by Cathy Glass
It was very speedy!
By ten o’clock Dawn was up, dressed in jeans and sweatshirt, and hungry. I made her a cooked breakfast and then she said she was going out.
‘Out?’ I said. ‘Out where?’
She shrugged. ‘Just out. For a breath of fresh air,’ she added, using the expression I used.
‘Er, no, Dawn,’ I said. ‘You are off school, ill. If you are well enough to go out, then you are well enough to go to school.’
‘No one will see me,’ she said, quick as a flash.
‘I know they won’t, love, because you’re not going out.’
She shrugged, and seemed to accept this, so I continued with the housework, even suggesting that she might like to help me, but she didn’t find this idea very appealing. A short while later I was carrying Adrian upstairs to change his nappy when I heard the front door open behind me. I looked down, just in time to see Dawn disappear out, and the door close behind her.
I stood for a moment stunned, unable to believe what had happened. Dawn had deliberately defied me. Then with Adrian in my arms, I instinctively turned and shot down the stairs, and out of the front door. I flung open the garden gate and went out on to the pavement.
‘Dawn!’ I yelled at her retreating back. ‘Dawn! Come back now!’
She turned briefly, and then continued at a faster pace up the street. I ran back into the house, grabbed my keys from the hall table and opened the car, which was parked on the driveway. I bundled Adrian into his seat in the rear and, jumping into the driver’s seat, I started the engine and pulled from the drive. A few seconds later I was level with Dawn, who was about halfway up our road and heading towards the High Street. She saw me and looked very surprised.
I wound down my window and shouted across the road, ‘Dawn! I told you not to go out. Get in the car now! You’re coming home.’
She continued walking, and I continued slowly in first gear, kerb-crawling directly opposite her.
‘Did you hear me, Dawn?’ I shouted again. ‘You’re not going out! You’re coming home with me!’ Adrian giggled from the rear, believing it was some sort of game. I continued along the road, with my window down, moving at the same pace as Dawn. ‘Dawn! Get in the car. I’m not going home without you!’
She was starting to look embarrassed, and looked even more embarrassed as a couple of lads in their late teens came sauntering down the road towards her. ‘Dawn!’ I yelled again. ‘I’ve told you to get in the car! You’ve missed school and you are not going out!’ She put her head down and hurried past the lads. The boys glanced at me, said something to each other and grinned. If Dawn thought this was embarrassing, it was nothing compared to what awaited her if she continued into the High Street, where there would be lots of people. I was quite determined that Dawn would get in the car and return home with me, no matter how much of a scene I had to cause or how far I had to follow her.
Suddenly she crossed the road in front of the car and I guessed she was heading for the bus stop. She was now on the same side of the road as me, and I leant over and wound down the passenger window.
‘I’m not going home without you!’ I shouted again. Adrian was in fits of giggles now, having never heard me shout before, nor enjoyed such a stop-start ride in the car.
Dawn got to the top of the road and approached the bus stop where three people were already waiting. She glanced at the car and then hovered, clearly uncertain what to do.
I seized the opportunity for my grand finale, and stopping in the kerb, flung open the passenger door. ‘Get in now!’ I demanded. ‘You are not going out. You are supposed to be off school, ill!’
The people waiting stared at Dawn, and then at me, but it was Dawn who felt the most embarrassed. And whether it was from acute embarrassment or the realisation that I really wasn’t going to return home without her, I don’t know, but she hesitated again, glanced up the High Street – presumably looking for the bus – then jumped in and slammed the car door. Adrian whooped with delight.
‘Fasten your seat belt,’ I said, as I checked in the mirrors and pulled out. Adrian babbled away excitedly in the rear. And although my heart was racing and I was wound up, I too could see the funny side of the scene.
I turned left and left again, which took us in a loop back to our road, and I pulled on to our drive. I didn’t say anything until we were in the hall and Dawn was sullenly taking off her shoes. ‘Don’t you ever do that again,’ I said. ‘If I tell you you’re not going out, then you are not going out. Do you understand me?’
