Girl Alone: Joss came home from school to discover her father’s suicide. Angry and hurting, she’s out of control. (16 page)

‘They’re my friends,’ she said defensively.

As we neared the bottom of the metal staircase, Zach appeared from around the corner with an armful of beers, presumably having been to the off-licence. He looked surprised to see us. ‘Are you off?’ he asked Joss, ignoring me.

‘She’s making me,’ Joss complained.

I think Joss was expecting Zach to commiserate, possibly protest and take her side against me, because she looked rather taken aback when he said, ‘See you around, then,’ and continued up the stairs.

We walked in silence to my car, but I could feel Joss’s hostility radiating towards me. Once we were in the car, I said, ‘Why were you upstairs with Chelsea’s father?’

‘We were talking.’

‘Joss, it’s completely inappropriate. A man of his age, lying on the bed half dressed with his arm around you and encouraging you and Chelsea to drink and smoke.’

‘He wasn’t encouraging us,’ Joss said, trying to defend him.

‘He didn’t stop you,’ I said. ‘And as a parent he should be setting an example.’

‘Don’t have a go at Dave!’ Joss snapped. ‘I like him – he listens to me.’

‘Joss, I always listen to you whenever you want to talk, but I won’t always tell you what you want to hear. Responsible parents guide their children. They show them the best path and help them make the right decisions. It’s a wonder the social services haven’t taken Chelsea into care.’

‘They tried,’ Joss said, ‘but she wouldn’t go. Chelsea’s got more sense.’

I put the key into the ignition, started the engine and pulled away. Joss was angry with me for removing her from the flat, but I had no doubt I’d acted correctly. ‘I don’t want you going to Chelsea’s again,’ I said as I drove. ‘If you want to see her, you invite her to our house.’

Joss didn’t reply.

‘How often do they have those parties?’ I asked after a few moments.

‘Dunno,’ Joss said. ‘When Dave’s around, I guess. About once a week.’

‘And they start in the afternoon?’

‘They aren’t planned. People just drift in with beer and then someone puts the music on and it all takes off.’ I could hear the excitement in her voice, the lure of the prohibited and risqué. Of course the scene at Dave’s was attractive to an impressionable thirteen-year-old who had lost her way in life. It was enticing, but she was vulnerable – easy pickings for the likes of Dave, Zach and Carl.

‘Who supplies the drugs?’ I asked.

Joss didn’t reply. I glanced at her. ‘Dave?’

‘Dunno,’ she said with a shrug. So I thought it might be.

Once home, I asked Joss if she wanted anything to eat, but she didn’t. She poured herself a glass of water and went up to her room. I took the opportunity to telephone Trisha at Homefinders. I was still thinking that perhaps I should call the police and hopefully they would raid the flat. It concerned me that, while I’d taken Joss out, Chelsea was still there, and who knew how many of the other teenagers there were underage? But when I told Trisha what I’d found at the flat she said to leave it to her – she’d speak to the social services and they’d take any necessary action. She also said she’d update Jill the following morning.

I went upstairs and checked on Joss. She was still angry with me. ‘I’m just doing what I believe is right to keep you safe,’ I said.

She turned her back on me, so I came out. A while later I heard her go to the bathroom and when I checked on her again she was asleep.

I knew Joss would go to Chelsea’s again – the attraction of what was going on there would make any family outing or home entertainment I could offer pale into insignificance. I also knew she wouldn’t tell me if she went there, and I couldn’t trail her twenty-four seven. But Chelsea’s flat would be the first place I’d look if Joss went missing, and it was the address I’d give to the police. I couldn’t stop her going, which was a huge concern, but then, ironically, two days later Dave helped me out.

Joss came home that evening in a foul mood. ‘You’ve ruined my life!’ she said as soon as I opened the front door. ‘I hate you. You’ve taken Chelsea away from me. She’s not my friend any more.’

‘How is that?’ I asked, perplexed.

‘You coming to Dave’s like that and making a fuss. He’s worried now that you’ll cause him trouble and call the police. He’s told Chelsea I’m not to go there any more. He’s banned me from his flat!’

I didn’t say I was pleased, because I could see how unhappy Joss was by this exclusion. ‘Joss, if Chelsea is a good friend, this won’t end your friendship,’ I said. ‘You will find other things to do and other places to go. And you know you can bring her here any time.’

