Girl Alone: Joss came home from school to discover her father’s suicide. Angry and hurting, she’s out of control. (4 page)

I didn’t point out that it was summer. ‘If you’re taken sick at school then the school will telephone me,’ I said. ‘I will come and collect you. No school would ever send a sick child home on the bus. It would be irresponsible of them.’ I’d had a lot of experience of looking after children, and if Joss thought she had an answer for everything, then so too did I. Amelia, on the other hand – in her twenties and, I guessed, newly qualified – didn’t have the same experience.

‘Is that all right, then?’ she asked Joss.

Joss shrugged.

‘I’m sure Joss will earn the right to a front-door key soon,’ Jill said positively, then moving the meeting on she added: ‘What’s next on the agenda? Counselling?’

‘Yes,’ Amelia said, glancing at her notepad. ‘Joss, you remember when you first came into care I explained about CAMHS and asked if you wanted to talk to someone? I was wondering if –’

‘I’m not going,’ Joss said adamantly before Amelia could get any further.

‘Why not?’ Amelia asked.

‘I don’t want to.’

‘Anything you discuss with the counsellor would be confidential,’ Jill said. ‘It can help to talk to a professional.’

Joss hesitated briefly, but then said, ‘No. I don’t want to.’

‘OK. Tell me if you change your mind,’ Amelia said, and made another note on her pad. ‘What’s next?’

‘I want to go out more,’ Joss said. ‘I want that discussed.’

‘Good,’ Amelia said, pleased Joss was engaging with the meeting. ‘Tell us what you would like.’

I sighed inwardly and thought I heard Jill sigh too. Amelia was pleasant enough but so naïve.

‘I want to go out with my mates every night,’ Joss said.

Amelia nodded thoughtfully.

‘What about your homework?’ Jill asked.

‘I’ll do it before I go out,’ Joss replied.

‘I think you should stay in one evening,’ Amelia said.

‘All right. I’ll stay in one,’ Joss said. ‘Monday. There’s not much going on at the mall on Mondays.’ Joss regularly congregated with her friends at the shopping centre in town, often after the shops had closed. It was one of the places where Joss had come to the attention of the police, and on at least one occasion they had tipped away the alcohol she and her friends were too young to have and sent them on their way.

‘I think Joss should be at home with us more than just one night a week,’ I said. ‘She’s only thirteen and she’s behind with her school work. Also, we’d like to see more of her.’ That being at home would also reduce the number of opportunities for Joss to get into trouble I left unsaid, as Amelia, Linda and Jill would be aware of this, and I wanted to stay as positive as possible.

‘I’ll make sure I’m back on time,’ Joss said.

Amelia didn’t respond.

‘Most teenagers I know just go out at the weekend,’ Jill said.

‘Not the ones I know,’ Joss said. ‘My friend Chloe can see her mates whenever she likes. I go to her place sometimes, so I’m not always on the streets. I can sleep at Chloe’s if I like.’

‘Joss is welcome to bring her friends home,’ I said. ‘I always encourage the children I foster to invite their friends back.’

‘I’d rather go to her place,’ Joss said.

‘How would you feel about staying in two nights a week?’ Amelia now asked her. ‘Would that be all right?’

‘I guess,’ Joss said.

‘I don’t think that’s enough,’ I said. ‘I would suggest she goes out on Friday and Saturday only during term time, unless there is a special occasion.’

‘No,’ Joss said forcefully, jutting out her chin. ‘That’s not enough. I’m not a kid. And I want to stay out later than nine. That’s ridiculous.’

The discussion about how often Joss could go out and when she had to come home continued for another ten minutes, until Joss and Amelia decided between them that Joss would stay in two nights, Sunday and Wednesday, but could go out the other nights as long as she did her homework first. It was agreed, though not by Joss, that she had to be back by 9.30 p.m. on a weekday and 10.30 p.m. on Friday and Saturday, unless there was something special on, when she would negotiate a later time with me. Even so, I felt this was too much for a girl of thirteen with a history of getting into trouble. While Joss was out of the house it was impossible for me to protect her, but I could see that Amelia hadn’t wanted to sour her relationship with Joss by going against her. As a foster carer you have to do what the social services decide, unlike in parenting when you can make whatever decisions you deem appropriate for the good of your own child.

