Girl Alone: Part 2 of 3: Joss came home from school to discover her father’s suicide. Angry and hurting, she’s out of control.. Cathy Glass

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СКАЧАТЬ faster than I should have done. All teenagers can be volatile and reckless at times, but when it’s your own child whom you know well, you have a fair idea of what they are capable of – good and bad. Joss was another matter entirely, and try as I had I still didn’t have a clue what she was capable of. All manner of thoughts crossed my mind, including that the man might be a dangerous psychopath who was planning to hold me hostage too.

      I parked in the side street next to the shop, got out and walked swiftly round to the front door, my stomach churning. A large handwritten notice in the shop window stated: Only two school children allowed in together. I opened the door and a bell clanged from inside, and then again as the door closed behind me. A woman customer left the shop and another was looking at a stand containing a display of greeting cards. With my mouth dry and my heart pounding, I went up to the counter at the far end of the shop. A smartly dressed middle-aged Asian man was standing behind the counter, looking at me as I approached. I realized then that I hadn’t asked the man who’d telephoned for his name. ‘Are you the person who telephoned me about Joss?’ I asked. ‘I’m Mrs Glass.’

      ‘Yes, I am,’ he said sternly. ‘This way, please.’ He lifted the counter top to allow me to pass through. ‘Your daughter is in here,’ he said, lowering the counter again behind me.

      I followed him down a short, dimly lit hall, which led into a small, cramped sitting room. The curtains were closed and the room was lit by a single bare bulb hanging from the centre of the ceiling. Cardboard boxes were stacked around the edges and the room smelt musty, so I guessed it was usually only used for storage. Joss sat in one of two old-fashioned armchairs, the only furniture, and a middle-aged woman dressed in a sari, whom I took to be the man’s wife, sat opposite her. She stood as we entered, said something to her husband in another language and then went into the shop, closing the door behind her.

      Joss stood. ‘Can I go now?’ she asked the man.

      ‘Not yet. I need to talk to your mother first.’ He turned to me. ‘Do you know how much stock I lose every week from stealing? It’s robbing me of my livelihood. I struggle to support my family as it is. It is not easy, owning a shop. I work all the hours God sends me and then I have the little I earn taken away from me by people like your daughter.’

      I now had a good idea what this was all about.

      ‘I telephone the school and tell them that their pupils are stealing,’ he continued. ‘I’ve even been in to see the headmistress, but nothing happens. She tells me she can’t be held responsible for what their pupils do once they’ve left the school premises. If I call the police, they come eventually, take a statement, and then I see the same kids in here again the next day, and they’re laughing at me. They think stealing from under my nose is a joke. I blame the parents. I have two children of my own and they would never steal. I have brought them up properly. They are trustworthy and polite teenagers. If they are naughty, they know what’s coming. I have taught them respect and honesty, Mrs Glass. Something you need to teach your daughter.’

      I remained silent, for I could see he wasn’t finished yet.

      ‘I’ve even had expensive CCTV fitted in my shop,’ he continued. ‘But the kids get around that by standing in a group and shielding the one stealing from the camera, hence the notice outside about only two being allowed in the shop. What a sad state of affairs that children can’t be trusted to come in and buy a few sweets! I’ve had my suspicions about your daughter for some time – she comes in here a lot – but now I have the proof. She’s not as clever as she thinks. The camera will show her putting a magazine into her bag and trying to leave the shop without paying for it. That’s when I stopped her.’

      Joss, who’d remained sitting silently and staring moodily straight ahead of her, now stood.

      ‘If you’ve finished, can we go now?’ she said disrespectfully.

      ‘Not yet,’ I said firmly. ‘And you’d better take that silly look off your face and start listening to what this gentleman has to say or I’ll be calling the police.’

      The man straightened, clearly a little surprised that I was taking this firm line. Joss had the decency to look slightly abashed.

      ‘I’m appalled and shocked at your behaviour, Joss,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what you thought you were doing. You know it’s wrong to steal. You can start by apologizing to this gentleman for what you have done, and then we’ll ask him what we can do to compensate him.’

      ‘I am pleased to hear you say that, Mrs Glass,’ he said. ‘Some parents take the side of their children and make excuses for them. They blame me and call me racist names. I hope you understand, I am only trying to protect my livelihood. I am sure you would do the same.’

      ‘Yes, indeed,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. Joss’s behaviour is completely unacceptable. She will be saying sorry too.’ I wasn’t going to play the sympathy card and tell him Joss was in care and that she’d had a rough time as a child. He didn’t need to know that, and Joss knew it was wrong to steal. ‘I will punish Joss,’ I said. ‘But I would also like to pay for the goods she has stolen. Does she still have the magazine in her school bag?’

      ‘No, my wife took it from her. But she has stolen many other magazines in the past. I just couldn’t prove it until now.’ My thoughts went to the stack of magazines Joss had in her bedroom, and the ones strewn across our living room; she was always coming home with a new magazine. I’d assumed she’d bought them with her pocket money, and my heart sank.

      ‘Do you have any idea how many she may have taken?’ I asked him.

      He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t like to guess.’

      I looked at Joss. ‘You must know how many magazines you’ve taken?’

      ‘Dunno. Can’t remember,’ she said belligerently.

      ‘Do you have any money on you?’ I asked her.

      ‘No.’

      I began rummaging in my shoulder bag for my purse. I thought we should offer something towards the cost of the goods she’d stolen, even if we didn’t know the full amount.

      ‘There is no need for that,’ he said.

      ‘Yes, there is,’ I said. ‘Joss needs to learn that her actions have consequences. I shall be stopping the money from her allowance.’ I took a ten-pound note from my purse and began to remove another, unsure of how much to offer him.

      ‘No, Mrs Glass,’ he said, covering my purse with his hand. ‘I cannot take your money. But thank you for offering. It’s appreciated. Perhaps you would like to make a small donation to the charity I support instead? There’s a collecting tin on the counter in the shop.’

      ‘Yes, of course, if that is what you’d prefer. Thank you. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.’

      ‘Mr Chanda.’

      ‘I apologize again, Mr Chanda, for Joss’s behaviour. I’ll make a donation on the way out and I’ll be speaking to Joss very firmly when we get home. I’ll make it clear to her that she’s not to come into your shop again.’ He nodded. ‘If she does, telephone me and I will come and collect her straight away. Now, I hope you will accept the apology that she is going to make.’

      We both looked at Joss, and either she didn’t understand what was required of her or she was reluctant to say sorry, for she remained stubbornly silent.

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