistance to take regular showers, up until now I’d tried to avoid getting into personal conversations about how Keeley smelled, because it’s such a sensitive issue and I didn’t want to upset or offend her. Most of the time she didn’t smell too bad – just not especially fresh – but on this particular day I couldn’t ignore it, as she smelled very strongly of urine.

  ‘You need to go and have a shower, Keeley,’ I said in the early evening. ‘I’d like you to go up now, please, because the boys will be in soon and they will both need to shower too.’

  ‘No,’ she said flatly. ‘I’m not having one. I don’t need one. I had one two days ago.’

  ‘Yes, you do need one, Keeley,’ I said.

  ‘Why?’
>
  ‘Well, you don’t want your friends in school to call you smelly, do you?’

  I didn’t say this lightly. I felt it was the only way to get through to Keeley when she was in such a defiant mood, and I really couldn’t let her off the hook again or she would have been absolutely stinking.

  ‘What friends? I don’t like anyone at school. Why would they call me smelly? If they do then they’re not my friends anyway, are they? I’ll sort them out!’

  I sighed. Thankfully, it wasn’t true that Keeley had no friends. In recent weeks she had started talking about a little girl called Ellie who lived a few streets away from us, and the two of them had begun to come out of school together every day, playing and chatting happily. I’d been delighted to see this, as I knew from Keeley’s records that she had never had a special friend before. There was even talk of Keeley being invited to Ellie’s house for tea and on a cinema trip, which was great news.

  ‘You do have friends,’ I said. ‘What about Ellie?’

  ‘What about Ellie?’

  ‘How would you feel if she thought you were smelly?’

  ‘Why would she think that?’

  ‘Because when you don’t have a shower and your clothing gets a bit damp then you smell of urine, Keeley, and it’s not a nice smell.’

  ‘What’s your ine?’ she said, scowling.

  ‘Urine – you spell it u-r-i-n-e – is wee. It’s what you smell of if you don’t wipe yourself properly when you have been to the toilet, or if you don’t go to the toilet quickly enough and you have a bit of an accident.’

  ‘I always wipe myself when I’ve had a poo,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, but you need to wipe yourself when you have a wee too.’

  ‘That’s daft. Why would I need to wipe myself then?’

  ‘Because if you don’t then your knickers get a bit wet, and then you get smelly. That’s just the way it is; it’s the same for everybody.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re calling me smelly! You’re not supposed to be nasty to me; I’m going to tell the social workers about this. I can’t smell anything at all. I think it’s all in your head, Angela.’