Girl Alone: Joss came home from school to discover her father’s suicide. Angry and hurting, she’s out of control. (8 page)

‘Joss left two hours ago,’ Linda said. ‘As soon as Eric walked in. She said she was going to see Chelsea. I asked her if that was all right with you and she told me you’d said it was, as long as she was back by ten-thirty tonight.’

‘What!’ I cried. ‘That isn’t what I said at all. Just the opposite, in fact. I told her she had to come straight home after she’d seen you. She knows she has homework to do.’

‘Sorry,’ Linda said. ‘I should have checked with you first.’

‘It’s not your fault. I should have collected her in the car. I didn’t think it would be necessary. She promised me she’d mend her ways.’

‘She always does,’ Linda said despondently. ‘I don’t think she can help herself. Do you know Chelsea?’

‘I’ve met her once, although I do know where she lives.’

‘I got the impression Joss was going to her place. She said they had to keep off the streets and not get into more trouble with the police.’

‘At least she listened to that part of my lecture,’ I said. ‘Pity she didn’t listen to the rest. I think I might go to Chelsea’s flat and bring Joss home. She needs to understand she can’t do whatever she wants whenever she pleases.’

‘That’s good of you,’ Linda said. Then I heard a man’s voice in the background and, lowering her voice, Linda said, ‘Eric says Joss needs a damn good smack. But I’ve never hit my children. Steven and I were against it.’

‘So am I,’ I said. ‘There are better ways to discipline a child. And foster carers aren’t allowed to smack children. I’ll go now and see if Joss is at Chelsea’s flat. Shall I phone you when I return?’

‘Yes, please. I am grateful. Thank you so much, Cathy.’

I felt there was little to thank me for.

Adrian and Lucy were both out that Saturday afternoon; Adrian was playing tennis and Lucy was shopping with some friends. I explained to Paula that I was going out to try to find Joss. I asked her if she wanted to come with me and wait in the car or stay at home. She said she’d stay at home, so I left her sitting on the bench in the garden reading a book with Toscha curled up beside her.

I knew where Chelsea’s flat was from when I’d given her a lift home from the cinema – assuming she and Joss had told me the truth as to where Chelsea lived. To be honest, Joss had told me so many lies I now doubted much of what she said, and I thought that as they’d given me a false name for Chelsea, perhaps they’d also given me a false address. But I would try it. Joss needed to see I was serious about the boundaries I was putting in place and that when I said something, I meant it. The worse that could happen was that Chelsea didn’t live in the flat, in which case I’d apologize to the occupants for disturbing them, and then perhaps I’d drive around some of Joss’s favourite haunts – Maple Park and outside the shopping centre, for example – and see if I could spot her.

I pulled in to the kerb and parked where there was a space a little way from the parade of shops. The night I’d dropped off Chelsea I hadn’t seen a front entrance to the flat, but Joss had told me it was at the rear, up a fire escape. I got out of the car, walked round the end of the building and immediately saw the flight of stairs she meant. Taking the handrail, I made my way up, my shoes echoing on the metal steps. At the top of the stairs there was a landing, which ran the length of the seven flats. The landing was south facing and a few old dining chairs were outside for residents to sit in the sun, although they were unoccupied now. There was also washing hanging on a makeshift line strewn between the railings, drying in the sun. The newsagents below was the third shop in, so I went to the third door. It was number 79. A small window was open in a room overhead and from it I could hear a television.

Now that I’d arrived I was apprehensive, and I felt my heart step up a beat. The plan I’d hatched for bringing Joss home seemed flawed. Even if Joss was here, supposing she made a big scene and refused to come with me – what could I do? Not a lot, and my credibility as a foster carer in her eyes would suffer even more. But I was here so, taking a deep breath and summoning my courage, I lifted the small rusty knocker and gave the door a sharp tap. I waited. No one answered and the television above continued. I knocked again, harder this time, and waited some more.

I was about to knock a third time when a noise came from the other side of the door – a lock being turned – and then the door slowly opened. Chelsea looked at me, astonished.

‘Hi, love,’ I said non-confrontationally, throwing her a smile. ‘Nice to see you again. Is Joss here?’

She gave a small, anxious nod.

‘Good. I’ve come to give her a lift home.’

There was no sign of Joss, but Chelsea looked at me, very worried, clearly not knowing what to do.

‘Could you tell her I’m here, please, or perhaps I could come in?’

I took a step forward and Chelsea opened the door wider to let me in. I found myself in a kitchen, cluttered and dirty. The sink and draining board were overflowing with used pans, dishes and cutlery, and a Formica table was littered with empty takeaway boxes, beer cans, drink bottles and anything else the occupants couldn’t be bothered to take out to the rubbish bins. The place reeked of stale food and smoke. I followed Chelsea from the kitchen into the main room.

‘Joss, your foster carer is here,’ Chelsea said as we entered.

The air was thick with cannabis smoke. I blinked as my gaze went to an old sofa up against one wall where Joss was scrabbling to straighten her clothes and move away from the man she was with. More empty beer cans and spirit bottles were strewn around and grey net curtains hung at the window that overlooked the street. On the floor up against the other wall was a mattress, and the guy lying on it looked me up and down.

