Damaged (24 page)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Goodbye

O
n the morning of the move Jodie refused breakfast and sat at the kitchen table, waiting impatiently. I finished my coffee, then began stacking her cases in the hall. She stood at the bottom of the stairs watching me, but turned her back when I asked her if she wanted to help. Eventually all the bags were piled up in the hallway, just as they had been a year before.

‘Where are we going?’ asked Jodie, trying to reach her coat.

I lifted it down. ‘To High Oaks. Remember? You’re going to your new home.’

‘Oh goody. Is it today? I thought it was next year.’ Next year, next week, it was all the same to Jodie.

Adrian, Lucy and Paula got up early so they could see us off before going to school. They gathered in the hallway, uncertain what to say. Paula took the lead and tried to give Jodie a hug, but she stuck out her tongue and turned sideways.

‘We’ll miss you, Jodie,’ Lucy said, ‘and we’ll speak to you soon.’ Jodie just shrugged. She seemed to be quite indifferent to the parting, even though it was obvious Paula and Lucy were quite upset. The three of them helped me load the car, then stood on the doorstep waving.

‘You going home?’ asked Jodie, as we pulled out of sight.

‘I will be once I’ve settled you, yes.’

‘Good. Don’t want you. I’ve got Betty. You can go home, Cathy.’

I knew this was her way of dealing with the separation. She was feeling an emotion, but couldn’t acknowledge what it was, or even that she was feeling it.

‘I’ll phone you on Saturday,’ I said. ‘And when Betty and Ron tell me it’s OK, we’ll all come and visit.’

‘Don’t want to,’ she said again. ‘Hate you all.’

She’d only been awake for an hour, but she was soon asleep again. She had been reasonably quiet in the night but, as I glanced back at her, lying on the back seat, I wondered how well she could have slept. I turned the radio on low, then switched it off again; the busy string quartet only added to my gloom. I concentrated on driving, and reminded myself of all the positive aspects of where Jodie was going. Nonetheless I kept returning to the guilty question that made me feel hollow inside: had I really done all I could to help her?

When we arrived at High Oaks Jodie still had her eyes closed, but I sensed that she wasn’t asleep.

‘Jodie, pet.’ I gently rocked her shoulder. ‘We’re here. Shall we go and find Ron and Betty?’

Her eyelids flickered, then opened, and she smiled directly at me. She gave me her hand, and I helped her scramble out. Ron and Betty appeared on the doorstep, but Jodie dashed straight past them and up to her room. The three of us went inside, and had coffee in the lounge. As it was a weekday, the children were having lessons in the playroom and I could hear the steady hum of their voices as we talked. We completed the paperwork and I handed over Jodie’s bank book, where I’d been depositing five pounds a week. The allowance from the Social Services that is supposed to cover pocket money and treats is minuscule, so I made it up with my own money to a half decent sum to provide a little fund for the future. It was the only money of her own Jodie would have.

I also handed over the book in which I had kept a record of the things we had done, and which I knew would be part of her life story work.

‘This looks good,’ said Ron, flicking through the pages and seeing photographs of us all and the places we had been, pasted-in drawings, bus tickets, train tickets, pamphlets and other memorabilia from days out. I had written a few lines under each entry, with an explanation and the date.

‘Great,’ he said. ‘This will really help with the life story work, and of course we’ll be continuing it here as well. It’s one of the best I’ve seen. So many foster parents don’t seem to have the time to do it, and it’s so important for these children to have evidence of their past, particularly when they start therapy. Hopefully Jodie’s social worker will be able to give us some things as well, from the time before she came to you.’

Don’t count on it, I thought, but said nothing.

Ron smiled. ‘You’ve done magnificently for Jodie, you really have. Thanks, Cathy. She couldn’t have asked for better.’

I welcomed Ron’s praise. I already greatly admired the work he and Betty did at High Oaks, and a compliment from him was valued and much appreciated.

Before I knew it, it was time to leave, and Ron advised me to make my departure as brief and low key as possible. While Jodie played in her room we unloaded the car and stacked the cases in the hall. When we were finished I stood there uncertainly, wondering if I should just slip out.

‘I’ll fetch her,’ Betty said, sensing my indecision. ‘It’s important to say goodbye.’

I waited with Ron while Betty disappeared upstairs. A child’s voice erupted in the playroom, followed by the soothing tone of the teacher.

‘Try not to worry,’ Ron said. ‘Really, she’ll be fine.’

Betty appeared on the landing, holding Jodie’s hand, and as they descended they counted down the steps together, just as we had at home. ‘Eleven, twelve, thirteen …’ Jodie hesitated.

