The Saddest Girl in the World

by Cathy Glass

  ‘That's good,’ I said, and I glanced at Donna, who still had her head down. She'd cupped the little red bag containing the present protectively in her hands as if it was her most treasured possession in the world.

  Edna checked down the last pages of the Essential Information Form, and then leant forward and handed it to me. This would go into the file I would start on Donna, as I had to for all the children I looked after, together with the paperwork I would gradually accumulate while Donna stayed with me, and also the daily log which I had to keep and which Jill inspected regularly when she visited.

  ‘The Placement Agreement forms are complete,’ Edna said, flipping through the second set of forms. ‘I checked them before we left the office.’ She peeled off the top sheets and, taking a pen from her bag, signed at the foot of the last page. She did the same for the bottom set of forms, which was a duplicate of the top set, and then passed both sets of forms to me. I added my signature beneath hers on both copies and passed one set back. The Placement Agreement gave me the legal right to foster Donna and I was signing to say I agreed to do this and to work to the required standard. One copy would be kept by the social services and my copy would go in my file.

  ‘Nearly finished,’ Edna said, turning to Donna.

  I glanced through the open French windows at Paula and Adrian, sitting side by side on the bench. Adrian was still intent on his Gameboy and Paula was looking between the game and Donna, hoping Donna might look up and make eye contact.

  ‘Here's Donna's medical card,’ Edna said, passing a printed card to me. ‘Will you register her at your doctor's, please? She's outside the catchment area of Mary and Ray's GP.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘I think that's about it then,’ Edna said, closing the folder and returning it to her bag. She placed her bag beside the sofa, glanced first at Donna and then looked at me. ‘Do you have any plans for the weekend, Cathy?’

  ‘Not especially. I thought we would have a relaxing weekend, and give Donna a chance to settle in. I will have to pop up to the supermarket tomorrow for a few things. Then on Sunday we could go to a park; the weather is supposed to be good.’

  ‘That sounds nice,’ Edna said. ‘Donna is good at shopping. She likes to help, don't you, Donna?’ We both looked at Donna and she managed to give that almost imperceptible nod. ‘You will be able to tell Cathy what your favourite foods are when you go shopping,’ Edna continued, trying to spark some interest. ‘I am sure Cathy will let you have some of them.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I agreed. ‘You can help me choose, Donna.’

  Edna's gaze lingered on Donna and I knew she was finding it difficult to make a move to leave. I wondered if Donna had been this quiet and withdrawn all afternoon, while she'd been with Edna at the office. Sitting forward, Edna said, ‘OK, Cathy, could you give me a hand unpacking the car then, please?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ I stood and went to the French windows. ‘I'm just helping Edna unload the car,’ I said to Adrian and Paula. ‘You're all right there for now, aren't you?’

  They nodded, Adrian without looking up from his game and Paula with her eyes going again to Donna.

  ‘You can stay there, Donna,’ Edna said, ‘or you can go in the garden if you like with Paula and Adrian.’

  Donna shrugged without looking up, and Edna left the sofa and began towards the lounge door. ‘I'll come back in to say goodbye,’ she said, pausing and turning to look at Donna. Donna shrugged again, almost with indifference, as though it didn't matter if Edna said goodbye or not; but I knew for certain that it did matter. The poor girl had spent the last hour saying goodbye — to Warren and Jason, to Mary and Ray, and now to Edna. I could only guess at what must be going through her mind as her social worker, to whom she was obviously very close, and with whom she had spent all day, was about to depart and leave her with strangers, albeit ones with good intentions.

  I followed Edna down the hall and she stood aside to allow me to open the front door. She gave one of her little heartfelt sighs. ‘I'm sure Donna will be fine by the end of the weekend,’ she said. ‘I'll phone on Monday and arrange to visit next week.’

  ‘I'll look after her, Edna,’ I reassured her. ‘Don't worry. Has she been this quiet all afternoon?’

  ‘She wasn't too bad until we went to say goodbye.’ Edna lowered her voice and leant towards me in confidence. ‘It was awful at Mary and Ray's. Donna was so upset to be leaving Warren and Jason, but the boys couldn't have cared less.’

