Girl Alone: Joss came home from school to discover her father’s suicide. Angry and hurting, she’s out of control. (23 page)

‘No.’

‘All right. I’ll get back to you.’

I replaced the handset and looked at Joss. ‘That’s all we can do,’ I said.

Nearly an hour passed and then the duty social worker telephoned. ‘Amelia has given the police a description of the missing persons,’ he said. ‘Ideally they’d like a photograph. Do you have one?’

I thought for a moment. ‘I don’t, but Joss has a family portrait in her bedroom. It’s of her, her mother and brother. Will that do?’

‘Is it recent?’

‘Reasonably. Last year.’

‘It should do. Does she have one of her stepfather too? It seems he might be with them.’

‘No, she doesn’t. I’m sure.’

‘OK. Can you take the photo to the police station?’

‘Now?’

‘Yes, as soon as possible, please. And obviously if any of them contact you, phone us or the police straight away.’

‘I will.’

I replaced the handset and turned to Joss who, having heard the phone ring, had come into the living room. ‘The police have asked for a photograph. It’s usual with a missing person,’ I explained. ‘The framed photograph on the shelf in your bedroom – is that the only one you have with you?’

‘Yes. I’ve got a small one of my dad in my purse, but they’re not having that.’

‘They won’t need it,’ I said. ‘Just the one showing your mum and Kevin. We’ll have to remove it from the frame first.’ I knew this from having to supply a photograph previously when a teenager I was fostering went missing.

I went upstairs with Joss and we carefully removed the photograph from the frame.

‘I didn’t know you had a photograph of your father,’ I said gently as I put the frame to one side.

‘It’s just of me and him,’ Joss said quietly. ‘It’s one of the last ones taken. I keep it with me at all times. It’s like it makes me feel closer to him, as if he’s by my side.’

‘That’s lovely,’ I said, and I saw her eyes fill.

Downstairs I found a large, strong envelope to put the photograph in for protection. Joss wanted to come with me to the station, which was understandable. We quickly told the others where we were going and then slipped on our shoes and jackets and called goodbye. There was a chorus of ‘Bye’, ‘See you later’ and ‘Take care’. Outside, the night air was damp but not cold, typical of early autumn, and a slight wind blew.

As we climbed into the car Joss asked, ‘Is
he
with Mum and Kevin?’

‘The police think he could be,’ I said.

Her silence and look of anguish said it all.

It was 9.15 p.m. when we entered the police station – our second visit within a week. I recognized the duty officer at the desk from Saturday. He recognized us too and looked mildly surprised.

‘Good evening,’ he said. ‘How can I help you?’

We crossed to the counter and I explained that Joss’s mother and brother had been reported missing and we’d been asked to bring in a photograph. Joss slid the envelope across the counter.

‘I’m afraid I don’t know anything about this,’ he said. ‘Please take a seat and I’ll check with my colleagues.’

He took the envelope and disappeared through the door at the rear. Joss and I sat in the waiting area beside a couple of very talkative teenage girls who, we quickly learned, had reported their dog missing and were now checking to see if it was in the police compound.

Five minutes later the duty officer reappeared and called us to the desk. He said the officer who was dealing with the missing persons was on the telephone right now, but we should write our contact details on the envelope and he’d make sure he got it.

‘What will happen to my photo?’ Joss asked.

‘We’ll take a copy and circulate it. Then we’ll return it to you.’

He passed me a pen and I wrote Joss’s name and our address and telephone number on the envelope and handed it back. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Someone will be in touch.’ And that was it. There was nothing more we could do but wait.

Joss was quiet as I drove home, but as we turned the corner from the high road I saw her attention go to a group standing on the street. ‘Do you know them?’ I asked.

‘They’re some of the crowd from Dave and Chelsea’s. I wonder why they’re out here and not at the flat. There’s always a party there on Thursdays. It’s when they get their benefits.’ Which presumably meant they would all know Zach and Carl.

‘Joss, you know you have to keep away from them and that flat,’ I reminded her.

‘Yes, I know. It used to seem like fun there, but it doesn’t any more.’

At home, Adrian, Paula and Lucy had taken turns in the bathroom, so Joss was able to go straight in. Lucy was in Paula’s room, both of them waiting to hear how we’d got on at the police station. Matters affecting a foster child, positive and negative, impact on the whole family – we share and celebrate their good news and worry over the bad and distressing. While Joss was in the bathroom, I went to Lucy and Paula and reassured them that the police would find Joss’s mother and brother soon.

‘What will happen to them when they’re caught?’ Lucy asked.

‘Will Joss’s mum be put in prison?’ Paula wanted to know.

‘Hopefully not,’ I said. ‘Although she will be in trouble for taking Kevin away.’

‘So you can’t ever take us away?’ Paula asked, puzzled.

‘That’s different,’ I said. ‘We’re not being investigated by the social services. Kevin was considered at risk, and Linda has done the wrong thing and put him at more risk by running away.’

‘But she’s not a bad person, is she?’ Paula asked. ‘She’s not hurting Kevin?’

‘No, but she failed to protect him, which is why he was being taken into care.’

