Free Damaged by Cathy Glass Page B

bolognese mixed with strings of spaghetti on the wall. It began sliding downwards, before dropping on to the floor. We all looked at it in silence for a moment and then I felt the children gaze at me in shock.
    Anger and frustration rushed through me. I had put up with Jodie’s bad behaviour all day and was worn out with it and her. Now she had thrown a perfectly good meal away, caused a terrible mess and upset us all, for no good reason that I could see.
    ‘Go to your room!’ I snapped. ‘I’ve had quite enough of this for one day!’
    She struggled down from her seat, and as she left the table, punched Lucy in the back of the head, hard, with a closed fist. She stormed out of the room, slamming the door with such force that a piece of plaster fell from the ceiling. Lucy didn’t say anything, but I could see the tears welling in her eyes. I hugged her.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, mortified that I could have caused my children such pain. ‘I think I’ve made a mistake. I shouldn’t have accepted her. This is too difficult for all of us. I’ll speak to the social worker first thing in the morning.’ 

* * *
    At a little after six the doorbell rang, and a dishevelled young man introduced himself as Jodie’s escort for contact. Jodie bounded down the stairs and left in a cheerful mood, waving goodbye as she walked up the garden path. Was she completely unrepentant, I wondered? Was she even aware of how bad her behaviour had been, or the sad atmosphere which now pervaded the house?
    It was the first moment of real peace in almost a week. The children were upstairs doing their homework. I sat in the living room with the television on, although I wasn’t paying attention. Instead my mind was in turmoil. Life with Jodie was not only far from easy, it was well- nigh impossible, and for the first time I was beginning to feel as though I might not be able to reach her. Jodie was the most disturbed, demanding child I’d ever come across; she was so cold and unresponsive, with no desire to be liked. It was not possible to find a way to mediate with her because she had no interest in meeting me halfway. It seemed as if she didn’t want to change but was content to remain in her far-off state, shut into her own world, expressing herself through tantrums and violence. In my experience, human relationships are all about give and take and mutual needs for affection and approval being met. If one party has absolutely no need of anything the other party has to offer, then where can the compromise come? That’s how it was with Jodie. I had never known a child so shut off, or so unseeking of warmth and affection. It seemed that the task I had set myself of caring for Jodie and somehow breaking through the huge barrier of emotional coldness around her had magnified itself a hundred times. I was in a no-win situation. I couldn’t have Jodie stay, because it was unfair on my children; her behaviour was just too disruptive. I couldn’t bear to see their home life and their security undermined and destroyed when they had just as much need of love and stability as Jodie, even if it was less pronounced.
    On the other hand, I knew what sending Jodie back now would mean. Not only would it be yet another rejection, and another black mark against her name, turning her into an object of fascinated horror – ‘Six carers in four months! Just think how awful she must be!’ – but it would also condemn her to a children’s home. I knew that a children’s home was not the right environment for Jodie, and also that it would probably mean that her last chance of living in a normal family was gone for good. If I didn’t keep her, then no one else would take her in. And what was the point of being a foster carer if you couldn’t help the most troubled children?
    As I sat and worried, I heard three pairs of feet coming down the stairs. Lucy and Paula entered and sat either side of me, while Adrian disappeared to make us a cup of tea. I was