The Saddest Girl in the World

by Cathy Glass

  Just as I walked away from the phone it rang again and for a moment I thought it might be Mary, phoning back to say she'd thought of a way to persuade the boys to go.

  ‘Hello?’ I said, my spirits briefly rising. They fell again instantly. It was my ex-husband, John.

  ‘Hello, Cathy,’ he said, suitably subdued, aware that I hadn't fully appreciated his running off with a woman half his age three years previously. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Fine,’ I said, which was what I usually said.

  ‘I was due to see the children Sunday week,’ he continued, ‘but something's come up. Could I bring my visit forward to this Sunday?’ That's all I need, I thought!

  ‘I'm sorry,’ I said. ‘Adrian and Paula are going to a birthday party this Sunday. They are free on Saturday, though.’

  ‘No can do Saturday. I've got tickets for the theatre in the evening — it would be too much of a rush.’ Suit yourself, I thought, but didn't say. ‘Couldn't they miss the party?’

  ‘No, I'm afraid not. It's someone close.’ He didn't have to know the details; he knew I still fostered, but my business was none of his concern now, unless it was related directly to Adrian and Paula.

  ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I'll have to shift my visit back. I'm on holiday for a couple of weeks, so I'll see them a month on Sunday.’

  ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘I'll put it in the diary. I'll tell Adrian and Paula you phoned.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Curt possibly, but I hadn't been rude. I put down the phone and wondered what other bad omen was going to blow my way this Friday. It was just as well it wasn't Friday the 13th or else I could have been persuaded into feeling superstitious. Not only did I now have to tell Donna that her brothers wouldn't be coming to her party, but I also had to tell Adrian and Paula that their father was postponing his visit and wouldn't be coming for another month. They looked forward to seeing him, and although I had my own thoughts about his irresponsibility in deserting his family, I had kept them to myself and not let them get in the way of the children's relationship with him. The time they spent with their father was limited — one day a month (his decision) — and Adrian and Paula looked forward to his visits. The last time he had postponed, Adrian in particular had seen it as a personal rejection — ‘He doesn't have to come at all if he doesn't want to,’ he'd said moodily. It had taken me some while to persuade Adrian that his father did want to see him and that the postponement had been unavoidable.

  Edna phoned five minutes before I was due to leave the house to collect the children from school.

  ‘I'm sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn't realise the time.’ She apologised again for the boys not wanting to go to Donna's party, feeling that it was her fault that the boys had been ‘got at’, as she put it. ‘Cathy,’ she said, ‘I'm going to try to find a colleague to help me supervise the contact in future. You need eyes in the back of your head when Rita and Chelsea are together. They're a devious pair, and I know how cruel they can be to Donna, but I'm shocked they have stooped this low. Trouble is I'm finding it difficult to get someone to commit to staying until six thirty three nights a week.’

  I could see her problem; I doubted many of her colleagues would want to extend their working days into the evening, one of the evenings being a Friday. In my experience Edna's commitment was well beyond the norm, and proof of her dedication and love of her work.

  ‘What will you tell Donna?’ she asked.

  ‘I really don't know yet. I think it might be the truth. If I lie to Donna and tell her the boys are ill, and she finds out they aren't, it's going to undermine her trust in me. I'm not sure yet what to say. I'll give it some more thought. I'm sorry, Edna, I'm going to have to go now or I'll be late collecting the children from school.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Sorry, Cathy,’ she said, finishing as she had started.

  I left Adrian and Paula in the car in the staff car park while I went in to collect Donna from school. It was pouring down and the rain had a cold biting edge to it, which said winter was just around the corner. I was so preoccupied with the bad news of the day that I had completely forgotten about the three times table test, and I wondered why Donna was bounding towards me, and why Beth Adams was close behind her, clearly wanting to see me.

  ‘I remembered them all!’ Donna exclaimed. ‘And got all the test right!’

  ‘She did,’ Beth Adams confirmed.

  It took me a moment to realise what they were talking about. ‘Excellent,’ I said. ‘That's fantastic news. Well done, love.’

  ‘I have earned another two team points,’ Donna said, beaming.

