The Saddest Girl in the World by Cathy Glass Page A

so that he would be well. He was kind to me.’
    Well, at least that was something, I thought. Donna had one ally in a house of abusers, as long as she reminded her schizophrenic father to take his medication. What a horrendous way to live! ‘Did your mother hit your brothers and Chelsea?’ I asked. All the information I gathered would help Edna, and ultimately the judge to decide the long-term care plans for the boys and Donna.
    ‘Sometimes Mum hit my brothers,’ Donna said softly. ‘But not often. Only when the boys were really getting on her nerves. Sometimes Chelsea and Mum had an argument and they hit each other.’
    ‘The boys didn't get hit for not doing things like cleaning?’ I asked.
    Donna shook her head. ‘Mum only hit them when she had been drinking and they got on her nerves. She loves them.’
    ‘I'm sure your mum loves you too, sweet,’ I said, finding not for the first time since I'd been fostering that I had to separate parental love and the way the parent behaved, and also wanting to offer Donna something positive. ‘Mum has got a lot of problems and I don't suppose the drink helped.’
    ‘She always hit me more after drinking,’ Donna confirmed.
    I nodded, and looked from Donna to the floor and all the little coloured beads from the bracelet, which were spread around her feet and into the far corners of the carpet. ‘Why did you break your bracelet?’ I asked gently. ‘I thought you liked it very much?’
    She shrugged. I noticed a small muscle twitch nervously at the corner of her eye. ‘They wouldn't let me clean.’
    I hesitated, trying desperately to piece together the few words she was offering and make sense of her actions. ‘You broke the bracelet because you remembered you weren't allowed to clean? What, at Mary and Ray's house?’
    She nodded.
    ‘Did that make you angry?’
    She nodded again.
    ‘What? Angry with Mary and Ray?’
    Another nod.
    ‘You must have been up very early this morning. You were asleep when I looked in last night, and the bracelet wasn't broken then.’
    ‘I have to get up early to clean the house.’
    ‘Not here you don't,’ I said firmly. ‘I see to the cleaning here. You don't have to do it.’ I then realised I was taking the same route that Mary and Ray had probably taken in not letting her help at all. ‘Donna, you don't have to worry about the cleaning here, but you can help me. I am the adult, and housework is my responsibility, but I can certainly find you some jobs to do.’ I didn't know if I was handling this right, or simply repeating what Mary and Ray had said and thereby going down the same path and getting it wrong. ‘Is that what Mary said?’ I asked.
    Donna nodded. ‘Well, she was right, in that respect. You don't have to clean now, and you certainly won't get hit for not doing it.’
    ‘I do,’ she suddenly blurted. ‘I do have to clean. I do!’ And again I thought of Edna's mention of OCD, for it seemed Donna was admitting to some form of obsession, though whether it was OCD or not I hadn't a clue.
    ‘OK, Donna,’ I said slowly. ‘If I understand you, you feel you need to clean, probably because of all the cleaning you had to do at home. I think this morning you needed to let something inside you come out. Some anger? And I think you broke the bracelet because you remembered that Mary wouldn't let you help, and you took your anger out on the bracelet. Is that right?’
    Donna nodded, and then, unbelievably, she smiled, her whole face lighting up. ‘Can I help you clean here, Cathy?’ she asked.
    ‘Yes, of course you can. But I will find you some jobs to do. I don't want you getting up early and flooding the kitchen again.’ I smiled, and she actually managed a small laugh. I gave myself a mental pat on the back. I might not have been a psychiatrist, but I had managed to get it right this time.
    ‘And I can help you look after Adrian and Paula?’ she asked, still smiling.
    ‘Yes, of course you can, Donna. But