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

ran the length of the seven flats. The landing was south facing and a few old dining chairs were outside for residents to sit in the sun, although they were unoccupied now. There was also washing hanging on a makeshift line strewn between the railings, drying in the sun. The newsagents below was the third shop in, so I went to the third door. It was number 79. A small window was open in a room overhead and from it I could hear a television.
    Now that I’d arrived I was apprehensive, and I felt my heart step up a beat. The plan I’d hatched for bringing Joss home seemed flawed. Even if Joss was here, supposing she made a big scene and refused to come with me – what could I do? Not a lot, and my credibility as a foster carer in her eyes would suffer even more. But I was here so, taking a deep breath and summoning my courage, I lifted the small rusty knocker and gave the door a sharp tap. I waited. No one answered and the television above continued. I knocked again, harder this time, and waited some more.
    I was about to knock a third time when a noise came from the other side of the door – a lock being turned – and then the door slowly opened. Chelsea looked at me, astonished.
    ‘Hi, love,’ I said non-confrontationally, throwing her a smile. ‘Nice to see you again. Is Joss here?’
    She gave a small, anxious nod.
    ‘Good. I’ve come to give her a lift home.’
    There was no sign of Joss, but Chelsea looked at me, very worried, clearly not knowing what to do.
    ‘Could you tell her I’m here, please, or perhaps I could come in?’
    I took a step forward and Chelsea opened the door wider to let me in. I found myself in a kitchen, cluttered and dirty. The sink and draining board were overflowing with used pans, dishes and cutlery, and a Formica table was littered with empty takeaway boxes, beer cans, drink bottles and anything else the occupants couldn’t be bothered to take out to the rubbish bins. The place reeked of stale food and smoke. I followed Chelsea from the kitchen into the main room.
    ‘Joss, your foster carer is here,’ Chelsea said as we entered.
    The air was thick with cannabis smoke. I blinked as my gaze went to an old sofa up against one wall where Joss was scrabbling to straighten her clothes and move away from the man she was with. More empty beer cans and spirit bottles were strewn around and grey net curtains hung at the window that overlooked the street. On the floor up against the other wall was a mattress, and the guy lying on it looked me up and down.
    ‘Yeah? What do you want?’ he said rudely.
    ‘I’ve come to give Joss a lift home,’ I said evenly. I turned to Joss, who had the decency to look embarrassed. Both guys laughed. I guessed they were in their early twenties and both wore jeans and short-sleeved T-shirts that showed heavily tattooed arms.
    ‘Hi, I’m Zach, nice to meet you,’ the guy who’d been with Joss said sarcastically.
    I nodded. ‘Are you ready?’ I asked Joss, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.
    She glanced anxiously at Zach.
    ‘Go home with your carer,’ he said mockingly. ‘But give us a kiss first.’
    Joss leant over him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. He laughed and squeezed her bottom, then reached down for the beer can and took a swig.
    ‘Go on, run along,’ he said to her.
    ‘Will I see you later?’ Chelsea asked Joss.
    Joss shrugged.
    Chelsea came with us to the door and said a very quiet goodbye to Joss before closing the door behind us. I breathed in the fresh air, grateful to be out of there with Joss and without a scene. I was as shocked by the state of the flat as I was by finding Joss and Chelsea with the two men. Joss knew she was in trouble and walked with me in silence to my car. Once in the car, I put the key into the ignition but didn’t start the engine. I turned in my seat to look at her.
    ‘What?’ she asked defiantly. ‘We weren’t doing anything.’ Meaning, I supposed, that they weren’t having