Damaged (10 page)

I felt like saying, ‘Well, read the bloody file then!’ but settled instead for a repeat of the more diplomatic, ‘I’d be grateful if you could give me any relevant background information. It’s even more important now.’

I put the phone down, frustrated. Really, this wasn’t something I should have had to tell her. Why hadn’t Jodie’s social worker familiarized herself with the case by now? She obviously still hadn’t read the file – neither had she been to visit Jodie yet. They barely knew each other and good social work practice said that she should be establishing a relationship with the child for whom she was legally responsible. Nor had she offered to come round now, to offer her support to Jodie and demonstrate her concern.

Thank goodness for Jill. She seemed to appreciate the gravity of the situation and phoned again to tell me that the strategy meeting had been convened for later the same morning. Because Jodie wasn’t in school, and it was too short notice to find a babysitter, Jill said she would go in my place, and let me know the outcome.

Sally, the guardian ad litum appointed by the court to represent Jodie’s interests, phoned next. I’d liked Sally right from the start: she showed exactly the right mix of professionalism and concern that reassured me that the right steps would be taken for Jodie. She called to hear from me in person the details of what had happened to Jodie – and she said how sorry she was, and how dreadful that the abuse had not been discovered before. She had to be objective, of course, but it was clear that Jodie’s case had touched her, and I appreciated her showing that. Once again, I repeated the details of Jodie’s disclosures. Sally thanked me for all I was doing, and gave me her home telephone number in case anything else should emerge.

Finally, the phone stopped ringing. I put the kettle on, and tried to settle Jodie with play dough, but she was having none of it. She was high on the frenzy of activity, rightly believing that it related to her. Luckily, Paula and Lucy arrived home from school, and they distracted her long enough to allow me to collect my thoughts.

A little while later, the phone rang again. It was Jill.

‘Hi, Cathy. I’m just calling to let you know the outcome of the strategy meeting. Contact with both of Jodie’s parents has been suspended with immediate effect, until further notice. Can you tell Jodie please?’

‘So she’s not seeing her mum either?’ I asked, surprised.

‘No. Until they know more, they’re playing safe.’

‘All right. I’ll explain to her. Goodness knows how she’ll take it.’

‘As we said earlier, it would be great if you could try and find out where the mother was while the abuse was taking place.’

‘I’ll try.’

‘Between you, me and the gatepost, this looks like one hell of a balls-up by Social Services. All hell’s broken loose while they try and find out how this could have happened.’

I hung up and looked at the clock; it was already 5.30, and I hadn’t even thought about dinner yet. I wearily went through to the conservatory, where Paula and Lucy were doing a good job helping Jodie model the dough. I decided to deal with the contact first, as I didn’t want her to feel in any way responsible for not seeing her parents.

‘I need to have a chat,’ I said to the girls. ‘I’ll explain later.’ They took my meaning and left. ‘Thanks for your help,’ I called after them.

‘I’ll explain later,’ Jodie repeated. I heard the girls laugh.

I squatted down beside her and began talking to her about being safe, keeping safe, and how safe she felt with me.

Obligingly she said, ‘I wasn’t safe with my daddy, was I, Cathy?’

‘No you weren’t, pet. And because of that, Eileen feels it would be better if you didn’t see either of your parents for a while, until it’s all sorted out.’

‘OK, Cathy,’ she said, not in the least perturbed. ‘I’ll tell her.’ Then she stood up, and started a conversation with herself, in which she told Jodie she wasn’t seeing Mummy or Daddy because she had to be safe.

That was too easy, I thought. It’s not normal. After all, she’d been with them for eight years. I’d dealt with many children who’d been neglected or even abused, and no matter what they’d been through, they always had some emotional connection with their parents. I’d never seen a reaction like this before. I moved on to the second matter of Mum’s presence during the abuse. Jodie sat down again, and picked up a lump of multicoloured dough.

‘Jodie, you know what you were telling me earlier? Can you remember where your mummy was while your daddy was in your bedroom?’

‘It’s a cat!’ she exclaimed, pulling the dough into an elongated pear shape.

‘Is it? That’s nice.’ I leaned closer. ‘Jodie, when your daddy was in your bedroom doing naughty things, where was your mummy?’

She shrugged and curled her tongue over her top lip in concentration.

‘Was she in the house, Jodie, or out? Did you tell her what he was doing?’

‘I told her,’ she said, thumping the dough with the palm of her hand. ‘I told her. I said I want a cat. Get me one now.’ Then she was off, in search of Toscha. I didn’t pursue it. I’d have to wait until she was ready.