  ‘Really?’ I said, shocked. ‘Why?’

  ‘I don't know. I had to make them say goodbye. They told Donna to her face that they were pleased she was going, and that they didn't want her to come back.’

  ‘But that's dreadful!’ I said, mortified.

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Edna shook her head sadly. ‘I don't know what's been going on. Mary and Ray said Donna had being trying to dominate the boys and boss them around, but I'm sure it was only her way of caring for them; Donna has spent all her life trying to look after the boys as best she could. But Warren and Jason, only a year apart in age, are glued to each other and present a united front. As they are so much brighter than Donna I wouldn't be surprised if they have been bullying her. I've seen them play tricks on her and use their intelligence to poke fun at her. I've told them off for it before. All the same, Cathy, I have to say, I was shocked by their attitude tonight. Donna loves them dearly and would do anything for them. It's probably for the best that they are being separated, for Donna's sake. She's not fair game for the boys. She's got a big heart, and I know she's a bit slow, but you would have thought brotherly love might have counted for something.’

  ‘Is Donna close to her older sister, Chelsea?’ I asked.

  ‘No. Chelsea and Mum are thick as thieves, and I'm beginning to think that Donna was out on a limb. You never really know what's going on in families behind closed doors. We brought the children into care because of severe physical neglect but emotional abuse is insidious and can be overlooked.’ She paused. ‘Anyway, Cathy, I'm sure Donna will be fine here. And when she does open up to you, I'd appreciate you telling me what she says.’

  ‘Yes, of course I will.’

  ‘Thanks. Let's get the car unpacked, and then I must get home to my hubby. He'll be thinking I've deserted him.’

  Edna was truly a lovely lady and I could imagine her and her ‘hubby’ discussing their respective days in the comfort of their sitting room in the evening.

  We made a number of journeys to and from the car, offloading a large suitcase, some cardboard boxes and a few carrier bags. Once we had stacked them in the hall, Edna said, ‘Right, Cathy, I'll say a quick goodbye to Donna then go.’

  We returned to the lounge, where Donna was as we had left her on the sofa, head down and with the red paper bag containing her present clasped before her.

  ‘I'm off now,’ Edna said positively to Donna. ‘You have a good weekend and I'll phone Cathy on Monday; then I'll visit next week. If you need or want anything, ask Cathy and she will help you. And I think Paula is dying to make friends with you, so that will be nice.’

  Edna stood just in front of Donna as she spoke but Donna didn't look up. ‘Come on,’ Edna encouraged kindly. ‘Stand up and give me a hug before I go.’

  There was a moment's hesitation; then, with a small dismissive shrug, Donna stood and let Edna give her a hug, although I noticed she didn't return it. As soon as Edna let go, Donna sat down again. ‘Bye then, Donna,’ Edna said; then leaning out of the French windows, ‘Bye Adrian, Paula, have a good weekend.’

  They both looked up and smiled. ‘Thank you.’

  Edna collected her bag from where she'd left it beside the sofa and with a final glance at Donna — who was once more sitting head down with the present in her hands, and I thought trying hard to minimise Edna's departure — walked swiftly from the room.

  ‘Take care and good luck,’ Edna said to me as I saw her to the front door. ‘I'll phone first thing on Monday. And thanks, C
athy.’

  ‘You're welcome. Don't worry. She'll be fine,’ I reassured her again.

  ‘Yes,’ Edna said, and with a quick glance over her shoulder towards the lounge, went out of the door and down the path towards her car.

  I closed the front door and returned to the lounge. ‘All right, love?’ I asked Donna as I entered.

  She slightly, almost imperceptibly, shook her head and then I saw a large tear escape and roll down her cheek.

  ‘Oh love, don't cry,’ I said, going over and sitting next to her. ‘It won't seem so bad in the morning, I promise you, sweet.’

  Another tear ran down her cheek and dripped on to the red paper bag in her lap, and then another. I put my arm around her and drew her to me. She resisted slightly, then relaxed against me. I held her close as tear after tear ran down her cheeks in silent and abject misery.