‘We’ll include all of this in the contract of behaviour,’ Amelia said as she wrote. ‘And that you will stop smoking and drinking alcohol.’

‘I can’t,’ Joss said.

‘You can try,’ Jill said.

‘Can we include that Joss needs to improve her behaviour and grades at school?’ Linda asked.

‘Yes, of course,’ Amelia said, and Joss sighed.

Smoking dope wasn’t included in the contract of behaviour, as there was no conclusive evidence that Joss had been smoking illegal substances, although her mother, aunt, previous carers and I had all smelt it on her. The sanctions for not complying with the rules of the contract were loss of privileges: not being allowed out and loss of television time. Jill also said that it should be included that if Joss arrived home more than an hour late then, following current fostering practice, I should report her missing to the police.

‘Do you understand that?’ Amelia asked Joss.

‘Fine with me, but I don’t want my pocket money stopped. It’s not fair. It’s my money and I need it.’

‘I understand,’ Amelia said.

‘It’s withheld, not stopped,’ Jill said. ‘Foster carers are very limited in the sanctions they can use, and withholding pocket money for negative behaviour is something our agency approves of, especially for teenagers. They can and usually do earn it back through good behaviour, and if they don’t then it goes into a savings account for them. They don’t lose it.’

‘We tried stopping her pocket money,’ Linda said, ‘but Joss said she’d steal what she needed.’

Joss glared at her mother.

‘I’m sure you wouldn’t be that silly,’ Jill said to Joss. Although we all knew that Joss had been caught twice stealing alcohol from small corner shops.

‘So shall I include stopping your pocket money in the contract?’ Amelia asked Joss ineffectually. ‘Is that all right?’

‘No. But you’ll do it anyway,’ Joss moaned.

I saw Amelia hesitate. ‘How would you feel if I put that only half of your pocket money could be withheld? Then you’d always have some.’

‘Whatever,’ Joss said.

‘Don’t be rude, love,’ Linda said gently.

‘Why not?’ Joss snapped. ‘You can’t tell me what to do. You lost that right when you married
him
.’

Joss’s anger was vehement and I felt for Linda, just as I’m sure Jill did. Without counselling I couldn’t see how Joss was ever going to move on with her life or accept that her mother had a right to another chance of happiness, and that remarrying didn’t mean she loved her any less.

Amelia glanced at the clock on the wall. It was now 5.40 p.m. We’d been here over an hour and a half. ‘Is there anything else you want to discuss, Joss?’ she asked.

Joss shrugged.

‘Well, in that case I think it would be a good idea to finish now,’ Amelia said. ‘I’ll have the contract typed up and printed, and then I’ll arrange for us to sign it. I’m so pleased you were able to come to this meeting, Joss. I think it’s been very positive.’

The silence from the rest of us spoke volumes.

Because Amelia was inexperienced she was trying to be Joss’s friend, and it didn’t work. Parents, carers, teachers, social workers and others responsible for a child can’t ingratiate themselves with the young person and still hope to have the authority necessary to put boundaries in place for their safety and acceptable behaviour. Once the child is a responsible adult it’s different – parents often become their friend – but while they are growing up, especially if they are angry and rebellious, as Joss was, then the adults responsible have to take control and accept that sometimes the child won’t like them. I’d seen some very good contracts of behaviour that had worked well, but I thought Joss’s was simply a licence to do whatever she wanted. It wasn’t long before I was proven right.

On the way home in the car Joss lost no time in telling me that, as it was Monday, she was allowed out until 9.30 p.m.

‘After you’ve done your homework,’ I said.

‘I haven’t got any,’ she replied.