  ‘She deserves it,’ Beth Adams said. ‘The three times table is a tricky one, and only half the class got all the test right. Donna was one of them!’

  I congratulated Donna again, and thanked Beth Adams. It was the best news I'd had all day, and also proved that with time and a lot of hard work Donna could learn as well as anyone. I thought that Beth Adams was going to have to readjust her expectations of what Donna could achieve, for if this was an indication of what Donna was capable of, then she had only just begun!

  That evening when Donna was in the bath I told Paula and Adrian that I needed to talk to them. Without making a big issue of it, and thereby hopefully minimising their disappointment, I told them that unfortunately their father had had to postpone his visit planned for the following Sunday. Paula didn't say anything, which didn't surprise me, for if I was honest she had less of a bond with her father than Adrian did; she'd been only three when John had left and didn't remember a time when he'd lived with us. Adrian had been seven, and remembered a different family where his father had been present, and perhaps also because he was a boy, he had suffered more when his father had suddenly gone. Predictably, now Adrian was the one who made the comment ‘What is more important than seeing us?’ And as I was put in the position of having to defend my ex for the sake of Adrian maintaining a positive image of his father, I felt that familiar stab of irritation.

  ‘He didn't say exactly why he couldn't come,’ I said. ‘But he made a special point of asking me to tell you that he is sorry. And that he misses you both and loves you very much.’ Which softened the blow a little, as it had done in the past when he'd postponed a visit. I moved swiftly on. ‘I'm afraid there is another piece of disappointing news,’ I said. ‘And I'm going to need your help on this one. Both of you.’ They looked at me questioningly. ‘It's not about your father,’ I added quickly. ‘But I have learnt this afternoon that Donna's brothers won't be coming to her party.’

  ‘Why?’ they asked together.

  ‘It's something to do with her mother,’ I hedged.

  ‘What?’ Adrian said. ‘We'll look after them if that's what she's worried about.’

  I wish, I thought. ‘No, I'm afraid it's more to do with the bad way she treated Donna at home, and her not wanting Donna to have a good time.’

  ‘That's horrible,’ Paula said.

  ‘It won't be much of a party if no one's coming,’ Adrian said. ‘I had twelve at mine.’

  ‘I know, love. And that is why I'm going to need your help. I'm not going to say anything to Donna yet: I'm still hoping her brothers' carers can persuade them to change their minds. But if they can't, then the three of us and Emily must make sure Donna has a wonderful time. I'm sure we can do it.’

  Paula nodded and Adrian said, ‘I could ask some of my friends to come?’

  I smiled. ‘That's sweet of you, and I had thought of that, but I don't think it will be the same for Donna. She doesn't really know them, does she?’

  ‘But why doesn't Donna's mum want her to have a good time?’ Paula asked, her naïve and unsullied innocence making it impossible for her to grasp the concept of such nastiness from a mother to a daughter.

  ‘Donna's mother treated Donna very badly,’ I said, ‘which is why she came into care. I think she's still trying to do it from a distance. By making her feel rejected and unloved.’

  ‘I love Donna,’ Paula sai
d, looking very sad, and my heart gave that little lurch. ‘We'll make sure she has a good time. You don't need lots of people. It's the ones close to you who count.’

  ‘Exactly,’ I said, smiling at Paula. ‘I couldn't have put it better myself.’

  Over the weekend, when we weren't learning the four times table, Adrian and Paula paid Donna extra attention, and went out of their way to talk to her and suggest games she might like to join in. They clearly felt the rejection that Donna would be feeling if her brothers didn't change their minds and come to the party. It was at times like this that I was most proud of Adrian and Paula: I was always proud of them, but the tenderness and concern they showed for Donna highlighted their empathy and insight into Donna's plight, feeling as most children from normal families would have done. However, in making these friendly advances towards Donna, Paula and Adrian had left themselves wide open, and I had to remind Donna a few times over the weekend not to try to boss Adrian and Paula or discipline them. It wasn't Donna's fault; she was simply reverting to the example of how her family had treated her in the previous ten years. Adrian and Paula, now more aware of what Donna had been through, and with her party looming, were even more forgiving.

