The Girl With Two Lives Page 7

  I didn’t normally go into such detail at meetings like this. It’s more typical for me to feel slightly rushed and to use an economy of words – a bit like when you go to see the GP and you know you have to get straight to the point or you’ll make the surgery run late for the rest of the day. However, I didn’t feel rushed or under pressure at all at this meeting. Everybody present was looking very thoughtful and paying close attention to each word I was saying.

  ‘What do you mean, Angela, in saying maybe it’s more subtle than that?’ Susan asked.

  ‘I mean maybe Danielle genuinely can’t help herself. Something makes her cause trouble. Maybe it’s subconscious, I don’t know. As we’ve already touched on, I wonder if she has some form of attachment disorder.’

  Susan nodded and scribbled in her notebook before clarifying to the rest of the group that this was something Danielle’s psychologist was looking into.

  We were told Social Services were having a lot of difficulty finding a suitable school that would take Danielle. In the meantime, as well as continuing with her tutor, Miss Powell, Deirdre, the family-aid worker, would help support us. It was explained to us that Deirdre would take Danielle out on educational trips, play sports with her and help keep her occupied while she was out of school.

  ‘I’m looking forward to it,’ Deirdre said.

  She smiled warmly and the corners of her eyes creased effortlessly into two neat fans. There’s a lady who’s used to smiling, I thought. Deirdre looked to be in her early forties, and she had an aura of calm around her. I told her I was looking forward to it too, which I was. I had a good feeling about Deirdre and I imagined Danielle would as well.

  Next, Susan gave us contact details of a lady called Hatty Bamford, who was the former headmistress of one of the special schools Danielle had attended when she was younger. We learned that Mrs Bamford now worked as a volunteer for CAMHS – Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services – which are NHS services for young people with emotional, behavioural or mental health difficulties. Mrs Bamford had kept in contact with Danielle after she left her primary school several years earlier and she knew both sets of foster carers Danielle had stayed with in the past. It was suggested we could contact her if we needed any further support, as Mrs Bamford was more than happy to volunteer her help with Danielle and wanted to stay in touch.

  ‘For example,’ Susan explained, ‘on a day when Deirdre is not working with Danielle and there is no tuition, Mrs Bamford might be able to provide an hour or two of respite care, or even a whole day, if needed. She and Danielle have a very good relationship and Danielle likes to spend time with Mrs Bamford.’

  ‘Thank you. Is there any more you can tell us about Danielle?’ I asked. ‘Anything at all?’

  Again, this was slightly out of character for me. Normally, protocol dictates that foster carers wait to be given information by Social Services, on the understanding that any relevant details will be shared at the appropriate time. Jonathan flicked me a sideways glance and I could tell he was thinking I was perhaps being a little too forward. By my standards I was, but something felt different about this meeting. The longer it went on, the more I was getting the feeling that Danielle was a particularly special case, though nobody was telling us precisely why. Obviously, when a child has been sexually abused at a very young age, that child needs extremely careful handling. I understood that very well, but there was something else, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It felt like I’d been thrown a few pieces of a puzzle and was trying to work the whole thing out, feeling certain that something was missing.

  If Danielle is a child in greater need than most, surely Jonathan and I need as much information as possible?

  Naturally, I kept the thoughts that were running though my head to myself. I was aware I was probably overthinking things, because I wanted the very best for Danielle and was looking for every possible way to make things better for her.

  I reminded myself that, at the end of the day, I trusted the professional team of people around this table. They clearly wanted the best for Danielle, just as I did, and they were all highly experienced at their jobs. I had to be patient, listen to the rest of the meeting and trust that Danielle was getting the highest level of care, from all quarters.

  ‘I’m pleased we have the support in place,’ Susan said, shuffling her papers. ‘And I’m delighted to say Deirdre will do two afternoon sessions a week.’

  ‘Here are my contact details,’ Deirdre said brightly, handing me a card. ‘Give me a ring, Angela, and we’ll go through our diaries and work out what suits.’