I doubted this and I’d asked for a meeting with her teacher to discuss Joss’s education, but for now I had to accept what Joss told me, so she could go out. Once home, she quickly changed out of her school uniform into leggings and a T-shirt, gobbled down her dinner and then left, shouting goodbye as she went. Although Adrian, Lucy and Paula didn’t comment, I knew they felt as I did that it wasn’t good for Joss to be out so much, and they would have liked her to stay in more. Their friends’ parents had similar rules to me, so they generally accepted the boundaries I put in place.

They were upstairs getting ready for bed when Joss returned at ten o’clock. When I let her in I could smell alcohol on her, although she didn’t appear drunk. I was worried more than annoyed.

‘Joss, why do you keep drinking when you know how bad it is for your health?’ I asked wearily.

‘To forget,’ she said, kicking off her shoes.

This was far more revealing than any of her previous responses of ‘dunno’ or ‘none of your business’ or ‘I like it’, so I felt she might want to talk.

‘Joss, I understand you don’t want to see a counsellor, but can you try to share with me what exactly you are trying to forget?’

‘You know already,’ she said. ‘My dad and
him
.’

‘Do you want to talk about your dad?’ I asked.

‘No.’

‘Do you want to talk about your stepfather?’ I tried.

‘No.’

She began upstairs.

‘Joss, do you talk to anyone – Chloe maybe? – about the things that worry you? We all need someone to talk to.’

She shrugged and continued upstairs. ‘Are you going to stop my pocket money because I was late?’

‘Not if you are back on time tomorrow.’

She paused on the stairs and turned to look at me. ‘Why do you foster? It can’t be much fun.’

I smiled as I met her gaze. ‘Because I like fostering. I like to try to help young people, and if I can make even a small difference I feel very pleased.’

‘But what if you can’t help them?’ she said.

‘It hasn’t happened yet. I always find a way to help a little.’

‘Not with me, you won’t,’ she said bitterly and, turning, continued upstairs.

‘Even with you, Joss,’ I called after her.

‘No. I’m beyond your help.’

Joss cried out in the night, and as usual I went round and resettled her. She wasn’t awake, but I stayed with her until she was in a deep sleep again. It was indicative of the high level of her inner turmoil that she had so many nightmares, but until she opened up and started talking about her profound unhappiness the nightmares would continue – and so too, I thought, would her angry and self-destructive behaviour.

She had breakfast with us as usual on Tuesday morning and I saw her off to school at the door. Then at 9.30 a.m. her school’s secretary telephoned to say that Joss hadn’t arrived. It was school policy to notify the parents or carers if a young person hadn’t arrived by 9.30, and it had happened before. I assumed that, as before, Joss would arrive late, and sure enough at 9.50 the secretary telephoned again to say that Joss had just arrived – an hour late – and that she would be kept in a sixty-minute detention after school to make up the work she’d missed. This was also school policy. I thanked the secretary for letting me know and asked if she’d remind her form teacher that I would like a meeting with her to discuss Joss as soon as possible. She said she’d pass on my message.

School finished at 3.30 p.m., so, allowing for the sixty-minute detention and half an hour on the bus, I was expecting Joss home at about five o’clock. In fact, she arrived home at 5.30, which wasn’t too bad, so I let that go, but I did ask her why she’d been an hour late for school that morning when she’d left the house on time.

‘I went home first,’ she said.

‘What for?’

‘To get a book I needed for school. I thought I might have left it there. They give you a detention if you keep forgetting your books.’

‘And did you find the book?’

‘No. I think I’ve lost it. I tried to tell my teacher the reason I was late, but she didn’t believe me.’

I was suspicious too, but I didn’t say so.

‘Joss, in future it’s better to forget a book than arrive an hour late for school. I was worried where you might have got to.’

‘OK. I did my homework in detention, so can I go straight out? It’s Tuesday and I’m allowed out.’

‘I know, but you’re having your dinner first, and really, Joss, I’d like it if you stayed in. We could watch some television together, or you could spend some time with Lucy and Paula. They’d like that.’

