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

‘But that’s not fair!’ she cried, jumping up from her chair, all semblance of compliance gone. ‘You treat me like a fucking baby. I hate you and this fucking family! I hate everyone.’

Chapter Two

I Thought You Loved Me

I left Joss to calm down for a little longer than usual, allowing her time to reflect and me a chance to recharge my batteries. I found her outbursts exhausting and stressful. I was never sure what she might do or what she was capable of – the carers who’d looked after Joss before had reported that she’d hit one of them – and, although she hadn’t physically threatened me (yet), I always put some distance between us when she was very angry.

I continued to water the plants on the patio, largely as a displacement for my anxious thoughts. How could I get through to Joss before it was too late and she came to real harm? Continue as I had been doing with firm boundaries, love, care and concern? It had worked in the past with other young people I’d fostered, but would it work now? Joss was coming close to being the most challenging child I’d ever looked after, and it wasn’t something for her to be proud of.

Deep in thought, I set down the watering can and was about to go indoors to find Joss to talk to her, as I always did after one of her flare-ups, when she appeared on the patio.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘You can take and collect me tonight if you want.’

‘To Chloe’s?’ I asked, slightly surprised by the sudden turnaround.

‘Nah. To the cinema. We’ve decided to see a film.’

‘OK. That sounds good. Which film are you going to see?’

Joss rattled off the title of a film I knew was showing at the local cinema and then said, ‘It starts at seven-thirty, so I’m meeting Chloe there at seven to give us time to buy our tickets and popcorn. The film finishes at nine-forty-five, so you can collect me at ten.’

It did cross my mind that this all sounded a bit pat, but I had to trust Joss, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt. ‘All right. We’ll leave here at six-forty,’ I said. ‘Lucy is seeing a friend this evening, so I’ll drop her off on the way.’

‘I’ll tell her,’ Joss said helpfully, and went back indoors.

We ate dinner at six and then, having explained to Adrian and Paula that I was dropping off Lucy and Joss and I’d be gone for no more than an hour, we left. Sometimes I feel I’m running a taxi service with all the driving I do, but I’d much rather that and know the children are safe than have them waiting for buses that don’t always arrive, especially at night. Both girls sat in the rear of the car, and as I drove they chatted to each other, mainly about the film Joss was going to see. Lucy wanted to see it too and was hoping to go to the cinema with a friend the following weekend. I dropped Lucy off at her friend’s house (her friend’s mother was going to bring her home later) and then I continued to the cinema.

‘Chloe will be here soon,’ Joss said, opening her car door.

‘You can wait in the car until she arrives if you like,’ I suggested.

‘Nah, it’s OK. She might be waiting inside.’

Joss got out and closed the door. I lowered my window. ‘I’ll see you at ten o’clock, then,’ I said. ‘If Chloe doesn’t arrive, phone me and I’ll come back to collect you.’

‘Sure,’ Joss said. Then she spotted her waiting to cross the road. ‘Hi, Chloe!’ she yelled, waving hard.

‘Hiya!’ the girl yelled back.

I pulled away, pleased that I’d believed Joss. She’d come to me with a history of lying, so I found myself doubting everything she told me, which wasn’t good, and not like me. Usually I trusted people and accepted what they said, unless experience proved I should do otherwise. I was so pleased I hadn’t doubted Joss or questioned her further on her trip to the cinema with Chloe, as it could have undermined our already very fragile relationship.

At home, Paula and I watched some television together and then I suggested to Adrian that he left his studies for tonight and relaxed. The examinations he was revising for were important, as he needed good grades to continue to the sixth form, but I was concerned he was overdoing it. Half an hour later he joined us and we had a game of Scrabble before it was time for me to leave to collect Joss.

Although I was ten minutes early, Joss was already waiting outside the cinema with Chloe. They came over and I lowered my window.

‘Can you give Chloe a lift home?’ Joss asked. ‘It’s on the way.’

‘Of course. Get in,’ I said.

Both girls giggled, climbed into the back and giggled some more – possibly from teenage self-consciousness or embarrassment, I didn’t know. Chloe was a largely built girl with jet-black, chin-length hair, heavily made-up eyes and a very short skirt. She looked older than Joss, but then Joss was so petite she looked younger than thirteen. Both girls reeked of cheap perfume, which I assumed was Chloe’s, as Joss hadn’t been wearing any perfume when she’d left. It was so strong I kept my window open a little.