  Miss Powell had only taught Danielle for two sessions of tuition so far and didn’t say much, other than to agree with my observation that Danielle appeared to be ‘up and down’.

  ‘The first session was great and the next was not very good. Danielle had done her homework and was in a receptive mood when she arrived, but during most of the session she seemed distracted and kept putting on silly voices and turning round.’

  I felt this was not surprising, as Danielle was working in a corridor with people going about daily chores passing by her all the time. I don’t think I would have been able to concentrate if it was me, and I asked if a room could be found instead. Miss Powell said there was nothing available for the time being, but reassured me she would let me know if the situation changed and a quieter space became available.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I’m sure that would help Danielle focus on her work.’

  To our relief, Nelson agreed it was a good idea to abandon the star chart. Jonathan explained that we felt it poured petrol on the flames whenever Danielle behaved badly and had a star taken away.

  ‘We feel Danielle needs support, not penalising in any way at all,’ I said.

  Everyone present supported our decision to seek medical help for the bed-wetting and daytime incontinence, which Nelson had already endorsed. Finally, we were told Danielle would resume her monthly visits to her psychologist. Susan gave me the details of where and when the sessions took place and told me a support worker would take Danielle to and from the sessions. I was given this support worker’s name and number, and then Susan brought the meeting to a close.

  ‘How d’you think that went?’ Jonathan asked when we climbed in the car.

  ‘Not sure what to make of it, to tell the truth,’ I replied.

  ‘Mmmm,’ he said, furrowing his brow.

  ‘I like the look of Deirdre, and Hatty Bamford sounds great. I think there’s a lot Social Services aren’t telling us just yet though. I think Danielle has suffered more than we dare to imagine. What do you think, Jonathan?’

  ‘Mmmm,’ he said again. After a pause he added, ‘I couldn’t agree with you more. But I don’t blame them. We’re still none the wiser about how long she’ll be with us, are we? It’s just a case of taking things one step at a time, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, you’re right. We’ll just have to wait and see what happens next. At least we know the basic facts, and we have a lot of support in place. All we can do is our best.’

  When we got home we decided to have a barbecue, as the sun was shining.

  ‘I love barbecues,’ Danielle said, eyes widening. ‘I LOVE them!’

  She helped Jonathan set everything up while I made some fresh burgers and defrosted some hamburger buns from the freezer. We hadn’t planned the barbecue because the weather forecast hadn’t been as good as it turned out, so I was making do with what we had in. I invited Mum to stay and join us – the Scrabble game had only just finished by the time we returned. She said she’d love to stay, as Danielle had been such good company, and she popped home to pick some fresh herbs from her garden and to collect a block of chocolate and some marshmallows she had in the cupboard.

  The barbecue was a great success. Danielle thoroughly enjoyed herself, especially when it came to putting the marshmallows on skewers, toasting them and dipping them in the melted chocolate. ‘These are the best things I’ve ever tasted,’ she s
aid, eating one after the other until I had to tell her I thought she’d had enough.

  Later that evening, when everything was packed away and Danielle, Jonathan and I were relaxing and watching EastEnders, I thought it was a good time to explain to her what was going to happen, at least in the short term. She listened quietly as I told her how her time would be organised to include the activity sessions with Deirdre, her tuition with Miss Powell, her therapy with the psychologist, once a month, and hopefully some trips out with Mrs Bamford.

  ‘Who’s Mrs Bamford?’

  ‘Hatty Bamford, your old head teacher?’

  ‘Oh. I just call her Hatty. I thought she hated me.’

  ‘You thought she hated you?’

  ‘Yes. She kicked me out of her school, didn’t she!’

  This was something I was not aware of and I wondered whether it was true or if she’d got things muddled up, having recently been excluded from her last school.

  I told Danielle I understood she had kept in touch with Hatty and they had regular trips out together.

  ‘We do. I like her. But she must hate me, mustn’t she?’