  By 12.00 noon on Sunday, when I hadn't heard anything from Mary and Ray, I had to finally admit that Warren and Jason wouldn't be coming, and I braced myself to tell Donna.

  She was in her bedroom, already sorting through her wardrobe of clothes, trying to choose what to wear for the party, although there was plenty of time — we didn't have to get ready until 1.00 p.m. at the earliest, to leave the house at 2.00. Her bedroom door was open and, giving my usual knock, I went in. Donna turned to look at me, new trousers in one hand and pink sweatshirt in the other.

  ‘I think I'll wear these,’ she said, holding them up. ‘I was going to wear a skirt. But when I bend over to bowl I might show my knickers in a skirt.’ She gave a small laugh.

  ‘I think that's a good choice, and you haven't worn either of them yet. It's nice to wear something new for a party.’ I hesitated, as Donna again looked at the clothes, clearly considering if this was going to be her final decision. Best get on with what I had to say, I thought. ‘Donna, I'm afraid that Warren and Jason won't be coming today, so you'll celebrate your birthday with them tomorrow at contact.’

  She moved towards the wardrobe and looked in again. ‘No, I will wear these. I'm not going to change my mind again,’ she said.

  ‘I think they are fine,’ I said again, and paused. ‘Donna, did you hear what I said, love? The boys can't make it this afternoon.’

  ‘I heard. I expect Mum told them not to come.’

  I was taken aback, and also quietly relieved that I'd been saved the awful job of telling her the reason, although I wasn't going to make it worse by confirming it with detail. ‘It's possible.’ I said. ‘Mary doesn't know for sure.’ I paused, waiting for some kind of reaction as the information sunk in.

  ‘It's their loss,’ she said after a moment. ‘They are the ones missing out, not me.’ And so saying, Donna put the clothes she had chosen on her bed and closed the wardrobe door. ‘Will you help me do my hair when I've changed? I want it to look nice for the party.’

  ‘Of course, love,’ I said. ‘Give me a shout when you're ready. We'll use those new hair braids I bought, shall we?’

  She nodded, her face lighting up.

  ‘Come here and give me a hug,’ I said. ‘You're a lovely person.’

  She came over and I put my arms round her and gave her a big hug. For the first time since she had arrived I felt her arms tighten around my waist as she returned it. After a moment she eased away. ‘I'm going to get changed now,’ she said. ‘I'm so excited. This is going to be my best birthday ever! Thanks for giving me the party, Cathy. I can't wait to get there!’

  I smiled, and felt my eyes well. ‘You're welcome, love.’

  While I had spent the entire weekend angsting over our depleted numbers, aware how Adrian and Paula would have felt if they'd been in Donna's position with having only one friend and us attend, Donna, bless her, having never had a birthday party before and therefore having no expectations, had simply accepted the non-attendance of her brothers in her usual stoical manner.

  I left Donna to change and went downstairs.

  ‘Donna's fine,’ I said to Adrian and Paula, who were in the lounge looking very concerned, aware that I had gone upstairs to break the ‘bad’ news.

  ‘Good on her!’ Adrian said.

  ‘I told you,’ Paula said. ‘It's not how many who go to your party, but who.’

  I nodded, and hugged them both, my spirits lighter than they had been since I'd received the news on Friday. And as I acknowledged the sensible rationale of all three children, I felt that as an adult I could probably learn a lot from them.

  By 1.45 p.m. the four of us were changed into our party best and in the hall ready to leave. I had braided Donna's hair; she'd inherited dark brown and slightly curly hair from her father and with the new braids she looked very pretty. I arranged the children in a semi-circle in the hall and took a photograph of them before we left, and then another as they got into the car. I wanted a record of Donna's party and birthday; there would be a copy for her and one for my album. I had no idea if Donna would be with us for her next birthday; that would depend on the outcome of the court case.

  I took another photograph of the three children going into the bowling alley, and then two more as we went inside. Adrian was getting embarrassed by now — having to stand still and pose between the girls. It was 2.15 p.m., but we weren't the only ones who had arrived early, for as I tucked my camera into my handbag Emily appeared with her mother.

