by Angela Hart
I closed the door and Jonathan and I gave each other a look of resignation. This was not ideal, but what could we do? Our job was to offer Melissa a home and do our best to prevent her from running away and going missing with unidentified ‘undesirables’. We were bound by Social Services guidelines. We couldn’t keep her in the house all the time, but perhaps if we gave her a certain amount of freedom and treated her and her boyfriend with respect, she’d be more likely to respect us, and less likely to do a runner. At least TJ seemed to be a young seventeen, I reasoned, but I still felt very uncomfortable about the situation.
‘I’m going to call Wilf first thing tomorrow and tell him how old TJ is,’ I told Jonathan.
I wanted to tell Social Services immediately, but I wasn’t sure the social worker manning the out-of-hours phone line would appreciate me calling with this information. It wasn’t an emergency, or at least I sincerely hoped it wasn’t. What could the duty social worker do about it at a time like this? I desperately wanted to pass this information on, but I was resigned to the fact it was best to wait until I could speak to Wilf the next day.
6
‘It’s nice of you to care so much’
Melissa returned at the stroke of nine. I heard the car door slam and her cry of ‘See ya!’ and when I opened the front door she bounced into the hallway, complaining about the biting cold night.
‘Brrrr, I’m frozen to the bone,’ she said. ‘Can I have a cup of tea? I need warming up.’
I already had the kettle on and she went and stood next to the radiator in the kitchen while I made the tea. I noticed she looked a bit dishevelled, as her ponytail had come loose and she’d spilt something down the front of her tracksuit top. It looked like food.
‘How was it?’
‘Great. We went to meet TJ’s brother and his mate, and a couple of my friends were at the takeaway. We got free food, how cool is that? I was allowed whatever I wanted. I had burger and chips and it was lovely.’
I wondered where she put it all, as she’d eaten a good meal earlier on. She suddenly hiccupped, and at that point I detected the smell of alcohol on her breath.
‘I can see you’ve had some food – have you spilt something on your top?’
She looked down and said it was ketchup. ‘I thought I’d got it off.’
‘And have you had anything to drink?’
‘A coke.’
‘Just a coke?’ I raised my eyebrows expectantly.
‘And a teeny-weeny vodka. Only one.’
I told her I appreciated the fact she was being honest with me but disappointed she had done this. Once again I spoke about the health dangers of alcohol, and especially of drinking something as strong as vodka at her age. She listened politely, said sorry and helped me finish making the tea. ‘I didn’t think you’d be bothered. It’s nice of you to care so much.’
‘Of course I’m bothered and of course I care. You’re a lovely girl and I want you to be safe and healthy. I care very much about you.’
‘Thanks. I’m going to ask for a new Care Bear for my birthday and I’m going to give it the nickname Angela.’
She sat at the kitchen table drinking her tea and telling me about the collection of Care Bears she used to own when she was a much younger girl. She had Friend Bear – ‘my all-time favourite because it was orange, my favourite colour when I was little’, Love-a-Lot Bear – ‘the first one I owned and I hugged it so much it got squished’, Wish Bear – ‘my mum bought me that when I had to go in hospital’ and Bedtime Bear – ‘I refused to go to sleep without him – ha ha!’ Her eyes shone as she described her collection. ‘Friend Bear had flowers for her symbol. I love flowers. You’re so lucky to have a flower shop.’
‘Do you know what sort of flowers they were?’ I was familiar with the Care Bear characters as they were incredibly popular in the eighties and nineties, and we’d had quite a few children staying with us who owned Care Bears. I knew that each bear had particular characteristics and that they were made in a range of bright colours, each with different symbols emblazoned on their tummies, like flowers, a four-leaf clover or a rainbow.
‘I think they were sunflowers,’ Melissa said, looking thoughtful.
‘Sunflowers? I love those. We sell them in the summer and I usually try to grow some in the garden too.’
‘See, you’re a nice person. I’d still have my collection of Care Bears if everyone was as nice as you.’