  ‘Here, love, wipe your eyes,’ I said softly, guiding her hand containing the tissue towards her face. She drew it across her eyes, then slowly lowered her head towards me, where it finally rested on my shoulder. I held her tight, and felt her head against my cheek as she continued to cry. ‘It's all right,’ I soothed quietly. ‘It will be all right, I promise you, love. Things will get better.’

  Paula came in from the patio and, seeing Donna crying, immediately burst into tears. I took hold of her arm with my free hand and drew her to sit beside me on the sofa. I encircled her with my right arm while my left arm stayed around Donna.

  ‘Why's Donna crying?’ Paula asked between sobs.

  ‘Because a lot has happened today that has made her sad,’ I said, stroking Paula's cheek.

  ‘I don't like seeing people cry,’ Paula said. ‘It makes me cry.’

  ‘I know, love, and me. But sometimes it's good to have a cry: it helps let out the sad feelings. I think Donna will feel a bit better in a while.’ I remained where I was on the sofa with an arm around each of the girls, Paula sobbing her heart out on my right, Donna on my left, crying in silent misery, and me in the middle trying hard not to join in — for, like Paula, I can't stand seeing anyone upset, particularly a child.

  Chapter Four

  Silence

  Adrian was not impressed. The phone had started ringing and, feeling unable to simply stand and desert the girls, I hadn't immediately answered it.

  ‘The phone's ringing,’ he said helpfully, coming in from the patio, with his Gameboy in his hand. He stopped as he saw the three of us and pulled a face, suggesting he didn't fully approve of this collective display of female emotion.

  ‘I'll answer it now,’ I said, throwing him a smile. ‘Everyone will be OK soon.’ This reassurance was enough for Adrian and he smartly nipped off into the garden, grateful he didn't have to be party to what must have appeared to a boy of his age to be blubbering nonsense.

  I eased my arms from the girls and went to answer the phone on the corner unit. It was Jill.

  ‘You took a long time to answer. Is everything all right, Cathy?’

  ‘Yes. Donna is here.’ I glanced over to the sofa as Paula took up the gap I had left and snuggled into Donna's side. Donna lifted her arm and put it around Paula. ‘Yes, everything is fine,’ I said.

  ‘Cathy, I won't keep you now, as it's getting late. I just wanted to make sure Donna had arrived and there weren't any problems.’

  ‘No, no problems,’ I confirmed. ‘Edna only left ten minutes ago. She's going to phone you, and me, on Monday. She brought all the forms.’

  ‘Good. Well, enjoy your weekend. If you do need to speak to someone, Mike is back, and on call over the weekend; dial the emergency number.’

  ‘OK, Jill, thanks.’

  ‘And I'll phone on Monday, and visit as soon as I can next week.’

  ‘Fine,’ I said. We said goodbye and I hung up.

  I glanced at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. It was 7.40 p.m., after Paula's bedtime and getting close to Adrian and Donna's. I crossed over to the girls; they had both stopped crying now and Donna still had her arm around Paula. Both were sitting very still, as though appreciating the moment, although Paula was the only one to look at me.

  ‘Girls,’ I said gently, drawing up the footstool and squatting on it so that I was at their level. ‘Are you feeling a bit better now?’

  Paula nodded and, with her head still resting against Donna, looked up at her. Donna had her head down and rubbed away the last of the tears from her cheeks with the tissue. I put a hand on each of their arms. ‘I think we will all feel better after a good night's sleep, and it is getting late,’ I said. Paula looked up again at Donna for her reaction, but there wasn't one: Donna remained impassive, head lowered, with the little red paper bag in her hand. ‘Donna, love, would you like something to eat?’ I asked again. ‘I have saved you dinner.’ She gave her head a little shake.

  ‘What about a drink before bed then?’

  The same small shake of the head.

  I hesitated, not really sure how to proceed. In many ways it was easier dealing with a child who was angry and shouting abuse: at least the pathway of communication at some level was open and could be channelled and modified. With so little coming back from Donna — she hadn't said a word yet — it was difficult to assess or interpret her needs. I hadn't thought to ask Edna if Donna had eaten, but even if the answer had been no, I could hardly force her to have dinner. ‘Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?’ I tried again. ‘Not even a snack?’

