Damaged (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Friends

J
odie was up and down all night, but in the morning she was bright and excited, whereas I was just exhausted. She changed into her school uniform, and we only had one small hiccup when she demanded to wear her lacy tights, but I eventually managed to dissuade her.

We arrived at school early, so we sat in the car for a while, listening to the radio. Although Jodie was excited, I could tell she was also a little nervous, and I was nervous too, on her behalf.

I held Jodie’s hand as we walked up to the school gates. I gave it a squeeze, and we entered the school building. Mrs Rice came and met us in reception. Because of Jodie’s learning difficulties, it had been arranged that I would hand her over to Mrs Rice every morning, and she would hand her back at the end of the day. I gave Jodie a hug, and watched anxiously as Mrs Rice led her down the corridor.

As soon as I arrived home, the phone rang. It was Jill; she’d received the notes I’d emailed on Sunday about Jodie’s granddads, and she’d already spoken to Eileen. They had checked the records, and confirmed that there were definitely no grandparents on the scene; it was done with such speed that I wondered if Eileen’s manager had spoken to her. Jodie’s maternal grandmother was alive, but had fallen out with her daughter years ago, and there was no contact between them. Jodie had never known her grandfathers on either side. There was a pause, as Jill waited for me to come to the obvious conclusion.

‘They’re in the same category as the so-called uncles, paedophiles in the guise of family members?’ I said. Jodie had previously described some of her other abusers as uncles and aunts, but it appeared that these were not actual relatives; rather, they were friends of Jodie’s parents, who had been described as family members as an easy way of introducing strangers into the home environment.

‘We think so. It looks as though Jodie’s parents must have been part of a network. The police are running a check now for registered offenders,’ Jill replied. ‘If the names Wilson or Price come up on their list for the area they’ll take them in for questioning. But I have to be honest, Cathy, I’m not optimistic. If these people haven’t been convicted before, they won’t be on the list. There’s another thing too. Eileen’s had the results of the forensic medical back.’

‘Yes?’

Jill lowered her voice. ‘It confirms that Jodie’s been penetrated, but without DNA, or third-party evidence, there’s not enough for a criminal prosecution. She has been abused, but to get a conviction you need to prove who was responsible.’

‘Who on earth do you think must have been responsible? Isn’t it clear that Jodie’s telling the truth? The forensic result just confirms everything she’s been saying.’ I sighed. ‘So what now?’

‘We keep going, and hope something comes up. Eileen’s realized that Jodie’s due for an LAC review – it’s actually overdue. Is it all right if we have it at your house? She’s suggested Thursday afternoon at two o’clock.’

‘Yes, that’s fine.’

‘Eileen wants Jodie to be there. I know … an afternoon off school when she’s just started, and I know she won’t be able to contribute anything. But Eileen’s suddenly one for the rule book, and she is within her rights to insist.’

I felt the mixture of anger and frustration that so often seemed to dog me when dealing with Eileen. ‘OK, I’ll pick her up from school at lunchtime,’ I said, and, after a quick goodbye, hung up.

LAC stands for Looked After Children, which is the official term for children in care. A LAC review is a regular meeting, required under the Children’s Act, and attended by all those involved in the child’s case. The purpose of the meeting is to report on the child’s progress and decide on any actions which need to be taken. Jodie’s parents wouldn’t be present, of course, because contact had been suspended, but the guardian ad litum, the child’s social worker, her team leader, the headmaster, Jill, Jodie and myself would all be there. However, since Jodie was still functioning at the level of a four-year-old, her presence was likely to offer little more than disruption.

With Jodie at school, I vowed to make the most of my first free day in months. I sat on the sofa and started to plan my day. Three hours later I woke up, and as I came to I chided myself for the time I’d wasted. It was now 12.45, and I had less than two hours before I’d have to make the return journey to school. I rushed to the supermarket, but by the time I got home I realized I’d have to give up my fantasy of reading in peace for an hour. Still, I comforted myself, I must have needed the sleep. I was getting so little at night, and that was broken every few hours by Jodie’s night-time torments. No wonder I couldn’t keep my eyes open the minute I had the opportunity to relax.