‘You are a nice person too, Melissa,’ I said. I wanted to ask what had happened to her bears but I didn’t want to intrude; I felt she would have elaborated if she’d wanted to.
‘No, I’m bad.’
‘No, you’re a nice person who sometimes behaves badly, and that’s a very different thing. It’s the behaviour you need to change, not who you are.’
Melissa shrugged, put sugar in her tea and asked me if anything was planned over the next few days. I told her that her support worker, Elaine, was due to visit in the next day or two.
‘Do I have to tell her everything, like about the vodka?’
‘It’s up to you what you want to discuss with Elaine, but I think it’s a good idea to be as open and honest with her as you can. She’s here to help and support you, and she can only do that if she knows what’s going on in your life.’
I hoped that hearing good advice about alcohol and peer pressure from someone she had known throughout her time in care might encourage Melissa to think twice next time. I’d be letting Wilf know about the vodka as well as going over the condom incident when I called him about TJ, though I didn’t spell this out to Melissa.
‘Sorry again,’ she said. ‘Everyone was having some and I didn’t really want it, but I’d have felt like a nerd if I said no. Really I’d rather have a cup of tea.’
She slurped from her mug and asked if she could have more sugar. The bowl was right in front of her and she’d already helped herself to one sugar.
‘Yes, you can have one more,’ I said, thinking how very young she seemed, and feeling confused by the fact a girl who asked permission to have extra sugar in her tea was drinking vodka outside of the house when she knew it was wrong.
Jonathan came into the kitchen, and he told Melissa a story about a time when his big brother offered to take him to the pub when he was underage. Jonathan didn’t want to go and said no, and his brother took the mickey and called him a scaredy cat. The following day one of his brother’s friends got a call from the police and was charged with underage drinking, as he was a few days short of his eighteenth birthday. The boy had to appear in court and pay a small fine out of the wages he got from his part-time job.
‘Obviously I was relieved I’d said no,’ Jonathan told Melissa. ‘And afterwards my brother apologised and told me he admired me for sticking to my guns. Growing up and finding your way in the world isn’t easy, but sometimes you can make life even more difficult than it needs to be. You should listen to your gut feeling and do what you think is right.’
Melissa seemed to be receptive to Jonathan’s words of wisdom and so he went on. ‘I can see you’re a smart girl. You don’t have to follow the crowd if you don’t want to, and if people judge you for being your own person, then I’m afraid they’re not good friends.’
‘Fair play,’ she said, looking thoughtful once more. ‘I’ll remember that. Thanks Jonathan.’
I had a lot of paperwork to write up that night and the next day I called Wilf first thing to pass on all the information I’d picked up. My instincts were telling me that despite the many good qualities Melissa displayed, and the fact she seemed receptive to our advice and support, this was not going to be a quick fix. It was obvious she could very easily go down the wrong path again, and I voiced my concerns to Wilf.
‘You’re doing brilliantly, by the sounds of it,’ he said. ‘I’m told Melissa is usually very secretive about who she sees and where she goes. Do you know the boyfriend’s full name?’
‘It’s TJ, that’s all I know. We’ve met him and I
know the takeaway he works at, and the vehicle he drives.’
‘That’s good to know. At least if she does go missing again he might be able to help us track her down.’
‘So you don’t think she goes missing with him?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll pass all this on to Doreen. She would be the one who might know more. The more information we have the better.’
Doreen, Melissa’s social worker, visited the following afternoon. Melissa seemed happy to see her, even though I’d explained that I’d had to pass on a few things to Social Services, notably the incident with the condoms and also her drinking vodka.
Melissa didn’t flinch when Doreen brought the issues up, and asked her directly if she was having sex with her boyfriend. I’d offered to leave them to talk privately, but Melissa said she didn’t mind me staying, and Doreen said it might be helpful if I did.
‘Why would you even ask me that?’ Melissa said, sounding mildly agitated. ‘Angela asked me the same thing. And the answer’s still no.’