‘Yeah? What do you want?’ he said rudely.

‘I’ve come to give Joss a lift home,’ I said evenly. I turned to Joss, who had the decency to look embarrassed. Both guys laughed. I guessed they were in their early twenties and both wore jeans and short-sleeved T-shirts that showed heavily tattooed arms.

‘Hi, I’m Zach, nice to meet you,’ the guy who’d been with Joss said sarcastically.

I nodded. ‘Are you ready?’ I asked Joss, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

She glanced anxiously at Zach.

‘Go home with your carer,’ he said mockingly. ‘But give us a kiss first.’

Joss leant over him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. He laughed and squeezed her bottom, then reached down for the beer can and took a swig.

‘Go on, run along,’ he said to her.

‘Will I see you later?’ Chelsea asked Joss.

Joss shrugged.

Chelsea came with us to the door and said a very quiet goodbye to Joss before closing the door behind us. I breathed in the fresh air, grateful to be out of there with Joss and without a scene. I was as shocked by the state of the flat as I was by finding Joss and Chelsea with the two men. Joss knew she was in trouble and walked with me in silence to my car. Once in the car, I put the key into the ignition but didn’t start the engine. I turned in my seat to look at her.

‘What?’ she asked defiantly. ‘We weren’t doing anything.’ Meaning, I supposed, that they weren’t having sex.

‘Joss, you went to your mother’s. You were supposed to come straight home after, not go to Chelsea’s flat.’

‘But I wanted to see Zach. He’s my boyfriend. I knew you wouldn’t let me.’

‘For good reason. How old is he – twenty-three?’

‘Twenty-two. He’s Chelsea’s uncle,’ Joss said, as though that made it all right.

‘And you are thirteen, Joss. Who was the other man?’

‘Zach’s friend. Chelsea’s boyfriend.’

‘Does he have a name?’

‘Carl,’ Joss said.

‘And their surnames?’ I wanted to find out as much as possible about them.

‘Don’t know.’

‘Are these the men you’ve been seen with at school?’ I asked.

Joss gave a reluctant nod. I continued to look at her, trying to work out how I could begin to make her see the danger she was placing herself in.

‘We weren’t doing anything,’ she said again. ‘Zach respects me. He treats me nice.’

‘Joss, it didn’t look like that to me. The place reeked of cannabis and clearly you were all drinking. When I came in he was groping you on the sofa – I don’t call that respectful.’

She shrugged dismissively.

‘Does Chelsea really live in that flat?’

‘Yeah. Can we go now? I’ve got to do my homework before I can go out tonight.’

I looked at her aghast. ‘You’re not going out tonight.’

‘I’m allowed to! It’s Saturday!’ she shouted.

I started the engine and pulled away.

‘Joss, it would be completely irresponsible of me to let you go out this evening now that I’ve seen what’s going on at Chelsea’s flat with those two men. I want to speak to your social worker first, on Monday.’

‘Why?’

‘To see how best to keep you safe. Who else lives in that flat?’

‘Dunno. Chelsea’s dad, and some of his friends, I guess.’

‘And Zach?’ I asked as I drove.

‘Sometimes.’

‘Where’s Chelsea’s mother? Do you know?’ I navigated the traffic.

‘She left years ago.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. Who was upstairs with the television on?’

‘Her dad. He never gets up until evening. He’s a lazy sod.’ Joss gave a little laugh.

I didn’t think it was funny. ‘So he knew that you and Chelsea – two underage girls, one of whom is his daughter – were downstairs smoking drugs and drinking alcohol?’

‘He doesn’t mind,’ Joss said. ‘He’s cool. He smokes and drinks too.’ As if that made it all right!

‘It’s not cool, Joss,’ I said, pulling up to the traffic lights. ‘It’s completely irresponsible. I appreciate you and Chelsea can’t see the danger, but he should be able to. He’s an adult and her father.’

‘I don’t care what you think,’ she said. ‘I like him. He’s my friend.’

I was even more worried now than I had been before when I’d believed Joss had been on the streets with friends more her own age. She’d got into trouble with them, but what I’d discovered this afternoon raised my concerns to a whole new level. Not only was Joss placing herself in an unsafe situation by going to that flat with those men and smoking and drinking, but also Chelsea appeared to be living with it on a daily basis. I would telephone Amelia first thing on Monday to inform her of what I’d found and discuss what could be done to better protect Joss (and Chelsea). I would be pushing for Joss to stay in more.

The rest of the journey continued in silence, with Joss staring straight ahead, clearly very annoyed with me. Once home she stomped up to her bedroom, and then she stomped back down again a few minutes later and joined Paula in the garden. I took the opportunity to telephone Linda as I’d promised. Eric answered and said that Linda had popped to the local shops and would be back in about half an hour.

‘Could you tell Linda I’ve found Joss,’ I said. ‘She was at Chelsea’s.’

