Girl Alone: Joss came home from school to discover her father’s suicide. Angry and hurting, she’s out of control.

by Cathy Glass

  I remained silent, for I could see he wasn’t finished yet.

  ‘I’ve even had expensive CCTV fitted in my shop,’ he continued. ‘But the kids get around that by standing in a group and shielding the one stealing from the camera, hence the notice outside about only two being allowed in the shop. What a sad state of affairs that children can’t be trusted to come in and buy a few sweets! I’ve had my suspicions about your daughter for some time – she comes in here a lot – but now I have the proof. She’s not as clever as she thinks. The camera will show her putting a magazine into her bag and trying to leave the shop without paying for it. That’s when I stopped her.’

  Joss, who’d remained sitting silently and staring moodily straight ahead of her, now stood.

  ‘If you’ve finished, can we go now?’ she said disrespectfully.

  ‘Not yet,’ I said firmly. ‘And you’d better take that silly look off your face and start listening to what this gentleman has to say or I’ll be calling the police.’

  The man straightened, clearly a little surprised that I was taking this firm line. Joss had the decency to look slightly abashed.

  ‘I’m appalled and shocked at your behaviour, Joss,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what you thought you were doing. You know it’s wrong to steal. You can start by apologizing to this gentleman for what you have done, and then we’ll ask him what we can do to compensate him.’

  ‘I am pleased to hear you say that, Mrs Glass,’ he said. ‘Some parents take the side of their children and make excuses for them. They blame me and call me racist names. I hope you understand, I am only trying to protect my livelihood. I am sure you would do the same.’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. Joss’s behaviour is completely unacceptable. She will be saying sorry too.’ I wasn’t going to play the sympathy card and tell him Joss was in care and that she’d had a rough time as a child. He didn’t need to know that, and Joss knew it was wrong to steal. ‘I will punish Joss,’ I said. ‘But I would also like to pay for the goods she has stolen. Does she still have the magazine in her school bag?’

  ‘No, my wife took it from her. But she has stolen many other magazines in the past. I just couldn’t prove it until now.’ My thoughts went to the stack of magazines Joss had in her bedroom, and the ones strewn across our living room; she was always coming home with a new magazine. I’d assumed she’d bought them with her pocket money, and my heart sank.

  ‘Do you have any idea how many she may have taken?’ I asked him.

  He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t like to guess.’

  I looked at Joss. ‘You must know how many magazines you’ve taken?’

  ‘Dunno. Can’t remember,’ she said belligerently.

  ‘Do you have any money on you?’ I asked her.

  ‘No.’

  I began rummaging in my shoulder bag for my purse. I thought we should offer something towards the cost of the goods she’d stolen, even if we didn’t know the full amount.

  ‘There is no need for that,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, there is,’ I said. ‘Joss needs to learn that her actions have consequences. I shall be stopping the money from her allowance.’ I took a ten-pound note from my purse and began to remove another, unsure of how much to offer him.

  ‘No, Mrs Glass,’ he said, covering my purse with his hand. ‘I cannot take your money. But thank you for offering. It’s appreciated. Perhaps you would like to make a small donation to the charity I support instead? There’s a collecting tin on the counter in the shop.’

  ‘Yes, of course, if that is what you’d prefer. Thank you. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.’

  ‘Mr Chanda.’

  ‘I apologize again, Mr Chanda, for Joss’s behaviour. I’ll make a donation on the way out and I’ll be speaking to Joss very firmly when we get home. I’ll make it clear to her that she’s not to come into your shop again.’ He nodded. ‘If she does, telephone me and I will come and collect her straight away. Now, I hope you will accept the apology that she is going to make.’

  We both looked at Joss, and either she didn’t understand what was required of her or she was reluctant to say sorry, for she remained stubbornly silent.

  ‘Joss,’ I said sharply. ‘Say sorry to Mr Chanda and then we’ll go.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she said quietly.

  Mr Chanda nodded.