  I could feel myself getting pulled into a muddled nonsense conversation and I wondered if Danielle was deliberately trying to confuse me or wind me up.

  Here we go again, I thought. One step forward, two steps back. What a shame after such a lovely barbecue!

  Danielle had proved to be very adept at lapsing into nonsense conversations and trying to drag others in with her, but they were never helpful and so I made sure I trod carefully, sticking to the facts and trying to steer the conversation back on track.

  ‘Social Services have given me Hatty’s phone number and I was going to ring her and see if we can fix up an outing for the two of you. She wants to see you. That’s what your social worker said. Hatty is looking forward to seeing you and she very much enjoys spending time with you.’

  ‘Great! I’d like that. Thank you.’

  That was how chats with Danielle often went. One minute she was overcomplicating things or talking almost in rhymes, or at least that’s how it seemed. Then the next it was as if she’d had a sudden flash of clarity, good manners or both. It meant that, just as she sometimes asked herself Who will I be?, I found myself wondering which Danielle would reply to me. On many occasions I had a slightly nervous feeling in my stomach, hoping Danielle would be pleasant and not snap or be rude, never quite knowing which way our conversation would go.

  There was a music festival in the town, and I told Danielle she could go with Mina and Shelby, provided her behaviour was good over the next few days.

  ‘How can I be good?’ she asked, looking genuinely confused.

  ‘By doing as you’re asked,’ I said breezily. ‘It’s really not that difficult. You behaved beautifully at the barbecue and when you were playing Scrabble with my mum. I know you can behave, and you were very helpful too.’

  ‘OK. So what do I have to do now? Are you setting me a trap?’

  ‘A trap? No, not at all. Why would I do that? I want you to behave well and I want to be able to let you go to the festival. There’s nothing I’d like more.’

  ‘So what’s the catch?’

  ‘No catch. I know you have to finish the homework Miss Powell set at your last tuition session, and I would like you to do your very best to keep yourself clean, have showers every morning and let me know when I need to wash your bedding.’

  ‘That’s easy!’

  ‘Good, I’m glad you think so. And it goes without saying that I’d like good manners at all times – and especially at the table.’

  ‘I can do that!’

  ‘I know you can.’

  ‘So I don’t have to do any extras?’

  ‘Extras?’

  ‘Yes, you know. Will you give me money for extras?’

  ‘Oh, I see. You mean chores? I tell you what, Danielle, provided you do all I’ve asked you to do, I will give you some extra pocket money if you do a few small things to help me and Jonathan around the house.’

  She rolled her eyes.

  ‘Here we go. Slave labour! They told me you’d do this.’

  ‘They told you?’

  ‘Glennis and Mike. They said you would use me like a skivvy! They said it happens all the time. People like you con their way into becoming foster carers just so they can lock kids in the house and get them to scrub the floor and do all the shit jobs!’

  ‘Danielle! Please do not use language like that. I’m upset that you’re saying such things. I’ve told you before. Jonathan and I enjoy being foster carers. We do it for love, not money. If you don’t want me to give you a couple of little jobs to do, so you can earn extra money for the music festival, that’s fine by me.’

  ‘But I do want the money!’

  ‘Right. So, here’s the deal. If you are well behaved you can go to the fair. If you help me with the washing today and tomorrow – pegging it out and bringing it in – I will give you an extra £2.50 on top of your pocket money. How does that sound?’

  Danielle’s eyes lit up. ‘Wicked!’

  Jonathan and I had already arranged to give Danielle £5.00 pocket money a week, which was a figure set out by Social Services, so if she played her cards right she’d have £7.50 in total for the festival – a sum we considered was sufficient for her to have fun with, without it being too extravagant. I knew Danielle was interested in buying a poster of her favourite pop stars and there are always some small funfair stalls at the festival. Having a bit of extra money in her pocket seemed like a very good goal for Danielle to aim for.

