Cathy Glass - The Saddest Girl in the World

Edna stood just in front of Donna as she spoke but Donna didn't look up. ‘Come on,’ Edna encouraged kindly. ‘Stand up and give me a hug before I go.’

There was a moment's hesitation; then, with a small dismissive shrug, Donna stood and let Edna give her a hug, although I noticed she didn't return it. As soon as Edna let go, Donna sat down again. ‘Bye then, Donna,’ Edna said; then leaning out of the French windows, ‘Bye Adrian, Paula, have a good weekend.’

They both looked up and smiled. ‘Thank you.’

Edna collected her bag from where she'd left it beside the sofa and with a final glance at Donna — who was once more sitting head down with the present in her hands, and I thought trying hard to minimise Edna's departure — walked swiftly from the room.

‘Take care and good luck,’ Edna said to me as I saw her to the front door. ‘I'll phone first thing on Monday. And thanks, Cathy.’

‘You're welcome. Don't worry. She'll be fine,’ I reassured her again.

‘Yes,’ Edna said, and with a quick glance over her shoulder towards the lounge, went out of the door and down the path towards her car.

I closed the front door and returned to the lounge. ‘All right, love?’ I asked Donna as I entered.

She slightly, almost imperceptibly, shook her head and then I saw a large tear escape and roll down her cheek.

‘Oh love, don't cry,’ I said, going over and sitting next to her. ‘It won't seem so bad in the morning, I promise you, sweet.’

Another tear ran down her cheek and dripped on to the red paper bag in her lap, and then another. I put my arm around her and drew her to me. She resisted slightly, then relaxed against me. I held her close as tear after tear ran down her cheeks in silent and abject misery.

‘Here, love, wipe your eyes,’ I said softly, guiding her hand containing the tissue towards her face. She drew it across her eyes, then slowly lowered her head towards me, where it finally rested on my shoulder. I held her tight, and felt her head against my cheek as she continued to cry. ‘It's all right,’ I soothed quietly. ‘It will be all right, I promise you, love. Things will get better.’

Paula came in from the patio and, seeing Donna crying, immediately burst into tears. I took hold of her arm with my free hand and drew her to sit beside me on the sofa. I encircled her with my right arm while my left arm stayed around Donna.

‘Why's Donna crying?’ Paula asked between sobs.

‘Because a lot has happened today that has made her sad,’ I said, stroking Paula's cheek.

‘I don't like seeing people cry,’ Paula said. ‘It makes me cry.’

‘I know, love, and me. But sometimes it's good to have a cry: it helps let out the sad feelings. I think Donna will feel a bit better in a while.’ I remained where I was on the sofa with an arm around each of the girls, Paula sobbing her heart out on my right, Donna on my left, crying in silent misery, and me in the middle trying hard not to join in — for, like Paula, I can't stand seeing anyone upset, particularly a child.

Adrian was not impressed. The phone had started ringing and, feeling unable to simply stand and desert the girls, I hadn't immediately answered it.

‘The phone's ringing,’ he said helpfully, coming in from the patio, with his Gameboy in his hand. He stopped as he saw the three of us and pulled a face, suggesting he didn't fully approve of this collective display of female emotion.

‘I'll answer it now,’ I said, throwing him a smile. ‘Everyone will be OK soon.’ This reassurance was enough for Adrian and he smartly nipped off into the garden, grateful he didn't have to be party to what must have appeared to a boy of his age to be blubbering nonsense.

I eased my arms from the girls and went to answer the phone on the corner unit. It was Jill.

‘You took a long time to answer. Is everything all right, Cathy?’

‘Yes. Donna is here.’ I glanced over to the sofa as Paula took up the gap I had left and snuggled into Donna's side. Donna lifted her arm and put it around Paula. ‘Yes, everything is fine,’ I said.

‘Cathy, I won't keep you now, as it's getting late. I just wanted to make sure Donna had arrived and there weren't any problems.’

‘No, no problems,’ I confirmed. ‘Edna only left ten minutes ago. She's going to phone you, and me, on Monday. She brought all the forms.’

‘Good. Well, enjoy your weekend. If you do need to speak to someone, Mike is back, and on call over the weekend; dial the emergency number.’

‘OK, Jill, thanks.’

‘And I'll phone on Monday, and visit as soon as I can next week.’

‘Fine,’ I said. We said goodbye and I hung up.

I glanced at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. It was 7.40 p.m., after Paula's bedtime and getting close to Adrian and Donna's. I crossed over to the girls; they had both stopped crying now and Donna still had her arm around Paula. Both were sitting very still, as though appreciating the moment, although Paula was the only one to look at me.

‘Girls,’ I said gently, drawing up the footstool and squatting on it so that I was at their level. ‘Are you feeling a bit better now?’

Paula nodded and, with her head still resting against Donna, looked up at her. Donna had her head down and rubbed away the last of the tears from her cheeks with the tissue. I put a hand on each of their arms. ‘I think we will all feel better after a good night's sleep, and it is getting late,’ I said. Paula looked up again at Donna for her reaction, but there wasn't one: Donna remained impassive, head lowered, with the little red paper bag in her hand. ‘Donna, love, would you like something to eat?’ I asked again. ‘I have saved you dinner.’ She gave her head a little shake.

‘What about a drink before bed then?’

The same small shake of the head.

I hesitated, not really sure how to proceed. In many ways it was easier dealing with a child who was angry and shouting abuse: at least the pathway of communication at some level was open and could be channelled and modified. With so little coming back from Donna — she hadn't said a word yet — it was difficult to assess or interpret her needs. I hadn't thought to ask Edna if Donna had eaten, but even if the answer had been no, I could hardly force her to have dinner. ‘Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?’ I tried again. ‘Not even a snack?’

The same shake of the head, so I had to assume she wasn't hungry, and if she hadn't eaten she could make up for it at breakfast. ‘I'd love to see your present,’ I said, looking at the little bag. ‘So would Paula. Will you show us?’

Paula raised her head from Donna's side for a better view and Donna withdrew her arm. ‘What did Mary and Ray buy you?’ I asked. ‘I bet it's something nice.’

Very slowly and not raising her head, and with absolutely no enthusiasm, Donna moved her fingers and began to open the top of the paper bag. Paula and I watched as she dipped in her fingers and gradually drew out a bracelet made from small multi-coloured beads.

‘Oh, isn't that lovely,’ I said. ‘What a nice present.’

Donna cupped the bracelet in the palm of her hand, and I continued to enthuse, grateful for this small cooperation, which I viewed as progress. ‘Can you put it on your wrist and show us?’

Donna carefully slipped the bracelet over the fingers on her right hand and drew it down so that it settled around her wrist. As she did, I thought of Warren and Jason's parting shot, when they had told Donna not only that were they pleased she was going but not to go back. I felt so sorry for her.

‘That's beautiful,’ I said. I could tell that Donna was proud; she supported the wrist with the bracelet with her other hand, as though displaying it to its best advantage. It wasn't an expensive bracelet; it was the type of ‘infill’ present that one child gave another at a birthday party. The beads were painted plastic, strung together on elastic so that the bracelet fitted most-sized wrists. But if Paula thought the gift wasn't as precious as Donna did, she certainly didn't say so.