‘It’s not the same, I’ve told you!’ Joss thundered. ‘You’ve ruined everything. I hate you.’

Sometimes as a parent or carer you have to be very thick-skinned and stand your ground when you know you are doing the right thing.

On the days in the summer holidays when Paula, Lucy, Adrian and Joss didn’t have an activity planned, I arranged some days out – to the coast, the zoo, a museum, a wildlife centre and the Tree Top Adventure Park again. Although Joss initially moaned about going – preferring to ‘hang out’ with her ‘mates’ – she always enjoyed herself once we were on our way. And to her credit she also continued attending ice skating, so earned back her lost pocket money. When she came home on the Monday of the final week of the ice-skating course she said they were putting on a little show on the last day, Friday, and asked me if I would like to go. I was touched that she wanted me there. She’d asked her mother, but she couldn’t get the time off work, and Kevin was attending a full-time play scheme. I said I’d be delighted to go and that I’d take plenty of photographs and have a set printed for her mother and brother.

Paula was free that Friday morning, so we both went to see the show. All the summer ice-skating classes had combined to put on the show and it was very impressive. When the organizer introduced the event he pointed out that some of the participants had only been skating for four weeks and the youngest participant was only three years old. Joss proved to be a competent skater and had developed her skills since the time we’d all gone skating. She could now skate backwards, turn with ease and make a small jump. After the show Paula and I congratulated her and said how much we’d enjoyed the display. I suggested to Joss that she might like to continue going to classes when school returned – in the evenings or at weekends, but she didn’t immediately jump at the opportunity.

‘I’ll think about it,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t want you wasting your money if I changed my mind and didn’t go.’

‘I’m sure you would go,’ I said. ‘You’ve enjoyed it. But it’s your decision.’

It was now the end of August, and the start of the new school term was a week away. I’d bought everyone their new uniforms and shoes, and to be honest I was quite relieved that Joss would soon be back at school. I’d know where she was, and with most of her days occupied there should be less opportunity for her to find trouble. We were still waiting for the police to visit in connection with the car she’d set on fire, and while Joss was blasé about it – ‘They know they can’t prove anything,’ she said – it weighed heavily on my mind.

Although Joss had been, and still was, going out far more than I would have liked, I felt that, overall, the summer holidays hadn’t been too bad. She’d been late back a number of times and had clearly been drinking and smoking, but as far as I knew she hadn’t got into more trouble with the police, and neither had she gone missing overnight as she had done many times at her previous carers. Where and when she met up with Chelsea I didn’t know, and Joss didn’t say – she never mentioned her now. Occasionally she volunteered that Zach and Carl had brought her home in the car, so I assumed Chelsea had been with them.

Amelia came to visit at the very end of the summer holidays for one of her statutory visits. Jill had been updating her, so I filled her in on the last few days, emphasizing all the positives. As usual Amelia wanted to speak to Joss alone, so I left them in the living room to talk in private. When they’d finished Joss came to find me. ‘You can go in now – she’s done with me,’ Joss said, and went up to her room.

‘Thank you for all you’re doing for Joss,’ Amelia said as I sat down, ‘but try not to be so critical of Joss’s friends. I know they’re not your choice, but criticizing them is upsetting for Joss.’

‘What have I said?’ I asked, realizing they must have been discussing a comment I’d made.

‘When you collected Joss from Chelsea’s flat you made it clear you didn’t approve of her friends.’

‘I didn’t approve of what was going on in the flat and the people Joss is associating with,’ I said. ‘I can’t stand by and say nothing. I’m also worried that Chelsea is living in that environment. I think my fostering agency passed on my concerns?’

‘Yes,’ Amelia said. ‘But I can’t discuss Chelsea’s case with you.’ Which I knew.

‘I’m sorry my comments upset Joss,’ I said. ‘That wasn’t my intention, but I believe Joss is in real danger from going to that flat and hanging out with those people. Foster carers are expected to look after the children they foster as they would their own children, and I certainly wouldn’t let my children go there or associate with the likes of Zach, Carl or Dave. What’s a middle-aged man doing with all those young people?’

‘But part of growing up is choosing your own friends and being allowed to make your own mistakes,’ Amelia said, missing the point. As I’d observed before, Amelia was pleasant but naïve, and clearly didn’t have children of her own. Obviously we had different views on parenting, and it crossed my mind that had Amelia actually looked after teenagers she might have felt differently. She asked me if Joss had everything she needed for school and I confirmed she had, so with nothing else to discuss she went upstairs to say goodbye to Joss, and then left.