‘Fourteen?’ I offered.

‘That’s right, Cathy, but let Betty do it. It’s her job now.’

I couldn’t help but smile. ‘I’m going now, Jodie. Will you give me a hug goodbye?’

She rolled her eyes, then held out her arms sullenly, waiting for me to come to her. I walked over, bent down and put my arms around her. She was stiff and unwilling, but then as I moved to pull away I suddenly felt her arms tighten round my waist. Her head pressed against my stomach. I stroked her hair and blinked back my tears. This would be the last time I hugged her like this, I knew that. I tried to put everything I could into that last embrace: how much I cared for her, how I hoped that she would get better – and how sorry I was that I hadn’t been able to help her in the way she needed. She had been the most testing of all the children I’d fostered, and yet that had brought a bond of such closeness that it was difficult to let go, even though I knew it was for the best.

After a few moments I eased her away and drew back. ‘OK, sweet, I’ll be off now and leave you to unpack. I’ll phone in a couple of days.’

‘Where you going?’ she asked, frowning.

‘Home, pet. I have to do the housework, then make Adrian, Lucy and Paula their dinner. You’ll be busy too.’

She moved towards Betty, looping her arm around her waist, and snuggled into her side. ‘OK, Cathy, I understand. This is my home now, and Amy’s. You go. Bye.’

I glanced at Betty, then turned towards the door. Jodie was behind me, repeating her explanation to Amy. ‘Betty looks after us now.’

Ron opened the front door, and I crossed the gravel towards the car. I didn’t look back until I was in my seat. The three of them gave a little wave, then disappeared inside.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Progress

T
he house was quiet save for the intermittent ringing of the phone. I listened as the answer phone clicked in, then turned over and closed my eyes. Was it the same person, or a number of different callers? It didn’t matter. I’d deal with it in my own time.

It was the day after Jodie had left. I’d gone back to bed after seeing the children off to school, and although I didn’t sleep, the enveloping warmth of the duvet safely embraced and cocooned me. Had she slept, I wondered, or had she been plagued by nocturnal demons? What was she doing now? It was mid-morning. Was she in the playroom, out for a walk, or finishing her unpacking? Was she happy? Or had she been taken over by one of her characters? How was she engaging with the other children? That was my biggest concern. Would they be more tolerant, having had similar experiences to hers? Or would their anger and bitterness turn on the stranger in their midst? I feared for her, but I knew I had to let go.

The phone rang again and I snatched it up.

‘Cathy?’ It was Jill. ‘Sorry to disturb you, but I thought you’d want to know. The police have picked up Jodie’s parents, and three of the granddads and uncles, and they’re going to charge them. The Smiths have accused them of abusing their daughter, and the police have got evidence this time.’

My mind snapped into focus as I pulled myself up the bed. ‘The Smiths.’

‘You remember. Jodie’s neighbours? They stopped their daughter, Louise, going round to play.’

‘Yes, yes, I know, but I thought they wanted to give the parents a character reference?’

‘They did, until all this came out. DNA has identified Jodie’s father and others. The police raided the house, and found thousands of photographs. It is a paedophile ring, and it looks pretty widespread.’

I stared at the curtains, with the floral pattern illuminated by the morning sun. The enormity of what was happening suddenly hit me. The burden of proof had at last swung in Jodie’s favour. There was a chance that she would get justice and that the vile people who had abused her would be punished.

‘Eileen wants to know if you’ll give evidence. I said I was sure you would. And they’ll need your log. I’ll arrange to have it collected.’

I was still staring straight ahead, as the peonies on the curtains glowed fiery red. ‘Yes, of course, anything. Oh, thank goodness. Do they know when it started? Have they got any idea?’

‘They’re still investigating, but apparently some of the photos show Jodie very young.’

I paused. ‘Eighteen months. That’s when her development stopped.’

‘Yes. And there’s some before that. I’ll keep you posted.’

I replaced the receiver and remained sitting up in bed. I thought of poor Louise Smith, who had suffered despite her parents having been warned, because they’d failed to take action. How many others had had their lives ruined because Jodie had been ignored? All those years she had been on the at-risk register, supposedly receiving regular visits from social workers, yet no one had noticed anything untoward.

I thought of Jodie’s parents, and remembered something I’d been told during training on sexual abuse, some years before. The speaker had said that paedophiles were harder to catch than other criminals, because they didn’t believe they were doing anything wrong, so they didn’t act guilty.

