The Saddest Girl in the World Read online

  ‘OK, girls,’ I said. ‘Let's go up and get you settled. Are you sure you wouldn't like a drink before you go, Donna?’

  She shook her head.

  With a different child on their first night I would probably have put Paula to bed and spent some time talking to the child and getting to know them before settling them for the night. However, because Donna was not communicating I felt, as Edna had done, that she was exhausted. I was now dearly hoping that I would have Donna's cooperation in going to bed, but I was starting to feel a bit uneasy. If Donna didn't move and ignored my requests, or answered them with a shrug or shake of the head, what was I supposed to do? She was far too big for me to carry upstairs as I might have done with a little one, and if she didn't respond to my cajoling and persuading there was virtually nothing I could do. It crossed my mind that maybe that was how Mary had received the bruise to her arm — perhaps Donna had refused to cooperate despite all their efforts, and Mary and Ray had resorted to physically moving her; but I quickly let that thought go, for if that was so, then I was in big trouble, as I had no ‘Ray’ to help me.

  ‘Right,’ I said, using an assertive tone. ‘I have got all you need for tonight, Donna. The three of us will go upstairs together. Donna, while I help Paula, you can get changed, ready for bed.’ I had said it as though I meant it, as a request not open to debate. Paula immediately stood and came to my side, aware she was going to bed later than usual and not wishing to overstep the mark. Donna remained where she was on the sofa, impassive, head down and once more clutching the little bag with her present. ‘OK, Donna, are you ready?’ I said, and I felt another twinge of anxiety. She still didn't move and I saw Paula look at me questioningly, also worried by Donna not doing as I'd asked.

  ‘Come on, Donna,’ Paula said in her little voice. I looked at Paula and shook my head to indicate to her not to continue. Her request had sounded like a plea and I needed Donna to do as I had asked as a matter of course; I wasn't going to plead with her.

  I took Paula's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, and with Donna's carrier bag in my other hand, I turned away from the sofa, ready to leave the room. There was a limit to how many times I could politely say that I wanted her to go upstairs before I started to look ineffectual and lose my credibility and authority. ‘Right, we're going up now, Donna,’ I said and, still holding Paula's hand, I began slowly and steadily towards the lounge door. As I went I was frantically searching for plan B if she didn't follow me, which vaguely centred around taking Paula up and coming down and trying again. But I knew that was likely to be even less successful than the first time, and I couldn't have Donna sitting down here all night. As a last resort I would have to phone the fostering agency and ask for help, although practically I wasn't sure what they could do either.

  To my great and utter relief, as Paula and I stepped from the lounge and into the hall, Donna stood and began to follow us. I waited for her to catch up and then continued down the hall. I didn't praise her, for I had to give the impression that I expected her to follow my instructions and requests. Although I felt dreadfully sorry for Donna, and my heart went out to her, she was only ten and like all children she had to do as she was told.

  Paula and I went up the stairs first with Donna a step or two behind. At the top of the stairs I said to Paula, ‘You go into the bathroom and do your teeth while I show Donna to her bedroom.’ I wasn't sure what was going to happen next with Donna, and I didn't want Paula being party to any sudden outburst. Donna was so quiet and withdrawn it was unhealthy, and I had the feeling, as I had done when she'd first visited and gone down the garden with Paula, that she was like a tinder box waiting to ignite and go up in flames — you can only suppress so much emotion before something gives. While Edna had reassured me that Donna was ‘a good girl’, social workers, no matter how efficient they are, don't see the child on a daily basis as Mary and Ray had done, and they'd had problems with Donna.

  Paula did as I asked and went to the bathroom while I continued round the landing to Donna's bedroom, with Donna following me in silence.

  ‘All right, love,’ I said, kindly but firmly. ‘Here is your nightdress, teddy bear and wash bag.’ I took the items from the carrier bag and set them on the bed. ‘I'll leave you to get changed, and then I'll show you into the bathroom. We won't worry about a bath tonight. If you want the toilet, it is right next to your bedroom.’ I pointed out towards the landing. ‘I'll be back shortly.’

