The Girl in the Dark

by Angela Hart

  As Jonathan commented, trying to work it out was ‘like trying to solve a Rubik’s cube with one hand tied behind your back’.

  Nevertheless, we talked of nothing else, all the way to the police station. It would have been fruitless for us to try to talk about anything else.

  We found the station easily, as it was on the approach road to the town and was large and well lit. Jonathan and I pulled on our inadequate coats and hurried across the car park, bracing ourselves against the needles of rain and biting cold. I shuddered, feeling the freezing air on my legs and wishing I was wearing trousers and flat shoes rather than barely there tights and kitten heels.

  It took a few minutes for us to be seen at the desk and explain who we were. By that time I’d just about started to defrost. I felt less physically tense as the stuffy warmth of the well-heated station filtered through my body. Finally, I unfolded my arms, which I realised had been clamped tightly into my chest.

  We were taken through to the room where Melissa was waiting for us, and the moment I saw her I felt myself freeze and tense all over again, my muscles tightening and my throat narrowing as I stifled a gasp.

  ‘Sweetheart, are you OK?’

  Melissa was in a terrible state. She had a split lip and a cut on her forehead. Her tracksuit was filthy and her whole demeanour was of someone who was completely dishevelled and probably hadn’t had a good night’s sleep or a shower in days.

  She stared at me, saying nothing.

  ‘How are you?’ I asked. ‘How did this happen?’

  ‘You really don’t want to know,’ she said slowly, shaking her head. Looking me up and down, she added meekly, ‘You look lovely, Angela.’

  I half smiled; this was sweet of her, but in the circumstances it was completely out of place for my appearance to be the topic of conversation.

  An officer told us Melissa had turned up at her auntie’s house ‘after the altercation’ earlier that evening. We didn’t point out that we hadn’t been told about an altercation; he was in full flow and we waited to hear what else he had to say. It seemed that Melissa had confessed to her auntie that she had ‘absconded from care’ and her auntie had phoned the police.

  ‘I asked her not to,’ Melissa interjected, looking intently at her trainers. ‘I don’t want to go back in care. I don’t like being in care.’

  The officer looked at us with pity and shrugged. I saw Jonathan swallow hard: it’s always painful when kids say they don’t want to live with you, but unfortunately it’s par for the course when you’re a foster carer. The vast majority of kids want nothing more than to return to their family or extended family, regardless of how dire their circumstances were prior to being taken into care.

  ‘Melissa,’ I said. ‘You won’t be in care forever. Everyone is working hard towards moving you in with your Auntie Cathy, as soon as possible. Then, hopefully, you won’t have to move again. That will be your home.’

  ‘So what’s the hold-up?’ She shot me a look that was part accusatory and part pleading. I felt very sorry for her.

  ‘I honestly don’t know, sweetheart. What I do know is that you have to come back home with us tonight. I will ask Social Services to fix up an urgent review meeting and Jonathan and I will do all we can to help you move on as soon as possible. For this to happen we need you to cooperate with us, it’s for your benefit.’

  She rolled her eyes and sighed but didn’t say anything else.

  Jonathan asked if ‘the altercation’ would result in any legal proceedings.

  ‘Yes. Melissa wants to press charges against the two girls who assaulted her. My colleagues have already dealt with this.’

  I asked if there were any more details we could have.

  ‘Not a lot to say. Girls fighting over their boyfriends. All got a bit heated, evidently.’ He jutted his chin towards Melissa and looked pointedly at her split lip and the cut, which had bled into her right eyebrow.

  ‘They’re nasty pieces of work,’ Melissa suddenly spat. ‘Lying cows!’ Then she winced and touched her lip and said pitifully, ‘Ow, that really hurts.’

  That was Melissa in a nutshell: trying to act cool and tough, but not being able to hide the fact she was really just a vulnerable little girl who was easily harmed.

  It took fifteen minutes to persuade her to get in our car, and that was only after the police officer winked discreetly at Jonathan and told her he would go and see if there was a cell free for the night if she wanted to stay there instead.