What happened next showed I’d been right to be very worried about the company Joss was keeping, although I gained no satisfaction from being right, none at all.

It was the last Saturday in August and my family were making the most of their ‘last weekend of freedom’, as Lucy called it, before school began again the following Tuesday. Adrian had spent the afternoon bowling and the evening at the cinema with friends, and was now relaxing on his bed. Lucy and Paula were at friends’ houses for sleepovers and Joss was out. It was Saturday, so I wasn’t expecting her home until 10.30 p.m. – far too late for a thirteen-year-old in my opinion, but it wasn’t my decision. The nights had started to draw in now, and there was a chill to the evening air suggesting autumn wasn’t far away. I was snug in the living room with the curtains closed, the television on and Toscha curled up on the sofa beside me. At around 10.15 Adrian came downstairs and said he was turning in now, as he was tired, so we said goodnight. He and Paula were seeing their father – my ex-husband, John – the following day. They saw him about once a month when he took them out for the day. At 10.45 I was still waiting for Joss, but I wasn’t unduly worried. She was often fifteen minutes late. When she still hadn’t returned by 11.15 I was worried and also annoyed that she was acting so irresponsibly again. When the doorbell rang five minutes later I headed down the hall relieved, but also ready to give her a big lecture.

‘Where on earth have you been –’ I began, as I opened the door. I stopped. Joss was in tears and obviously distraught. ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked, stepping forward, very concerned. ‘What’s happened?’

She shook her head, unable to speak. I gently took her arm and drew her into the hall. ‘Joss, what is it? Tell me.’ It wasn’t like Joss to cry.

‘I can’t,’ she said, between sobs.

I closed the front door. ‘Come into the living room.’

I led her down the hall and into the living room, where I sat her on the sofa and passed her the tissues. I sat beside her. Her cheeks were red from crying, but there were also some other marks on her face, which I thought could be bruises. My concerns grew.

‘Joss, you need to tell me what has happened,’ I said. ‘Have you been in a fight?’

‘No.’ She pressed the tissue to her eyes.

‘What is it then, love? Please tell me. Is it about Chelsea? Have you fallen out?’

She shook her head and fresh tears fell.

‘Have you broken up with Zach?’ I tried. I knew how distressing it was when a first love ended.

Her breath caught. ‘It’s not like that. It’s bad. If I tell you, you mustn’t tell anyone.’

I looked at her and gently rubbed her arm. ‘I’m afraid I can’t promise,’ I said. ‘If it’s something serious that affects you, I have to tell your social worker, and she may tell your mother, if it’s appropriate.’ This was something I had to make all children I fostered aware of: I wasn’t allowed to keep their secrets if it affected their well-being. ‘Amelia will be very sympathetic,’ I added. ‘And she will be able to help us. Are you in trouble with the police?’ I thought this was likely, although it had never upset Joss before.

‘No, it’s Zach,’ she sobbed.

‘So you have split up?’ I said. I had my words of comfort and reassurance ready.

Joss turned to me in anguish. ‘Cathy, it’s a lot worse than that,’ she said through her tears. ‘He attacked me. I know it’s my fault. You were right. He’s no good. He raped me. I’m sorry.’ She fell against me sobbing and I went deathly cold.

I knew I had to stay calm. I’d fostered children before who’d disclosed shocking abuse, and it was important for the child that I didn’t go to pieces.

‘He raped you,’ I repeated mechanically. ‘When?’

‘Just now, in the car,’ she sobbed on my shoulder. ‘He and Carl gave me a lift home, but they didn’t bring me here. Carl parked up on the wasteland at the back of the allotments and Zach raped me while Carl watched.’ Her sobbing rose and I held her very close.

‘All right, love. You’re safe now,’ I said. My words sounding far off and inadequate. ‘You’re safe with me.’

‘Carl was going to do it too,’ Joss sobbed. ‘But I fought him off and managed to get out of the car. They were laughing. I ran to the bus stop in town where there were people, and then came here. You tried to warn me, Cathy, so did my mum. I know you did. But I thought Zach loved me. I really did.’