I arrived back at the school and waited by the gates, exchanging smiles with a few of the other mothers. Had they heard about Jodie already, I wondered? How would the other children have described her? Mrs Rice appeared, with Jodie jumping up and down beside her, and told me Jodie had had a good day. This was confirmed in the car, as Jodie wouldn’t stop talking all the way home. She told me over and over again about all the children in her class, most of whom were now her new best friends – and she wanted all of them to come round for tea, just like Paula’s friends did.

Adrian, Lucy and Paula were already in when we got home, so Jodie had a new audience for her excitable monologue, and they listened with patience. It continued throughout dinner to the extent that I had to remind her to eat, which was definitely a first. She settled easily that night, as she was physically and emotionally exhausted, and I did much the same.

Just after midnight I was woken by the sound of Jodie sobbing on the landing. I pulled on my dressing gown, hurried out of my room and found her lying on the carpet outside Paula’s bedroom. Her face was crimson, and she could hardly breathe for crying. I put my arm around her, and led her back to her room. I sat beside her on the bed and cuddled her until she was able to speak.

‘Cathy,’ she said, through sobs, ‘when I was at my school I had a friend, but then she wouldn’t be my friend any more.’ I passed her a tissue, and waited while she blew her nose.

‘Don’t upset yourself, pet. You’ll make lots of new friends now.’

‘But she was my best, best friend. And she came to my house. But then she wasn’t allowed, because of what I said.’

My sleep-fuddled brain started to focus. ‘What did you say? I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. Friends fall out all the time, Jodie, even best ones.’

She shook her head. ‘I told her. About Mummy and Daddy and Uncle Mike. And she told her mummy and daddy, and they said she couldn’t come and play. Her mummy said it was a bad house. But I’m not bad, am I, Cathy?’

I held her closer to me. ‘No, sweet, of course you’re not bad. She meant what was happening to you was bad. It was never your fault. You mustn’t think that.’ As I comforted her, my mind was whirring. She had told someone. Other adults had been made aware of the abuse. Could this be the third-party evidence that was needed to secure a prosecution? I was fully awake now.

‘You did right to tell, Jodie. Her mummy and daddy should have told the police instead of stopping her from playing. What was her name? Can you remember? It’s important.’

She sniffed. ‘Louise Smith. She lived next door. I won’t tell my new friends, will I, Cathy?’

‘No, there’s no need. You can tell me anything you want, and you know that I’ll do something about it.’

She sniffed and managed a smile.

‘Good girl. You did the right thing. Now I want you to try and get some sleep. We don’t want you tired for tomorrow.’

I tucked her in, and stroked her forehead until her eyes closed. I was tense and focused. Jodie had had the courage to tell someone, but that courage had not only gone unrewarded but, in her eyes, it had led to further punishment, as she had been prevented from seeing her friend. I could imagine why Louise’s parents had kept quiet: they hadn’t wanted to get involved, and they’d wanted to protect their own child. However, by keeping quiet they’d left an innocent victim open to further abuse. All they needed to have done was to make an anonymous phone call to the NSPCC, the Social Services or the police, and that would have been enough to start an enquiry. Whenever this kind of allegation is made, the police or Social Services have to look into it.

I went back to bed, but I couldn’t settle. In the end I gave up, and went downstairs and made myself some hot chocolate. I stood in the kitchen, warming my hands on the hot mug. There were wider implications to what Jodie had said. Living next door, the Smiths must have seen the comings and goings. They probably knew who these so-called aunts, uncles and granddads were, by face, if not by name. If the police interviewed the Smiths now, with the allegations out in the open, surely they’d have to tell the truth? I knew the council estate where Jodie had grown up well; I’d looked after kids from there before. It was a tight-knit, closely bound community, where everyone seemed to be in and out of each other’s houses. How many other residents had known what was going on, but remained silent, fearful of the potential consequences? How did they sleep at night?

Chapter Twenty-Five

Denial

‘B
ut they must know something!’ I insisted to Jill, when she phoned a few days later. ‘They were in and out of each other’s houses all the time. The girls were best friends.’