I thought back to when I was twelve, going on thirteen. I’d have been incredibly embarrassed if the word sex was mentioned to my face by an adult, and absolutely mortified if I were ever questioned about having sex with a boy. Though she was irritated, Melissa was taking it in her stride. I wasn’t sure how to interpret this. Was it because she really was as innocent as she claimed and therefore the questioning didn’t threaten her? I hoped so: the alternative didn’t bear thinking about.
‘The reason I’m asking,’ Doreen sighed, ‘is because TJ is seventeen.’ She was a down-to-earth, matronly type of woman with a kind, friendly face.
‘So! I’m not like that. I wouldn’t ask you about your sex life, so why are you talking about him like this?’
‘Because you are twelve,’ Doreen replied, unruffled.
Her tone was gentle yet unapologetic; it clearly wasn’t the first time Doreen had been asked such an impertinent question and she dealt with it with impressive ease.
‘Exactly – I’m twelve years old. I’m way too young to be having sex. TJ’s my boyfriend, that’s all. We just hang out with our mates and eat chips and have a laugh. It’s not a crime, is it?’
Doreen said she was asking the question because if Melissa was having sex, she needed to know, to protect her.
‘I’m not, so no. No is the answer. I don’t need protecting. I’d tell you if I did. Unless you think I need protecting from eating chips?’
Doreen reminded her not to be cheeky and Melissa sighed and said sorry. Even though she’d spoken in a rude manner, I’d formed the opinion that Melissa was at heart a good-natured girl who didn’t enjoy confrontation.
Doreen went on to discuss underage drinking and, amongst other things, she told Melissa it was unfair on Jonathan and me if she came home drunk or having had a drink, and that it might jeopardise her placement with us.
‘We don’t want you having another placement breakdown, do we?’ Doreen said, somewhat ominously.
‘No,’ Melissa whispered. She now looked a bit lost and I wanted to throw my arms around her. It seemed so sad that a girl her age was in such a situation. She wasn’t a bad girl; she’d just got in with a bad crowd. I didn’t want her to worry that she might end up back in the secure unit. I found myself wishing that Doreen would stick to explaining the health risks of underage drinking, and the dangers Melissa might be putting herself in with the lifestyle choices she was making. Any inconvenience that may be caused to Jonathan and me was the last thing I was concerned about, but I trusted Doreen’s methods. She’d been Melissa’s social worker for many months and knew her better than we did, and I imagined she thought the threat of another placement breakdown or a return to the secure unit might be the trump card she needed to play in order to get Melissa to behave herself.
Next, Doreen moved on to the subject of school. She was still trying to fix up a date to meet Melissa’s head teacher and agree on the strategy for her return. I learned that Melissa had been going missing from school and, after multiple suspensions, had finally been excluded for her truancy, and because the school felt unable to keep her safe on account of her numerous ‘breakouts’ and ‘unauthorised absences’.
The head teacher was currently away at a conference but Doreen was expecting a call the following week. I felt frustrated when I heard this, wondering why another member of staff couldn’t step in while the head was away. A child’s education is so precious and Melissa was in secondary school; it wouldn’t be long before she started to think about her GCSE options and I didn’t want her to be at a disadvantage before she even started the courses. I held my tongue, however, and reassured Doreen we’d discussed Melissa doing some history and geography work while she was off, and that she seemed happy to do it.
‘Good,’ Doreen said, getting to her feet. ‘Everything seems to be going well. So no more running off, young lady!’
Melissa smiled at her social worker and mischievously stuck out her tongue.
‘And you can put that away, cheeky madam!’ Doreen scolded, wagging her finger playfully.
I was pleased to see Melissa had this kind of relationship with her social worker. Between us, I felt Doreen, Jonathan and I might be able to get through to Melissa, and hopefully keep her on the straight and narrow. Jonathan and I had a very good support worker in Wilf too, and there was also Melissa’s support worker, Elaine. She had phoned me and was coming to visit in the next few days. All in all, it seemed Social Services could not be doing any more to help Melissa.
‘You seem quite happy,’ Jonathan commented when I popped into the shop to take him a cup of tea later on. He was making a list of things we needed to order from the wholesaler.