‘Protect him from that perv?’ Lucy asked.

Joss had clearly told Paula and Lucy what had happened, so there was no reason why I shouldn’t answer their questions.

Once the girls were as reassured as they could be – although none of us would be happy until Linda and Kevin were found safe and well – I said goodnight to Paula, while Lucy went to her room. I then said goodnight Lucy and finally to Adrian. He was in bed, reading by the light of his lamp.

‘Everything all right?’ he asked. Adrian had a different disposition to the girls and I knew he wouldn’t want all the details, just to know that Joss was OK.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Joss is getting ready for bed now. Are you all right? How’s the new term going at school?’

‘Good,’ he said, setting down his book. ‘I’ll be late back tomorrow. I’ve got rugby practice after school. I’m in the team.’

‘Great!’ I said. ‘Well done.’

‘And I’m in the swimming team,’ he added modestly.

‘That’s fantastic. You should have told me sooner.’

He shrugged. ‘There was a lot going on.’

‘But never so much that I haven’t time to listen to your good news,’ I said. Adrian wasn’t one to boast about his achievements. ‘I’m very proud of you, son,’ I said, and kissed his head.

‘I’m proud of you too, Mum, but don’t ruffle my hair.’

I did anyway, and having said goodnight I came out.

Joss was in her room now, waiting for me to say goodnight. She looked very worried, unsurprisingly, and I sat on the edge of the bed. ‘I’m sure the police will find them soon,’ I said. ‘There aren’t many places you can hide with a child.’

‘I hope Mum doesn’t leave Kev alone with
him
like she used to,’ Joss said. She’d never been able to use Eric’s name.

‘I’m sure she won’t,’ I said. ‘Try not to worry.’

‘I’ll kill him if he hurts Kev.’ Her eyes filled and I took her hand between mine. ‘I can’t think of anywhere they could be,’ she said. ‘That creep didn’t have any friends. There’s my nana and grandpa, but they never liked him, so they wouldn’t have gone there. And anyway, we haven’t see them in a long while.’

I sat with Joss for some time, stroking her hand and reassuring her as best I could that her mother would look after Kevin and they would be found soon. Eventually she said she’d try to get some sleep and snuggled down. I gave her a kiss and hug goodnight and came out.

I was half expecting someone from the police station to telephone, but when no one had called by eleven o’clock I went to bed. Exhausted but too worried to sleep, I lay for over an hour in the dark, agonizing over where Linda and Kevin could be and if they were safe. I appreciated that Linda’s act had been a ‘fight or flight’ response and she hadn’t meant Kevin any harm, but to flee with the person who’d been accused of abusing her children was totally irresponsible and would make her situation with the social services much, much worse.

The following morning we fell into the school routine again, but of course, as I woke Joss, Lucy and then Paula, their first response was to ask if I’d heard anything. I had to tell them I hadn’t. When I woke Adrian he groaned and turned over, which is his usual response to being woken for school. However, when he came downstairs for breakfast he said to Joss, ‘How are you doing? You must be worried. I hope your mum and brother are found soon.’

I could see she appreciated it. ‘Thanks, Adrian; that’s kind,’ she said with a small smile.

Joss and I left the house first, and once in the car Joss switched on the radio, clearly not wanting to talk. When I dropped her at school I said, ‘Take care, love. See you later.’ She nodded and went in. I didn’t go straight home but drove to the supermarket on the edge of town, as I needed to do a big grocery shop. Once I was home and I’d unpacked, I telephoned Jill and told her I’d taken the photograph into the police station the evening before. She thanked me and said the social services had taken out a court order in respect of Kevin, which would give them greater powers. It wasn’t necessary to do so for Joss, as she was already in care and therefore not at risk of harm. Jill asked how Joss was and I told her that she was obviously very worried but had gone to school as usual. ‘And she has no idea where her mother and brother could be?’

‘No. She mentioned her mother’s parents, but they’ve never liked Eric so they’re not close.’

‘The police will have covered that. Family and friends are the first place they look for a missing person,’ Jill said.

I heard nothing further on Thursday and our anxious wait for news of Joss’s mother and brother continued. On a positive note, Adrian had a good rugby practice after school, Lucy said she was going to try for the school netball team and Paula had been praised by a teacher for a piece of written work she’d done in history, so I congratulated them all. Tired from their first week back at school, they were in bed at 9.30 p.m., and having said goodnight to them I sat with Joss until she fell asleep. When I still hadn’t heard from the police or social services by Friday lunchtime, I was frustrated and also a little angry. I was hoping that someone would telephone, even if it was only to say that there hadn’t been any developments, so when the phone rang at 12.45 I answered it immediately with trepidation and relief. But it wasn’t the social services or the police; it was Miss Pryce.

‘Is this a good time to call?’ she asked. ‘I wanted a word with you about Joss.’

‘Yes,’ I said. I thought Joss had probably vented her anger and frustration at school, or had broken down crying, unable to cope.