  ‘Happy birthday!’ Mandy called as they came over. Donna smiled sheepishly. ‘You look nice, all of you.’ Mandy had met Paula and Adrian in the playground on the occasions when they had come into the school with me.

  Emily gave Donna a small box-shaped present, gaily wrapped and tied with ribbon. ‘Happy birthday,’ she said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Thanks,’ Donna said. She took the present and then held it as if it was the first one she'd ever received in her life, which it might well have been. She would be having her presents from us on her actual birthday the following morning.

  Emily and Donna began chatting and laughing excitedly, glancing at the bowling lanes and pointing. It was lovely to see Donna so relaxed, and happy, and with her friend.

  ‘There's just going to be us,’ I said quietly to Mandy. ‘Donna's brothers can't come.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘That's a pity, but I'm sure Donna will have a good time. Emily hasn't stopped talking about this party all weekend. She was changed and ready by twelve thirty.’

  I laughed. ‘Same with Donna.’ And we both glanced at the girls, giggling and whispering excitedly. ‘Emily must come to tea, if she feels ready now,’ I said, renewing my invitation.

  ‘Yes, I'm sure she'll be fine now,’ Mandy said. ‘And Donna must come to us too. We'll arrange something next week.’ Mandy confirmed she would return to collect Emily at 5.30 p.m., and we said goodbye. ‘Have a lovely time!’ she called to the children as she left, and Emily gave a little wave.

  Leaving the children in a small group, I went over to the reception desk a couple of yards away and gave my name. ‘I've booked for seven including me,’ I said. ‘But there will only be five of us, four children. Unfortunately two can't come.’

  ‘No problem,’ the girl on reception said. ‘I'll introduce you to your party organiser. Lisa,’ she called to a girl who was tidying the bowling shoes at the far end of reception. ‘Lisa, this is Cathy Glass,’ she introduced. ‘The party is for Donna, who will be eleven.’

  Lisa smiled brightly at me. She was about eighteen and had a light and fun manner. ‘Is everyone here?’ she said glancing at the clock. ‘Because if so we can make a start.’

  ‘Yes, unfortunately two children can't come,’ I confirmed again.

  ‘So it's four chil
dren and yourself ?’

  ‘That's right.’

  ‘We'll have lots of fun. First we'll bowl, and then we'll have some games, then the party tea and then another game of bowling. How does that sound?’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ I said.

  ‘If you could bring the children over, I'll sort out their bowling shoes first.’

  I waved to the children to come over, and they ran to my side; from then on Lisa took charge, and I did as I was told. She asked us what shoe size we were and handed us each a pair of bowling shoes, storing our own shoes in a rack at the end of the reception area. Then she gave us each a large name badge. It was about three inches across and decorated with pictures of multi-coloured balloons, with the name of the person printed in red in the centre. As Lisa led us over to lane twenty, which was set aside for the party, my anxieties about Donna having less than the best party finally evaporated. Large balloons in every colour imaginable hung in bunches from the ceiling the entire length of the bowling lane, and a massive banner declaring ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY’ stretched from one side to the other.

  ‘Look!’ Donna exclaimed as we approached the lane. ‘That's for me!’

  ‘It is,’ Lisa said, ‘especially for you! It's your special day.’

  We grouped at the end of the lane as Lisa gave us a brief talk on how to bowl safely — that is, without dropping the bowl on our toes, falling over it or getting our fingers stuck in the holes. ‘I hope you're listening to this,’ Adrian said to me with a laugh.

  Then, with Donna naturally going first, we began the game. There was a lot of cheering and jumping up and down as Donna's ball swerved and rolled down the lane towards its target, knocking three pins over with the first ball and two with the second. Emily went next, then Adrian and Paula, and I went last. And it was pure fluke, for I am the world's worst at bowling, but somehow my ball went on target (probably helped by the sides being up), and I scored nine with my first ball and then felled the tenth with my second. Everyone clapped and cheered, and Adrian good-humouredly yelled, ‘Fixed!’