  ‘All right. I’ll go. But I’m not going to stay. I’m calling Social Services myself, first thing in the morning!’

  We thanked the officer and picked up some paperwork that we’d need to pass on to Social Services. Melissa trudged slowly to the car. Then she slumped on the back seat and folded her arms in a huff.

  ‘Why are you all dolled up, anyway?’

  ‘We were out having a meal for Valentine’s Day when we got the call from the police.’

  ‘Oh. Sorry.’ She actually did sound sorry, and once again I thought what a contradiction Melissa was. How could a girl who was naturally sweet and kind switch to behaving like a street fighter and a brat? Brawling over boys was the problem, according to the police. Boys, boys, boys. They seemed to be at the heart of all of Melissa’s troubles.

  Once home, I think she was too tired to keep up her protest. Melissa said she wanted to go to sleep but her face hurt and she was worried the pain in her lip would keep her awake. We went into the kitchen and I asked if she was hungry or needed a drink, and she politely told me she’d eaten at her auntie’s house earlier, then asked if we’d managed to eat our meal at the restaurant.

  ‘Yes thank you. We didn’t manage dessert, but I guess that’s a blessing.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m trying to lose weight.’

  ‘Well I’m not,’ Jonathan quipped. ‘And I had my eye on the banoffee pie, I’ll have you know.’

  Melissa managed a little smile; she knew he was only teasing.

  Jonathan finally ran my mum home. She’d been watching TV and the boys had been sound asleep for hours by the time we got back. As he escorted Mum out, Jonathan deliberately bypassed the kitchen where Melissa was sitting nursing her lip with a damp tissue. I fetched her a bowl of salt water and some cotton wool, which she used to dab the cut above her eyebrow. Fortunately, it wasn’t deep and looked like it would soon heal.

  I heard Jonathan chatting about this and that and apologising for keeping Mum up so late. She said it was no bother at all. ‘Is everything all right now?’

  ‘Yes. Thanks to you we could sort it out quickly.’

  ‘That’s good. If you built a granny annexe for me, it would be even easier, you know?’

  Mum was still very sprightly and independent at the time and was only joking, though it’s something we did give some thought to in years to come.

  While Jonathan was out I stayed in the kitchen with Melissa, checking if her lip was all right and generally trying to make her feel at home and as comfortable as possible.

  ‘I’m having a cup of tea, would you like one?’

  ‘No thanks. Can I have hot chocolate?’

  ‘Yes, good idea. I can find you a big straw to drink it through. That’ll be better for your lip.’

  While I made the drinks I told Melissa about how Jonathan and I had been at the same restaurant that my dad used to take my mum to for Valentine’s, and for their wedding anniversary and other special occasions. I didn’t expect her to be particularly interested in this and was only making conversation, hoping it would encourage her to relax.

  ‘I think you’re dead lucky,’ Melissa said. ‘I’d love to get married and have a husband who loved me and took me out for nice dinners. That’s all I want. But not all boyfriends are nice, are they? I think it’s hard to find a good one. I want the best one.’

  I wanted to talk to her about the fact she was only twelve and the world was her oyster, but I was afraid I’d stifle the flow of conversation if
I said anything she might conceive as being preachy.

  ‘I know I’m lucky. Jonathan is a great guy. You are right to want the best. Don’t settle for anything less.’

  There was a pause. ‘It was Veronica Smith who had the idea, you know.’

  ‘The idea?’ I kept my tone even, though I felt a surge of hope and relief that she was starting to open up about her latest disappearance.

  ‘Of inviting me to the pictures, with her and her boyfriend and his mates. I never thought we’d stay out so long. I missed the taxi so Veronica said I could stay at hers. I should have told you, I’m sorry.’