She nodded, her face like thunder, and then stamped up the stairs and to her room, slamming the door shut behind her. Having no teenage children of my own and therefore no experience of dealing with them, I didn’t know if I had handled the situation correctly. I had acted instinctively, feeling it was crucial that Dawn did as I said – it was as if she was testing me. But I recognised that had she not done as I had asked and got into the car I would have had even less authority in the future. I knew enough about looking after children from my friends who had older children and teenagers to be aware that children of all ages need boundaries – not only for their safety but to socialise them into society and make them responsible human beings. Enforcing the boundaries can be hard work but it is a sign of caring, and for someone like Dawn, who had just been left to do as she liked in the past, it was essential proof of my level of concern. I hoped that Dawn now knew that when I said something I meant it, and also that I cared enough for her to put myself out and chase her up the street to get her back home safely.
When Dawn reappeared from her room an hour later, she had stopped sulking and was her usual pleasant self.
‘Hi, Cathy,’ she said, coming into the lounge, where I was playing with Adrian. ‘Do you want a game of Scrabble?’
And while I should have been doing other things, I recognised she was offering an ‘olive branch’ of reconciliation. ‘Yes, that sounds good. Let’s take the board into the garden; it’s such a nice day.’
She helped me carry the coffee table out on to the lawn and then she fetched two garden chairs from the shed, while I spread a mat for Adrian under the shade of the tree and littered it with some of his toys. We then spent a very enjoyable couple of hours in competitive play, and taking it in turns to retrieve Adrian from the dubious delights of clods of earth, empty snail shells and stray leaves, all of which were heading for his mouth.
That evening as I prepared dinner Dawn sidled into the kitchen, and I half-guessed what was coming next.
‘It’s Friday,’ she said looking at me carefully.
‘That’s right, love. It is.’
‘I usually go out on a Friday evening.’
‘Yes, you do.’
‘Am I allowed out tonight, Cathy?’
‘No, love. You were off school today, ill.’
‘But I’m better now.’
‘I know, and I’m very pleased you made such a quick recovery. But I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to be out when you’ve had a day off school. If one of your teachers were to see you, they might think you had been faking it.’
She looked at me and without further comment went over to amuse Adrian, maybe thinking that perhaps I wasn’t so daft after all.
When John came home I told him of my chasing Dawn up the street and he thought it was quite amusing too. After we had eaten Dawn joined us in the lounge and we watched a video together, sharing a large bowl of homemade popcorn. Had we turned a corner? I didn’t know, but having set out some ground rules, and showed Dawn that I expected her to do as I asked, at least I felt that the next challenge she threw at me might be that little bit easier.
How wrong could I be!
Chapter Seventeen
Why?
A week passed. Dawn managed to go to school each day and return without any major mishap, although she was late for registration on two mornings, claiming she had lost her bus fare and had had to walk. I wondered if the bus fare was being spent on other things
– supplementing her pocket money and replacing the clothing allowance she no longer had. I didn’t make an issue of it, but simply told her to try to be more careful in future, and that if she kept losing her bus fare then it might be prudent if I took her to school in the car.
Dawn only sleepwalked once during that week. John and I found her downstairs, on her way to the kitchen. As usual, we turned her round and steered her back to bed. We were taking Dawn’s sleepwalking in our stride now and hoping as with all her other behaviour, that it would improve as time went on and she felt more secure and settled with us.
Dawn went out on Friday and Saturday evenings and returned home just after 10.00 p.m. on both nights. I reminded her that her coming-home time was 9.30, but again I didn’t make much of it, for on the whole it had been a pretty reasonable week. On Sunday evening she left to go to her mother’s at 5.45, but she arrived home again at 7.15. She never stayed the full two hours – there was always something her mother had to do that necessitated Dawn’s visit being curtailed. But this was even earlier than usual; I’d just come down from putting Adrian to bed, and Dawn could only have been at her mother’s for half an hour.
