The Saddest Girl in the World by Cathy Glass Page B

remember you don't have to, and it wasn't your fault you and your brothers came into care.’
    She leant towards me and planted a little kiss on my cheek. ‘Thank you for letting me help, Cathy. You're nice.’
    I smiled again, and drawing her to me gave her a big hug. ‘So are you, love.’
    What I didn't know was that my simplistic solution of agreeing to let Donna help had unleashed something which would quickly gather momentum and have far-reaching effects. It would be outside anything I had experience of, or knew how to deal with.

Chapter Seven
Runt of the Litter
     
    I was feeling pretty pleased with myself when Jill phoned at ten o'clock on Monday morning.
    ‘Yes, we are doing OK,’ I confirmed. ‘Donna was very quiet and withdrawn to begin with, but she is now talking and starting to join in.’ I told Jill about the beating Donna had received at the hands of her family for not cleaning properly, and also about her frenzied floor scrubbing at our house, and the bag of rags she had brought with her, presumably for this purpose.
    ‘The poor kid,’ Jill said with a heartfelt sigh. ‘It's just as well she has been separated from her brothers, if they have been bullying her to that extent.’
    ‘Yes,’ I agreed, and I explained how I was going to give her little jobs to do, so that she could join in and have some responsibility.
    ‘That's how I would handle it, Cathy. And you're obviously keeping detailed log notes? It sounds as though Edna wasn't aware of some of this.’
    ‘Yes, my notes are up to date,’ I confirmed, and then I updated Jill. ‘Donna has contact tonight; I think she is seeing her whole family. And school begins again a week on Wednesday.’
    ‘Thanks. I'll speak to Edna today, and I'll visit you later in the week. If you need me in the meantime, phone.’
    ‘Will do.’ I paused. ‘Jill, do you think Donna is suffering from this Obsessive Compulsive Disorder? I really don't know much about it.’
    ‘Neither do I. But I shouldn't think so. There aren't any other symptoms, are there?’
    ‘Such as?’
    ‘From what I know of OCD the person repeatedly performs a task in a ritualised pattern. Like insisting a chair or book is in a particular position before they can leave the room. It has to be exactly right to within millimetres; otherwise the person becomes very anxious. The person can move an object dozens and dozens of times before they are satisfied. We all do it to some extent, for example when we return and double check the back door is locked before we go out, although we know it is. But people suffering from OCD take it to obsessive lengths, and it governs their lives.’
    ‘No, there hasn't been anything like that,’ I said. ‘Just this one incident of cleaning the floor. And what Mary told Edna.’
    ‘I'm sure it's not OCD. Donna will be fine. You've dealt with it, and she's been able to open up to you and start talking. Well done.’
    ‘Thanks,’ I said, grateful for the praise.
    When Edna phoned an hour later I updated her as I had done Jill. When I had finished Edna was very quiet.
    ‘Dear me,’ she said at last. ‘I knew those boys got the better of Donna sometimes but I had no idea they were actually whipping her — with a skipping rope?’
    ‘That's what she said.’
    ‘No wonder the poor kid didn't settle at Mary and Ray's.’ She paused again. ‘Cathy, as you know we brought Donna and the boys into care because of severe neglect. There was a suspicion of physical abuse but I'd no idea they were all beating Donna, and I have been working closely with that family for over three years now.’ She stopped again and I knew Edna was blaming herself for not spotting the depth of the abuse. ‘Donna had some bruises on her back and legs when she first came into care and had her medical. She told the doctor she had fallen in the garden at home. I expect she was too scared to say anything else.’
    ‘Yes,’ I agreed.
    ‘Dear me,’ Edna said again. ‘I'm going to