‘That is good news,’ Eric said. ‘Our Joss can be a little minx sometimes. I hope you punish her.’

‘She’ll be staying in tonight,’ I said. ‘Please tell Linda that too, and that I’ve spoken to Joss. She can phone me if she wants to, but Joss is safe.’ I didn’t go into all the details, as it would worry Linda. If she telephoned me and wanted to know more, I’d tell her. Eric said he’d pass on the message and we said goodbye.

When I went into the garden Joss had a school book open on her lap. I guessed why.

‘As I’m doing my homework, can I go out tonight?’ she said.

‘No. Not tonight, love.’

‘What if I don’t see Chelsea?’

‘I want you to stay in with us tonight. We’ll have dinner and then we can play some board games or watch a film together. Adrian’s out tonight so it’ll be a girls’ night in.’

Joss pulled a face, but didn’t argue further. I think even she knew she’d overstepped the boundaries enough for one day, and she read her school book for a while. After dinner Adrian went to a friend’s house and the girls and I watched a film and shared a bowl of microwave popcorn, then we ate ice cream from the freezer. Joss relaxed, got over her pique and appeared to be enjoying herself, although she didn’t admit it. The film was a romantic comedy and we all laughed together. I hoped that, once I’d spoken to Amelia, Joss would be staying in more and we could all enjoy further family evenings together.

Joss slept well that night and was up and dressed early the next morning, and in a very good mood. I’d invited my parents to lunch and I was looking forward to seeing them, as were Adrian, Lucy and Paula. Joss had met them briefly once, a few days after she’d arrived, when they came for dinner, but she’d been on her way out. Today would give her and my parents the opportunity to get to know each other better. Mum and Dad are the classic grandparents: loving and doting, they welcome the children I foster with open hearts, and the children very quickly call them Nana and Grandpa. But it soon became clear that Joss had different plans.

‘Pity I’ll miss them again,’ she said as we finished breakfast.

‘You won’t. They’re coming here today, at twelve,’ I said.

‘Yeah, but I’m going out soon.’

‘No, you’re not. It’s Sunday. You stay in on Sundays.’

‘You’re wrong,’ Joss said. ‘I’m not allowed out in the evening, but I can go out during the day. That’s what the behaviour contract says.’ I felt the atmosphere around the breakfast table shift as Adrian concentrated on his food and Paula and Lucy looked at Joss.

‘It was agreed you’d stay with us on Sundays,’ I said. ‘I remember distinctly.’ We hadn’t been sent a copy of the contract yet, but I felt sure I was right. ‘I’ll ask Amelia on Monday when I phone her, but until I’ve checked I want you to stay in today. You’ll enjoy it.’

‘No, I won’t,’ Joss said, her face setting. ‘I was in all last night.’

‘Nana and Grandpa are lovely,’ Paula tried.

‘Good for you,’ Joss snapped, ‘but they’re not my fucking grandparents.’ She jumped up from the table, stamped upstairs to her room and slammed the door.

‘I don’t know why you bother,’ Lucy exclaimed, annoyed.

‘Because I care.’

We finished our breakfast in silence.

I went up to see Joss a couple of times during the morning, but she refused to even look at me and kept her earphones in and her eyes down while I tried to talk to her. I knew it would be impossible for my children and I to enjoy my parents’ visit if Joss stayed in her room, angry and upset, so half an hour before they were due to arrive I went up to her room and tried again. She was no longer listening to music but was flicking through some magazines. I began talking to her gently, again explaining why I put in place boundaries and why I wanted her to come down and join us, but she continued to ignore me and eventually I ran out of patience.

‘Joss, it would be very rude of you and discourteous to my parents if you didn’t come down, so I want you downstairs in five minutes or I’ll ground you for the whole of next week.’

Joss suddenly found her voice. ‘You can’t do that!’ she cried, turning to face me, her eyes blazing.

‘Watch me,’ I said. ‘Five minutes. Understand? I’ve had enough. It’s bad enough you’re rude to me, but I’m not having you being disrespectful to my parents.’ I came out and closed her bedroom door.

My heart was racing. I was annoyed and stressed. I’m a patient person, but I wasn’t going to have my parents hurt and another day ruined because of Joss. I knew what I’d said was a gamble. If Joss didn’t come down or ran out of the house, my authority would be severely damaged and Joss would see my ineffectiveness as a passport to do whatever she wanted in the future.

An anxious five minutes passed, and then ten. Paula and I were in the kitchen preparing the meat and vegetables for lunch. Adrian and Lucy were setting up the garden chairs and the sun umbrella so we could all sit outside. Another five minutes passed and then I heard Joss’s bedroom door open above, followed by her footsteps on the stairs. Paula and I both paused as she neared the bottom of the stairs. To my utter relief Joss didn’t go out the front door but went down the hall and into the sitting room. Paula and I continued with the preparations for lunch. I didn’t rush in and praise Joss – she should have done as I’d asked in the first place instead of creating a scene. It doesn’t do young people any harm to feel a parent’s or carer’s disapproval for a short while after they’ve done something wrong.