Girl Alone: Joss came home from school to discover her father’s suicide. Angry and hurting, she’s out of control. (14 page)

Mark nodded gravely.

‘The school is very supportive of its students,’ Miss Pryce continued. ‘We have a good mentoring service, which Joss can access any time. I’m pleased Joss is more settled here, and I am hoping that in September she will return to school ready to work and achieve what I, and other members of staff, believe she is capable of.’

‘Thank you,’ Mark said. He finished writing and then asked if anyone wanted to add anything to the review, but no one did. He set the date for the next review, thanked us all for coming and closed the meeting. It was now after six o’clock and understandably Jill, Amelia, Miss Pryce and Mark were eager to be away. I saw them to the front door while Linda stayed in the living room with Joss. When I returned I offered Linda a cup of coffee or tea, hoping she would stay and have a chat with Joss, but she said she had to go as Eric and Kevin would be wanting their dinner. The mention of Eric was enough to spark Joss to flare up at her mother. ‘Sorry for taking up your time!’ she snapped sarcastically. ‘But this is my life we’ve been talking about. The one you and your precious Eric have fucked up!’

Joss jumped up from where she’d been sitting next to her mother, and with eyes blazing stormed out of the living room and upstairs. Linda sighed heavily. ‘Sometimes I can see the advantage in doing what Steven did,’ she said. ‘End it all.’

‘No, don’t say that,’ I said.

‘Don’t worry, I wouldn’t. But I do wonder what I’ve done to deserve this. Perhaps I should do what Joss wants and leave Eric, but what a dreadful decision – my husband or my daughter. One thing’s for certain, I can’t take much more.’

She stood, and with a very heavy heart, I went with her to the front door.

Later that evening, when Joss was in her bedroom, I went up and tried talking to her about how unhappy she was making her mother, but she wasn’t moved by my words. ‘She brought it on herself,’ she said coldly. ‘She didn’t have to marry that creep, so don’t blame me.’

‘I’m not blaming you,’ I said. ‘But try not to be so hard on your mother, please. She has feelings too. She thought marrying Eric would give you all a family life again and make you happy, or she wouldn’t have done it.’

Joss sneered.

‘Joss, your mother is so miserable about what’s happened that she is even considering leaving Eric, if it would help.’

‘But she hasn’t, has she?’ Joss retorted sharply.

I could see I was getting nowhere, so I asked Joss to think about what I’d said and to try to be more considerate of her mother’s feelings in future, then I left her to listen to her music before she got ready for bed.

That night Joss had a nightmare, and as usual when I went to her room she was half asleep, sitting up in bed with her eyes closed. She was mumbling something about ‘mummy’, which was hardly surprising given that I’d been talking to her about her mother in the late evening and she’d seen her at the review. It must have been playing on her mind. I sat on the bed and began talking to her gently before easing her onto the pillow, but instead of returning to sleep, she suddenly sat up in bed, making me start. Her eyes were open and she focused on me.

‘Are you awake, Joss?’ I whispered.

‘Yes. I wish my mummy and daddy were still together,’ she said sadly.

‘I know you do, love.’

‘If Daddy had stayed, we’d all be happy,’ Joss said quietly. ‘Why didn’t he stay? Didn’t he know we loved him?’ In the half-light I could see tears glistening in her eyes. I felt so sorry for her.

‘I’m sure your daddy knew you all loved him,’ I said. ‘His death had nothing to do with how much you loved him.’

‘But if he was that unhappy, why didn’t he tell Mummy or me?’ Joss asked. ‘I always told him when I was sad and he made me happy again. We could have made him happy so he didn’t have to die.’

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat.

‘Sometimes when an adult is very unhappy they become depressed,’ I said gently. ‘They can’t find a way to ask for help or tell anyone how they are feeling. Sometimes a very depressed person can do something without thinking about the consequences. I’m sure that if your daddy had thought about the effect his death would have on you all, he wouldn’t have done what he did.’ Suicide must be unfathomable to a child; I wasn’t even sure I understood it.

‘Do you think Daddy thought about us when he tied that rope around his neck and hanged himself?’ Joss asked. I went cold deep inside.

‘We can’t know that, love,’ I replied honestly. ‘But if he did think of you I’m sure they would have been nice thoughts, comforting thoughts. From what your mummy has told me, your father was a good, kind man and a caring husband and father. He loved you all very much and I think you must try to remember that and all the happy times. Many of the children I’ve fostered have never had a happy family life at all. They don’t have happy memories, just painful ones. At least you have some happy memories.’ My voice trailed off. I was choked up.

‘I wish he was still here,’ Joss said.