  ‘On the way out we will apologize to Mrs Chanda too,’ I told Joss. ‘I assume that was your wife?’ I said to Mr Chanda, and he nodded.

  Mr and Mrs Chanda were clearly decent, hard-working people who were doing their best to make a living, and it was appalling that Joss – and, from the sound of it, others from her school – was causing them so much trouble.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  I made to leave and he went ahead and courteously held the door open for Joss and me. We went down the short hall and into the shop, where Mrs Chanda was serving behind the counter. We waited until she’d finished and then her husband said, ‘The girl is going to apologize to you.’

  I looked at Joss. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  Mrs Chanda nodded coldly, and who could blame her? She must have been as fed up as her husband with having to deal with thieving.

  ‘I’m dreadfully sorry,’ I said to her. ‘Joss will not come in here any more.’

  She nodded again. Mr Chanda then raised the counter and Joss and I went through. I put the ten-pound note into the collecting tin and we left the shop.

  As soon as we were outside, Joss relaxed. ‘Phew, that was close,’ she said, all humility gone.

  I was furious. ‘I can’t believe how stupid you’ve been!’ I said. ‘Do you realize that if Mr Chanda had called the police you would have been sent to a secure unit for sure? Whatever were you thinking of? You know it’s wrong to steal.’

  She gave a nonchalant, couldn’t-care-less shrug.

  ‘How dare you treat those people like that!’

  I unlocked the car and we got in. Before I started the engine I turned to Joss. ‘Don’t ever go in that shop again. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘And don’t be tempted to steal from anywhere else either. If you want a magazine, buy one. That’s what your allowance is for.’

  ‘But you keep stopping my allowance,’ she said accusingly, as if this was forcing her to steal and therefore it was my fault.

  ‘Yes, as a sanction for when your behaviour is unacceptable. It’s a punishment, Joss. You go without something, although you know you can always earn it back. So don’t blame me for your stupidity. You need to take responsibility for your actions. Who was in the shop with you?’

  ‘No one,’ she said moodily.

  ‘Chelsea wasn’t with you?’

  ‘No. She waited outside. She can’t afford to get caught any more.’

  ‘And neither can you!’ I said, my voice rising. ‘And whether you get caught is not the issue. It’s wrong to steal. You don’t do it! That poor Mr and Mrs Chanda. Think of them. They have children too.’

  ‘He shouldn’t have kept me there against my will,’ Joss said defiantly. ‘He can’t do that. He hasn’t got the right. It’s against the law.’ Which was choice, considering she’d just been stealing.

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ I said. ‘A shopkeeper has the right in law to detain a shoplifter and call the police. You want to be damn grateful he called me instead. And when you get home tonight you’re going to put all those magazines you stole in the bin.’

  ‘No! You can’t do that. They’re mine!’

  ‘They’re not yours, Joss. You didn’t pay for them. You stole them. I’m not having you enjoy something you’ve stolen. If Mr Chanda could sell them we’d take them back to the shop, but they’re crumpled and out of date now, so you’re going to throw them away.’

  ‘Fucking hell,’ she muttered. ‘What a waste.’

  ‘And don’t swear.’

  She turned her back on me and stared out of her side window. ‘Fasten
your seatbelt,’ I said. ‘I’ll take you to school now.’

  We both fastened our belts. I started the engine and then drove the couple of minutes to Joss’s school, where I parked on the road outside.

  ‘You don’t have to come in with me,’ Joss said, one hand on the door, ready to get out.

  ‘I know, but I will, to save the secretary having to phone to tell me you’ve arrived.’

  ‘You won’t tell the school what happened, will you?’ Joss said, turning to me, worried.

  ‘No, but I will need to tell your social worker.’ I held her gaze and my tone softened. ‘Joss, please make this the last incident, for both our sakes. You can’t keep going on like this. I hate to see you get into more and more trouble. You’re an intelligent girl. Save yourself and make the right choices, please. You must.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ she said too easily. ‘Can I go out tonight? I’ve only been out once this week.’

