Damaged, A Baby’s Cry and The Night the Angels Came 3-in-1 Collection. Cathy Glass
keep going, and hope something comes up. Eileen’s realized that Jodie’s due for an LAC review – it’s actually overdue. Is it all right if we have it at your house? She’s suggested Thursday afternoon at two o’clock.’
‘Yes, that’s fine.’
‘Eileen wants Jodie to be there. I know … an afternoon off school when she’s just started, and I know she won’t be able to contribute anything. But Eileen’s suddenly one for the rule book, and she is within her rights to insist.’
I felt the mixture of anger and frustration that so often seemed to dog me when dealing with Eileen. ‘OK, I’ll pick her up from school at lunchtime,’ I said, and, after a quick goodbye, hung up.
LAC stands for Looked After Children, which is the official term for children in care. A LAC review is a regular meeting, required under the Children’s Act, and attended by all those involved in the child’s case. The purpose of the meeting is to report on the child’s progress and decide on any actions which need to be taken. Jodie’s parents wouldn’t be present, of course, because contact had been suspended, but the guardian ad litum, the child’s social worker, her team leader, the headmaster, Jill, Jodie and myself would all be there. However, since Jodie was still functioning at the level of a four-year-old, her presence was likely to offer little more than disruption.
With Jodie at school, I vowed to make the most of my first free day in months. I sat on the sofa and started to plan my day. Three hours later I woke up, and as I came to I chided myself for the time I’d wasted. It was now 12.45, and I had less than two hours before I’d have to make the return journey to school. I rushed to the supermarket, but by the time I got home I realized I’d have to give up my fantasy of reading in peace for an hour. Still, I comforted myself, I must have needed the sleep. I was getting so little at night, and that was broken every few hours by Jodie’s night-time torments. No wonder I couldn’t keep my eyes open the minute I had the opportunity to relax.
I arrived back at the school and waited by the gates, exchanging smiles with a few of the other mothers. Had they heard about Jodie already, I wondered? How would the other children have described her? Mrs Rice appeared, with Jodie jumping up and down beside her, and told me Jodie had had a good day. This was confirmed in the car, as Jodie wouldn’t stop talking all the way home. She told me over and over again about all the children in her class, most of whom were now her new best friends – and she wanted all of them to come round for tea, just like Paula’s friends did.
Adrian, Lucy and Paula were already in when we got home, so Jodie had a new audience for her excitable monologue, and they listened with patience. It continued throughout dinner to the extent that I had to remind her to eat, which was definitely a first. She settled easily that night, as she was physically and emotionally exhausted, and I did much the same.
Just after midnight I was woken by the sound of Jodie sobbing on the landing. I pulled on my dressing gown, hurried out of my room and found her lying on the carpet outside Paula’s bedroom. Her face was crimson, and she could hardly breathe for crying. I put my arm around her, and led her back to her room. I sat beside her on the bed and cuddled her until she was able to speak.
‘Cathy,’ she said, through sobs, ‘when I was at my school I had a friend, but then she wouldn’t be my friend any more.’ I passed her a tissue, and waited while she blew her nose.
‘Don’t upset yourself, pet. You’ll make lots of new friends now.’
‘But she was my best, best friend. And she came to my house. But then she wasn’t allowed, because of what I said.’
My sleep-fuddled brain started to focus. ‘What did you say? I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. Friends fall out all the time, Jodie, even best ones.’
She shook her head. ‘I told her. About Mummy and Daddy and Uncle Mike. And she told her mummy and daddy, and they said she couldn’t come and play. Her mummy said it was a bad house. But I’m not bad, am I, Cathy?’
I held her closer to me. ‘No, sweet, of course you’re not bad. She meant what was happening to you was bad. It was never your fault. You mustn’t think that.’ As I comforted her, my mind was whirring. She had told someone. Other adults had been made aware of the abuse. Could this be the third-party evidence that was needed to secure a prosecution? I was fully awake now.
‘You did right to tell, Jodie. Her mummy and daddy should have told the police instead of stopping her from playing. What was her name? Can you remember? It’s important.’
She sniffed. ‘Louise Smith. She lived next door. I won’t tell my new friends, will I, Cathy?’
‘No, there’s no need. You can tell me anything you want, and you know that I’ll do something about it.’
She sniffed and managed a smile.
‘Good girl. You did the right thing. Now I want you to try and get some sleep. We don’t want you tired for tomorrow.’
I tucked her in, and stroked her forehead until her eyes closed. I was tense and focused. Jodie had had the courage to tell someone, but that courage had not only gone unrewarded but, in her eyes, it had led to further punishment, as she had been prevented from seeing her friend. I could imagine why Louise’s parents had kept quiet: they hadn’t wanted to get involved, and they’d wanted to protect their own child. However, by keeping quiet they’d left an innocent victim open to further abuse. All they needed to have done was to make an anonymous phone call to the NSPCC, the Social Services or the police, and that would have been enough to start an enquiry. Whenever this kind of allegation is made, the police or Social Services have to look into it.
I went back to bed, but I couldn’t settle. In the end I gave up, and went downstairs and made myself some hot chocolate. I stood in the kitchen, warming my hands on the hot mug. There were wider implications to what Jodie had said. Living next door, the Smiths must have seen the comings and goings. They probably knew who these so-called aunts, uncles and granddads were, by face, if not by name. If the police interviewed the Smiths now, with the allegations out in the open, surely they’d have to tell the truth? I knew the council estate where Jodie had grown up well; I’d looked after kids from there before. It was a tight-knit, closely bound community, where everyone seemed to be in and out of each other’s houses. How many other residents had known what was going on, but remained silent, fearful of the potential consequences? How did they sleep at night?
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