‘I suppose I’m feeling fairly optimistic,’ I said. ‘For a girl who’s caused havoc by sneaking out and running away goodness knows where, Melissa’s a remarkably open book. That can only be a good thing, can’t it?’
Jonathan said he supposed so, though I could tell he was thinking I was maybe clutching at straws. He probably also wondered if we could believe anything Melissa said. I knew this, of course, but I was only going with my gut instinct.
‘Anyway, the other thing I’m happy about,’ I went on, ‘is that I feel we have a lot of support from Social Services and the channels of communication are open with their social workers. That’s so important, isn’t it?’
He nodded wisely. ‘You’re absolutely right. Good communication is key.’
At that moment a very grumpy-looking customer slapped some coins on the counter, startling us. ‘That’s for these,’ he said, waving a bunch of carnations under our noses.
‘Thank you. Would you like them wrapped?’
‘Nah!’ he said rudely, sniffing and rushing out of the door before we’d even had a chance to pick up the money, let alone put it in the till.
‘As I was saying,’ Jonathan smirked. ‘Good communication is so important!’
Melissa sat down for a couple of hours, reading and making notes from one of the history books she’d brought with her. She complained that she was finding it hard to concentrate and also said her right hand was sore. I noticed her notebook was decorated with doodles of hearts and stars and flowers, and when I looked at her little hand I could see it was swollen.
‘How long’s it been like that?’
‘Dunno. I’ve only just noticed it, when I started writing.’
I fetched some ice wrapped in a tea towel and told her to hold it over the swelling to see if it brought it down, or at least soothed it. After a while she said it didn’t make any difference. I checked to see if she’d been bitten by something but thought this was unlikely, deep in the middle of winter. There was no bite mark, but I did notice some very faint grazing on her knuckles.
‘Did you scrape your hand or hit something?’
‘No, not that I remember.’
‘Odd. OK, I’d better make a doctor’s appointment.’
‘Thanks. Can I go and see my friend Sonia after tea?’
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br /> ‘Sonia? Which friend is she?’
I hadn’t heard this girl’s name mentioned before and, once again, I was keen to glean as much detail as possible about who she was seeing, and where. Wilf had told me this was all I could do in the circumstances. He’d reiterated that we could not keep Melissa in the house or stop her from seeing her friends; all we could do was arm ourselves with as much information as possible about her whereabouts and the company she was keeping.
Melissa told me Sonia was a girl she’d met at school when she was living at Anne-Marie’s. Sonia didn’t go to school any more as she had a baby. She’d also just got a new flat of her own. Melissa told me the address and I knew the block; it was on a large council estate in town.
‘I want to catch up and see the baby,’ Melissa said. ‘I haven’t seen them for a while.’
‘Right. Does Sonia have a phone number, in case I need to get hold of you?’
‘I don’t think so but I can find out. Anyway, I’ll only be an hour there. But after that, can I meet Rosie?’
Rosie was another old school friend, it seemed, and apparently she was going out with TJ’s best mate.
‘What’s he called?’ I asked, after Melissa had volunteered the information about Rosie.
‘Des. And before you ask, I don’t know his full name, sorry!’
Melissa did tell me Rosie’s surname, however, and she said her friend’s father was a solicitor who ran a well-known local practice. Though I didn’t know him personally, I knew Rosie’s father by reputation; he had lived in the town for many years, sat on various committees and did a lot of work for the Round Table, or was it Variety? Either way, this gave me some comfort. I imagined Rosie would be well cared for and living by similar rules to those we were putting in place for Melissa, or at least I hoped that was the case. Melissa volunteered Rosie’s home phone number too, which also helped put my mind at rest.
We came to an agreement that Melissa could walk to Sonia’s flat then come home for quarter past seven at the latest. After that Rosie was going to meet Melissa at the top of our road – at quarter to eight – and from there they were going to walk together to meet TJ and Des in town at eight, which was in the opposite direction to Sonia’s flat. TJ was to bring Melissa home, or she was to walk with Rosie.
