The Saddest Girl in the World. Cathy Glass

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       Chapter Four Silence

      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.’