Damaged, A Baby’s Cry and The Night the Angels Came 3-in-1 Collection. Cathy Glass
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Why do you like me?’
‘Because underneath that angry Jodie is a kind and happy Jodie waiting to come out. Now get dressed and come down for breakfast.’
And she did. Without arguing. I gave her lots of praise and mentally awarded us both a gold star.
The tutor was coming to give Jodie her lessons but she wasn’t due until 1.30, so in the morning we went shopping to replace Paula’s pyjama case and Lucy’s makeup. In the car, I explained to Jodie where we were going and why. She didn’t comment, and I wasn’t looking for a confession, so I restated our rules regarding other people’s bedrooms and property and left it at that. I found what I was looking for in the department store, then took the escalator to the top floor, and headed for the café. We both had a piece of apple cake, and sat by the window, looking down on the street below. We could have been any normal mother and daughter on a day out, and I wondered, not for the first time, what had happened to knock Jodie’s life so far off course. She seemed much more deeply damaged than Gary had led me to expect in the case history he’d given at the pre-placement meeting. Whenever I wondered what had happened to her, I put a mental stop on myself. Not only was it unprofessional to make assumptions but I knew that it was far too early to see any patterns in her behaviour. As it was, Jodie kept me so busy that it was impossible to stand back and see the bigger picture. At least I would get a couple of hours to catch up on paperwork while she was with her tutor that afternoon.
We finished our drinks, then had a look around the shops on the first floor. I could see Jodie was flagging, so we decided to call it a day, and walked over to the lifts. I showed Jodie how to push the button, and explained to her how the lift worked. By the time it arrived, there were a number of people waiting, but we were the first in line. We walked in, and stood at the back. Jodie held my hand, but as the doors started to close she pulled my arm and started shouting, ‘No! Make it stop! Don’t want to!’
I quickly leaned in between two women and pushed the button to reopen the doors, apologizing as I led Jodie out. I bent down and put my hands on her shoulders. ‘What’s the matter, Jodie? There’s nothing to be scared of.’
‘Don’t want to,’ she moaned. ‘I’m not going in there!’
‘That’s OK, we don’t have to if you don’t want to. We’ll just take the escalator instead.’
We walked over to the escalator, and Jodie gripped my hand as we descended. ‘I’ll take my dad in there,’ she said, her face crumpling.
‘What, in the lift?’
She nodded. ‘I’ll scare him. See how he likes it. I’ll show him.’
‘Why do you want to scare him, Jodie?’
But she just shrugged. She had closed down again, and the door that had briefly opened on her past had slammed shut.
Jodie recovered quickly from her fright, and by the time we returned home I was feeling positive again. I praised her over and over, telling her what a nice time I’d had, and how much I had enjoyed her company. She said she was hungry, so I left her playing with Julie, her life-size doll, and went into the kitchen. She wanted peanut butter in her sandwich, and I spread it thinly. I was determined to do something about her weight. I set the plate on the breakfast bar and poured a glass of squash, then started towards the lounge to tell her it was ready.
Something made me hesitate before going in. Perhaps it was the quiet. I couldn’t hear the usual babble that accompanied everything Jodie did. I looked round the half-open door, and froze. She was still playing with Julie, but had pulled the doll’s dress up, and was licking between its naked legs. She was making low, grunting noises as if from pleasure, and seemed totally oblivious to my presence. I walked in and Jodie looked up.
‘That looks a strange game, Jodie,’ I said evenly. ‘What are you doing?’ I knew that showing any alarm or surprise was not the way to go, and telling her off would be counterproductive. Besides, I needed to know if she understood what she was doing.
She glanced down between the doll’s legs, then up again at me. There was no embarrassment. ‘Kissing,’ she said, with a grin. ‘She likes kissing, she does.’
‘Isn’t it an odd place to kiss her? We usually kiss each other on the cheek.’
She looked surprised. ‘But you haven’t got a man. Mans kiss here’ – she pointed to Julie’s naked crotch – ‘and girls here.’ She jabbed her forefinger at her cheek.
I went over and sat on the floor beside her. I needed to stay calm, so that Jodie would too, and to keep her talking for as long as I could. I had to find out what she’d seen, deal with it, and inform the social worker. She wouldn’t be the first child to have watched an adult video, or slept in the parents’ bedroom with no partition – I hoped that this was all it was, Jodie acting out something she had seen when she wasn’t supposed to. I would log it down in my notebook, though, in case any other kind of picture emerged. I tried to remain professional: calm but direct.
‘Jodie, can you tell me how you know men kiss there?’
She shrugged. ‘Just know. Girls like it and men do it. Mummies, daddies and girls.’
‘And were you pretending Julie was a mummy or a girl?’
‘Don’t know. A lady.’
‘OK, so if Julie was the lady, who were you pretending to be?’
‘The man!’ She frowned, impatient at my slowness.
‘Any man? Or were you thinking of one?’
She hesitated, screwing up her brow. ‘Don’t know. A daddy. A big big daddy.’
I couldn’t read anything into this. All men were daddies to her, as they are to many young children. I needed to steer her round to describing what she had seen, and where, but before I could get any further she suddenly jumped up and started kicking the doll viciously.
‘It’s her fault!’ she shouted, her eyes blazing. ‘It’s her fault! I told her no! Now look what you’ve done! I told you to keep your big mouth shut!’
I flinched as the doll’s plastic head clattered against the radiator. She was shouting at Julie as if repeating something that she’d heard. I took her arm, picked up the doll, and led the three of us to the sofa. ‘Come on, sweet, calm down. There’s no point in hurting Julie.’
She cradled the doll in her lap, and stroked her head, whispering words of comfort, trying to make her better. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘You’re safe with me. Sshh. Sshh. It was wrong of the man, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ I said, not sure if she was talking to the doll or me. ‘What the man did seemed very wrong.’ I paused. ‘Jodie, sometimes we see things that we don’t understand. It looks like people are hurting each other and it can make us very unhappy. Did you see a man kissing a woman there?’ I pointed to the doll’s legs. ‘What we call our private parts?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where did you see this? On television?’
‘In the bedroom and the car,’ she replied clearly.
‘The car? I don’t understand. Was there a television in the car?’
She shook her head.
‘But you saw this in a bedroom and a car?’
She nodded.
‘Whose car was it?’
‘The man’s. It was a big van.’
I paused. ‘Was it a film, Jodie, or was it real?’
She screwed up her eyes, as though blotting out the image. Her reply was barely audible. ‘Real. He was there. The girl and the daddy.’
‘And who was the girl? Do you know her name?’
She crushed the doll’s face into her chest. ‘Jodie.