  We had a relatively good couple of days, and Danielle had an excellent trip out with Deirdre, to a local park where there’s an outdoor tennis court. They hired racquets and had a knock-about then strolled around the park, visiting a newly built education centre next to the car park. Deirdre told me she thought it would be a good idea to use their sessions not only to keep Danielle’s mind busy and to occupy her time, but to help her get fit too. I was delighted to hear that. Danielle was unhealthily overweight and it could only be a good thing for her to slim down.

  ‘We’ll support you with this, as much as we can,’ I said. ‘If she loses weight it will help her self-esteem too, of course, and I think that’s something that needs working on.’

  ‘Yes,’ Deirdre said. ‘I agree, Angela. It’s just a question of finding something Danielle likes. It can take time to find the right activity.’

  Danielle had enjoyed the tennis but she told me afterwards she didn’t want to do it every time she saw Deirdre.

  ‘It was hard work,’ she said. ‘I was worn out.’

  ‘Well, that’s fine, I’m sure,’ I said. Deirdre was a very approachable person, and I could see she wanted to do her best by Danielle and achieve positive results. ‘You need to just tell Deirdre how you feel. She wants you to have fun and enjoy the sessions.’

  Deirdre had told us she had teenage twins who had both gone off to work abroad as au pairs for a year, and that she missed having them at home. ‘The plus side is, I can devote more time and energy to my job. I’m making the most of it, and I was very pleased when I was assigned to be your family-aid worker.’

  That was music to my ears. It felt like we had a top team around us, and I was confident Deirdre had the skills to help make a difference to Danielle’s life.

  ‘What sports have you played before, Danielle?’ I asked her, later that day. ‘Is there anything you like, in particular?’

  ‘Chase the Ace,’ she replied. ‘And Snakes.’

  ‘Chase the Ace, the card game?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes. He taught me it. He played it at his work. And he let me play Snakes on his phone.’

  ‘He? Who taught you?’

  ‘Him. My dad.’

  When she mentioned Chase the Ace my first thought had been to explain that playing cards wasn’t really classed as sport, but that would have to wait. Now I was all ears. I had heard nothing about Danielle’s family, and if she wanted
to talk about it, I wanted to listen and make it as easy as possible for her to tell me whatever she wanted to.

  ‘Your dad taught you?’

  ‘Yes. Ha ha. Bet he plays a lot of that now.’

  ‘He plays a lot now, do you think?’

  ‘Yes. He’s got nothing else to do, has he? He won’t be able to play Snakes though.’

  ‘He won’t?’

  ‘Nah. You’re not allowed to have a phone inside, are you?’

  ‘Inside?’

  ‘He’s inside, Angela. Prison. Isn’t that right?’

  She turned to look behind her, seemingly directing her question at one of the ornaments on the windowsill in our lounge, before turning back round to fix her gaze on me again and painting a big smile on her face. It was a smile that looked completely fake, and I smiled awkwardly back at her.

  ‘Anyway. I’d like to do crazy golf next time. Deirdre said she’d take me to that park over the bridge. Have you ever played crazy golf, Angela? I haven’t. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. I think I could be good at that. I like those little mini castles. I’d like to live in a castle, wouldn’t you?’

  I had lots of questions in my head, and whether or not I wanted to live in a castle was certainly not one of them, especially not at that moment in time.

  Poor Danielle. I hadn’t been aware her father was in prison, and I wondered if it had been in the paperwork I’d been given and perhaps I’d missed it? I was sure it hadn’t been mentioned, as I would have remembered something like that.

  I thought what a terrible thing this was for a young girl to deal with. I wanted to know exactly why her father had been locked up, but of course my priority had to be to make sure Danielle felt able to discuss whatever she wanted to with me. She had to set the agenda, I knew that. So I told her I would love to live in a castle.

  ‘Mind you, there’d be a lot of dusting to do, and it might be a bit chilly,’ I mused, before quickly adding, ‘Danielle, you know you can talk to me about anything you like.’