Girl Alone: Joss came home from school to discover her father’s suicide. Angry and hurting, she’s out of control. (15 page)

‘No.’

‘And she’s not there now?’

‘No.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. I take it you thought she’d been attending?’

‘Yes,’ I said, feeling a complete fool and badly let down.

‘Do you want to cancel the course? We can’t give you a refund for this week, but we could for the other three weeks if you tell us now.’

‘I don’t know.’ I sighed. ‘No, leave it for now. Hopefully she’ll be there next week.’

‘All right. If not, let us know as soon as possible. Then we can refund for the two weeks left and also offer the place to someone else. There’s a waiting list for these short courses.’

I apologized, said I’d phone as soon as I knew and then said goodbye.

I was fuming. Not only because Joss had wasted my money and stopped someone else from taking the place on the course, but because of her barefaced dishonesty. The trouble with anger is that it eats away at you like a canker, and so it gnawed at me for the rest of the day, although I tried not to let it. I knew I should be calm when I confronted Joss or there would be an argument, which would achieve nothing. Paula was in that afternoon and knew something was wrong, but I didn’t tell her what. I never discuss one child’s negative behaviour with another unless it has a direct bearing on them.

When Joss came home at five o’clock I told her to go into the front room, which was free, as I needed to talk to her.

‘Why?’ she asked, the picture of innocence. ‘I need to do my school work so I can go out later.’

‘You can do your work when we’ve spoken,’ I said very firmly.

She could see I meant what I said, and without further protest she followed me into the front room where I closed the door so the others wouldn’t hear.

I could have toyed with her. Having the upper hand meant I could have asked her if she’d enjoyed ice skating and then caught her out with her lies, but that wouldn’t have helped our relationship, so I came straight to the point.

‘Joss, one of the staff at the leisure centre telephoned me this morning and said you weren’t there. Why weren’t you there?’

She looked surprised. ‘I didn’t feel well, so I went to Chelsea’s and had a rest,’ she said, ready with another lie.

‘And Monday and Wednesday? What happened then?’

‘They told you about that too?’

‘Yes, of course. Did you think they wouldn’t?’

She shrugged and looked away.

‘Joss, I’m very disappointed. Not only have you lied to me and wasted my money, you’ve stopped someone else going on the course. Someone who wanted to go. I don’t understand.’

She shrugged again and kept her eyes down.

‘Why didn’t you go?’ I persisted. ‘You enjoyed ice skating when we all went. You agreed to go on the course and you knew I’d booked and paid for it.’

‘I didn’t fancy going alone,’ she said.

‘You wouldn’t have been alone. There are others in the class.’

‘But I don’t know any of them,’ she said, finally meeting my gaze with a frown.

Joss, usually so full of bravado, was telling me she hadn’t gone ice skating because she didn’t know anyone!

‘You would have soon made friends,’ I said. ‘Everyone is in the same position on these short courses. You all get talking and make friends.’

Joss looked at me pathetically, and although I was annoyed I could appreciate that a teenager might feel self-conscious walking into a group where she didn’t know anyone.

‘It’s a pity you didn’t tell me how you felt sooner,’ I said, softening my tone. ‘You could have asked a friend to go – Chelsea, if she’d wanted to. But that’s not an option now; the course is full.’

‘Chelsea couldn’t have afforded it anyway,’ Joss said sullenly. ‘Her dad’s never got any money.’

‘Joss,’ I said seriously, ‘if Chelsea had wanted to go and that’s what it took to get you there, I would have happily paid for her too.’

Joss held my gaze and for a moment I thought she was going to apologize or say something nice, but the moment passed.

‘I understand it can be difficult walking into a room full of people you don’t know,’ I continued evenly. ‘I have to do it at some of the meetings I attend in connection with fostering. I can feel my heart racing and my stomach churning, but once I’m in the room and I start talking to others I relax. Most people feel the same. You coped well at your review, so I’m sure you can handle this. Will you go on Monday?’

‘They’ll all know each other now,’ Joss bemoaned. ‘They’ve had a week to make friends.’ She had a point.

‘But there’s always room for one more friend,’ I said. ‘And most of the time you will be skating. You won’t be standing alone, I’m sure. Will you try it on Monday, Joss? And if you really don’t like it, I’ll cancel the rest of the course.’