  ‘We’ll see how the rest of the day goes,’ I said. I knew I couldn’t rein her in too much all at once or there would be a backlash and I’d achieve nothing, and of course the behaviour contract was still running. But I thought it was positive that she was at least asking me if she could go out, rather than simply assuming she would be.

  We got out of the car, went up the path and into the reception, where the school secretary sat at her computer behind the open-plan counter. She recognized me from when I’d had the appointment with Miss Pryce. ‘You’re very late, Joss,’ she said, placing the late book on the counter ready for Joss to sign in. It was now nearly 10.30 a.m. ‘She’ll be kept in for an hour’s detention tonight,’ she confirmed to me.

  I nodded.

  ‘Can I go to my lessons now?’ Joss asked, slightly subdued.

  ‘Do you know where you’re supposed to be?’ the secretary asked.

  ‘Maths, room twelve M,’ Joss said, and she turned and sauntered off down the corridor.

  ‘Goodbye,’ I called after her. ‘See you at five o’clock.’

  She didn’t reply, and the secretary looked at me questioningly. ‘She’s not very happy with me at present,’ I said.

  ‘She was very late. Where’s she been?’ she asked.

  ‘She got lost,’ I said, rolling my eyes in exasperation. Then, saying goodbye, I left the building. The secretary didn’t need to know what had happened.

  Joss arrived home after the detention at exactly five o’clock, as she was supposed to, and when I asked her she said she’d had a good day. Before she began her homework, and without being reminded to, she gathered together all the (stolen) magazines and put them in the bin. We ate at 6.30 and as we finished Joss asked if she could go out.

  ‘Yes, but I want you back by eight-thirty,’ I said.

  ‘That’s not fair!’ she exclaimed. Adrian, Paula and Lucy tensed, sensing another confrontation.

  ‘It’s very fair,’ I said firmly. ‘Given what happened this morning, you’re lucky to be going out at all. Where are you going?’

  ‘Dunno yet,’ she said, standing, eager to be away. ‘All right, I’ll be back by eight-thirty. See ya later.’

  Everyone relaxed and we called goodbye.

  Would she be back by 8.30? It was anyone’s guess, although I felt that maybe she was starting to accept my authority. Going after her on Tuesday evening when she’d disobeyed me and left to meet Zach at the end of the road had possibly helped. It had proved that I meant what I said and the lengths I would go to. I hoped she realized I was doing it for her own good, because I cared about her and wanted to keep her safe. I’d said it enough times.

  Joss did arrive home at 8.30. ‘Well done,’ I said. ‘You’ve earned back your allowance.’

  I fetched my purse straight away and gave her the money to reinforce the benefit of doing what she was supposed to. But the following day and over that weekend, a new problem came to light that made me realize we’d made no progress at all.

  Chapter Twelve

  Not My Father

  On Friday evening, while Joss was out, Paula came to me looking worried.

  ‘Mum,’ she said. ‘I’ve lost my pocket money and I need it for tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s not like you,’ I said. ‘Where did you lose it? In the street?’

  ‘No. I’m not sure. I thought I left it on my bedside cabinet, but it’s not there now. I’ve searched my room.’

  ‘It can’t have gone far if it’s in the house,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry. I’m sure it will turn up. I’ll give you the money and when you find it you can repay me. OK?’

  She smiled. ‘Yes, thanks. I’ll go and have another look now.’

  I thought nothing more of this. Paula was usually good with money, as were Adrian and Lucy, and I thought the five-pound note must simply have fallen out of view in her room and she’d find it before long. But the next day, Saturday, while Joss was out seeing her mother and brother, Lucy came to me.

  ‘I’m not accusing anyone,’ she began with a mixture of anger and concern, ‘but ten pounds is missing from my money box.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ I asked her. ‘You haven’t spent it?’

  ‘No. Definitely not. I was saving up for something. I know for sure I had thirty-five pounds in there and now I only have twenty-five.’

  All three of my children each had an ornate silver money box given to them as a present from my parents: Adrian and Paula for their first birthdays, and Lucy when she had a birthday after she’d arrived. None of the money boxes had a lock.