  Without looking at her, and thereby not giving her room for refusal, I came out and closed the bedroom door; whether she did as I asked or not remained to be seen. I went round the landing and into the bathroom, where Paula was cleaning her teeth. I waited until she had finished and then went with her to the toilet, where I waited, as I did every evening at bedtime, outside the toilet door. The toilet, at the other end of the landing to the bathroom, was the room next to Donna's, and as I waited for Paula I listened, but I couldn't hear any movement. I prayed Donna was doing as I had asked and getting changed.

  When Paula came out of the toilet I went with her into her bedroom and drew the curtains. Once she was in bed I took a book from her bookshelf and propped myself on the bed beside her with my feet up, as I did every evening, as part of our bedtime routine. ‘I'm only reading one story tonight, love,’ I said, ‘as I need to get Donna settled.’

  I had chosen a short story, but a favourite of Paula's — The Very Hungry Caterpillar, which I had been reading to her since she was a toddler. Paula knew it by heart and could also read most of the words. She joined in as I read, poking her finger through the hole in each page where the caterpillar was supposed to have eaten. At the end, where the caterpillar changes into a beautiful butterfly, I said, as I always said when I read this book, ‘You are my beautiful butterfly.’ Paula grinned and snuggled her head into her pillow, and I kissed her goodnight. ‘Thanks for helping to look after Donna,’ I said. ‘I'm sure she'll be better tomorrow.’

  Paula looked concerned. ‘Mum?’ she asked. ‘Does Donna talk?’

  I smiled. ‘Yes, love, but she's finding it difficult at present because of everything that has happened to her. I am sure she will start talking to us soon.’

  ‘Good. Because I don't like her being so quiet. It's a bit scary.’

  ‘I know, love, but don't you worry.’ I got off the bed and kissed her goodnight again. ‘Everything will be all right. Now, it's late and I want you to go straight off to sleep.’

  ‘Is Adrian coming in soon?’ Paula asked.

  ‘Yes, just as soon as I've got Donna settled.’

  ‘Will she go to bed at the same time as me every night?’

  I smiled. ‘No, she's older than you, and it's well past your normal bedtime.’

  ‘I know.’ Paula giggled and buried her head under the sheets.

  ‘Night, love,’ I said again. ‘Sleep tight.’ Coming out, I blew her one last kiss and drew the door to but left it slightly ajar as she liked it. I went round the landing and knocked on Donna's door. There was no reply, so I knocked again, then slowly opened the door and put my head round. Donna had changed into her nightdress and I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. She was sitting on the bed with the red paper bag in her hand. ‘Do you want to put your present in this drawer for now?’ I said, going in and opening one of the drawers in the wardrobe. ‘It will be quite safe in there.’

  She shook her head and clutched the bag tighter.

  ‘OK, but you will have to put it down when you have your wash or else it will get wet.’ I picked up her wash bag containing the flannel and toothbrush, and in my firm but kindly tone said, ‘This way to the bathroom, love.’ I turned and left the room decisively as though I expected her to follow, which she did.

  In the bathroom I put her flannel on the towel rail with ours and her toothbrush in the mug with ours. ‘The toothpaste is there,’ I said. ‘That tap is the hot water and that one is the cold.’ Obvious to us, but less obvious to a newcomer because the red and blue marks on the taps h
ad worn away with use. ‘This is your towel,’ I said, pointing again to the towel rail. ‘Do you need anything else?’ Donna shook her head. ‘OK, when you have finished, go to the toilet and then I will come and say goodnight.’

  I came out, and went downstairs and into the lounge. The light was fading now at nearly 9.00 p.m. and there was a nip in the air. I stood at the French windows and called Adrian in, and unusually he came with the first calling.

  ‘Good boy,’ I said. ‘Now straight upstairs and change into your pyjamas. Donna will be finished in the bathroom by the time you are ready to go in. You can leave your shower until the morning as we're late.’

  ‘Cool,’ he said, which was his favourite expression, used to denote most things that met with his approval.

  ‘And not too much noise when you go up: Paula is going off to sleep.’