  I realised Melissa was talking about Monday, when she left school in the morning and never returned. I couldn’t be sure if any of this was true, but even so I went along with her story and gently asked her if Veronica’s parents were home when she went to stay there. ‘Er, yes. They didn’t mind me staying. They just went to work really early the next day, leaving us to get ourselves to school. You can walk to school from their house. Then we bumped into Degsy and Oz and then—’

  ‘Degsy and Oz?’

  ‘I know! What were the chances of that? They were just walking past the school the next morning, with two other lads. I didn’t realise one of them was going out with Sharon Slater.’

  ‘And so you didn’t go into school on Tuesday. You went out with the boys?’

  ‘Yes, me and Veronica didn’t go to school,’ she said. ‘But you know that already, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but I didn’t know the reason.’

  ‘So, we went out with the boys. Oz had his car. His mate fancied me and that’s what led to the scrap with Sharon Slater and Kim Fletcher.’

  It was a bit confusing, but I was committing all of this to memory. I imagined Veronica’s parents had had no idea Melissa was missing, but even so I questioned how you could allow a young girl to stay in your home on a school night and not attempt to contact her parents or guardians. No doubt the girls had spun a yarn to stop this happening, but who knows?

  I encouraged Melissa to keep talking and said she could tell me anything she liked. I said we were on her side and that we wanted to help keep her safe and ensure she didn’t get into fights or come to any more harm. I took care not to look shocked or judgemental, instead staying calm and giving her an understanding nod and an encouraging word, hoping she’d carry on talking. I wanted to find out what happened for the rest of the week. Had she continued to stay with Veronica or had she stayed somewhere with Degsy and Oz, or somebody else?

  Unfortunately, Jonathan returned very quickly from dropping off Mum, and Melissa clammed up as soon as she heard him come in. I signalled to him to leave us alone when he popped his head around the kitchen door, but the moment was gone. Melissa left half of her hot chocolate, said she was tired out and went up to bed.

  I told Jonathan everything she’d said and wrote it all down. I was deeply suspicious of how Oz and Degsy had ‘just turned up’ at the school, which to my knowledge was not in their neighbourhood, but again I had no idea if Melissa’s version of events was true.

  Jonathan and I finally went to bed ourselves, feeling absolutely shattered. It was a school day tomorrow. By the time we’d got Melissa home it had been far too late to organise her taxi for the morning. Though we always hate it when kids miss their education, in the circumstances Jonathan and I decided not to rush Melissa back to school. She needed to recover, and we didn’t want her immediately absconding again. I’d made up my mind to call Social Services first thing and push for the emergency review I’d spoken about with Melissa. We simply couldn’t go on like this, and I was worried sick she’d come to worse harm than she already had done, perhaps falling pregnant or disappearing off the radar completely.

  I could hear Melissa pacing around but I left her to it, assuming that as she was very tired too so it couldn’t go on for long. I drifted off for what felt like a short while, and when I woke up I could still hear Melissa padding around. It sounded like she was moving furniture. I glanced at the clock. It was 3 a.m.

  Jonathan was asleep so I quietly swung my legs out of bed and tucked my feet into my slippers. It was cold and I shivered, feeling for my dressing gown in the dark. Our bedroom door creaked as I eased it open. Jonathan stirred but didn’t wake. I tiptoed up the stairs to the top floor of the house. Melissa’s bedroom light was on; I could see a wand of light beneath the door. I tapped gently.

  ‘Melissa?’

  No reply.

  ‘Melissa, sweetheart, are you OK?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Good. Can I come in?’

  ‘Er, OK.’

  I pushed the door open and saw Melissa sitting cross-legged on the floor, elbows on her knees and her chin cupped between her hands. It reminded me of the first time I saw her, sitting on the floor of her room at the secure unit, only that time she’d had her knees hugged to her chest. She was still dressed in the dirty tracksuit she’d had on earlier and didn’t look like she’d made any effort to go to bed.

  ‘Can’t you sleep?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I thought you’d be exhausted.’

  ‘I am, but I can’t sleep. My head’s busy.’

  ‘Do you know why your head’s busy?’

  ‘Dunno.’