Heaving myself out of bed, I walked along the landing and into Jodie’s room. The emptiness was stark, compared with the cluttered chaos of before. The room still smelled of Jodie, that personal scent which individualizes us all, the most evocative reminder of an absent friend or relative. I stared at the bed, which hadn’t been touched since she’d left. Dust motes hung in the shaft of sunlight. I stood silently, taking in the lingering presence of Jodie, still palpable, as though at any moment she could have reached out and touched me. As I turned to leave, I caught sight of an envelope propped on the chest of drawers behind the door. ‘Cathy’ was printed on the front, in what appeared to be Paula’s handwriting. I picked it up and opened it. Inside was a sheet of lined paper, torn from an exercise book.

Dear Cathy
,

Paula is writing this as I don’t know my words. It was kind
of you to look after me and I wish I could have stayed. I’m
sorry for all the bad things I did. I can’t help it. Something
makes me. You are the only person who has looked after me
and not got angry. I think you understand. I hope you forgive
me. Adrian, Lucy and Paula are very lucky. When they have
made me better can I come and live with you? Will you be my
new mummy? I don’t want my old one
.

Love
,

Jodie

 She’d signed her name herself, and the rest of the page was filled with kisses in red crayon. I looked up, and my eyes brimmed. Somehow I had reached her. It made everything worthwhile. It helped to assuage some of my sense of failure.

Yes, Jodie, of course I will. Whenever you’re ready, pet.

Epilogue

In those first few months she would phone regularly. Clare or Val would make the call, we’d have a brief chat, and then they’d hand the phone over to Jodie. Usually she was calling to complain about Clare or Val, because they weren’t letting her do exactly as she wanted. I would listen patiently as that familiar voice shouted, ‘I’m bleedin’ going to kick ’em!’, and then I’d try to reason with her, to get her to understand that her carers’ requests were for her own good, just as mine had been.

Although we were frequently in touch, Jodie rarely gave us any sign of affection. I could tell she felt rejected and upset about the move, and she made this clear every time we visited. As we prepared to leave I would try to hug her, but instead of returning the affection she would wallop me on the arm or, worse, stand sullen and silent.

What we did during our visits varied, depending on Jodie’s mood. If she was reasonably stable we might go bowling, or to the park, or some local site of interest, usually followed by lunch at Pizza Hut, which had become her favourite. If she was having a bad day we’d stay in the house, playing in the home corner, with Jodie making dinner on the toy oven or remonstrating with her baby doll.

But however hostile she’d been she would always ask when our next visit was going to be, and phone within the week. After about six months she managed to say goodbye properly at the end of a visit, without thumping me, and it felt like a breakthrough. We praised her immensely. Jodie never spoke of her feelings, except of the hatred she still felt for her father, so all we could do was to try and interpret the few clues she gave. She never told me she resented me or felt rejected. Equally, she never said she missed us or looked forward to seeing us. I felt that her finally being able to say goodbye was a good sign, as it suggested she was reconciled to being at High Oaks, if nothing else.

During this time there was some discussion about whether to start contact between Jodie and her brother and sister, who had been found an adoptive family. In the end the decision was made to leave things as they were. Jodie hardly ever mentioned her siblings, except during therapy, and the general feeling was that they weren’t close, so it would be best to allow Ben and Chelsea to have a fresh start. In many respects Jodie had lost her childhood, but they still had theirs, having been taken into care that much younger and, it was thought, having escaped the kind of abuse Jodie had suffered.

Jodie did make progress at High Oaks, but her therapy and recovery were hampered by her learning difficulties. A CAT scan revealed brain damage, which had probably been caused by repeated blows to the head when she was an infant. Perhaps as a result of this, there was little progress in Jodie’s education, speech or motor skills, even though her behaviour did show some improvement.

Jodie put on a lot of weight at High Oaks, and quickly. She had been overweight when she had come to me, but I had managed to stabilize it. At High Oaks, however, some of the children were anorexic, so the house policy was to allow the children to eat pretty much what they liked. Jodie, given a free rein, had two helpings of everything, and within months the rolls of fat had reappeared round her middle and thighs.

In the months after Jodie left, the two court cases took place: the final care hearing, and the criminal prosecution of the abusers. The care hearing came first, and resulted in Full Care Orders for Jodie, Ben and Chelsea, which in practice meant that they all remained where they were.

During the care hearing my logs were requested by the judge to be used as evidence, but I didn’t have to attend in person.

A few months later the criminal case was heard. The crimes against Jodie weren’t actually included in the charges, as there was felt to be insufficient evidence. Instead, Jodie’s father and the other men were charged in respect of another child, and the possession and making of indecent photographs. Again, I had no involvement in the court case, and I only found out the outcome from Jill. Jodie’s father and two other men were found guilty on all charges. Jodie’s mother, and two other defendants, were acquitted. The three convicted men were all given custodial sentences.