‘Yes, but the Smiths claim they still are friends. They say they’re astonished by the allegations, and have even offered to give a character reference for Jodie’s parents. I’m sorry, Cathy, but I don’t think we’re going to get anything useful out of them.’

I went quiet. I could feel the walls of conspiratorial silence that had imprisoned Jodie closing in again, and it was frightening. ‘So why did they stop their daughter from going to play, if her parents were so bloody respectable?’

‘Well, they say they never did. Look, Cathy, I don’t doubt what you’re saying, or what Jodie’s said. But Eileen’s actually spoken to them, and it seems there’s no chance of them talking, and the police are of the same mind. If these so-called granddads were registered offenders it would be different, but they’re not. The fact is, all we’ve got is the word of a confused eight-year-old with learning difficulties, who won’t even speak to the police. It’s not enough to bring a case.’

‘She’s not that confused,’ I snapped. ‘Not when it comes to this; she’s clear and focused.’ I took a breath; there was no point shouting at Jill. ‘I’m sorry, I’m just frustrated. It looks like they’re going to go scot-free, while Jodie has to bear all the consequences of being brave enough to tell the truth.’

‘I know it’s frustrating, but Jodie doesn’t need to know there won’t be a prosecution. At least it’s good for her that she’s been able to disclose, but we’ll have to accept that’s as far as it’s likely to go at present. The police have said they’ll keep the file open, in case anything new comes up.’

‘I’m going to have to distance myself,’ I said wearily. ‘I’m becoming too involved.’

‘You wouldn’t be such a good carer if you weren’t, Cathy. And I’m still working on that respite. I haven’t forgotten.’

I felt like going round to the Smiths’ myself, and begging them if necessary to come forward. I stood on the patio smoking, working out what I would say. If I looked into their eyes, could I shame them into admitting what they knew? If I told them about Jodie’s nightmares, about how her life had been destroyed, could I change their minds? I inhaled deeply, but as I stubbed out the cigarette I realized I couldn’t do it. It would have been a completely inappropriate, unprofessional thing for a foster carer to do, and I would probably have lost my job, and therefore lost Jodie. Besides which, I doubted it could have done any good. If they’d resisted the best efforts of the police and Social Services, they weren’t likely to be swayed by me. I went inside and closed the kitchen door. Yet again I felt Jodie’s frustration.

* * *

I took some comfort from the fact that Jodie was finally in school, and hoped that the routine of it would give her something else to occupy her mind. But this routine was doomed to be interrupted by constant reminders of her past. Thursday arrived, and I had to pick her up from school at lunchtime, so that she could attend the LAC review.

By three o’clock there were six of us in my lounge, sitting with coffee and digestives. Astonishingly, Eileen had turned up a whole hour late, with no explanation beyond a half-hearted, ‘Sorry, I was held up.’ She proceeded to distribute copies of her agenda, and the meeting finally began.

Jodie was suddenly the centre of attention for reasons she didn’t understand, so naturally enough she played to the audience. With hands on hips, she strutted up and down, shouting instructions, and telling everyone off for talking every time they spoke. She said she was ‘playing at schools’. Jill and I exchanged knowing glances; we’d had a feeling this might happen.

Despite Jodie’s disruptions, Eileen persisted in working through her agenda, and raised her voice above Jodie’s when necessary. It quickly turned into a circus. Adam West gave his report, which was minimal, since Jodie had only been in school for three and a half days. Then, as he had another meeting to go to, he made his apologies and left. Jodie wasn’t happy at this. Why should he get to go back to school and have fun, if she couldn’t? She was on the point of a full-scale tantrum, which I averted by replenishing the biscuits, and reassuring her she could go tomorrow.

Because of Jodie’s behaviour I was constantly in and out of my chair, and as a result I could barely contribute to the discussion. I was also uncomfortable, as I felt that talking about Jodie while she was there was demeaning for her, and likely to reinforce the very issues and behaviour that we were trying to move on from.

‘Would you like to contribute anything, Jodie?’ Eileen eventually asked. ‘This meeting is after all about you.’

‘Contribute means to say something,’ I explained, as Jodie gawped blankly.