‘OK,’ she said.

‘Good girl.’ It was a small triumph.

Joss attended the ice-skating class on Monday – I telephoned and checked – and when she returned home at dinnertime she said she wanted to continue going as there was another girl in the class she knew from school, and they’d teamed up. I praised her, and Joss agreed that she was glad she’d given the course a chance. However, the good feeling I had from this (small) achievement was to be short-lived. On Tuesday evening, while Joss was out, Linda telephoned with news I didn’t want to hear.

‘Has Joss told you?’ she began anxiously.

‘Told me what?’

‘About the car they set fire to.’

‘No!’

‘Joss and some others were seen running away from a car they’d set fire to on the estate. Apparently it belonged to some chap they thought was a paedophile and they decided to teach him a lesson. Someone called the police and they arrested a couple of the gang, but Joss and the others ran off. The police have been here; they’ve just left. They want to talk to Joss. I told them she was in foster care and I’ve given them your address.’

‘The silly, silly girl,’ I sighed. ‘Joss knows she has to stay out of trouble. When was this?’

‘Friday evening.’

‘Who else was involved? Do you know?’

‘The police didn’t say, but it was a large gang that is known to them. Joss seems to gravitate towards trouble. It draws her like a magnet. She never used to be like this.’ Linda’s voice fell away.

‘I’ll talk to her when she returns,’ I said, aware that this would probably do little good.

‘I thought I should warn you,’ Linda said.

‘Yes, thank you.’

There wasn’t much else we could say – we’d said it all before – and I think we both knew that this time Joss had gone too far.

I was as fed up and worried as Linda was with Joss’s negative, self-destructive behaviour, and when Joss came in that night – half an hour late and reeking of smoke – I told her straight away that her mother had telephoned and what she’d said. Joss actually had the cheek to smirk.

‘I don’t see anything funny, Joss. You’re in trouble with the police again!’

‘They can’t prove I was there,’ she said cockily. ‘They haven’t got any evidence. I outran one of the coppers,’ she boasted. ‘Charlie got caught, but she can’t run as fast as me.’

‘Who’s Charlie?’ I asked.

‘Someone I know,’ she said evasively.

‘Joss, the police have been to your mother’s and they will come here, to interview you about an arson attack. That’s a very serious crime. They must have evidence you were at the scene or they wouldn’t want to speak to you.’

‘The coppers recognized me from the mall,’ Joss said. ‘But they can’t prove anything. I’ll say I wasn’t there. Chelsea will give me an alibi. It’s only the police’s word against mine.’ She looked pleased with herself.

‘And you think the court is going to believe you and Chelsea over police officers?’ I asked incredulously.

‘Even if they don’t, I’ll only get another caution,’ she said contemptuously.

‘
Only
another caution!’ My voice rose. ‘You shouldn’t have any cautions at all! You still don’t get it, do you, Joss? After everything your mother and I have said to you, you still can’t see that your behaviour is wrong. I really thought that after our chat the other week you were going to make a big effort to change – for the sake of your father.’

‘Well, he’s not here, is he?’ Joss retorted sharply. ‘So I can do what I fucking well want.’

‘No, you can’t,’ I said.

She turned and stomped upstairs to her room.

When I checked on her later she was asleep, and then the following morning I woke her at 8.30 to go ice skating. I always start each day afresh, a new leaf, another beginning, and Joss was in a better mood. At breakfast she managed to ask Paula how her tennis course was going. Paula said she was enjoying it and they chatted for a while. Before Joss left the house that morning she asked me if she could have some extra money for a snack at break time and I gave her a couple of pounds. As I saw her off at the door, I wished her a nice day and said I’d see her later. Although I would have liked for Joss to return home straight after ice skating and spend the afternoon with us, I had to be realistic and manage my expectations, so I assumed she would be back around five o’clock for her dinner, as she had been doing.

When she hadn’t returned by six o’clock I began to worry. She hardly ever missed dinner; she liked her food regardless of the mess the rest of her life was in. At 6.45 I telephoned Homefinders, the agency I fostered for, for some advice. Jill wasn’t there, but a colleague, Trisha, was covering the out-of-hours service and I explained my concerns. She said that as it was only early evening I should wait until 9.30 had passed – the time Joss had to be home – before I reported her missing to the police, but to call her again if I had any more concerns or if she wasn’t back by then. I thanked her and we said goodbye.