As soon as I answered the door I knew there was something wrong with Dawn, but I didn’t know what. Her eyes appeared glazed and distant, and her pupils were dilated and staring. She was steady on her feet, and when she spoke her speech was slow but not slurred. I couldn’t smell alcohol and she didn’t seem drunk. I asked her, as I always did when she returned from seeing her mother, if she’d had a nice time and if her mum was OK.
‘Don’t know,’ Dawn said, enunciating each word carefully and separately. ‘She went out as soon as I got there.’
‘Oh,’ I said, disappointed for Dawn. ‘Well, I’m pleased you came straight home.’ For I realised that Dawn could have used the time to hang out with her old mates on the estate and I would have been none the wiser. I looked at her carefully. ‘Dawn, are you all right, love? You don’t seem with it.’
She nodded, bent forward and began retching, and then threw up all over the hall carpet. John shot out of the lounge. ‘Not again!’ he said.
‘Can you get the bucket?’ I called.
Dawn was still bent forward and now retching violently, gasping for breath as she gagged. John reappeared with the bucket, and running down the hall, placed it on the floor in front of her, just in time. She threw up into it.
‘Christ!’ he said. ‘Whatever have you been drinking?’
‘I haven’t,’ she gasped between breaths and gagging, and then she threw up again into the bucket.
I put my hand on her shoulder to comfort her, for I could see she was frightened. I moved her hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ears. ‘It’s all right, Dawn,’ I reassured her, wondering what on earth could have made her so ill. Unlike before, when she had vomited once from drink, this was continuous and very violent. Then as I looked in the bucket a thick white chalky substance started to appear which certainly wasn’t alcohol, and neither was it the dinner I’d given her before she’d left. ‘Dawn,’ I said, as she paused between retching. ‘Have you eaten something since dinner?’
She didn’t reply. She retched again, and as she vomited I saw a half a dozen small white partly digested pills appear in the bucket.
‘Dawn!’ I cried, as fear gripped me. ‘Have you taken tablets? Tell me quickly!’
She half nodded, and then vomited again. This time ten or more similar white pills appeared, completely undigested.
‘Oh no!’ I cried. John saw them too.
‘I’ll call an ambulance,’ he said, going to the phone on the hall table.
I now had my hands on Dawn’s shoulders, steadying her, as her body shook and she continued to retch, then vomit, and more pills appeared. She was bent double, with her hands clutching her stomach as she threw up, over and over again. Each time she vomited, a few more white pills appeared. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I could feel her growing weak from the exertion of retching and vomiting. ‘Sit down,’ I said, trying to stay calm and hide my fear for Dawn’s sake. I guided her the couple of steps to the bottom stair and pulled the bucket after us. She sat, leant forward, gagged repeatedly and was sick again. Another six or more pills appeared. She was gasping for breath now and panicking. ‘Take slow deep breaths,’ I said, and my voice trembled. I heard John on the phone giving our address, telling them to hurry and confirming she had taken pills.
Dawn collapsed against me, exhausted, then leant forward and began retching again. More whole pills appeared, again completely undigested. I put my arm around her shoulders and held her as she was sick again. There was nothing I could do but comfort Dawn and wait for the ambulance. I felt hot and cold at once.
‘It’s on its way,’ John confirmed, putting down the phone and coming over. ‘They said ten minutes.’
I nodded and held Dawn. ‘I’ll go with her to hospital, if you stay with Adrian.’
John stared in horror at the contents of the slowly filling bucket. ‘How many tablets have you taken, Dawn?’
Dawn was too weak to answer; she had her head on my shoulder, only raising it to vomit. There were fifty or more tablets in the bucket, and the ones that were now appearing were still whole and undigested, but they appeared slightly bigger than some of the others, so I thought she must have taken a mixture of tablets. Dear God, why?
The periods between her being sick slowly began to lengthen, and I willed the ambulance to hurry.
‘What were the tablets?’ I asked her, as her eyes closed and her head lolled on to my shoulder again. She didn’t answer. I wondered if we should keep her awake by trying to get her to stand and walk, but she was a dead weight and it would be impossible to keep her upright.