‘Was the film good?’ I asked as I drove.

‘Yeah,’ they said, and giggled again.

‘And you’re in the same class at school?’ I asked after a moment, trying to make conversation.

‘Yeah,’ Joss said, while Chloe remained silent.

‘Where do you live?’ I asked Chloe. ‘I’ll take you to your door.’

‘We pass it,’ she said. ‘I’ll shout when we’re there.’

There was more giggling and then whispering as I drove, and finally Joss yelled, ‘Stop! We’re here!’

I checked in my mirrors and pulled over. We were outside a small parade of shops about five minutes from where I lived. ‘I’ll take you to your door,’ I said to Chloe.

‘You have!’ Joss shouted, laughing. ‘She lives here.’

‘I live over the newsagents,’ Chloe explained. ‘Thanks for the lift.’

‘You’re welcome.’

There was more giggling as Chloe got out, and then before Joss closed the car door she yelled to her, ‘See ya Monday!’

‘Yeah, see ya, you old tart!’ Chloe yelled back.

Joss shut the car door with more force than was necessary and I pulled away. As we passed Chloe walking along the pavement Joss banged on her window. Chloe grinned and put up her middle finger in an obscene gesture. I didn’t comment. Chloe was the only friend of Joss’s I’d met so far and I didn’t want to criticize her, but she was so unlike Lucy’s and Paula’s friends that I had to stop myself making an instant judgement. If I felt Chloe might not be the best choice of friend for Joss, who was drawn to trouble, I didn’t say so, and reminded myself that first impressions can be deceptive.

‘How does Chloe get into her flat?’ I asked out of interest, for there hadn’t been an obvious front door.

‘Round the back of the shops and up the fire escape,’ Joss said.

‘You’ve been to her flat?’

‘Yeah, we hang out there sometimes.’

Now that the smell of perfume was starting to clear – with Chloe’s departure and the window open – I was beginning to catch the smell of something else, which I thought could be dope, but I wasn’t sure. I knew that just as mints are used to mask the smell of alcohol, dope, tobacco, glue and other substances on the breath, so perfume and cologne can be used to try to hide the smell from clothes, skin and hair. I wasn’t going to accuse Joss unjustly, but I wanted her to know I was aware of the possibility that she may have been using again.

‘What’s the perfume?’ I asked.

‘It’s Chloe’s. I don’t know what it’s called.’

‘It’s very strong,’ I said, and I glanced at her pointedly in the mirror.

Joss immediately looked away. ‘I haven’t been smoking, if that’s what you think,’ she said defensively.

‘Good.’

I guessed that Joss would want to go out again on Sunday, as previous carers had complained that she went out as soon as she was dressed and didn’t return until after midnight, and then she was too tired to get up for school on Monday morning. Joss had been out both Friday and Saturday evening, so I thought it was reasonable that she spent Sunday with us. I look upon Sundays as family time, as many others do, and I like us to try to spend most of it together, as a family, which obviously includes the child or children I am fostering. When my children were little I used to arrange an activity on a Sunday, visiting a park or place of interest, or seeing family or friends, but now they were older I accepted that they didn’t always want to be organized every weekend and liked to spend time just chilling. However, we hadn’t been out together the previous two Sundays, so I thought a family outing now would be nice for everyone, including Joss. Doing things together encourages bonding and helps improve family relationships – something Joss was a bit short on. I knew Adrian would want to do some exam revision first, so I would make it for the afternoon only. I racked my brains for an activity that wasn’t too far away, preferable outdoors as the weather was good, and that they’d all enjoy. I came up with the Tree Top Adventure Park. It was an assault course set in the treetops of a forest about half an hour’s drive away. It had zip wires, swing bridges and rope ladders, and was suitable for ages ten and above. I’d taken my children before but not for a while. I mentioned it to Lucy and Paula first, who liked the idea, and then to Adrian, who agreed that taking the afternoon off would be fine.

Then I knocked on Joss’s door.

‘Yeah? Come in!’ she called from inside.

She was propped up on her bed using the headboard for support, earphones in, and flicking through a magazine. I motioned for her to take out an earphone so she could hear me, then I explained about the proposed outing, emphasizing how much fun it would be and that it was suitable for teenagers, girls and boys. ‘You’ll need to wear something a bit looser than those tight jeans,’ I suggested, ‘so you can climb. And trainers rather than sandals.’

