The Saddest Girl in the World. Cathy Glass
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they didn't want her to come back.’
‘But that's dreadful!’ I said, mortified.
‘Yes, I know.’ Edna shook her head sadly. ‘I don't know what's been going on. Mary and Ray said Donna had being trying to dominate the boys and boss them around, but I'm sure it was only her way of caring for them; Donna has spent all her life trying to look after the boys as best she could. But Warren and Jason, only a year apart in age, are glued to each other and present a united front. As they are so much brighter than Donna I wouldn't be surprised if they have been bullying her. I've seen them play tricks on her and use their intelligence to poke fun at her. I've told them off for it before. All the same, Cathy, I have to say, I was shocked by their attitude tonight. Donna loves them dearly and would do anything for them. It's probably for the best that they are being separated, for Donna's sake. She's not fair game for the boys. She's got a big heart, and I know she's a bit slow, but you would have thought brotherly love might have counted for something.’
‘Is Donna close to her older sister, Chelsea?’ I asked.
‘No. Chelsea and Mum are thick as thieves, and I'm beginning to think that Donna was out on a limb. You never really know what's going on in families behind closed doors. We brought the children into care because of severe physical neglect but emotional abuse is insidious and can be overlooked.’ She paused. ‘Anyway, Cathy, I'm sure Donna will be fine here. And when she does open up to you, I'd appreciate you telling me what she says.’
‘Yes, of course I will.’
‘Thanks. Let's get the car unpacked, and then I must get home to my hubby. He'll be thinking I've deserted him.’
Edna was truly a lovely lady and I could imagine her and her ‘hubby’ discussing their respective days in the comfort of their sitting room in the evening.
We made a number of journeys to and from the car, offloading a large suitcase, some cardboard boxes and a few carrier bags. Once we had stacked them in the hall, Edna said, ‘Right, Cathy, I'll say a quick goodbye to Donna then go.’
We returned to the lounge, where Donna was as we had left her on the sofa, head down and with the red paper bag containing her present clasped before her.
‘I'm off now,’ Edna said positively to Donna. ‘You have a good weekend and I'll phone Cathy on Monday; then I'll visit next week. If you need or want anything, ask Cathy and she will help you. And I think Paula is dying to make friends with you, so that will be nice.’
Edna stood just in front of Donna as she spoke but Donna didn't look up. ‘Come on,’ Edna encouraged kindly. ‘Stand up and give me a hug before I go.’
There was a moment's hesitation; then, with a small dismissive shrug, Donna stood and let Edna give her a hug, although I noticed she didn't return it. As soon as Edna let go, Donna sat down again. ‘Bye then, Donna,’ Edna said; then leaning out of the French windows, ‘Bye Adrian, Paula, have a good weekend.’
They both looked up and smiled. ‘Thank you.’
Edna collected her bag from where she'd left it beside the sofa and with a final glance at Donna — who was once more sitting head down with the present in her hands, and I thought trying hard to minimise Edna's departure — walked swiftly from the room.
‘Take care and good luck,’ Edna said to me as I saw her to the front door. ‘I'll phone first thing on Monday. And thanks, Cathy.’
‘You're welcome. Don't worry. She'll be fine,’ I reassured her again.
‘Yes,’ Edna said, and with a quick glance over her shoulder towards the lounge, went out of the door and down the path towards her car.
I closed the front door and returned to the lounge. ‘All right, love?’ I asked Donna as I entered.
She slightly, almost imperceptibly, shook her head and then I saw a large tear escape and roll down her cheek.
‘Oh love, don't cry,’ I said, going over and sitting next to her. ‘It won't seem so bad in the morning, I promise you, sweet.’
Another tear ran down her cheek and dripped on to the red paper bag in her lap, and then another. I put my arm around her and drew her to me. She resisted slightly, then relaxed against me. I held her close as tear after tear ran down her cheeks in silent and abject misery.
‘Here, love, wipe your eyes,’ I said softly, guiding her hand containing the tissue towards her face. She drew it across her eyes, then slowly lowered her head towards me, where it finally rested on my shoulder. I held her tight, and felt her head against my cheek as she continued to cry. ‘It's all right,’ I soothed quietly. ‘It will be all right, I promise you, love. Things will get better.’
Paula came in from the patio and, seeing Donna crying, immediately burst into tears. I took hold of her arm with my free hand and drew her to sit beside me on the sofa. I encircled her with my right arm while my left arm stayed around Donna.
‘Why's Donna crying?’ Paula asked between sobs.
‘Because a lot has happened today that has made her sad,’ I said, stroking Paula's cheek.
‘I don't like seeing people cry,’ Paula said. ‘It makes me cry.’
‘I know, love, and me. But sometimes it's good to have a cry: it helps let out the sad feelings. I think Donna will feel a bit better in a while.’ I remained where I was on the sofa with an arm around each of the girls, Paula sobbing her heart out on my right, Donna on my left, crying in silent misery, and me in the middle trying hard not to join in — for, like Paula, I can't stand seeing anyone upset, particularly a child.
Adrian was not impressed. The phone had started ringing and, feeling unable to simply stand and desert the girls, I hadn't immediately answered it.
‘The phone's ringing,’ he said helpfully, coming in from the patio, with his Gameboy in his hand. He stopped as he saw the three of us and pulled a face, suggesting he didn't fully approve of this collective display of female emotion.
‘I'll answer it now,’ I said, throwing him a smile. ‘Everyone will be OK soon.’ This reassurance was enough for Adrian and he smartly nipped off into the garden, grateful he didn't have to be party to what must have appeared to a boy of his age to be blubbering nonsense.
I eased my arms from the girls and went to answer the phone on the corner unit. It was Jill.
‘You took a long time to answer. Is everything all right, Cathy?’
‘Yes. Donna is here.’ I glanced over to the sofa as Paula took up the gap I had left and snuggled into Donna's side. Donna lifted her arm and put it around Paula. ‘Yes, everything is fine,’ I said.
‘Cathy, I won't keep you now, as it's getting late. I just wanted to make sure Donna had arrived and there weren't any problems.’
‘No, no problems,’ I confirmed. ‘Edna only left ten minutes ago. She's going to phone you, and me, on Monday. She brought all the forms.’
‘Good. Well, enjoy your weekend. If you do need to speak to someone, Mike is back, and on call over the weekend; dial the emergency number.’
‘OK, Jill, thanks.’
‘And I'll phone on Monday, and visit as soon as I can next week.’
‘Fine,’ I said. We said goodbye and I hung up.
I glanced at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. It was 7.40 p.m., after Paula's bedtime and getting close to Adrian and Donna's. I crossed over to the girls; they had both stopped crying now and Donna still had her arm around Paula. Both were sitting very still, as though appreciating the moment, although Paula was the only one to look at me.
‘Girls,’ I said gently, drawing up the