‘No!’ she shouted. ‘And I’ve told you before to stop talking, or you’ll miss your playtime.’ I was pleased the headmaster had left, and was no longer here to see this Dickensian portrayal of his award-winning school.

An hour and a half later we were finally finished, having fulfilled the statutory obligation, but accomplished next to nothing. I would have liked us to address Jodie’s desperate need for therapy, but this didn’t seem to be an option until the childcare proceedings had been resolved. The team leader and the guardian left first, then Eileen made a move to follow.

‘It was nice meeting you again, Jodie,’ she said, tucking her notes into her briefcase.

‘Was it?’ she said. ‘Why?’

Eileen forced a smile. ‘Because you’re a lovely little girl.’

The condescension and insincerity was evident even to Jodie. There was a moment’s pause as her features changed into a set that I knew well, while Eileen remained blissfully ignorant of what was coming.

‘No, I’m not!’ Jodie boomed, in her deep masculine voice. ‘I’m Reg, and I’m angry. Have you locked up that fucking father yet?’ And before I could stop her, she kicked Eileen on the shin.

I quickly enfolded and restrained her, as Eileen rubbed her leg.

‘I’ll see you out,’ said Jill, leading her down the hall.

‘That was very naughty,’ I said to Jodie. ‘You don’t kick, whoever you are.’

But as quickly as Reg had appeared, he vanished, and by the time Jill returned Jodie was sitting happily on the floor, engrossed in her Lego.

‘So that’s Reg,’ said Jill grimly. ‘I know you told me about this, but nothing prepares you for seeing it in action. It’s so chilling. I’ve seen it before years ago, but my goodness – only the severest kind of trauma could provoke this in such a young child.’

‘This is the first time she’s turned into Reg in front of strangers,’ I said.

‘Well, I’m pleased I’ve had the opportunity to witness this first hand.’

‘Yes, I expect Eileen was as well,’ I replied dryly.

We both smiled.

Now that Reg had been released in front of others, he had no hesitation in making another appearance, this time with a different audience. I had just returned from taking Jodie to school when the secretary phoned. ‘Hello, Cathy, we have a problem. Jodie’s not hurt, but the Head has asked if you could come straight away.’

My coat was still on, so I retrieved my keys from the hall table and headed back, my mind racing. What could she have done now? When I arrived, the secretary showed me straight through to the Head’s office. He was seated sombrely behind his desk, and I sensed that the distance between us was deliberate, to emphasize the seriousness of the conversation we were about to have.

‘Thank you for coming so promptly,’ he said, briefly standing and waving to the seat opposite. ‘I’ll come straight to the point. We’ve had rather an unfortunate incident this morning, which resulted in Jodie slapping another child’s face.’ One incident of slapping wouldn’t necessitate my being summoned before the Head; we both knew that. ‘I’ll be perfectly frank, Mrs Glass. It wasn’t so much the slapping that upset the child, and the rest of the class, but the behaviour that accompanied it.’

I raised my eyebrows questioningly.

‘Jodie was completely out of control over something really quite minor. She was kicking and shouting vile abuse, then blamed it on someone called Reg. We don’t have anyone with that name in the class, but she was adamant. It took two members of staff to calm her down. Now, obviously I haven’t known Jodie for very long, but her reaction was very disturbing, and seemed quite out of character.’

Out of character indeed. I decided I had no alternative but to come clean. I told him about Jodie’s D.I.D., and what we’d witnessed at home, then reassured him that there was a psychologist involved. I omitted to mention that the psychologist was only conducting assessment, rather than therapy. I also touched on her two other characters, and he nodded in recognition.

‘Mrs Rice mentioned that Jodie sometimes talks in a babyish voice. We had put it down to nerves – you know how children can regress if they’re anxious – but you’re saying it’s part of the same problem?’

‘It could be, yes.’

‘And presumably her social worker’s aware?’

‘She is.’ Even more so after yesterday, I thought.

‘And you say it could disappear of its own accord?’

‘That’s what I’ve been told, yes.’

‘Normally we’d exclude a child for the rest of the day after an incident of this nature, but there seems little point if she doesn’t even know what she’s done. I’ll keep her here and monitor it.’