But Miss Pryce’s voice was upbeat as she said, ‘I thought you’d like to know that Joss has had a really good first week back at school. I’ve had feedback from most of her teachers and she’s attended all her lessons, hasn’t been disruptive in class and has sat quietly, listening. Neither has she been leaving the school at lunchtime. This is a huge improvement since last term and we’re all very pleased.’

‘Excellent,’ I said, mustering as much enthusiasm as I could. While I was obviously pleased Joss had turned over a new leaf, I knew there were other reasons why she was quiet and staying in at lunchtime, which Miss Pryce clearly wasn’t aware of – and it wasn’t for me to tell her.

‘So I wanted to say well done,’ Miss Pryce continued chirpily. ‘Joss has obviously had a very good summer with you. She’s come back to school a different child.’

‘That is good,’ I said. ‘Thank you for telling me. I’ll pass it on to Joss.’

‘There’s no need,’ she said. ‘I saw Joss at morning break. I always like to give the students positive feedback as soon as possible, especially if there have been behavioural issues in the past.’

‘Thank you,’ I said again. It was all I could say.

When I collected Joss from school that afternoon the first thing I told her was that there hadn’t been any news about her mother and brother. She sighed heavily and slammed the car door shut. The next thing I told her was about Miss Pryce’s telephone call. ‘So well done, I’m very pleased with you,’ I said. ‘I know this has been a difficult week, but you’ve coped well.’

She shrugged despondently and turned on the radio, signalling that she didn’t want to talk.

I could understand why Joss was running out of patience. The worry of her mother and brother being in hiding with Eric must have been excruciating, and my words of reassurance and kindly meant platitudes sounded jaded and hollow. She didn’t say anything during the drive home, and when we got in the others knew from her obvious dejection that there was no news and she wanted to be left alone. We all ate together at six o’clock, but without our usual Friday-evening light-heartedness at the start of the weekend. Once we’d finished our meal and cleared away, Adrian, Lucy and Paula went to do their homework so it wasn’t hanging over them all weekend, and Joss ambled into the living room.

‘Would you like me to help you with your homework?’ I offered. I thought it might help take her mind off the worry for a while.

She sat on the sofa, looking very downhearted, and gave a small nod. I sat next to her. ‘Cathy,’ she said, ‘before we start, I was thinking I might phone my nana and grandpa.’

‘Oh yes?’ I said, surprised.

‘I know I haven’t spoken to them in a long while, but we used to be close. And with Mum and Kev gone, they’re the only real family I have.’

I felt so sorry for her. ‘I understand,’ I said. ‘When was the last time you saw them?’

‘About a year ago. Before I left home. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if I phoned them now.’

‘Do you have their telephone number?’ I asked. ‘I haven’t got it.’

‘I know it off by heart,’ Joss said. ‘I used to phone them every Friday evening to tell them what sort of week I’d had. It started after Dad died and stopped when I left home.’

A lump rose in my throat. ‘Joss, I wish you’d told me that before. You could have phoned them from here every Friday.’

‘I didn’t really think about it until now,’ she said. ‘And I was always out on a Friday evening.’ Which was true.

Yet while it seemed a good idea for Joss to be in touch with her grandparents again, I had some reservations. Given the lapse in time since they’d last had contact, and that they would have been told their daughter and grandson were missing and must be worried sick, it was difficult to know what their reaction would be. People deal with grief and stress in different ways and it was possible they might blame Joss for causing trouble and lying, as her mother had done. However, Joss wanted to phone them and I could stay close and intervene if the call became distressing for her.

‘I’m sure they won’t mind if I phone,’ Joss said again. ‘They’re really nice people. I should have kept in touch.’

‘OK, but remember they’re likely to be very worried and upset.’

‘I know,’ Joss said.

I passed her the handset. She keyed in the number and then, when it started ringing, she tilted the handset a little away from her ear towards me so I could hear too. As it rang I could see Joss growing increasingly nervous, and she began fidgeting with the cuff on her jersey. Then a woman’s voice answered and stated the phone number.

‘Nana?’ Joss said very quietly. ‘It’s Joss.’

There was a second’s pause and then, ‘Joss! Oh my! It’s so good to hear from you. We’ve been talking about you. How are you, love?’ I was relieved.

‘Not too bad, Nana,’ Joss said sweetly.

‘Are you well?’ her nana asked.

‘Yes. Are you?’

‘Yes, thank you, love. But we’ve missed you so much.’

‘I’ve missed you too,’ Joss said. I could see tears welling in her eyes. I placed my hand on her arm to reassure her.

‘I’m so pleased you’ve got in touch,’ her nana said. ‘I thought you would eventually. We used to be a close family before all of this. Are you still living with the foster carer?’

‘Yes. Cathy.’

‘Oh, love. It’ll be so nice when you can all live together again as a family. I hope it won’t be too long.’

‘Yes,’ Joss said quietly, clearly very emotional.

‘Fancy you phoning on a Friday,’ her nana said, brightening up. ‘Do you remember all those chats we used to have every Friday evening? You used to tell me all about your week at school, what you’d been doing in lessons, who your best friend was and even what you’d eaten for your school dinner. I loved those chats.’ I heard her voice tremble.