‘I’ll see them tomorrow evening instead,’ Joss said, ready as always with a reply. ‘It’s Wednesday so I’m not allowed out. And you’re taking me to get my sound system from home.’

‘I hadn’t forgotten. If you go out tonight, where will you be going?’

‘To Chloe’s.’

‘I can take you in the car.’

‘No, thanks.’

‘I’ll collect you, then.’

‘No, thanks.’

I couldn’t insist on this as a condition of her going, as I had done with her trip to the cinema, because the contract of behaviour had overridden me.

‘Make sure you’re back by half past nine, then,’ I reminded her. ‘No later.’

She nodded.

Joss arrived back at ten minutes past ten – forty minutes late – and smelling of alcohol, so I told her I was stopping half her pocket money and that she could earn it back through good behaviour: by coming home on time and not drinking for the rest of the week.

‘That’s not fair!’ she yelled angrily.

‘It is fair, Joss. I warned you last night when you were late back that I would stop your pocket money if the same happened again tonight.’

‘I hate you!’ she yelled, and stomped upstairs. ‘I fucking hate you!’

Lucy suddenly appeared from her bedroom in her pyjamas. I could see she was angry.

‘Don’t you dare yell at my mother like that!’ she shouted at Joss as she arrived on the landing. ‘Who the hell do you think you are? You want to be bloody grateful my mum took you in. No one else would!’

‘Lucy!’ I cried, running up the stairs. ‘Calm down.’ I’d never seen her so angry before.

‘You can shut your face too!’ Joss shouted at Lucy.

Lucy raised her hand as if she was about to slap Joss as I arrived on the landing and moved her away. ‘No, Lucy,’ I said firmly. ‘Don’t.’

She lowered her hand and Joss grinned provocatively.

‘Go to your room, now!’ I said to Joss.

She hesitated.

‘I said now!’

Smirking, she went round the landing to her room, slamming the door behind her with such force that the whole house shook.

Lucy was still fuming and looked as though she might go after Joss. I took her arm. ‘Come on, let’s go and sit in your room and talk.’

She came with me into her bedroom and we sat side by side on the bed. We could hear Joss stomping around in her room, nosily opening and closing drawers.

‘Who does she think she is?’ Lucy said. ‘I’m not having her talk to you like that.’

I slipped my arm around her waist and held her close.

‘It’s all right, love.’

‘I’m going to really hit her hard one day,’ Lucy said, clenching her fists in her lap. ‘I just know it. I won’t be able to stop myself.’

I took her hand in mine. While I was touched by Lucy’s loyalty, we both knew that physical violence was never right in any circumstances and if she ever did hit Joss, it would put an end to our fostering forever.

I held her close and gently stroked her hand as she slowly calmed down.

‘I know I shouldn’t have threatened her,’ she said at last. ‘But she gets to me.’

‘That’s what she’s aiming for,’ I said. ‘Joss thinks that if she pushes us too far then I’ll ask for her to be moved, as the other carers did. And that will confirm to her that she really is as bad and unlovable as she believes.’

‘But why?’ Lucy asked, raising her head from my shoulder. ‘She doesn’t have to behave like this. My life was hell for a long time before I came into care. I just wanted to die, so I know how she feels. But she’s safe here, and at some point you have to let go of your anger and move on. You can’t feel sorry for yourself forever.’ Lucy had been through a lot before she came to me two years previously – I tell her story in
Will You Love Me?

‘That’s true, but Joss hasn’t reached that stage yet; far from it. She’s harbouring a whole lot of unresolved feelings around her father’s death and her mother remarrying. She feels very rejected.’

Lucy sighed. ‘I know, but how long is this going to go on for?’

A knock sounded on Lucy’s door, and we both looked over as it slowly opened and Adrian poked his head round. ‘Are you two all right?’ he asked, concerned.

‘Yes, thanks, love. We’re OK.’ It was all quiet in Joss’s room now.

‘Paula wants to talk to you when you’re free,’ Adrian said.