Five minutes later, when Dawn had been sick twice more, we heard the ambulance siren in the distance. Dawn was still collapsed against me. She hadn’t moved since the last time she had been sick and I wondered if she was lapsing into unconsciousness. I shook her. She groaned, but didn’t open her eyes. Terror gripped me as I pictured her in a coma from which she never recovered. I shook her again and her eyes briefly flickered open. ‘Hurry up!’ I willed the ambulance again as John hovered by the door.
The siren grew louder as it entered the top of our road, then louder still as it approached the house. We saw the blue light flashing through the glass in the front door, and the siren stopped. John immediately opened the door as I held Dawn. She raised her head at the sound of the door opening, but her eyes were still closed. She groaned, and was sick again. Two paramedics appeared in the doorway, stepped round the vomit on the carpet and came over to where Dawn and I sat at the foot of the stairs.
‘What’s her name?’ One of the paramedics asked, kneeling, and opening his bag.
‘Dawn,’ I said.
‘Hello, Dawn. Can you hear me?’ He spoke to her loudly, and took a pen torch from his bag. ‘How old are you, Dawn?’
She groaned but didn’t open her eyes or say anything. ‘She’s thirteen,’ I said, ‘and she’s taken tablets, lots of them.’
The paramedic glanced in the bucket. ‘Do you know what she’s taken?’ he asked, lifting Dawn’s eyelids and shining the torch into her eyes.
‘No. She’s just come home from seeing her mother. She started being sick as soon as she came in.’
‘You’re not her parents?’
‘No, foster parents,’ John said, coming to stand beside us.
‘And you’ve no idea what she could have taken?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘The tablets couldn’t have come from here. We’ve only got a small bottle of paracetamol, and that’s in a locked medicine cabinet.’
‘Dawn?’ the paramedic who was examining her said, now taking her pulse. ‘What have you taken, love? Can you remember?’
Dawn groaned, raised her head and retched, but wasn’t actually sick.
‘She’s taken a lot,’ I said again. ‘And it must have been since six o’clock – that’s when she left
to go to her mother’s.’
‘OK, let’s get her into the ambulance. You can come in with her. We’ll take the bucket in case we need to identify what’s she’s taken.’ Please God, I said silently, make everything all right.
The paramedic who had examined Dawn took my place on the bottom stair next to Dawn, while the other paramedic went to the ambulance and came back with a wheelchair. John and I stood to one side as they manoeuvred Dawn into the chair, talking to her and reassuring her the whole time. Dawn groaned and her eyes flickered open. She looked at me, afraid. ‘It’s all right, love,’ I soothed. I took a step forward and patted her hand. ‘I’m coming with you. We’re going to hospital.’
‘Phone me as soon as you know anything,’ John said. ‘And take your bag: you’ll need money for the phone.’
He passed me my handbag, and I picked up the bucket; then I waited while the paramedics lifted the wheelchair over the step and on to the front path. ‘Phone as soon as you can,’ John called again before the doors closed.
‘I’m Dave,’ the paramedic who was with us said in the ambulance as he worked on Dawn.
‘Cathy.’ I looked at Dawn’s colourless face. ‘She is going to be all right, isn’t she? She must have brought up most of the tablets – there are loads in the bucket.’
‘There are certainly a lot,’ he said, fitting electrode pads to Dawn’s chest. The wires ran to a portable heart monitor, which he placed on the bed beside her.
I sat in silence, looking at Dawn, as the monitor bleeped and the ambulance siren whirred as we pulled away. Dawn’s eyes were closed, but when we went over a bump in the road she groaned and her eyes flickered.
‘Has she done anything like this before?’ Dave asked.
‘No, not as far as I know. God knows why she did it. She didn’t seem unhappy, and she’d had a good week at school. I don’t know why she can’t talk to me. I keep asking her to and she says she will, but it seems she can’t. It must all build up inside her and then …’ I stopped, feeling tears welling in my eyes. Dave nodded and concentrated on Dawn and the heart monitor.