  ‘I'll have a drink first,’ he said, and he went through to the kitchen, while I closed and locked the French windows.

  Leaving Adrian to pour himself a glass of milk, I returned upstairs, taking a couple of Donna's carrier bags with me, which I placed in her bedroom. The water had stopped running in the bathroom and I went round and knocked on the bathroom door, which she had left ajar. ‘All right?’ I asked, going in. She nodded. ‘Have you had your wash and done your teeth?’ I noticed she was once more clutching the red paper bag. She nodded again.

  ‘Good girl. Straight into bed then. It's after nine o'clock.’

  She followed me silently round the landing and into her bedroom. I pulled back the sheet — there was no need for a duvet, as it was too hot — and I stood aside and waited for her to get into bed. ‘Do you have your teddy bear in bed with you?’ I asked, picking up the clearly much-loved threadbare soft toy.

  She nodded.

  ‘Has he or she got a name?’

  She shrugged and laid her head on the pillow. I tucked the teddy in beside her and then draped the sheet over her. I drew the bedroom curtains and returned to stand beside the bed. ‘We'll unpack all your things tomorrow,’ I said, leaning slightly forward. ‘Have a good sleep and you can have a lie-in if you wish: there's no rush tomorrow. If you need me in the night, you know where my bedroom is. Just knock on the door. I'm a light sleeper, so I will hear you.’ I hesitated and looked at her. She was on her side, facing out into the room. She was staring straight ahead and had one arm around the teddy. There wasn't much else I could say or do that night, although I felt there was plenty I should be saying and doing to help her. ‘Sleep tight, love, and see you in the morning. Would you like a goodnight kiss?’ I always ask the fostered child this when they first arrive; it's an intrusion in their personal space to just assume they want a kiss.

  She nodded slightly and I leant further forward and kissed her forehead. ‘Night, love, sleep tight. We'll have a good day tomorrow. We'll unpack first — it's nice to have all your things around you. I'm so pleased you have come to stay with us.’

  I hesitated again, hoping, wishing, she would say something, some verbal acknowledgement that she was all right and not in need of anything. But there was absolutely nothing.

  ‘Night, love,’ I said again. ‘Would you like your bedroom door open or closed?’ She gave a small shrug. ‘OK, I'll close it a little.’

  With a final glance at her I came out and pulled the door to without shutting it fully. Adrian was in the bathroom, having changed into his pyjamas, and was now finishing his washing and teeth brushing. I waited on the landing until he came out, and then I saw him into bed. ‘If you're reading tonight, it's only for a short while,’ I said. Although we didn't have to be up early for school in the morning, if Adrian didn't have enough sleep, he was not at his best, to put it mildly. Kissing him goodnight, I left him reading by the light of his lamp and came out and shut his bedroom door right to, as he liked it. I looked in on Paula, who was fast asleep; then I listened outside Donna's door. There was no sound, but I didn't go in in case I disturbed her. I would check on her later on my way to bed.

  I went downstairs, locked the back door, and then flopped on to the sofa in the lounge and put my feet on the footstool. I was absolutely exhausted, and it seemed incredible that only ten hours had passed since I had received Jill's call about Donna. It wasn't only anxious anticipation of Donna's arrival, and welcoming her, that had drained me, but the relentless effort to get any form of acknowledgement from her, and the worry about what was really going on inside her head. As I sat on the sofa and slowly, gradually, began to relax, I realised that even though I had fostered over thirty children, Donna was the first to have spent an entire evening in the house and gone to bed without uttering a single word. I wondered just how long she could keep it up.

  Chapter Five

  Cath—ie

  Donna maintained her vow of silence, if that is what it was, for the whole of the weekend. Not having slept well on Friday night, I rose early on Saturday morning, and went downstairs for a coffee. At 8.00 I heard movement coming from Donna's bedroom and I went up, knocked on her door and entered.

