Damaged, A Baby’s Cry and The Night the Angels Came 3-in-1 Collection. Cathy Glass
Читать онлайн книгу.
hurts,’ said Jodie. I squeezed her hand, willing them to hurry up.
Dr Pratchet suddenly straightened. ‘All done. You’ve been a very brave girl. You can get dressed now.’
I breathed a sigh of relief and helped Jodie sit up and dress, while the two women shed their gloves into the bin.
‘We’ll send the report to the social worker,’ said Linda. ‘You can reassure Jodie she’s quite normal.’
This was all we would be told for now. The social worker would eventually pass on to me anything I needed to know. Jill had said that this could take anything from ten days to a month. I thanked them warmly, took Jodie’s hand, and we walked out into the winter afternoon sunshine.
‘You were very brave,’ I told her. ‘You won’t have to go through that again. It’s over now.’
‘I wished it was a man,’ she said, giving a little hop beside me.
‘What? Doing the examination?’ I was surprised. Surely a man performing that kind of procedure was the last thing Jodie would want, after what she’d been through. ‘Why?’
‘Ladies hurt more than men,’ cos they haven’t got a willy.’
I stopped and turned to her as the significance of her words sank in. ‘What do you mean? What ladies? How do they hurt you?’
Her brow furrowed, as she searched through her limited vocabulary to try and explain. ‘My mum and Aunt Bell, they had to use things because they haven’t got willies.’
‘Use things? What, on your private parts?’
‘Yes. Like the doctors. They poked things inside me.’
I froze. Oh please, no. How much more could this child have endured? ‘What things, Jodie?’
‘Spoons, like the one the doctor put in my mouth. Only it was silver.’
‘Are you saying that Mum and Aunt Bell put a metal spoon in your private parts?’
She nodded. ‘It was cold. Daddy warmed it in his hands first. He was kind sometimes, wasn’t he, Cathy?’
It was too much. I could no longer hide my anger with the people who’d done this to her. ‘No, Jodie, he wasn’t. He was wicked. They’re animals. All of them. I hope they rot in hell!’
I sat at my desk writing, logging in my diary the vile details of Jodie’s sexual degradation. I felt sick to my core. The active involvement of Jodie’s mother in the abuse was such an appalling inversion of the maternal role and everything we feel mothers should be. We foster carers were supposed to be non-judgemental but there is a cut-off point and, for me, this was it. I could hardly bear to record Jodie’s childish conclusion that, because her father had warmed the object used to defile her, this act of kindness made him less culpable.
As soon as Jill received my emailed report, she phoned. ‘Jesus,’ she said. ‘It’s a wonder the poor child’s functioning at all with all this.’
‘She isn’t really. And she’s functioning less with every new disclosure.’ As I said it, I realized the truth. On a day-to-day basis, there were ups and downs, bad days and better days; but if I stood back for a moment and considered it all carefully, I could see that in reality it was a steady decline. Jodie was getting worse. ‘I’m out of my depth, Jill.’
Jill could hear the rising panic in my voice. She said soothingly, ‘OK, don’t worry. You’re seeing the psychologist next week, aren’t you?’
‘Monday.’
‘Why don’t you ask her for some strategies to help? I know that’s not why she’s there, but she might be able to offer something. It’s worth a try.’
‘Thanks, Jill. That’s a good idea.’ I felt a small vestige of comfort. ‘I’ll see what she says.’
Jill was right. The psychologist had been appointed by the court to assess Jodie as part of the ongoing care proceedings, and it wasn’t her role to advise me, or to offer therapy for Jodie. Still, it was a glimmer of hope – surely she would have some idea of what I might do.
The bureaucratic wheels were grinding slowly on, as Jodie’s case worked its way through the system. Jodie had been brought into care under an Interim Care Order, which meant that the court would decide at a later date whether to return her to her family, or to issue a Full Care Order. The psychologist would meet Jodie a number of times before filing her report, as this was a crucial part of the court’s decision-making process.
The court had set dates for two ‘direction hearings’ in January and March, which would be followed by a ‘final court hearing’ in May. The purpose of the direction hearings was to allow the judge to consider the evidence that had been presented so far, so that he or she could take interim decisions in the child’s interests, without having to wait for the final court proceedings to be resolved. Throughout the process, the guardian ad litum would meet with all the parties and provide the judge with an objective assessment, making recommendations in the best interests of the child. In practice, judges tend to be guided by the guardian ad litum, and usually follow his or her recommendations.
If a Full Care Order was granted at the final hearing, the local authority would become Jodie’s de facto guardian, and Social Services would place her either with a long-term foster family, or into a residential care home, or, if she was very lucky, they might find a family to adopt her. However, given Jodie’s age, aggression and learning difficulties, this last option was extremely unlikely.
Before the first meeting with the psychologist, Jodie was scheduled for the police memorandum interview. This interview, as well as being part of the care proceedings, would also be used in the police investigation, with a view to prosecuting Jodie’s parents and any other abusers. Jodie would be interviewed by specially trained police officers from the Child Protection Unit, and I hoped that she would be as forthcoming with them as she had been with me.
We arrived for our appointment with the Child Protection Officers in good time, which gave Jodie a chance to peer into the police cars parked outside the station. I pressed the buzzer for entry, then gave our names to the PC on reception. He came out from behind the desk and showed us through to a special suite. As we walked in, I felt reassured: the suite was clearly designed to set a child at ease. The room was brightly furnished, with a big red sofa, lots of toys and colourful Lion King-themed wallpaper. Two WPCs in civilian clothes stood and introduced themselves.
‘Hello, you must be Jodie,’ one said brightly. ‘My name’s Kelly, and this is Harriet.’
Jodie grinned while I shook their hands.
‘Coffee?’ Harriet asked.
‘Yes please.’
‘And squash for Jodie?’
‘Thank you,’ I said.
Harriet left the room while Jodie brought a jigsaw from a toy box and the three of us began assembling it. Harriet returned with the drinks and a packet of biscuits. We sat for a while, as the WPCs tried to engage Jodie’s attention, asking her about her hobbies, her favourite television programmes and so on. Jodie, however, remained oblivious to their chat, preferring to sit in the corner exploring the toy boxes. After a while, Kelly got on her hands and knees and tried to join in with Jodie’s games, but this too was only partially successful. I didn’t think Jodie was being deliberately hostile, it was just that she didn’t see the need to interact, even though I had explained the importance of our visit both that morning and the night before.
Explaining to Jodie what was going to happen had been a delicate process. I had tried to make it clear that some nice, kind people would be asking her questions about the things she had told me had happened to her, but there was not much more I could