Chapter Eleven

Cooking and Cleaning

I
n the middle of the night I was woken by the most terrifying screams. I didn’t have time for my dressing gown and slippers. I hurried out of bed and rushed on to the landing, dizzy from standing too quickly. I flung open Jodie’s bedroom door. She was on the floor thrashing from side to side, screaming at the top of her voice, gripped in a paroxysm of fear.

‘Jodie!’ I shouted, trying to break through her nightmare. ‘Jodie, it’s Cathy!’ But her screams drowned out my cry.

I dropped to my knees and took hold of her hands. Her face was screwed shut, and she was clawing at her eyes, trying to gouge them out. I pinned one arm under my knee, and the other above her head. She was fighting for all she was worth, and her strength was incredible, as though the demons had risen up to do battle against her.

‘Jodie! Open your eyes. It’s Cathy. You’re safe with me.’

Her teeth gnashed and her feet drummed the floor. I held on, and kept talking. ‘Jodie! You’re safe in your room. It’s a nightmare. Nothing can harm you here.’

The screams peaked, then died, and her body went limp. I heard a gush of water, then a stain appeared on her pyjamas. Her eyes flickered open, and her head slowly turned. She looked up at me, fixed and staring, then turned her head and vomited. It was like the end of a seizure.

‘All right, Jodie. It’s OK. Everything’s going to be all right.’

She murmured, and her eyes started to focus. I relaxed my grip, and cradled her against me. The smell of vomit and urine made my stomach heave. ‘You’re safe, Jodie. Nothing can harm you here. I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry, pet.’ I gently rocked her.

She whimpered, then wrapped her arms tightly around my waist. ‘I don’t want it in my mouth. Tell him. Tell him it makes me sick, Cathy.’

‘It won’t happen again, pet. I promise. You’re safe.’

‘I told her to make him stop. I did. But she wouldn’t listen.’

‘Who, Jodie? Who did you tell?’ She started to cry again. ‘It’s OK. Don’t worry. You can tell me when you’re ready. Only when you’re ready, pet.’

I held her until she was completely calm, then brought her to her feet, and led her to the bathroom. I cleaned us both, then helped her into a clean pair of pyjamas. She was silent and exhausted. I steered her round the landing and tucked her into bed, then sat on the floor next to her, stroking her hair.

Eventually, she fell asleep. I left the light on as I crept out of her room and gently closed the door. I returned to my bedroom for a clean nightdress, my dressing gown and slippers, then went downstairs. It was 3 a.m. Jodie’s screams must have woken the others, but they seemed to have turned over and gone back to sleep.

In the kitchen I filled a bucket with hot water, added some disinfectant and left our nightclothes to soak. There was little point in returning to bed yet. I wouldn’t be able to sleep – I was too full of Jodie’s suffering, and I half expected her to wake again any minute. I hadn’t seen anything like this before in any child I’d looked after, and it had left me stunned and drained. I leaned heavily against the work surface, and watched the clock on the oven tick over another minute. Toscha purred around my legs, uncertain if it was time for breakfast. I poured her a saucer of milk, then made myself a mug of tea.

My thoughts went to the packet of cigarettes on top of the broom cupboard. I’d put them there when I was giving up, six months ago. I had managed to quit by only having one when it was essential, and making them difficult to reach. I dragged the breakfast stool into place and climbed up. I felt a stab of guilt as I opened the packet and slid one out. The matches were in the childproof cupboard under the sink; I had thrown all the lighters away. I unlocked the back door and stepped outside. I’d never smoked in the house.

The night was cold and clear. I couldn’t see the moon, but the deep black sky was a blanket of twinkling stars. The cold air was a relief from the heavy atmosphere which now pervaded the house. The match flared in the darkness, as though highlighting my transgression. I held it to the tip and inhaled. I felt that old familiar rush, at once intoxicating and reassuring, then another surge of guilt, but I inhaled again, concentrating on the ritual, allowing myself to think of nothing else. By the time I’d finished, I wasn’t sure if I felt better or worse.

Returning inside, I put the matches back in the cupboard, and secreted the cigarettes in a more accessible drawer. It was still quiet upstairs, so I went into the lounge and switched on the television. There was ice hockey on Channel Five. I turned the volume down and gazed absently, while my thoughts travelled faster than the puck. Whatever had that child suffered? I could only begin to guess. And who was this ‘her’ whom she had told? Her mum? An aunt? A teacher at school? I was amazed that nothing had been picked up before. Jodie had been on the at-risk register since birth, so she should have been visited by social workers every couple of months. I couldn’t believe that none of them noticed anything untoward in her relationship with her father, as it sounded like the abuse had been going on for years. Surely her mother must have known – but that was another avenue that I couldn’t bear to go down yet. At some point I must have dropped off, for suddenly the ice rink had been transformed into a weather map, and dark rain clouds were covering most of southern England. The clock in the corner of the screen said it was nearly 6.30, and the house was still silent. Perhaps telling me about the abuse had proved cathartic for Jodie; perhaps she’d be less disturbed as a result. I crept upstairs, and took the opportunity for a long, relaxing shower. As the hot water drummed on to my neck and shoulders, I felt the tension dissipate, and prepared myself for a new day.

