Damaged, A Baby’s Cry and The Night the Angels Came 3-in-1 Collection. Cathy GlassЧитать онлайн книгу.
of course, but I hoped for the other children’s sakes that they had been left alone.
Not only was Jodie cut off from her parents, she was also isolated from her siblings. With no grandparents in the picture, and abusers for aunts and uncles, this meant we were the only family she had. I thought of my own children, and the extended family who wouldn’t hesitate to step in and look after them if anything happened to me. This wasn’t such an issue now, but it had been a real concern in the past. My husband had left when Adrian was Jodie’s age, and in darker moments I had welcomed the safety net of knowing that were I to fall under a bus they would be loved and cared for just the same. Jodie, on the other hand, had no one in the world but us.
Instead of shopping, Jodie wanted to do some painting, so I covered the table with paper, and set out the paints, brushes and a pot of water. I tied Jodie’s apron around her, and left her for a few minutes to work on her masterpiece. When I came back to check on her, I was impressed. Jodie had produced a number of pictures which actually looked like something.
‘Do you like them, Cathy?’ Jodie asked proudly.
‘I really do. These are excellent, Jodie. Can you describe them for me? Tell me what they are?’
‘All right. This one is a house.’
‘That’s very nice. And those are the windows, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, windows. This one’s a car. And this one’s my dog, stupid old dog.’
I jolted to attention. At the pre-placement meeting, I had been told that Jodie had set fire to her dog, and had nearly burned her house down in the process. It was this incident that had finally led to her and her siblings being taken into care. ‘I see,’ I replied. ‘Can you tell me more about the picture?’
‘Yes I can. This is our dog, Sam. He’s a big brown dog, always woofing.’
‘And why did you say he was stupid, Jodie?’
‘I don’t know,’ she replied impatiently.
‘There must be a reason why he’s stupid. You can tell me.’
‘He’s all ugly and burnt. He’s horrible.’
‘Oh dear. How did he get burnt?’ I asked, trying to keep my voice light and relaxed. We were still standing side by side, looking at the pictures, and I was anxious not to put pressure on her. Jodie shook her brush in the water, then tested it on the paper. Finding it was still not clean, she dipped and shook it again.
‘Jodie, can you tell me how Sam got burnt? I promise I won’t be angry.’
‘Jodie did it,’ she muttered. ‘I put all the bog roll on him, then used Mum’s lighter. He was jumping and jumping, and woofing, and started running around, and everything was burning.’
‘Where were your mum and dad when you did this?’
‘They were at Uncle Mike’s.’
‘Were you on your own?’
‘No, Ben and Chessie was there.’ Jodie’s sister’s name was Chelsea, but she had trouble pronouncing it. ‘I was looking after them.’
‘So what happened next?’
‘I picked up Chessie, and took her and Ben in the garden, and the stupid dog came and started rolling in the dirt. It looked all ugly, with its hair hanging off, and it stinks. And it made a lot of noise. I went in the hall and dialled 999, and the firemen came and put it out.’
‘That was sensible, calling the firemen. You saved Chelsea and Ben.’
‘Yeah,’ she said, grabbing a fresh sheet of paper.
‘Jodie, can you tell me why you wanted to hurt your dog?’
‘Wasn’t my dog,’ she snapped. ‘Daddy’s dog. I told you.’
‘Oh, right. Can you tell me why you wanted to hurt your daddy’s dog?’
Her brow furrowed in concentration. Gradually, her face hardened, and her fist clenched around the brush. ‘I hate him. I hate them, and I wanted to burn the house down and get out. It’s a horrible house.’ She thumped the table. ‘And I want my daddy arrested. He’s horrible, he sat on my face. They should arrest him, kill him!’
‘But why set fire to the dog, Jodie? Why not burn the curtains or the sofa if you wanted to burn the house down and get out?’
‘You are silly. I get smacked if I mess up the settee. Can I have a biscuit now, Cathy?’
While I got her a biscuit, I wondered if Jodie had set the dog alight as a way of punishing her father by hurting something he loved. Or perhaps, despite all her learning difficulties and developmental delays, Jodie had worked out a way to get herself out of that house. The frightening thought was that if she hadn’t done what she did, she might still be there, undergoing that vile degradation day after day.
In the days that followed, Jodie became increasingly distant. I renewed my efforts to draw her into the heart of our family, but she remained fiercely resistant, acting as if she needed no one and could manage alone. I’d seen this kind of behaviour before – self-sufficiency is not unusual in abused or neglected children, as they’ve often had to be resilient in order to survive – but Jodie took it to a new level. Any expression of care or concern from us was met with outright rejection, or sneered ridicule. She wanted no part of the daily support or interaction that made up family life, and erected barriers to emphasize her separateness. One afternoon, Paula and Lucy joined us for a shopping trip, but Jodie refused to walk with us, instead she walked six paces in front or behind, and barely spoke a word. The next day, I took Jodie to the cinema to see Lilo and stitch, and she pointedly sat two seats apart from me. She only rejoined me when the lights went down, as she was scared of the dark. She’d never been to the cinema before and she didn’t show much excitement either before or afterwards. It was another sign of how dulled and desensitized she was. She basked in her loneliness, and I was completely at a loss to know how to break through.
My only hope was that Christmas would strengthen our relationship. After all, there’s nothing more family oriented than Christmas.
Chapter Nineteen Special Little Girl
Nicola came to give Jodie her last lesson before Christmas, and the following day the girls’ school and Adrian’s college both broke up. Suddenly, the five of us were together all day. However, I use the term ‘together’ loosely, for although we were under the same roof, togetherness was avoided, and not only by Jodie. Adrian, Paula and Lucy spent most of their time in their rooms, and when they did come down they were met with a kick, a punch or a volley of ‘What you doing? Get out. It’s my house now’ and so on. Her attitude to the others had not softened much in her time with us. Illogically, the more attention I gave her, the more jealous she was of the others.
I explained to Jodie over and over again that we all lived together, as a family, but she wasn’t open to reason. Even so, although she didn’t want the family, it seemed that she did want me. Her possessiveness had been consolidated by the weeks when there had been just the two of us during the day, and I was starting to resent it. She demanded my constant attention, and I saw that she was doing what no other child had done before: undermining the fabric of our family. Normally, I would have dealt with this by trying to put some distance between us, but this was virtually impossible with Jodie, because of the high level of her needs.
Jodie’s hostility and aggression had a powerful effect on everyone in the house and created an unpleasant atmosphere. Even when she was up in her room, we could feel it in the house, like a malevolent presence. At dinner, on the occasions when we did all eat together, I would have to carry the conversation, as the children had become inhibited by Jodie’s endless snapping and kept quiet. We were even looking at each other less, because if any of us looked in Jodie’s direction this was liable to set her off. One glance could quickly