I held her close and waited for her sobbing to ease. My heart was pounding and I felt sick to my core, but I knew what we needed to do. ‘We have to tell the police,’ I said. ‘Was Chelsea in the car?’

‘No. She’s not well. She didn’t come out with us. But you can’t tell the police. They’ll say it was my fault. We went to some bars first. I’d been drinking and having a laugh with them. Zach was my boyfriend. They won’t believe me.’ She was crying uncontrollably now.

I turned slightly so I could look at her. ‘They will believe you,’ I said. ‘It’s not your fault. You’ve been horrifically attacked. We need to report this as soon as possible, but I’m going to phone my agency first for some advice. You’ve done right in telling me, Joss.’

I gave her a hug and then reached for the phone on the corner table. Trembling, I keyed in the number for Homefinders. Joss was sobbing quietly and I held her hand. The phone connected and then went through to the agency’s out-of-hours number. To my relief, Jill answered – she was on duty that night. ‘It’s Cathy,’ I said. ‘Joss has just come home. She’s been raped.’ I heard Jill gasp. ‘Do I dial 999 or take her to the police station?’

‘Does she need emergency medical attention?’ Jill asked.

‘Are you badly hurt?’ I asked Joss. ‘Do you need a doctor?’

She shook her head.

‘She says no.’

‘Take her to the police station, then,’ Jill said. ‘They have a rape suite there. I’ll phone the station and tell them to expect you. The poor child.’

‘What’s a rape suite?’ I asked. ‘So I can tell Joss.’

‘It’s a private room at the police station that is used for interviewing victims of rape and sexual assault. Reassure Joss that she’ll be well looked after. The police are specially trained and will treat her sensitively. She’ll also be examined by a doctor if necessary. Cathy, it’s important to preserve as much evidence as possible, so make sure she doesn’t wash, brush her teeth, eat or drink or change her clothes, otherwise vital DNA evidence could be lost. It’s best if she doesn’t go to the toilet either before the doctor examines her and takes swabs, but obviously if she’s desperate she’ll have to go. And, Cathy, take a change of clothes for her. The police might want to keep the ones she’s wearing for evidence.’

I was grateful Jill knew exactly what to do.

‘Should I telephone Linda before we go?’ I thought to ask.

‘I want my mum,’ Joss said, her voice small and vulnerable.

‘I’ll phone her mother,’ Jill said. ‘And also the council’s duty social worker, who will tell Amelia. Will you be all right taking Joss to the police station? What about your kids?’

‘There’s just Adrian in. I can leave him here.’

‘OK. Go straight away. Phone me if there’s anything else you need.’

‘I will. Thank you.’

I replaced the handset and turned to Joss. ‘Is Mummy coming?’ she asked, childlike.

‘Jill is phoning her now,’ I said. ‘We have to go to the police station. Jill said it’s important you go as you are, and we need to take a change of clothes for you, as the police might want to keep your clothes for evidence. Shall I go and fetch some clothes from your bedroom, or do you want to?’

‘You go,’ Joss said, her eyes brimming again.

‘Oh, love,’ I said.

I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and left her sitting on the sofa while I went upstairs. Before going to Joss’s room I went to Adrian’s as I needed to tell him I was going out. His light was off and he was asleep in bed. As I approached the bed his eyes flickered. ‘Mum?’ he asked groggily.

‘I have to go out for a while,’ I whispered. ‘I need to take Joss to the police station.’

‘Why? What’s the matter?’ he asked, his eyes opening.

‘She’s been attacked. She’s all right, but we need to see the police as soon as possible.’

‘Do you want me to come with you?’ he asked. Bless him.

‘No. I’ll be OK. Thanks, love.’

I came out, drawing the door to behind me. In Joss’s room the clean laundry I’d left for her to put away was still in a pile on her bed, so I quickly selected fresh underwear, leggings and a top. I returned downstairs and put the clothes into a carrier bag, and then went into the living room. Joss was as I’d left her, sitting on the sofa with a tissue pressed to her face. Toscha had taken up the space I’d left and was now curled close beside her as though sensing she needed to be looked after.

‘All right, love, let’s go.’ I threw her a reassuring smile.

She stood, and Toscha raised her head to look at her.

In the hall I slipped on my shoes, unhooked our jackets from the stand and passed Joss hers. Leaving the hall light on, we went out. The night was clear but chilly. As we got in the car Joss said quietly, ‘Thanks for not going on at me.’