If a teenager who normally arrived home on time and didn’t have a history of going missing failed to come home when expected, the parent or carer would call the police and report them missing much sooner. But with a young person like Joss, who was often very late back, there was some leeway before action needed to be taken and limited police resources were deployed. Yet, while part of me said that Joss wasn’t in danger and would appear at some point as if nothing was wrong, I also acknowledged that this could be the one time when she was in danger and I was sitting here doing nothing.

When I answered the phone at 7.50 and heard Joss’s voice I was very relieved. ‘Oh, Joss. I’m so glad you’ve phoned,’ I said. ‘I’m not angry with you, but I am worried. Where are you?’

‘At Chelsea’s.’ I could hear rap music and loud voices in the background. ‘I thought I should phone you and let you know I’m not coming home tonight. I’m staying at Chelsea’s.’

My spirits fell.

Children in care, like any other children, can occasionally stay overnight at a friend’s house, providing the carer approves and is satisfied the child will be safe. The litmus test for the carer is: would I let my own child stay there overnight? And in this instance I certainly would not.

‘Not tonight, love,’ I said. ‘You haven’t got any of your things with you.’

‘Chelsea’s got night clothes I can borrow,’ Joss said. I heard the two of them laugh and I could guess why: Chelsea was twice the size of Joss, so Joss would look ridiculous in Chelsea’s clothes. ‘I want to stay,’ she said.

‘Is Chelsea’s father there?’ I asked.

There was silence, some whispering and then Joss said, ‘Yes.’

‘Can I talk to him, please?’

More silence and whispering and then Joss said, ‘He’s sleeping, and we’re not allowed to disturb him.’

‘Are Zach and Carl there?’

‘Not sure,’ Joss said.

Then Chelsea’s voice came on the line, ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Glass, I’ll look after Joss for you.’ There was more laughing and then the phone went dead.

I tried calling back a few times but no one answered, and then I telephoned Homefinders

‘Joss isn’t missing,’ I told Trisha. ‘She’s at the flat of a friend, Chelsea. She wants to stay the night, but I’m not happy with that. I’ve been to the flat and there appears to be no parental control. I found her drinking and smoking cannabis with two much older lads. I’m going to collect her now.’

‘All right, Cathy. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll make a note and update Jill in the morning. If there’s a problem call me. I’m on duty all night.’

‘Thank you. I will.’

Lucy was out for the evening but Adrian and Paula were in. I told them that I was going to collect Joss and to let Lucy know where I was if she was back before me. I said I’d be about half an hour and called goodbye as I left.

As a foster carer I’d had to collect children before from places they weren’t supposed to be, or where they’d stayed too late, or even from the police station, so I wasn’t particularly fazed by the prospect of collecting Joss again from Chelsea’s flat. I was more concerned that she was there at all. I assumed I’d find the two of them with Zach and Carl, smoking and drinking, as I had before. Joss would be angry with me, but so be it. She was my responsibility and I was doing what I thought was right to protect her.

Fifteen minutes later I was parking on the main road a little way from the parade of shops where Chelsea lived. It was 8.30 p.m. so still reasonably light in early August. The evening was mild and there were others walking along the streets. The off-licence was open and doing a good trade, but the rest of the shops in the parade were closed and shuttered. As I approached the building I could hear rap music coming from one of the flats above the shops, although none of the windows at the front were open. I went round to the rear and began up the metal stairs where it became immediately obvious the music was coming from Chelsea’s flat. The upper windows were wide open. Pity the poor residents of the other flats, I thought, some of whom had their windows open. One door I passed had a child’s tricycle outside on the landing, and I wondered how the poor child slept if this music blasting out was a regular occurrence.

The chipped blue door to Chelsea’s flat was shut, so I tapped on it loudly with the small rusty door knocker. No one answered; I doubted they could hear me over the music. I tried pushing the door and to my surprise it opened.

