Scarlett's Secret

by Casey Watson

  And I was glad I did, because a bit of joie de vivre was clearly needed. ‘It’s been the week from hell,’ Mike announced dramatically, once Kieron was out of earshot. He was so pleased to have me home that he talked with his feet – trotted immediately back to his bedroom, the world now being back on its proper axis.

  I resisted the urge to make comparisons; after all, Kieron’s immediate disappearance was evidence of his relief. I was back, so now life could go on as it was supposed to. Mum downstairs doing Mum things, Dad at work as per usual, big sister Riley, being big sisterish (i.e. mostly annoying him), leaving him to do what he liked to. Alone. Back on track.

  ‘It really has,’ said Mike. ‘The food issue, the “staying in” issue, the “Where are you going, Dad?” issue. Let me tell you, if I have to so much as glance at the trailer for any movie with the words “fantasy” or “dragons” or “Superman” in it, I think my head might explode.’

  ‘How did the food thing go?’ I ventured, remembering how alarmingly quickly Kieron went off eating the last time I’d been away. ‘And what do you mean, “staying in” issue? You didn’t make him stay in all week, did you?’

  Mike pulled a face. ‘I meant as in I couldn’t get him to go out! Here was me, thinking he’d be off with his friends playing football after school every night, but no chance. No, love, I think we have to accept that if you’re not around, everything is definitely not right in Kieron’s world.’

  ‘Oh, bless him,’ I said. I suddenly felt tearful. So much so that it must have shown on my face, because Mike put his arms around me and gave me a reassuring squeeze.

  ‘We all feel a bit like that when you’re not here, love,’ he said, chuckling. ‘I say it’s Kieron, but it’s mostly just a ruse to keep you here …’

  ‘What, even Riley?’ I joked. Mike could always make me feel better.

  ‘Riley? Oh, you mean that pretty, black-haired seventeen-year-old who I’m told possibly lives here? That the one?’

  ‘That’s the one,’ I agreed.

  Mike grinned. ‘I wouldn’t know. Made a couple of pithy announcements about not hanging around with her “freaky” brother, then spent most of the rest of the week in David-land. Far as I know.’

  I wasn’t surprised to hear this. Riley had only recently started seeing this lovely boy called David, but had already dubbed him as being ‘the one’. We thought we’d wait and see, but, well, I also knew my daughter …

  Which made me think of Jade and Scarlett, two seventeen-year-olds with very different life experiences. Not to mention very different concepts of ‘home’. I hugged Mike even tighter and counted my blessings. And I resolved that I would try to get those girls help.

  After reassuring Kieron that I would be home at teatime, as per usual, I returned to work on Monday with renewed energy and enthusiasm for the rest of the course. Everyone was busy with their folder work, writing up their experiences, Jade and Scarlett included, so I had ample time to ponder what best to do. The last thing I’d asked Scarlett before the weekend was the name of her counsellor, which was Karen, and whether it would be okay if the two of us had a chat. And as Scarlett had agreed, I decided I’d call her, so, leaving Katie to keep everyone on task in our group room, I went along to the office to find myself a phone.

  And I was in for my next surprise. It was easy enough to track down her number, because Scarlett had added her as a referee on her application to join the course, but when I did, it was to find that she wasn’t actually a counsellor at all – just a lady who worked for an agency which found employment for teenagers. ‘Though we do try to forge close relationships with clients,’ she explained, ‘and get involved in other services where possible, too, such as helping them to find accommodation and filling out benefit claims, that sort of thing.’

  ‘But you know Scarlett’s background?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, yes, certainly.’ She went on to explain that Scarlett had told her everything – had blurted it out, much as she had to me. This had been two years back, not long after their father had first gone to prison, and she told me that as far as she was aware anyway, there was no one else now involved in the girls’ care.

