Cathy Glass - The Saddest Girl in the World

When Paula came out of the toilet I went with her into her bedroom and drew the curtains. Once she was in bed I took a book from her bookshelf and propped myself on the bed beside her with my feet up, as I did every evening, as part of our bedtime routine. ‘I'm only reading one story tonight, love,’ I said, ‘as I need to get Donna settled.’

I had chosen a short story, but a favourite of Paula's — The Very Hungry Caterpillar , which I had been reading to her since she was a toddler. Paula knew it by heart and could also read most of the words. She joined in as I read, poking her finger through the hole in each page where the caterpillar was supposed to have eaten. At the end, where the caterpillar changes into a beautiful butterfly, I said, as I always said when I read this book, ‘You are my beautiful butterfly.’ Paula grinned and snuggled her head into her pillow, and I kissed her goodnight. ‘Thanks for helping to look after Donna,’ I said. ‘I'm sure she'll be better tomorrow.’

Paula looked concerned. ‘Mum?’ she asked. ‘Does Donna talk?’

I smiled. ‘Yes, love, but she's finding it difficult at present because of everything that has happened to her. I am sure she will start talking to us soon.’

‘Good. Because I don't like her being so quiet. It's a bit scary.’

‘I know, love, but don't you worry.’ I got off the bed and kissed her goodnight again. ‘Everything will be all right. Now, it's late and I want you to go straight off to sleep.’

‘Is Adrian coming in soon?’ Paula asked.

‘Yes, just as soon as I've got Donna settled.’

‘Will she go to bed at the same time as me every night?’

I smiled. ‘No, she's older than you, and it's well past your normal bedtime.’

‘I know.’ Paula giggled and buried her head under the sheets.

‘Night, love,’ I said again. ‘Sleep tight.’ Coming out, I blew her one last kiss and drew the door to but left it slightly ajar as she liked it. I went round the landing and knocked on Donna's door. There was no reply, so I knocked again, then slowly opened the door and put my head round. Donna had changed into her nightdress and I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. She was sitting on the bed with the red paper bag in her hand. ‘Do you want to put your present in this drawer for now?’ I said, going in and opening one of the drawers in the wardrobe. ‘It will be quite safe in there.’

She shook her head and clutched the bag tighter.

‘OK, but you will have to put it down when you have your wash or else it will get wet.’ I picked up her wash bag containing the flannel and toothbrush, and in my firm but kindly tone said, ‘This way to the bathroom, love.’ I turned and left the room decisively as though I expected her to follow, which she did.

In the bathroom I put her flannel on the towel rail with ours and her toothbrush in the mug with ours. ‘The toothpaste is there,’ I said. ‘That tap is the hot water and that one is the cold.’ Obvious to us, but less obvious to a newcomer because the red and blue marks on the taps had worn away with use. ‘This is your towel,’ I said, pointing again to the towel rail. ‘Do you need anything else?’ Donna shook her head. ‘OK, when you have finished, go to the toilet and then I will come and say goodnight.’

I came out, and went downstairs and into the lounge. The light was fading now at nearly 9.00 p.m. and there was a nip in the air. I stood at the French windows and called Adrian in, and unusually he came with the first calling.

‘Good boy,’ I said. ‘Now straight upstairs and change into your pyjamas. Donna will be finished in the bathroom by the time you are ready to go in. You can leave your shower until the morning as we're late.’

‘Cool,’ he said, which was his favourite expression, used to denote most things that met with his approval.

‘And not too much noise when you go up: Paula is going off to sleep.’

‘I'll have a drink first,’ he said, and he went through to the kitchen, while I closed and locked the French windows.

Leaving Adrian to pour himself a glass of milk, I returned upstairs, taking a couple of Donna's carrier bags with me, which I placed in her bedroom. The water had stopped running in the bathroom and I went round and knocked on the bathroom door, which she had left ajar. ‘All right?’ I asked, going in. She nodded. ‘Have you had your wash and done your teeth?’ I noticed she was once more clutching the red paper bag. She nodded again.

‘Good girl. Straight into bed then. It's after nine o'clock.’

She followed me silently round the landing and into her bedroom. I pulled back the sheet — there was no need for a duvet, as it was too hot — and I stood aside and waited for her to get into bed. ‘Do you have your teddy bear in bed with you?’ I asked, picking up the clearly much-loved threadbare soft toy.

She nodded.

‘Has he or she got a name?’

She shrugged and laid her head on the pillow. I tucked the teddy in beside her and then draped the sheet over her. I drew the bedroom curtains and returned to stand beside the bed. ‘We'll unpack all your things tomorrow,’ I said, leaning slightly forward. ‘Have a good sleep and you can have a lie-in if you wish: there's no rush tomorrow. If you need me in the night, you know where my bedroom is. Just knock on the door. I'm a light sleeper, so I will hear you.’ I hesitated and looked at her. She was on her side, facing out into the room. She was staring straight ahead and had one arm around the teddy. There wasn't much else I could say or do that night, although I felt there was plenty I should be saying and doing to help her. ‘Sleep tight, love, and see you in the morning. Would you like a goodnight kiss?’ I always ask the fostered child this when they first arrive; it's an intrusion in their personal space to just assume they want a kiss.

She nodded slightly and I leant further forward and kissed her forehead. ‘Night, love, sleep tight. We'll have a good day tomorrow. We'll unpack first — it's nice to have all your things around you. I'm so pleased you have come to stay with us.’

I hesitated again, hoping, wishing, she would say something, some verbal acknowledgement that she was all right and not in need of anything. But there was absolutely nothing.

‘Night, love,’ I said again. ‘Would you like your bedroom door open or closed?’ She gave a small shrug. ‘OK, I'll close it a little.’

With a final glance at her I came out and pulled the door to without shutting it fully. Adrian was in the bathroom, having changed into his pyjamas, and was now finishing his washing and teeth brushing. I waited on the landing until he came out, and then I saw him into bed. ‘If you're reading tonight, it's only for a short while,’ I said. Although we didn't have to be up early for school in the morning, if Adrian didn't have enough sleep, he was not at his best, to put it mildly. Kissing him goodnight, I left him reading by the light of his lamp and came out and shut his bedroom door right to, as he liked it. I looked in on Paula, who was fast asleep; then I listened outside Donna's door. There was no sound, but I didn't go in in case I disturbed her. I would check on her later on my way to bed.

I went downstairs, locked the back door, and then flopped on to the sofa in the lounge and put my feet on the footstool. I was absolutely exhausted, and it seemed incredible that only ten hours had passed since I had received Jill's call about Donna. It wasn't only anxious anticipation of Donna's arrival, and welcoming her, that had drained me, but the relentless effort to get any form of acknowledgement from her, and the worry about what was really going on inside her head. As I sat on the sofa and slowly, gradually, began to relax, I realised that even though I had fostered over thirty children, Donna was the first to have spent an entire evening in the house and gone to bed without uttering a single word. I wondered just how long she could keep it up.