I thanked him, and asked him to pass on my apologies to the other child, and the staff. ‘I’ll speak to Jodie later,’ I said, feeling duty bound to offer something. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with this in school.’

I came out of the office, aware that I’d had a narrow escape. It was clear that Mr West wouldn’t tolerate Reg’s behaviour indefinitely. I spoke to Jodie about it that evening, but it was a waste of time. Sometimes she appeared to remember nothing at all, and sometimes she appeared to know what I was talking about when she blamed it on Reg or Amy. We could both begin to lose our sanity if we went on too long trying to work out what was happening. As far as she was concerned, I was accusing her of something which she herself hadn’t done, and I didn’t pursue it for fear of undermining the trust that she’d placed in me. Yet again, this was another incident which demonstrated that Jodie desperately needed therapy to start as soon as possible. It simply wasn’t good enough to wait until the end of the court proceedings. I decided to pressure as much as I could for treatment to begin. 

* * *

‘She does need to be in therapy,’ the psychologist agreed, when I took Jodie for her nxt appointment at the clinic the following week. ‘How long is it until the final court hearing?’

‘It’s set for May.’

That was almost four months away. She sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘And have you noticed any improvement, generally?’

I looked at Jodie, walking in circles in the middle of the room, muttering to herself. ‘She hasn’t defecated for some time. And on a good day I have some level of cooperation, although she’s plagued by flashbacks even then. Yesterday she was convinced she could see her dad’s face on the curtains in the lounge.’

‘She was hallucinating?’

‘Yes, but it was completely real to her. She said I must have let him in without telling her, and she was hysterical. At night she wakes up screaming, and when I go in she’s convinced there are people in the room who want to hurt her. I can see her eyes focusing on them, even though she’s staring at blank space. It can take hours to reassure her. She seems to be actually reliving the pain she felt at the time.’ I shuddered. ‘My family find it very upsetting.’

‘They would. With post-traumatic shock the abuse is constantly being revisited. Are you having regular breaks?’

I smiled stoically. ‘I’m still waiting. There’s a problem in identifying suitable carers, because of the level of Jodie’s needs.’

She made a note in her pad, then looked at her watch.

‘Cathy, there’s one more test I’d like to do with Jodie. Would it be all right if you waited outside? It’s just a game,’ she reassured Jodie, who clung to my arm, wanting to come with me.

I sat on one of the chairs in the corridor, and Dr Burrows closed the door. It may have only been a game, but Jodie was in no mood to play; I could hear her shouting at the doctor to shut up and go away. Dr Burrows’ even tone persisted for ten minutes, then the door opened and Jodie rushed out.

‘Blimmin’ doctors,’ she cursed. ‘Why don’t they mind their own fucking business?’ She had reached the exit by the time I caught up with her.

Over the following weeks Jodie continued to enjoy school, although there was no noticeable improvement in her behaviour or condition. In fact, rather than the school having an effect on Jodie, it seemed instead that Jodie was affecting the school. One afternoon when I arrived to collect Jodie I noticed that Mrs Rice’s eyes were red and puffy. ‘Are you OK?’ I asked, hoping this wasn’t too intrusive.

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she laughed, still sniffling. ‘I just got a bit emotional.’

‘Oh, I hope it’s not anything that Jodie’s …’

‘No no no. Well, not exactly,’ she interrupted. ‘Actually, could I have a quick word?’

Mrs Rice obviously didn’t want to talk in front of Jodie, so I sent her off to run around the playground for a few minutes, while Mrs Rice and I walked over to a quiet spot.

‘Some of the children had their hearing tests today, and Jodie started talking in class about some kind of medical she’d had. We were pleased that she had something to contribute, obviously, but then suddenly she started saying these awful things about … She said she preferred it when a man did it, and it became clear she was talking about … well … you know.’

‘Oh, I am sorry. She doesn’t know the difference between what’s appropriate and what’s not.’

‘No, it was fine. I interrupted her before the other kids twigged, but she seemed to want to talk about it, so I spoke to her at playtime, just the two of us. Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were aware of the details. The only new aspect seemed to be that she mentioned an aunt being involved, as well as her mother, but she didn’t give a name for the aunt. That was all.’