  A sad but all too believable picture was emerging. It looked like, once the case was closed, they had pretty much dropped off the radar, Jade’s first pregnancy notwithstanding. By then she was living with the guy who’d made her pregnant, and was already on the depressing trajectory that would end in her having the baby removed from her care. And relations with the girls’ mum – what should have been a source of comfort and support – had continued to be difficult, too. Once the girls had been placed in care, Karen told me, she’d moved to a bedsit, taken up drinking as a hobby, and spent most of her time – according to Scarlett, anyway – out in bars, picking up random men. As far as Karen knew, Jade continued to visit her mum sporadically, but Scarlett had been adamant that she’d have nothing to do with her till she admitted that she had known what had been going on all along.

  ‘But, of course, she was never going to do that, was she? Or she’d possibly face charges, too. No, I think, sad to say, that the situation reached an impasse, of the not-terrifically-helpful-“least-said-soonest-mended” kind.’

  Which had mended nothing, by the looks of things. Both girls clearly had issues – big issues: half-a-lifetime-of-sexual-abuse-type issues – but the resources of social services hadn’t managed to stretch to getting either of them professional help.

  But perhaps I could try to help them exorcise their demons. I could certainly do as Scarlett asked and try to get Jade to open up to me, and I could suggest – to Scarlett at least, because Jade might be more wary – that proper professional counselling might be the next step for both of them, if they were going to move on from the horrific abuse they’d endured. I felt sure that support was out there – in fact, I knew it was. We just needed to go out and find it.

  Pinning Jade down wasn’t going to be the easiest thing, I knew. I needed to speak to her without the rest of the group being around, but something told me that if I tried to get her to come and chat to me in my office, she might shy away. Even leave, given what Scarlett had told me. I was still mulling it over a couple of days later, in fact, when an opportunity seemed to present itself.

  One of the team projects that had been decided upon as part of their four-month engagement was to repaint a local council community centre. Alongside this there was a plan to provide some new furniture, and to this end some serious fundraising needed to be done, such as packing bags in supermarkets, a couple of cake stalls and so on. One of the schemes – dreamt up by the kids themselves, which really impressed me and Katie – was to provide a car and van washing service for the local businesses. It was ideal for all, as with so many businesses packed into the estate, they had a ready and willing clientele on site.

  On this day, as I was in my office, going through some paperwork, I realised that Jade and Scarlett, who, despite their differences, still stuck together like glue, were both washing cars outside the offices opposite. Best of all, they were alone, the team being scattered over the locality on their various fundraising tasks.

  ‘You know what?’ I said to Katie, whom I’d brought up to speed with the girls’ situation, ‘I think I’m going to chance my arm and go and speak to them together.’

  She looked up and grinned. ‘You want me to go and grab you a hard hat first?’

  Bless her, I thought. She was such a lovely girl, she really was. And if she stayed in this line of work, she’d go far. In theory, she could have pressed charges for assault after what had happened on day three, or, at the least, made an official report implicating Scarlett, but she hadn’t. ‘It was an accident,’ she’d said, ‘and accidents happen. Part of life. And off the back of a difficult, inflammatory situation. And Scarlett’s already apologised. Subject closed.’ And that had been that.

  I declined the hard hat, and instead donned some Marigolds, then went to join the twins in the adjacent car park.

>   ‘Lovely day for car washing,’ I said, squinting up into the sunshine. ‘You girls need a hand?’

  ‘You could get us some clean rinsing water,’ Scarlett said. ‘That would be helpful.’ She reached down to pick up the bucket beside her and held it out to me.

  I took it from her. ‘By the way,’ I said, ‘I meant to tell you, I’ve been speaking to Karen from the agency. And also to my manager. And they reckon that if you want to, they can sort something out for you – some sessions with a professional counsellor – you know, like we were talking about? Only if you want to, of course, but you know, I think you should really consider it, because they’ve dealt with many, many girls in your sort of situation’ – I glanced across at Jade who was watching us both intently – ‘and, as I say, love, I really think they could help.’