I took her hand in mine. She didn’t resist. ‘I know you do, love. You miss him, and that’s natural. But I’m sure your daddy would want you to make the most of your life and be happy.’

‘Do you think he’s in heaven?’ Joss now asked.

‘If there is a heaven then I’m sure your dad is there.’

‘Do you think he can see me from heaven?’ she asked, as a much younger child might. I felt my eyes fill.

‘I don’t know, love, but if he can he will want to know you are doing all right, won’t he?’

‘Mum started taking us to church after he died,’ Joss said. ‘We never went before. She said it helped her feel closer to Dad. I think she still goes sometimes.’

‘Having a faith does help some people when they lose a loved one. Would you like to go to church?’ I asked.

‘I don’t think so,’ Joss said. ‘Daddy didn’t go to church.’

‘It’s something you can think about. I’m sure your mother would be pleased if you went with her, or I could take you to our local church. We go sometimes, but not regularly.’

‘Zach thinks religion is a load of nonsense,’ Joss said.

I didn’t comment, but I was pleased Joss was feeling able to talk to me. She was silent for a moment and I soothed her hand. When she spoke again her voice was flat. ‘When I think of my dad the first picture that comes into my head is of him hanging in the garage. Sometimes I can force that picture out and force another one in, but the first one never completely goes. It’s like a ghost picture you can see through. It’s always there in the background. Even when I try to think of something really nice, like my birthdays and Christmas with him, I can still see his body hanging in the garage. It’s like the memory is haunting me.’

‘I understand,’ I said gently. ‘Counselling would help. Bad and sad memories can stay very vivid if they are not dealt with. You’re not the only one to feel this way. When someone has suffered a dreadful trauma, as you have, the painful memory can remain vivid and blot out the good memories. It’s not haunting you; it’s just the way the brain works. Counsellors are specially trained to help people come to terms with bad things.’

‘But I don’t want to talk to a stranger about my daddy,’ Joss said. ‘It’s personal and private.’

‘They wouldn’t tell anyone.’

‘Sometimes I talk to my daddy in my sleep. Like a dream, only more real.’

‘Does that help?’ I asked.

‘Sometimes, and just now I was talking to Mum.’

‘I thought so,’ I said with a small smile. ‘When I came in you were saying “mummy”.’

‘Was I? I was telling her about my dad and how much I love and miss him,’ Joss said. I thought this was positive.

‘Joss, if you don’t want to talk to a counsellor, what about talking to your mother?’ I suggested. ‘She would be a very good person to talk to because she was there with you. She knows the horror and tragedy of what you saw. She has suffered too. I know she would be very understanding and pleased to help you. She’s just waiting for you to ask her.’

‘But
he’s
there,’ Joss said, referring to her stepfather.

‘So choose a time when he isn’t there. If you tell your mother you need to talk to her, I know she will make time. She cares about you so much.’

‘No, I mean he’s there as in she’s married to him. It’s different now. They are a couple and she tells him everything. I don’t want her talking to him about my daddy. It’s nothing to do with him.’

I could understand why Joss was so protective of her father’s memory, but I obviously couldn’t tell Linda not to tell Eric.

‘You feel very rejected by your mother remarrying, don’t you?’ I said gently.

Joss nodded.

‘Joss, I can understand why you feel you can’t live with your mum and stepfather at present, but don’t let it ruin your life. You know how concerned your mother and I are about your unsafe behaviour, and it wouldn’t please your father if he knew. You want him to be as proud of you now as he was when you were little and he was here on earth, don’t you?’

‘I do, Cathy,’ Joss said. Then with a small sob she leant against me and began crying openly. I put my arm around her and held her close.

This was the first time Joss had shown her feelings or wanted me to comfort her, and I thought it was a very positive development. A big step towards releasing the pain and suffering she’d held deep inside for so long – since the day she’d arrived home from school at the age of nine and walked into the garage to discover her father’s suicide.

I held Joss close while she cried silently for many minutes, and it’s true to say I felt very close to her – the empathy that comes from sharing another person’s pain. I also felt grateful that my own life had been so easy and pain-free. Yes, I’d had a few downers – my husband leaving, for one – but I had loving parents and a happy family life, so I hadn’t suffered as Joss had, or as many of the children I’d fostered had, for many different reasons.

Joss’s tears eventually subsided and she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. It was nearly 3 a.m. ‘Do you think you can get some sleep now?’ I asked her quietly.

She nodded. ‘Thanks for being here.’

I smiled. ‘Joss, you know you can talk to me any time – day or night. I’m always here to help you.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘Thanks.’

‘So, starting from tomorrow, will you try to get your life back on course, for your father’s sake? He really wouldn’t want to see you angry and unhappy and behaving as you have been, would he?’

