Damaged, A Baby’s Cry and The Night the Angels Came 3-in-1 Collection. Cathy Glass
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hat, scarf and gloves with a fluffy trim. Only prolonged coercion had stopped her from wearing them in bed. Finally I’d done something right!
I set a brisk pace as we approached the park gates, and my mind was racing. I was anxious, and for once my worries were not entirely down to Jodie. The previous day we had visited Abbey Green School, and met the headmaster, Adam West. Although the visit had gone well, Mr West had said that he wouldn’t be able to offer Jodie a place until funding had been approved, which might take three months. Jodie would have to continue with Nicola, her tutor, in the meantime, but this clearly wasn’t meeting her needs. Jodie desperately needed not only education, but also the routine of school, and the company of other children.
I paused by the entrance to the park, and called Jodie back. Strung between two shrubs was a large spider’s web, still in the shade, sparkling white with dew.
‘Look at this, Jodie! A spider’s web. Isn’t it beautiful?’ I said. ‘Like one of those decorations we saw in the shops.’
‘Beautiful,’ she repeated. ‘Really beautiful.’
‘And can you hear that rustling in the undergrowth? I bet that’s a bird.’ We stood very quietly and listened. Moments later we were rewarded, as a large blackbird with a fiery orange beak quickly hopped across the path. Jodie’s face beamed.
‘Beautiful. Really beautiful,’ she said again, and I knew the phrase would be repeated for the rest of the day.
We made four laps of the park, then headed back. I always felt better after a walk, and for Jodie the energy release was essential, otherwise she’d be hyperactive for the rest of the day. She waited at the park gates, and we crossed the road together, then she sprinted ahead to the top of our road. Arriving at the gate, she heaved her bike up the step. To a stranger watching her who didn’t know anything of her past, she could have been any normal child arriving home, cheeks flushed from the cold air, looking forward to the warmth of home and the comfort of a hot drink. Just for a moment, I pretended to be that person, so that I could briefly enjoy the pleasure of seeing Jodie as she could be, if all of our efforts paid off.
We took off our coats, and I wheeled her bike through to the conservatory. I heated some milk and made us both a mug of hot chocolate. We sat either side of the kitchen table. I passed Jodie the biscuit tin and she dived in, grinning.
‘One,’ I said. ‘You had a cooked breakfast.’ I took a sip of my drink and set it down. She followed suit.
I took a deep breath. Now was the moment that I had to broach the subject that had been on my mind all morning. The innocence of our park trip was about to be sullied with the darkness of the adult world that Jodie had been so brutally exposed to. ‘Jodie,’ I said.
She met my gaze, the blue-grey eyes blank as usual.
‘I need to explain something. Can you listen carefully?’
She nodded.
‘When we’ve finished our drinks, we’re going out in the car. Do you remember Eileen?’
She wouldn’t remember her, of course, even though Eileen had finally made her first visit. A few weeks before, she had come round to introduce herself. Jodie was unlikely to recall it and I could hardly blame her, as it had been a flying visit, to say the least. After a few uncomfortable minutes, Eileen had made her excuses and gone on her way. She clearly wasn’t at ease with Jodie.
Jodie looked blank at my question, so I carried on. ‘Eileen’s your social worker, you remember? Well, Eileen wants you to have something called a medical, where a doctor will examine you, but there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll be with you.’
In an ideal world Eileen would have come around herself to explain to Jodie what was going to happen, but I’d given up expecting anything like that.
‘Will you, Cathy? That’s nice.’ She dunked her biscuit, then began licking off the melted chocolate.
‘The doctor will have a look at you, to make sure you’re OK. Do you remember that you had a medical when you first came into care? It will be like that, but this will be a bit more thorough.’
‘Will I have to take me clothes off, Cathy?’ she said, more interested in the biscuit than the conversation.
‘Yes. But it will be a nice lady doctor. She’s used to children, so there’s nothing to worry about. She’s going to look at your body, particularly where Daddy and Uncle Mike hurt you. You know, what we call our private parts.’
I waited for a reaction: fear, horror or outright refusal, but there was nothing. She finished her drink, wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and stood up, leaving me wondering if she’d fully understood.
‘If you think of any questions,’ I added, ‘tell me and I’ll explain.’
Strapped in the back seat, she resumed chattering about anything and everything, including medicals in general. Had I ever had a medical? Had Lucy and Paula? Did they have to take their clothes off and show their private parts? Did Adrian? I stopped that line of questioning, and switched on the radio. A bouncy pop song came on.
‘My mum likes this song,’ she said. ‘She likes the boy singer. We listen to it in the pub.’
‘You used to listen to it in the pub,’ I corrected her. As usual, Jodie seemed unable to distinguish between then and now but I was trying to point out the difference whenever she muddled them up, in the hope that she would begin to put what was finished behind her. I worried that she was still existing emotionally in the bad place she had come from, and if that was the case she was unlikely to begin her recovery. ‘We don’t go to the pub now. That was in the past.’
‘Why, Cathy? Why can’t we go to the pub?’
‘I don’t think it’s the right place to take children. I prefer the park for an outing.’
‘My mum thinks it’s right, so does my daddy, and my auntie Bell.’
‘I dare say.’
‘Cathy, is my mummy having a medical and showing her private parts?’
‘No. Not as far as I know.’
She paused, as though weighing this up. Then her voice piped up again. ‘She should. My daddy does naughty things to her as well.’
I glanced in the mirror. It was a throwaway comment, but loaded with connotations, as many disclosures are. ‘How do you know that, Jodie?’
She shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Just do.’
She had shut down again, and I knew there was no point in pursuing it. I was sure that she meant that she had seen her father and mother having sex and it was no surprise that she couldn’t distinguish between that and what happened to her. When she said it was ‘naughty’, did that mean she was starting to accept that what had happened to her was wrong? Or was she just repeating back what I had said to her? It was so hard to know with Jodie how much she understood and accepted.
The rest of the journey passed with Jodie singing along to songs on the radio, many of them near word perfect. I always found this unreasonably irritating: how could she remember these daft lyrics, but not her ABC?
The medical centre was housed in a purpose-built bungalow and offered a range of paediatric services. I’d been there before with other foster children for general health checks, but never for a forensic medical; I couldn’t help feeling very apprehensive because I had a fair idea of what was in store for her. I knew that the police didn’t do this very readily with young children who are likely victims of abuse, because it can seem like another form of assault. I had talked it over with Jill earlier and she had reassured me that if Jodie put up any resistance or seemed distressed, the doctors would stop immediately. There was no question of forcing her to go through with it.
It was always a struggle to find a parking space, but I spotted a gap at the kerb, and anxiously tried to parallel park, while a van waited impatiently behind.
‘You