  Scarlett’s expression turned from one of interest to one of sudden comprehension, as it dawned on her that I was telling her this right now precisely because Jade would be able to hear it. She glanced across at her sister, who was staring back at her, looking daggers. Jade then threw down her sponge and marched around the car she’d been lathering, squaring up to her sister, hands on hips.

  ‘What the fuck have you been saying, you stupid cow?’

  Scarlett took a step back. She was clearly intimidated by her sister – perhaps one of the biggest obstacles to her being able to support her.

  ‘It was only to Casey,’ she said. ‘Honest. I just – Jade, I just needed to tell her. I needed to talk to someone! You might not, but I do! I can’t live like this, watching you – you – God, Jade, look at you! You just keep bottling it up and bottling it up, and –’

  ‘I’m bottling it up because I want to forget about it – can’t you get that? If I wanted to broadcast it, I would! Why can’t you do that? Why the hell can’t you just fucking do that?’

  Scarlett stiffened then. ‘And end up like you? Shacked up with that knobhead, losing your kids, living in that shithole, letting yourself get into that state … That’s what I should be like, is it? Is it?’

  She was shouting at her sister now and, in contrast, Jade deflated. And in that instant I could see that perhaps that was where the problem lay – that Scarlett couldn’t help her sister because the first thing it involved doing was spelling out exactly how low she’d sunk.

  And perhaps that didn’t escape Jade’s notice either. ‘You think I don’t know that?’ she whispered, her chin beginning to wobble. ‘You think I don’t think about those babies every single minute of every day? You think I don’t care? Scarlett, you have no idea how much I hate myself, trust me. So you hating me, too – you know? Whatever.’

  She took a breath then, a huge gulping breath. Then sank to her knees, put her head in her hands and starting moaning – a horrible keening sound – and tugging violently at her hair.

  I put the bucket down and rushed to her side, kneeling down in front of her, and trying to get my arms around her shuddering torso. Scarlett looked stunned, so I gestured for her to come over and support her weeping sister, but as she approached, Jade looked up. ‘Just fuck off, Scarlett!’ she sobbed.

  ‘Jade, love,’ I said softly. ‘Please try to understand how your sister feels. She’s hurting, too – she hurts every bit as much as you do, believe me. She just deals with it differently – has dealt with it differently. But you know, all she wants is to be there for you – and for you to be there for her. You need each other. And you need help, and all she wants if for you to get it. As do I. It’s not right that you should just be expected to get on with it. You can’t just “get on” after such terrible things have happened to you. You deserve better. You both do.’

  Scarlett knelt down, too, then and Jade didn’t stop her putting her arms around her, and as we knelt there, on the wet tarmac, the soapy water seeping into the knees of our jeans, I looked up to see a lot of curious faces looking out of the centre windows. Including Katie, who did a thumbs up. I did one back.

  An hour later, we were back inside, clutching mugs of coffee, taking stock. Once the floodgates had opened it seemed there was no holding Jade back. And it began to emerge that by far the greatest problem in the girls being able to communicate was the spectre of something even more distressing than what their father had done to them. It was what he’d made them do to each other. From a young age he’d made them not only watch each other while he performed sexual acts on them, but also made them touch each other sexually.

  It was this, above all things, that had created the barrier between them. That and the memories that swirled around Jade’s head and gave her nightmares, compounded by the terrible, terrible guilt she felt about everything that happened subsequently. The terrible choice she had made, the loss of her babies, while her sister – at least outwardly – appeared to be so sorted. ‘I can’t even bear to think about it,’ Jade said, weeping. ‘Any of it. I had those kids and I lost them. I did wrong by them and I hate that. I just feel so guilty. And so dirty. I can’t bear that you know all that.’ She looked at her sister reproachfully. ‘I feel it now. I feel sick. I just want to be able to rub it all away.’

  ‘I can help you with that, Jade,’ I told her. ‘I promise. No, we can’t change your past, but we can change your future, but first you need to accept that you need help. Because we can get you help – help to rub all those horrible thoughts away. What you’re doing now is, well, just covering them up, running away from them. And it’s not helping, is it?’ I asked her gently.