‘No, I guess not,’ Joss said. ‘I’ll try.’ And I was sure she meant it.

‘Good girl,’ I said. I gave her another hug and then she lay back down in bed.

‘Will you stay with me until I go to sleep?’ she asked in a small, childlike voice.

‘Yes, of course, love. Shall I stroke your forehead while you go off to sleep? It’s very soothing.’

‘Yes, please.’

She snuggled down and closed her eyes and I began lightly stroking her forehead. As she gradually relaxed, her face softened and her breathing regulated until at last she drifted into sleep. Once I was sure she was in a deep sleep, I stood and crept away from the bed and out of her room. My heart was light – lighter than it had been since Joss had first arrived – because I was certain we had turned the corner I’d been waiting for. Now that Joss was talking about her feelings and addressing her sorrow, her pain would surely start to ease and she’d become less angry and gradually get her life back. Healing the mind can take a long time, but once she came to terms with her father’s death, I was sure she would slowly move forward towards a full recovery. I couldn’t do anything about her mother’s marriage, which seemed to cause Joss so much anguish, but I felt that now Joss was letting go of her pain, it wouldn’t be long before she began to see that her mother had a right to happiness, which would hopefully pave the way for her accepting Eric and going home.

The following day I telephoned the leisure centre to find out about ice-skating courses and I booked Joss into one that took place three half-days a week: Monday, Wednesday and Friday, from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. for four weeks in the summer holidays. It was expensive, but I was pleased Joss had shown an interest in something other than being with Zach and Chelsea. Adrian, Lucy and Paula were already booked to do some leisure courses. I thought Joss would be pleased, but when she came home from school that afternoon and I told her I’d booked the course she was more interested in how the time spent ice skating would impact on her seeing her mates.

‘I suppose I’ll have to tell Chelsea to meet me at the centre on those days so we can go out straight after,’ she said, disgruntled. ‘I’ll come home for my dinner at five and then go out for the evening.’

‘But you weren’t thinking of going out all day and every evening during the summer holidays, were you?’ I asked.

‘Yes, of course,’ she said, surprised I should think any differently.

‘But you heard what Miss Pryce said about catching up with your school work over the summer.’

‘OK,’ Joss said testily. ‘I’ll do an hour when I come back for my dinner and then go out.’

Clearly Joss had it all planned out and the quiet, compliant child who’d wanted to turn over a new leaf the night before was fading fast. Two days later I had to admit that my midnight talk with her hadn’t helped one little bit, and her behaviour was as bad as ever. The following week – the last week of term – there were three evenings when she didn’t come home until 11.30 p.m., just as I was about to telephone the police and report her missing. Then more money disappeared from my purse on the day I became lax about leaving my bag unattended in the hall. I tried to talk to Joss about this, and her behaviour in general, but she was unresponsive and shrugged, saying, ‘Yeah, whatever.’ Meaning: I hear you but don’t really care. I was so disappointed.

Joss went out of her way to avoid me in the house, and when she did have to see me her attitude was challenging and hostile – a clear warning for me to keep away. I thought she must regret letting me get close and confiding in me, and was now putting distance between us by making herself as objectionable and unlikeable as she could. She was also quite horrible to my children, making snide and derisive comments, so they kept away from her. I tried talking to Joss, hoping I’d catch a glimpse of the girl I’d seen that night, but she wouldn’t engage with me at all and soon I had to admit that child was gone. She had more nightmares but didn’t wake, so I settled her and came out.

One evening, when I was at my wits’ end, I telephoned Joss’s mother and asked her what Joss’s behaviour had been like with her since the review. She said it was awful. The only person Joss was pleasant to was her younger brother, Kevin, and she blamed Joss’s behaviour on the bad company she was keeping. Linda said, very tearfully, that she felt a secure therapeutic unit was probably the only place where Joss would be safe.

With the start of the summer holidays a new routine began, with all of us getting up later than usual and washing and showering at leisure, before doing whatever was planned for the day. On the days Joss had ice skating she left the house at 9.30 a.m. and returned at 5 p.m., made a drama out of the little school work she did and then went out straight after dinner without calling goodbye. I asked her if she was enjoying the ice skating and she said she was, but didn’t offer any more. On the days she didn’t have ice skating I suggested she might like to come out with me, shopping maybe, but I could see that held as much appeal as walking on hot coals. So Joss disappeared out straight after breakfast, at about 10 a.m., returned for dinner at 5 p.m. like a homing pigeon and then went out again. Then, on Friday morning in the first week, when she was supposed to be skating, one of the leisure centre’s staff telephoned me and asked if Joss was ill, as she hadn’t been attending the classes.

‘Not at all?’ I asked in disbelief.