‘Nah, it’s OK,’ she said, returning her attention to the magazine. ‘You can go. I’ll stay here.’

‘Joss, I’d like you to come with us, so would the girls and Adrian. While you’re here you’re part of this family and it’s nice to do things together as a family sometimes.’

‘Nah, thanks,’ she said. ‘I’m OK.’

‘I want you to come, Joss,’ I said.

She looked up. ‘If you don’t trust me here alone I can go out and meet up with my mates. That’s what I did when the other carers went out.’

‘But I won’t do that,’ I said more firmly. ‘I would like you to come. It’s just for the afternoon and I’ve chosen an activity you’ll like.’

‘What if I don’t like it?’ Joss said. She challenged me on everything if she had a mind to.

‘Then you’ll put it down to experience and won’t ever go again. But at least you will have tried it.’

‘Nah,’ she said again. ‘It’s not my thing.’ She went back to the magazine and flipped a couple of pages.

There was no way I was leaving Joss alone in the house having heard about the mischief she’d got up to at her previous carers’ when she’d been left alone – underage drinking and smoking dope with friends, the house trashed and the police called. Neither was I agreeing to her going out and spending the afternoon on the streets, with the potential for getting into more trouble. Apart from which, I wanted Joss to come with us as part of the family and have a good time.

‘I think you’ll enjoy it,’ I said.

‘Nah. I won’t,’ she said.

I took a breath. It was hard work. ‘OK, Joss, the bottom line is: you come with us, which is what I would like, or I can take you to another foster carer for the afternoon.’ I knew carers who would help me out if necessary, as I would help them, but whether they were available at such short notice on a Sunday, I didn’t know. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to put it to the test.

‘I don’t want to go to another carer,’ Joss moaned, her face setting.

‘I don’t want you to go either. I want you to come with us.’ I smiled.

‘Is it only for the afternoon?’

‘Yes. We’ll leave here around twelve-ish and we’ll be back about six.’

‘OK. You win. Again,’ she said. ‘But I won’t enjoy myself. I’ll be miserable all afternoon.’

‘Joss, I bet you two pounds you do enjoy yourself. If you do, you’ll win; if not, I win.’

It took her a moment to work this out and then she smiled.

Despite her appalling behaviour and bravado, I liked Joss. I felt that underneath there was a nice kid trying to get out. I appreciated that losing her father in such tragic circumstances and then not getting on with her stepfather was a bad deal, but I was hoping that coming to live with me would give her the chance to sort her life out.

Joss did thoroughly enjoy herself at the Tree Top Adventure Park, despite staying in the very tight jeans that pinched her legs when she climbed. She was confident and tackled even the very high walks, wires, swings and ladders fearlessly. So much so that the supervisors stationed throughout the park warned her a few times to take it more steadily or she could fall and injure herself. But then, of course, that was part of Joss’s problem. She had no sense of danger. Paula and Lucy took the course together at a steadier pace, and Adrian met a friend from school and they went off together. I completed one circuit and then sat on a bench in the shade of the trees reading my book and also watching the young people having fun. By six o’clock they were all tired and hot and sitting with me in the shade eating ice creams. Our tickets allowed us to stay until the park closed at eight o’clock, but everyone agreed they were ready to go. As we left, Joss actually asked if we could come again.

‘We could,’ I said. ‘But there are other fun places to go on a day out.’

‘But I like it here. I’ve had a good time,’ she said.

‘Great. You win the bet,’ I said. I handed her the two pounds.

On the way home we picked up a takeaway, and after we’d eaten Adrian resumed his studies, Lucy and Paula went up to Paula’s room and Joss went to hers. I was just congratulating myself on a successful day when Joss appeared in the living room. I knew straight away from her expression she was in challenge mode. ‘As I did what you wanted me to this afternoon, can I go out now?’ she said.

‘No, Joss. Not tonight, love. You were out Friday and Saturday, and you have school tomorrow. It’s already seven-thirty.’

‘I’ll be back by ten. Just for a couple of hours.’

‘No, not tonight. Two nights out over the weekend is plenty.’

‘But that’s not fair.’