  The same shake of the head, so I had to assume she wasn't hungry, and if she hadn't eaten she could make up for it at breakfast. ‘I'd love to see your present,’ I said, looking at the little bag. ‘So would Paula. Will you show us?’

  Paula raised her head from Donna's side for a better view and Donna withdrew her arm. ‘What did Mary and Ray buy you?’ I asked. ‘I bet it's something nice.’

  Very slowly and not raising her head, and with absolutely no enthusiasm, Donna moved her fingers and began to open the top of the paper bag. Paula and I watched as she dipped in her fingers and gradually drew out a bracelet made from small multi-coloured beads.

  ‘Oh, isn't that lovely,’ I said. ‘What a nice present.’

  Donna cupped the bracelet in the palm of her hand, and I continued to enthuse, grateful for this small cooperation, which I viewed as progress. ‘Can you put it on your wrist and show us?’

  Donna carefully slipped the bracelet over the fingers on her right hand and drew it down so that it settled around her wrist. As she did, I thought of Warren and Jason's parting shot, when they had told Donna not only that were they pleased she was going but not to go back. I felt so sorry for her.

  ‘That's beautiful,’ I said. I could tell that Donna was proud; she supported the wrist with the bracelet with her other hand, as though displaying it to its best advantage. It wasn't an expensive bracelet; it was the type of ‘infill’ present that one child gave another at a birthday party. The beads were painted plastic, strung together on elastic so that the bracelet fitted most-sized wrists. But if Paula thought the gift wasn't as precious as Donna did, she certainly didn't say so.

  ‘That is pretty,’ Paula said, touching it. ‘I like the red and blue ones.’ And I thought if anything typified the gaping chasm between children who had and those who did not, it was the bracelet. In our wealthy society with its abundance of acquirable material possessions, the gap between children from poor homes and those who enjoy all its advantages was widening. Paula had a couple of these bracelets, possibly three, and also a bedroom packed full of similar treasures which she'd received for Christmas and birthday presents, and treats from grandparents; but I knew from the way Donna cradled the bracelet that she certainly did not.

  ‘We will have to find a safe place for it in your bedroom,’ I said. Donna nodded.

  I glanced at the clock again; I really had to start getting all three children upstairs and into bed. There was no way I was going to attempt Donna's unpacking now; it was too late, and we would have plenty of time the following day. ‘Now,
love,’ I said, placing my hand on Donna's arm again. ‘We're going to take just what we need for tonight from your bags and sort out the rest in the morning, all right? Once you've had a good night's sleep everything will seem a lot better. I'd like you to come with me into the hall and tell me which bag has your nightwear and washing things.’ Then it occurred to me that Donna probably didn't know what each bag contained, as Edna had said Mary had done the packing that afternoon while Donna had been with Edna. ‘Do you know what's in each bag?’ I asked her.

  Donna shrugged. ‘Wait there with Paula a minute,’ I said, ‘and I'll take a look, unless you want to come and help me?’

  She shook her head, and I left her sitting with Paula, who was still, bless her, admiring the bracelet, while I went down the hall, hoping I wouldn't have to unpack every bag and case to find her night things. I peered in the various carrier bags and found that Mary had put everything Donna needed for the night in one plastic bag, presumably guessing it would be too late for us to unpack properly. Picking up this carrier bag, I returned to the lounge.

  The girls were still together and Donna was slipping the bracelet from her wrist and returning it to the paper bag. ‘I've found what you need for tonight,’ I said. I went over and, opening the bag, showed her inside. ‘Nightdress, wash bag and teddy. Is there anything else you need, love?’

  She shook her head.

  The French windows were still open and Adrian was outside, now at the end of the garden having a last swing before he had to come in. It was nearly 8.30 p.m. and the air temperature was just starting to drop. ‘Adrian,’ I called from the step. ‘Five minutes, and then I want you to come in and get changed.’ He didn't say anything, but I knew he had heard me, for this scenario had been repeated most nights since school had broken up — I had left him playing in the garden, sometimes with the neighbour's children, while I got Paula ready for bed.