down with more bags of big, cheap, glittery toys of the kind that would last five minutes, and hold her interest for half that time. But if the amount was anything to go by, Jodie was certainly used to getting plenty of what she wanted. Even so, just as with the new things she had brought back from her previous contact sessions, the novelties and toys didn’t hold much charm for her. It seemed she liked getting them, but after a moment or two they had no worth or meaning.
I asked Jodie what she would like to do for her birthday and she announced that she would like to go bowling, which surprised me. Bowling didn’t seem to be something that a child with such bad coordination would enjoy much, but it was her birthday and if that was what she wanted, then that was what we would do. Bowling it was. As Jodie wasn’t at school, there were no friends to ask along, so it was Jodie, Paula, Lucy, Adrian and me.
First, we opened her presents at home. I’d put a lot of thought into what to get her. I could tell she liked dolls’ things, and she seemed to treasure her life-size doll, Julie, so I bought her a doll’s car seat, just like the real thing, and a doll’s high chair. She unwrapped her presents without the excitement I would usually have expected in a child, examined them and then pushed them to one side without any further comment. I felt vaguely hurt, and rather mystified. It wasn’t that she didn’t like them – it was just as though nothing had any value for her, and I couldn’t understand why. But I quickly put the anti-climax of the gifts behind us, and we all left for bowling.
As I’d suspected, Jodie couldn’t bowl to save her life, but she seemed to have a good time anyway, although she did her usual stomping about, hands on hips, ordering everyone around. But there were no tantrums, either in the bowling alley or later in McDonald’s, which was where she wanted to go for dinner. But then, as it was her birthday, we were all obediently doing what she wanted and she rewarded us by not throwing a screaming fit or landing a punch or two. We all went home, satisfied that Jodie’s birthday had gone as well as it possibly could.
One morning, after Jodie had been with us for a fortnight and the day after a contact session with her parents, I left her playing in her room until everyone had gone to school. She wasn’t happy about this, but I needed to establish some sort of working routine, and a peaceful breakfast would be a good start. Once the others had left for school, I went up and told Jodie she could get dressed, and asked her what she wanted for breakfast.
‘Nothing. Hate you,’ she snarled and poked out her tongue. ‘Bugger off.’
‘That’s a pity,’ I said, ignoring the swear word, ‘because I like you, and I’m looking forward to our day together.’
She stared at me as though I’d finally lost it. ‘Why? Why do you like me?’
‘Because underneath that angry Jodie is a kind and happy Jodie waiting to come out. Now get dressed and come down for breakfast.’
And she did. Without arguing. I gave her lots of praise and mentally awarded us both a gold star.
The tutor was coming to give Jodie her lessons but she wasn’t due until 1.30, so in the morning we went shopping to replace Paula’s pyjama case and Lucy’s makeup. In the car, I explained to Jodie where we were going and why. She didn’t comment, and I wasn’t looking for a confession, so I restated our rules regarding other people’s bedrooms and property and left it at that. I found what I was looking for in the department store, then took the escalator to the top floor, and headed for the café. We both had a piece of apple cake, and sat by the window, looking down on the street below. We could have been any normal mother and daughter on a day out, and I wondered, not for the first time, what had happened to knock Jodie’s life so far off course. She seemed much more deeply damaged than Gary had led me to expect in the case history he’d given at the pre-placement meeting. Whenever I wondered what had happened to her, I put a mental stop on myself. Not only was it unprofessional to make assumptions but I knew that it was far too early to see any patterns in her behaviour. As it was, Jodie kept me so busy that it was impossible to stand back and see the bigger picture. At least I would get a couple of hours to catch up on paperwork while she was with her tutor that afternoon.
We finished our drinks, then had a look around the shops on the first floor. I could see Jodie was flagging, so we decided to call it a day, and walked over to the lifts. I showed Jodie how to push the button, and explained to her how the lift worked. By the time it arrived, there were a number of people waiting, but we were the first in line. We walked in, and stood at the back. Jodie held my hand, but as the doors started to close she pulled my arm and started shouting, ‘No! Make it stop! Don’t want to!’
I quickly leaned in between two women and pushed the button to reopen the doors, apologizing as I led Jodie out. I bent down and put my hands on her shoulders. ‘What’s the matter, Jodie? There’s nothing to be scared of.’
‘Don’t want to,’ she moaned. ‘I’m not going in there!’
‘That’s OK, we don’t have to if you don’t want to. We’ll just take the escalator instead.’
We walked over to the escalator, and Jodie gripped my hand as we descended. ‘I’ll take my dad in there,’ she said, her face crumpling.
‘What, in the lift?’
She nodded. ‘I’ll scare him. See how he likes it. I’ll show him.’
‘Why do you want to scare him, Jodie?’
But she just shrugged. She had closed down again, and the door that had briefly opened on her past had slammed shut.
Jodie recovered quickly from her fright, and by the time we returned home I was feeling positive again. I praised her over and over, telling her what a nice time I’d had, and how much I had enjoyed her company. She said she was hungry, so I left her playing with Julie, her life-size doll, and went into the kitchen. She wanted peanut butter in her sandwich, and I spread it thinly. I was determined to do something about her weight. I set the plate on the breakfast bar and poured a glass of squash, then started towards the lounge to tell her it was ready.
Something made me hesitate before going in. Perhaps it was the quiet. I couldn’t hear the usual babble that accompanied everything Jodie did. I looked round the half-open door, and froze. She was still playing with Julie, but had pulled the doll’s dress up, and was licking between its naked legs. She was making low, grunting noises as if from pleasure, and seemed totally oblivious to my presence. I walked in and Jodie looked up.
‘That looks a strange game, Jodie,’ I said evenly. ‘What are you doing?’ I knew that showing any alarm or surprise was not the way to go, and telling her off would be counterproductive. Besides, I needed to know if she understood what she was doing.
She glanced down between the doll’s legs, then up again at me. There was no embarrassment. ‘Kissing,’ she said, with a grin. ‘She likes kissing, she does.’
‘Isn’t it an odd place to kiss her? We usually kiss each other on the cheek.’
She looked surprised. ‘But you haven’t got a man. Mans kiss here’ – she pointed to Julie’s naked crotch – ‘and girls here.’ She jabbed her forefinger at her cheek.
I went over and sat on the floor beside her. I needed to stay calm, so that Jodie would too, and to keep her talking for as long as I could. I had to find out what she’d seen, deal with it, and inform the social worker. She wouldn’t be the first child to have watched an adult video, or slept in the parents’ bedroom with no partition – I hoped that this was all it was, Jodie acting out something she had seen when she wasn’t supposed to. I would log it