‘I think it is fair, but you can raise it with your social worker tomorrow if you wish.’

‘I fucking will!’ she said, stamping her foot. ‘And you can’t stop my pocket money now, because you’ve already given it to me! Cow!’

She stormed out of the living room and upstairs into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. I felt my heart start racing. Another confrontation. It was so stressful. But I reminded myself that at least she was doing what I’d asked and was staying in, which was a huge improvement. At her previous carers’ she’d come and gone as she’d liked, often defying them when they said she had to stay in. Foster carers (and care-home staff) are not allowed to lock a child in the house or physically prevent them from leaving, even if it is for the child’s own good. It’s considered imprisonment. With your own child you’d do anything within reason to keep them safe, and I think the whole area of what a carer can and can’t do to keep a young person safe is something that needs to be looked into, with practical guidelines set up.

I tried not to take Joss’s words personally. I knew she was angry – not only with me, but with life in general – and I was an easy target, especially when I put boundaries in place. Once she’d calmed down she usually reverted to being pleasant and often apologized. Sure enough, ten minutes later I heard her bedroom door open. She came down and said she was sorry. Then she joined Lucy and Paula in Paula’s room, where the three of them sat chatting and listening to music until it was time to get ready for bed.

Joss had another nightmare that night. I heard her scream and was out of bed in a heartbeat, going round the landing to her room. As usual, she was sitting up in bed with her eyes closed, still half asleep. Normally she didn’t say anything as I resettled her, and in the morning she would have no recollection of the nightmare, so I no longer mentioned it. But now, as I gently eased her down and her head touched the pillow, she said softly, ‘Daddy used to take us on outings too.’

‘That’s a lovely memory,’ I said quietly. Her eyes were still closed. I sat on the edge of the bed and began stroking her forehead to soothe and comfort her. I guessed the memory had been triggered by our day out.

Her eyes stayed shut, but then her face crumpled in pain. ‘Why did you leave us, Daddy? Why? I thought you loved us.’ A small tear escaped from the corner of her eye and ran down her cheek onto the pillow. I felt my own eyes fill. The poor child.

She didn’t say anything further and appeared to be asleep. I continued to stroke her forehead and soothe her as she drifted into a deep sleep. Then I stood and quietly came out and returned to bed. Joss had never talked about her father to me, but I guessed the horrific memory of that day was probably as fresh as ever. There are so many feelings connected with the suicide of a loved one, apart from the immense sadness at losing them: regret and remorse at things that were said and unsaid; rejection because the person chose to go; guilt (was it something I did?) and anger – perhaps the most difficult to cope with – that the person has gone. Joss was clearly still hurting badly, and I didn’t think her behaviour would improve until she had dealt with all the conflicting emotions she must still be wrestling with following her father’s death.

The following morning Joss didn’t mention her dream. I assumed that, as before, she hadn’t remembered it, so I didn’t say anything. She had her usual cereal and a glass of juice for breakfast, and then, as I saw her off at the door, I reminded her that she had to go straight to the council offices after school for the meeting with her social worker. I was going too, and so was her mother. I’d offered to collect Joss from school, which would have guaranteed that she arrived, and on time, but she’d refused, and I felt it wasn’t something I needed to take a stand on.

‘Make sure you catch the first bus as soon as you come out of school,’ I emphasized to Joss as I said goodbye. ‘No chatting with your friends tonight.’

‘I know. I’ll see you there,’ Joss said. ‘But if Mum brings him to the meeting, I’m leaving.’

As usual, ‘him’ meant her stepfather, Eric, whom Joss so deeply resented. I hadn’t met her mother or stepfather yet, and I didn’t know if Eric would be there, but it wasn’t for me to tell the social worker whom to invite to a meeting. She was aware of the animosity between Joss and her stepfather, so hopefully would have advised Joss’s mother, Linda, accordingly.

During the morning, Jill, my supervising social worker, telephoned to see how the weekend had gone, so she had an update from me prior to the meeting. She would be there too. All foster carers in England have a support social worker, also known as a supervising social worker or link worker, supplied by the agency they foster for. Jill had met Joss a few times and was aware of her history. I gave Jill a brief résumé of our weekend, good and bad, but emphasizing that we’d had a good afternoon on Sunday, and Jill said she’d see me at four o’clock at the meeting.

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