The small kitchen, previously littered with takeaway boxes, empty beer and drink bottles and unwashed pans and dishes, was now heaving with young people. There was evidently a party going on. The guys and girls draped over each other in the kitchen, drinking and smoking, were in their teens or early twenties. A couple of them looked at me disinterestedly as I entered, before returning to each other. I scanned the room for Joss but she wasn’t there, so I continued towards the living room, edging around the cramped, sweating bodies and blinking from the smoke. The epicentre of the party was in the living room and, in contrast to the kitchen where everyone was standing or leaning against someone or something, they were all sitting in here: on the old sofa or the stained mattress, or just cross-legged on the floor. Cans of beer were everywhere and the unmistakable smell of cannabis hung thickly in the air. I couldn’t see Joss but I could see Carl. He was sprawled on the sofa with a beer in one hand and a joint in the other. He had his top off, revealing a large serpent tattoo winding across his stomach and disappearing around his back. He saw me and, waving his beer can towards the stairs that led off from the far corner of the room, he shouted, ‘She’s upstairs.’

I stepped over and around the legs and bodies on the floor and headed towards the foot of the stairs. No one took much notice of me; they were too high or drunk. I wondered how long this had been going on. It was only 8.30. Thank goodness I’d come when I had. The need to get Joss out of there as soon as possible overrode my growing sense of unease for my own safety.

There was a door at the top of the stairs. I pushed it open and stepped into a small landing where three doors, all closed, led from it. A pile of dirty clothes was dumped at one end, presumably waiting to be washed. I opened the first door on my right. It was the bathroom, where a young man stripped to the waist was on his knees, throwing up into the toilet. In other circumstances I would have made sure he was OK, but right now I just wanted to find Joss and get out of there. I closed the door and went to the next one. It opened into a bedroom, which was littered with piles of rubbish. My eyes immediately went to the double bed against the wall where a middle-aged man sat propped up, with Chelsea on one side and Joss on the other. He had his arm around Joss and all three of them had an open can of beer; Chelsea was smoking a joint.

‘Oh, shit!’ Chelsea said, seeing me, while Joss stared at me, horrified.

‘Hello, lovely lady,’ the man said, grinning inanely and making no attempt to move. ‘Who might you be?’

I took a step into the room.

‘This is Joss’s foster carer,’ Chelsea said quietly, stubbing out the joint into an already overflowing ashtray.

‘Nice to meet you,’ he said, stupefied. ‘Would you like a beer?’

‘No. I’ve come to take Joss home. Who are you?’ With long hair, a stubbly chin, tattoos and his shirt open to the waist, revealing a large medallion against a hairy chest, he looked like an old rocker.

‘Dave,’ he said, still grinning. ‘They call me Dave the Rave.’

‘He’s my father,’ Chelsea said, moving slightly away.

‘Really.’ I was shocked. ‘Do you know how old Joss is?’ I asked him.

‘Old enough, I guess.’ He grinned.

‘Thirteen! Your daughter is only fifteen. Neither of them should be drinking or smoking. You want to be ashamed of yourself.’

He took a swig of his beer, but had the decency to remove his arm from around Joss.

‘We’re going home now,’ I told Joss.

‘But I don’t want to,’ she protested.

‘Now,’ I said. ‘Or I’ll call the social services and the police and ask for their help. I’m sure they’d be interested to know what is going on here.’

‘Do as your foster carer says,’ Dave said, suddenly alert. ‘I don’t want any trouble.’

Joss glared at me but got off the bed.

‘Leave that here,’ I said to her, referring to the can of beer she still held.

She set the can down angrily on what had once been a dressing table but now, like everything else in the room, was covered with rubbish, filth and grime.

I turned, and Joss followed me out.

‘Bye!’ Chelsea called.

Joss didn’t reply.

‘Why did you do that?’ she hissed as I opened the door at the top of the stairs. The noise and smoke coming from below hit me.

‘Because this isn’t a suitable place for young girls,’ I said, and began downstairs.

‘You’ve shown me up in front of everyone. I’ll never live this down,’ Joss said.

‘Better that than leave you here,’ I said.

As we picked our way across the living room, Carl shouted above the music, ‘Is it your bedtime?’

‘Ignore him,’ I said to Joss.

She followed me out of the living room and through to the kitchen. I breathed a sigh of relief once we were outside. ‘Whatever do you see in that lot?’ I asked, walking quickly, my heart still racing.