Jodie had been on the at-risk register since birth, and by the time she was taken into care she’d had more than fifty visits to casualty, with injuries including broken bones, burns, scalds and cuts. Jodie’s Social Services file was apparently so large that it filled two suitcases.

Jodie’s case history was a catalogue of errors, and a shameful indictment of the failings of the Social Services. For Jodie to have been on the at-risk register for eight years was bad practice in itself. Children are placed on the register to allow Social Services to monitor and investigate; either an investigation should take place, or Social Services should satisfy themselves that everything is in order, with the child then being removed from the register. In Jodie’s case, neither course was followed.

One reason for this appears to have been the high turnover of social workers: there had been over twenty involved in Jodie’s case. It appears that Jodie’s social workers had avoided making visits to the house, or had allowed themselves to be intimidated into not asking the proper questions. As a result of this intimidation, the family were frequently passed on to new social workers.

As bad as this sounds, I did have some sympathy. The majority of social workers are women, and they are expected to visit violent households on their own. They are frequently attacked, but they hardly ever press charges, because their job requires them to try to build a relationship with these parents. As a result, parents who know the system know that they can treat social workers with impunity. In this context it’s no wonder that some social workers avoid visiting aggressive families, or accept unconvincing excuses.

As the Brown family were passed from one weary social worker to the next, their file at Social Services quickly expanded – social workers are plagued by paperwork. The file soon became prohibitively large, in that its sheer size meant that no one involved in the case seemed to have time to read the whole thing. If anyone had seen the overall picture, including all of Jodie’s hospital visits, they would surely have acted sooner. However, Jodie’s case isn’t the first to be overlooked in this way, and, sadly, I doubt it will be the last.

Today, three years on, Jodie continues to make slow, limited progress. Much of her anxiety has gone, and she’s probably as happy as she’s ever going to be. The intensive therapy has helped her to bring the various parts of her personality together, and Amy and Reg now make only rare appearances. She feels safe at High Oaks, and knows that the protection of those identities is no longer needed.

Jodie is now in a special school. As she has grown older her learning difficulties have become increasingly apparent. When I take her out, people now treat her like a disabled child, going out of their way to speak to her, behaving with exaggerated kindness. She’s very overweight, and this makes her even more cumbersome and accident-prone. Her delayed development and poor speech are also obvious, and every year she falls further behind her peers. At some point, perhaps quite soon, she will reach her ceiling in terms of what she can learn, and her disability will become even more pronounced in contrast to her peers.

She rarely mentions her parents now, other than in the context of her ongoing therapy. She does exchange birthday and Christmas cards with Ben and Chelsea, and she has spoken to them on the phone once. This phone call, however, was not a success, and is unlikely to be repeated, as she became very confused and hostile. Much of what happened to Jodie remains deeply buried, and will probably stay buried indefinitely. Only time will tell.

The children and I still visit Jodie, making the return trip of two hundred miles every four to six weeks. We also speak to her on the phone most weeks. On our most recent visit, Paula and I took her to a steak house (as a change from pizza) and while we waited for our order to arrive Jodie suddenly looked directly at Paula and said, ‘I like your top. It’s very pretty.’ We were delighted. It was the first compliment we’d ever heard Jodie offer, and it suggested real progress, as it showed the beginnings of empathy: Jodie had complimented Paula because she wanted to make her feel good, and because she wanted us to like her.

I still find it hard to understand what happened to Jodie. I can somehow accept that there are parents who neglect their children, through drink or drugs or mental illness, and whose cruelty is a side-effect of other problems. But the dreadful abyss that Jodie lived in is a mystery of such darkness and evil that it beggars belief. When I look at my own children and, thank goodness, the majority of children, who are loved and cared for and nurtured, it is hard to comprehend the mindset of parents who seem to care nothing for their child, and do not simply neglect her but actively set about destroying her for their own perverted gratification.

Jodie is a damaged child. She has been vandalized. Her mental processes and her emotions have been destroyed. I doubt she will ever recover sufficiently to lead a normal life, and she will never get the pleasure from life that should have been hers. She has been condemned to an endless punishment by the very people who should have cared for her the most. To me, that is the worst crime imaginable.

I still visit Jodie at High Oaks. Many of the children who were there when Jodie arrived have now left, having recovered enough to move on to long-term foster families. Whether Jodie will ever be able to do the same remains to be seen, but if ever she can, and I’m not too old, my offer stands. And I am still fostering. There’s always another child out there who needs help.