  ‘Have a think.’ I gave her a friendly smile, one I hoped would remind her that she could talk to me if she wanted to.

  She sniffed loudly and I walked over to reach for a tissue from the box on her bedside table. As I passed the tissue to her I glanced down and noticed some packaging on the carpet. I recognised it immediately as part of a pregnancy testing kit.

  ‘Melissa,’ I said. ‘Are you worried about anything?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What about this?’ I picked up the packaging.

  ‘What? Oh, that was Stacey’s.’ She said this in a blasé manner, as if she were barely interested.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I’d never even heard her mention her friend Stacey before.

  Melissa sighed and paused for a moment, obviously deciding whether she was going to enlighten me.

  ‘Sorry, yeah. What happened was, she thought she was pregnant and she wanted to keep the baby.’

  ‘She wanted to keep the baby? OK. I’m still not sure I understand why you have this testing kit.’

  Melissa sighed again.

  ‘So, Stacey’s dad would have gone mad and made her get rid of the baby. He doesn’t like her boyfriend at all, not at all.’

  ‘And so how come you have this test here?’

  ‘Oh, yeah, I get that this is confusing. Sorry Angela. Right, what was going to happen was that I was going to do the test for her, so she could tell her dad that she wasn’t pregnant and prove it by showing him the negative test. He’s quite scary, Stacey’s dad. He’d have battered her boyfriend. But it turns out she isn’t pregnant anyway. She’s quite cut up about it really. She wants to have a baby.’

  Melissa yawned and rubbed her eyes.

  ‘Have I got this right? You did the test for Stacey, thinking she was pregnant, and trying to help her cover it up?’ Again, I couldn’t be sure that Melissa’s tale was truthful, but I did want to make sure that she herself wasn’t pregnant.

  ‘Yeah, I did the test but Stacey didn’t need it. So all’s well that ends well. Here, do you want to have a look?’ To my surprise she pulled the stick from the box and showed me the blue ‘negative’ sign in the indicator window. Then buttoned her lips and busied herself with plaiting her hair.

  This story didn’t seem to stack up. I’d have noticed this testing kit on the floor while Melissa was missing. It had only appeared this evening, yet for this explanation to make sense Melissa had to have done the test before finding out that Stacey wasn’t pregnant after all. I figured that meant she must have done the test then called Stacey tonight. This seemed unlikely but of course it wasn’t impossible. She could have called her while I was asleep, I supposed. I’d check the call log on our landline tomorrow; I was too tired to th
ink straight at this point, and the main thing was that Melissa wasn’t pregnant.

  ‘I think you should try and get some sleep now, Melissa.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right. I’m shattered. I’m sorry, you must be too.’

  ‘Yes, I am, but that’s hardly surprising. It’s the middle of the night.’

  ‘I like the dark,’ Melissa said dreamily. ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘I like looking at the stars,’ I said. I told Melissa about the camping trips I used to go on as a child, when my parents used to point out the constellations and encourage me to make a wish.

  She went to the window, pulled back the curtains and peered into the sky for a few moments.

  ‘No luck tonight,’ she said. She whistled softly to herself as she traced the shape of a star on the inside of the window pane.

  I told her it was best to turn off the light in order to see the stars from inside the house. I switched off her bedside lamp but still there was no sign of a single star in the sky. I thought about how I grew up associating the stars with hope and possibility. Inevitably, the blackness outside did nothing to allay the creeping fears I had about Melissa, and what would happen to her.

  She drew her curtains and tucked herself into bed, still wearing her tracksuit. I let that go, though I hated to see a child sleeping in grubby clothes, and I doubted she’d even cleaned her teeth. Her eyes closed as her head touched the pillow. I said goodnight, crept back to bed and finally fell into a deep sleep.

  20

  ‘I don’t believe it!’

  ‘Did Melissa come home?’ Marty asked.

  He was coming down the stairs for breakfast and he spotted her muddy trainers discarded by the front door.

  ‘Yes, sweetheart. She did.’