  I looked at Lucy and, of course, thought of the unexplained disappearance of Paula’s money.

  ‘I hate to say it,’ Lucy continued, ‘but there is only one person who could have taken it.’ Which was true, for I trusted my own children unreservedly.

  ‘Assuming it has been taken,’ I said. ‘I’m not doubting what you’re telling me, but I’ll need to be a hundred per cent certain. I’ll give you the money, and if the ten pounds reappears, tell me at once. And obviously don’t accuse Joss. There may be another explanation.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Lucy said quietly. ‘Although I can’t think what else it could be.’ I could see that she felt as wretched as I did at the possibility of Joss stealing from us.

  It’s a horrible feeling, suspecting a child of dishonesty, and it creates an uncomfortable atmosphere in the house, with everyone on their guard. Sadly, I’d been in this position before with children I’d fostered. Some children are very honest, but others are not, having been allowed to thieve by their parents or even encouraged to do so. Some children, aware that their parents are poor, steal money on their behalf for food and heating, and give them their pocket money too, which is pitiful. But whatever the reason, if Joss was stealing from us, I needed to handle it carefully. My relationship with her was already very delicate, and while I didn’t doubt what Paula and Lucy had told me, the only way I would feel confident approaching Joss was if I caught her red-handed.

  On Sunday Joss was going to be with me all day – until her social worker told me otherwise, this was how I was interpreting the contract of behaviour. Joss moaned and groaned, said it wasn’t fair and then settled down to a relaxing day. I’d already told Lucy and Paula to keep their money boxes in a drawer in their rooms for the time being, and Adrian always kept his in a drawer anyway, as he felt the cute sliver-bear box wasn’t quite his style now he was sixteen. My purse was in my handbag in the hall where I usually left it, but today I knew exactly how much money it contained. It was possible Joss had been stealing from me; if she’d only taken small amounts I wouldn’t have noticed, as I only kept a rough tally of the cash I had so I knew when to draw out more. But today, much as I hated doing it, I’d counted my money and knew there were three ten-pound notes, a five-pound note, two one-pound coins and some coppers.

  I checked my purse just before lunch and to my relief all the money was still there, but when I checked it again in the afternoon the five-pound note and a one-pound coin were missing. I felt sick. I was so hoping my suspicions were wron
g and that no money would go missing, and Paula and Lucy would find theirs. But now I had the proof I needed, I couldn’t put off any longer approaching Joss, although I would do it in private.

  Ten minutes later I had the opportunity I needed. Joss went up to her room and I went after her, hating what I was about to do. She’d left her bedroom door open and I knocked on it and went in. ‘Hi,’ she said, rummaging in her wardrobe.

  ‘Joss, leave that for a moment, please,’ I said. ‘I need to talk to you about something serious.’

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, turning to face me. Her expression was completely innocent and I felt so guilty for believing she was capable of stealing.

  ‘Joss, this is very difficult, but it needs to be dealt with. I’ll come straight to the point. Some money has gone missing in the house. Do you know where it might be?’

  ‘No!’ she said indignantly. ‘Are you accusing me?’

  ‘No. I trust everyone in this family. But I want you to think very carefully about whether you know where the money might be. If so, it’s best if you say so now, so we can find a way of putting it right.’ I hoped my non-accusatory approach would encourage her to be honest.

  ‘How do you know the money has been stolen?’ she asked. ‘Perhaps it’s been spent.’

  ‘I know exactly how much money I had in my purse this morning, and I haven’t been shopping. A five-pound note and one-pound coin is missing.’

  Joss looked shocked and then, quickly recovering, said nonchalantly, ‘Oh, that. I didn’t think you’d mind if I borrowed some money. I used to help myself from Mum’s purse when I was at home.’

  ‘Did she know?’

  Joss shrugged and turned to fiddle with something in her wardrobe. ‘Sometimes. She didn’t mind.’

  ‘And what about your brother, Kevin? Did he let you help yourself to his money too?’