  Jade shook her head. ‘Sis, she’s right,’ Scarlett said. ‘It’s not helping, not at all. I want to make it go away as well – just as much as you do. But if no one knows how bad it’s been for us, how can they help us? They need to see what’s been done to us, don’t they?’

  Scarlett leaned across and squeezed her sister’s hand. ‘It’ll be all right,’ she said quietly. ‘Honest it will, Jade. It’ll be better.’

  I could hear movement outside. Chairs being scraped back, people reconvening before the lunch break. Katie’s voice above the chatter, reassuringly bright. Somehow an hour had come and gone.

  ‘Look girls,’ I said, ‘you’ve had a bit of an emotional morning, the pair of you. How about you head home and come back in the morning? In the meantime I can speak to whoever I need to speak to in social services to get that help for you. No need for you to stay now – you can catch up tomorrow. We’re only doing some folder work this afternoon.’

  The girls looked at each other and this time it was Jade who took her sister’s hand. ‘Nah,’ she said, smiling at Scarlett. ‘You’re all right. We won’t go home. We’ve got cars over there to finish washing, haven’t we?’

  I watched the pair of them go and, though the change in their demeanour was all but imperceptible, I could see it. I smiled. It was already better.

  To my delight – not to mention shock – things moved impressively quickly after the girls made the decision to seek help. With Karen’s assistance – she had a friend in the right department, as it happened – we were able to arrange counselling for both girls almost immediately; they began going twice a week, separately, for the remainder of the project. It proved to be the turning point they needed. And not only did they feel better, they positively blossomed as a result of it; along with more than half of their cohort, they both secured jobs at the end of the course. Katie and I couldn’t have felt prouder.

  I’ve seen both girls a couple of times since and things are so much better in every way now. Both have boyfriends as well as jobs and are putting their pasts behind them – no small feat, given the magnitude of the wrongs that had been done to them, and testament to both the efficacy of counselling and the simple fact of family – they have each other and though they have taken different paths, that bond has been key to their recovery.

  Two years ago, Scarlett even made a compensation claim against her father and, after her home was ripped from under her, she received enough money to enable her to buy a small flat. Jade was more reticent, deciding that she di
dn’t want to take action, but made the decision to do something equally life-changing – she changed her name by deed poll, so she no longer shared her father’s surname.

  Counselling had another beneficial effect, too – both the girls finally made peace with their mother. While, as an outsider, and a mum, I still couldn’t quite get my head around what she’d let happen to her daughters, both Scarlett and Jade did, and as a consequence forgave her – realising that she had been a victim as well.

  So, all in all, my first foray into team leading was a memorable one. And much more of the proverbial ‘emotional roller coaster’ than I could ever have expected. My memories aren’t just about those two unfortunate girls, though, they are also about poor, unfortunate Carl.

  It was a good three weeks later when a man came a-calling – a middle-aged, fit-looking, cross-looking man, with close-cropped hair and an air of displeasure. He was Carl’s dad, apparently, home on leave from the Army, and he wanted to make an official complaint about a bullying incident he’d been told about, from earlier in the course, involving his son and ‘some moronic thug’ who’d thumped him.

  ‘Erm, what incident would that be?’ Katie asked him, confused. ‘It’s news to me – I think you must be mistaken.’ He then explained that his wife had put him fully in the picture – that while he’d been away, this hulking lad had tried to beat up his son, and that, also according to his wife, who had ‘seen the bruises for herself’, nothing whatsoever had been done to bring the lout to book. It didn’t matter, he finished, that his boy hadn’t wanted to take it further. It simply wasn’t good enough, and the bully should be punished.

  It was something of a moment, that one, for sure. I remember Katie and I picturing all five foot two of Scarlett and trying not to giggle as the penny finally dropped. You could have fried an egg on poor Carl’s cheek that afternoon …