‘Please tell her I’ll be with her in a few minutes.’

‘Will do,’ Adrian said, and went out.

‘Joss’s behaviour upsets Paula at lot,’ Lucy said.

I felt even more worried. ‘I’ll talk to her in a moment, but other than keep going as we have been, I’m not sure what else we can do for Joss right now. You’re the same age as her. Have you got any suggestions of how I can help her more?’

‘Not really. I know I was angry about everything that had happened to me, but it came out in different ways. I stopped eating, for one.’

I nodded thoughtfully. Lucy had been anorexic when she’d come to me, but she had recovered now.

‘Could I have done anything differently with you?’ I asked.

‘I don’t think so. You gave me the space and time I needed. I felt safe here, and you were always ready to listen to me when I wanted to talk. You still are.’ She kissed my cheek and I hugged her. ‘Mum, I’ll try to be more patient with Joss, but it’s difficult. Paula and I have welcomed her like a sister, so it makes us really cross when she is horrible to you.’

‘I understand.’

Fostering changes the social dynamics within the family, and the foster child’s age, experience before coming into care, disposition and coping mechanisms all have an effect and create an individual whom the fostering family have to adjust to and accommodate – quickly. Although Lucy was the same age as Joss and knew what it was like to be a foster child, they were very different personalities and at different stages in their lives. I thought it would be best if, for the time being, Lucy put some distance between her and Joss to avoid another flare-up. Lucy certainly wasn’t a violent child, but she was protective of me, and I could see how Joss would wind her up.

‘Lucy, I don’t want you to worry about me, love,’ I said. ‘I appreciate all you’ve done to welcome Joss and help her settle in, but you have your own life to lead, and you’re doing very well. Leave her to me until she’s calmer. I’ll call you if I need your help.’

Lucy threw me a small smile. ‘I think that’s a good idea, or I might do something I later regret.’

‘Good girl. Now you’d better get into bed. It’s late and you’ve got school tomorrow.’

Lucy nodded. ‘I
was
in bed when I heard Joss kick off.’

I waited until she was back under the covers and then hugged and kissed her goodnight. Reassuring her again that she mustn’t worry about me, I came out and closed her door. I went to Paula’s room next. She was sitting up in bed, using the headboard as a backrest, with her lamp on, and gazing pensively across the room. I went over and she made room for me on the bed, resting her head on my shoulder. We often sat like this for our bedtime chats, but it was getting late – nearly eleven o’clock.

‘You won’t be able to get up in the morning,’ I said gently.

‘I’m not really tired now,’ she said.

‘Try not to let Joss’s behaviour upset you. She’s angry. I don’t take her words personally.’

‘But what I don’t understand is how she can be nice one minute, wanting to play with my doll’s house, and then stomp around and be revolting the next.’ Paula had a really nice doll’s house that she was given as a special present when she was four. Since then she’d bought beautiful furniture for it, so it was really a collector’s piece now. Although she no longer played with it as such, given that she was twelve, it still stood majestically on a small table in the corner of her bedroom where she could see and admire it. I knew Joss liked to play with it, role-playing the family as a much younger child would. She always asked Paula first if she could play with it and Paula always let her.

‘Joss is very confused,’ I said. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to try to ignore her mood swings. Don’t take it to heart. She’s had a rough time.’

‘I know. Her dad died and she hates her stepfather,’ Paula said.

‘Does Joss ever talk to you about it?’

‘Not really. But I’ve noticed she never plays with the daddy doll in the house. She hides him in the garage and then plays with the mummy doll and the two children. I almost understand why she hides the daddy, and yet I don’t. My dad doesn’t live with us, but when I used to play with my doll’s house I always included him. I mean, it’s OK to pretend, isn’t it?’

‘Of course it is, love, but then you still see your dad, even though he doesn’t live with us. Joss can’t ever see her dad again, can she? Perhaps that’s why she hides the daddy doll. Perhaps it’s too painful for her to even pretend.’