The Saddest Girl in the World by Cathy Glass Page A

and I knew Edna would tell me if anything had emerged at contact that I should know about. Once home, I began the bath and bedtime routine — Paula first, then Donna and Adrian.
    As I said goodnight to Adrian, and was about to leave him reading, he said, ‘Mum, I need to ask you something.’
    ‘Yes, love.’ I returned to beside his bed. ‘What is it?’
    ‘Is Donna in charge of us?’
    I looked at him carefully. ‘What do you mean exactly?’
    ‘Well, in the garden today she kept bossing us around and telling us to do things like she was our mother, only not like you do,’ he added quickly. ‘It was all right to begin with, when she was organising a game, but then she wouldn't let up. She kept telling us and Billy what to do. Paula said she was in charge.’
    ‘No, of course Donna isn't “in charge”. I'll have to explain to Paula.’
    ‘And will you tell Donna? I don't want her to keep telling me what to do the whole time,’ Adrian added.
    ‘Yes, I understand. I'm sorry. You should have said something to me sooner.’
    ‘It was difficult with her being there the whole time.’
    ‘I'll keep an eye on it tomorrow and if necessary I'll speak to her, OK?’
    ‘Yes.’
    I kissed him goodnight again and came out feeling that perhaps he was overreacting, being a bit sensitive to having a child living with us who was the same age, physically bigger and in some respects more mature. But I would watch more closely tomorrow. I had already noticed that Donna could be a little forceful in her desire to organise. When she had been helping me with some chores in the house I had found that more than once she'd tried to take over and tell me how it should be done. And whereas, as an adult, I could laugh it off and subtly direct her to doing something as I wished, at his age Adrian obviously didn't have such resources and had taken it personally. Well, that was how I saw it — until the following morning.

Chapter Eight
Dirty
     
    I t was raining in the morning and I suggested we went to the cinema for the eleven o'clock show to see the new Walt Disney film. Adrian, Paula and Donna were upstairs, taking turns in the bathroom to brush their teeth and have a wash while I cleared away the breakfast things. Suddenly there was a cry from Paula, and Adrian came flying down the stairs.
    ‘Mum! Come quick! Donna's hit Paula!’
    I dropped the tea towel and flew out of the kitchen, along the hall and upstairs. Paula was in the bathroom, standing beside the basin with her toothbrush in her hand and tears streaming down her face. Donna was standing beside her.
    ‘Whatever's happened?’ I asked, taking Paula and cradling her in my arms.
    ‘She hit her!’ Adrian said, coming in behind me.
    I looked at Donna, who was standing expressionless in front of me. ‘Did you hit her?’ I asked sternly.
    ‘She did!’ Adrian yelled from behind me.
    ‘All right, Adrian. I want to hear it from Donna or Paula.’
    Donna said nothing and I looked at Paula. ‘Did Donna hit you?’
    She nodded, tears still running down her face.
    ‘Where?’
    Paula stretched out her left hand and I saw a large red mark on the back of it. ‘Did you do this, Donna?’ I demanded.
    She nodded slowly, not at all abashed. She looked sad, but then Donna always looked sad, even when she was playing, apart from the couple of times she'd smiled yesterday. ‘Paula wouldn't do as I told her,’ Donna said at last. ‘I told her to do her teeth properly and she didn't.’
    ‘That's no reason to hit her!’ I said. ‘No one in this house hits anyone, ever. I'm surprised at you, Donna! You know how much hitting hurts! Now go to your room while I see to Paula, and then I want to talk to you.’
    She hesitated, and in that hesitation I saw the first sign of resistance, an insolence, a ‘take-me-on-if-you-dare’ look, and I thought of the bruise Mary had received to her arm — from a similar incident, perhaps? ‘Now! Donna!’ I said, and I held her gaze.
    There was