As I dressed, I felt rejuvenated and ready for action. I hung up the towels, and heard Jodie stir. Within minutes she was off, screaming abuse and trashing her room. I went in and tried to resettle her. When this failed, I told her off, and when that failed, I ended up having to remove the television as a punishment.

Fearful of the damage she might do if left unattended, I allowed her downstairs to breakfast with Lucy and Paula, which turned out to be a massive error of judgement. From the moment she sat down, she tormented the girls by poking and kicking, digging her spoon into their breakfasts, and generally making herself disagreeable. Paula left most of her Weetabix, in a bid to escape, while Lucy finally gave her a tap on the hand and flounced off to finish her toast in her bedroom. By the time Adrian appeared, my nerves were in tatters, and my morning serenity had all but vanished.

‘What you staring at?’ she demanded as he sat down. Jodie seemed to have a particular fear of being looked at, and was never happy if she felt she was being observed, getting upset with whoever was looking at her. I’d noticed when she arrived that she avoided eye contact and preferred to look at people’s chests when they were talking to her. Similarly, she’d never been able to relax, always jumping if someone walked into the room as if she was on constant alert and ready to take flight if she had to. I hadn’t really thought about it before, but now, in the light of what she’d told me, everything took on a sinister significance.

Adrian shifted awkwardly and concentrated on his breakfast.

I saw her grin, that ghoulish contortion of her face, then quick as a flash she scooped up a handful of porridge, and hurled it at him.

‘Jodie! Stop that!’ I cried, and took her bowl away. ‘That was naughty. Now I’ve got to clean his blazer. Look at the mess you’ve made.’

She sneered. ‘That’s what you’re here for. To clean and cook. Get on with it, bitch.’

Adrian couldn’t believe what he’d heard, and neither could I.

‘I beg your pardon?’ I said. She looked as if she was about to repeat it so I interrupted. ‘Don’t you dare say that. If you think I’ve got nothing better to do than clean up after you, you’re very much mistaken. You’ve lost your television today, and if there’s any more it’ll be for the rest of the week.’

I washed her hands, sponged down Adrian’s blazer, then cleared away the breakfast things. I didn’t speak to Jodie or make eye contact with her. I wanted her to feel my disapproval. I appreciated that she had suffered a great deal in her life, but the only hope for her future was for her to try and understand how to function in a normal family and in society. She had to learn what behaviour was acceptable and what kind of treatment of others was entirely wrong.

Only when I’d loaded the dishwasher and seen Adrian, Lucy and Paula off to school did I make the peace. ‘No more swearing or throwing things around. Do you understand? It’s naughty, and you’re not a naughty girl.’

‘No. I’m sorry, Cathy,’ she said, temporarily chastened.

‘OK. Would you like me to read you a story now?’

‘Yes please, Cathy.’

I gave her a hug, and we went into the lounge, where she picked up half a dozen books and dumped them on my lap. We sat side by side on the sofa, and Jodie asked for another hug. I put my arms around her, and thought now might be a good time to ask her about her mum, as she was subdued and reasonably cooperative.

‘Before I start, Jodie, I want to ask you something about last night. You remember you were upset and I came into your room?’ She looked at me blankly, which was nothing unusual, so I decided to continue. ‘You said you told someone about what Daddy was doing? You said you told her to make him stop.’ She was still looking at me, and her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to remember. ‘Jodie, who was it that you told? Can you remember? I know it was a woman because you said “her”.’

She pulled slightly away, and took the top book off the pile. ‘Free ’ickle pigs. I told the free ’ickle pigs, and they blew my house down.’

I smiled inwardly at this quite witty diversion. ‘No, you didn’t. Now be sensible. It’s important.’

‘Can’t remember. Can’t. Really, I can’t, Cathy.’

‘OK darling, let’s read.’

That afternoon, I phoned Jill, and told her I hadn’t had any success. ‘She genuinely doesn’t seem to remember. I’ll have to wait until she’s ready.’

‘OK. You’re doing everything you can, Cathy. This is not unheard of. In some cases, when a child is emotionally traumatized, the brain can shut down to protect the child from the horrendous memories. Once the child feels safe again, they may be able to release a bit more, but only to the extent that the brain feels able to cope with it.’

It sounds like a mechanism I could do with, I thought to myself. I finished my conversation with Jill feeling a little comforted. I could only hope that this was a turning point for Jodie. Now that she’d been able to reveal what had happened to her, perhaps she would begin to get better.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.