  She was in her nightdress, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at the carpet. I asked her if she had slept well and if she needed anything, and was met with the same shake of the head. I left her to get dressed, and she finally came down at nearly 10.00, by which time Paula and Adrian had long since eaten their breakfasts and were playing in the garden. I asked Donna what she would like for breakfast and gave her the options — a choice of cereal, toast or egg and bacon. But there was no response other than a shrug, so, unable to decipher her preferred menu, I gave her the safe bet of cornflakes, followed by toast and honey, with a drink of juice, which she ate slowly and in silence, alone at the table. I had taken my coffee to the table as I gave her the breakfast, but she seemed so uncomfortable with my presence that eventually I busied myself in the kitchen and left her to eat alone. When she had finished, I told her to go and brush her teeth and have a wash, which she did without comment, while I cleared away her breakfast things.

  If I had thought it was hard work the previous evening, it got steadily worse during the day, and not wishing to be unkind, it was like having a zombie in the house. Her downcast face, her stooped shoulders, her slowly lumbering gait would have suggested depression had she been an adult, and I thought that if she didn't improve over the weekend I would phone Jill and Edna first thing on Monday and suggest I take her to the doctor.

  After Donna had finished in the bathroom I told her we would unpack her things. I had already carried up all the bags and boxes and stacked them on the landing. I now pulled the large suitcase into her bedroom and, setting it on the bed, opened it. ‘We'll hang up these clothes in the wardrobe,’ I said, and I began unfolding her jeans and joggers and draping them on to the hangers. Then I took the jumpers and T-shirts and laid them in neat piles in the drawers of the wardrobe. Donna stood by in silence, her head slightly lowered and her arms loosely folded in front of her, watching me but not helping, although I encouraged her often.

  It was obvious which clothes Mary and Ray had bought — they were new — and which had come with her from home — a selection of worn and faded joggers and T-shirts which not even a jumble sale would have taken. I stacked the old clothes at the bottom of the wardrobe, although clearly she would be wearing the new ones, and those I bought for her. There is a great temptation for foster carers to throw out all the rough stuff children bring with them when they come into care, but these are familiar things for the child in an otherwise unfamiliar and strange environment, and it is important they are kept until the child feels comfortable about letting them go; which was why Mary had packed them and sent them with Donna.

  There were two pairs of plastic trainers with the toes out and the laces missing, which I placed at the bottom of the wardrobe, leaving the new trainers and sandals beside her bed. There were a few pieces of very old school uniform — a bobbled sweatshirt and a torn T-shirt, both with the school's logo, and a badly stained skirt. Donna had come into care right at the end of th
e summer term, so Mary and Ray hadn't replaced her school uniform; I would do so at the start of the next term. There were half a dozen pairs of new pants and socks, and a few pairs of white faded grey, which I packed at the bottom of the wardrobe. There was a badly stained and ripped anorak, which I assumed had been Donna's coat before coming into care, and also a new lightweight summer jacket, which I hung in the wardrobe. As I worked, separating and sorting the clothes, Donna continued to stand a little way from me, either shaking her head or nodding if I asked her something that required a yes or no answer, or shrugging if my question needed a choice.

  I talked as I worked, and continually sought her opinion and advice on where things should go, in the hope of getting her to join in. ‘Shall we put this in here? This is a pretty top — where did you get it from? We'll make this the drawer for your underwear,’ and so on, but there was absolutely no response. Once the suitcase was empty, I heaved it on to the top of the wardrobe out of the way and asked Donna to bring in the last of the bags and boxes from the landing, which she did. These appeared to contain her personal things — two worn books, a torn magazine, a bare and grubby doll, a new story CD, and a crayoning book with felt-tip pens. I told Donna I would leave her to put those things away, and I opened the empty drawers, and also pulled out a store-away box from under the bed.

  One of the carrier bags which I had looked in and put to one side seemed to contain an assortment of what looked like old rags. I now picked it up, and I felt Donna watching me from under her lowered eyes as I pulled it open for a closer look. There were a couple of very old vests and pieces of what looked like torn-up sheets. I wondered if these were comforters — I'd had children of Donna's age and older arrive with chewed and torn security rags and blankets which they obviously needed to keep with them until they were no longer needed. But these were very dirty and I thought that Mary would have washed them if Donna had to have them close to her, and one smelled distinctly of disinfectant.