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you’re good at helping, aren’t you?’

      Again she fixed me with her challenging, almost derisory stare, but there was a hint of intrigue, a spark of interest in the small responsibility I was about to bestow on her.

      ‘Jodie, I’d like you to carry this into the lounge and offer everyone a biscuit, then take one for yourself, all right?’

      I placed the plate squarely in her chubby, outstretched hands, and wondered what the chances were of it arriving intact. The digestives pitched to the left as she turned, and she transferred the plate to her left hand, clamping the right on top of the biscuits, which was at least safe, if not hygienic.

      I followed with the tray of drinks, pleased that she’d done as I’d asked. I handed out the mugs of coffee as the doorbell rang, signalling our last arrival. Jodie jumped up and made a dash for the door. I quickly followed; it’s not good practice for a child to be answering the door, even if guests are expected. I explained this to Jodie, then we opened it together.

      Jill stood on the doorstep. She was smiling encouragingly, and looked down at the sullen-faced child staring defiantly up at her.

      ‘Hi,’ said Jill brightly. ‘You must be Jodie.’

      ‘I wanted to do it,’ protested Jodie, before stomping back down the hall to rejoin the others.

      ‘Is everything all right?’ Jill asked as she came in.

      ‘OK so far. No major disasters yet, anyway.’ I took Jill’s coat, and she went through to the lounge. I fetched another coffee, and the paperwork began. There’s a lot of form filling when a child is placed with new carers, and a lot of coffee. Gary was writing furiously.

      ‘I’ve only just completed the last move,’ he said cheerfully. ’Not to mention the three-day one before that. Is it Cathy with a C?’

      I confirmed that it was, then gave him my postcode and my doctor’s name and address. Jodie, who’d been reasonably content watching him, and had obviously been party to the process many times before, decided it was time to explore again. She hauled herself up, and disappeared into the kitchen. I couldn’t allow her to be in there alone; quite apart from the risk of her raiding the cupboards, there were any number of implements which could have been harmful in the wrong hands. I called her, but she didn’t respond. I walked in and found her trying to yank open the cupboard under the sink, which was protected by a child lock, as it contained the various cleaning products.

      ‘Come on, Jodie, leave that for now. Let’s go into the lounge,’ I said. ‘I’ll show you around later. We’ll have plenty of time once they’ve gone.’

      ‘I want a drink,’ she demanded, pulling harder on the cupboard door.

      ‘OK, but it’s not in there.’

      I opened the correct cupboard, where I kept a range of squashes. She peered in at the row of brightly coloured bottles.

      ‘Orange, lemon, blackcurrant or apple?’ I offered.

      ‘Coke,’ she demanded.

      ‘I’m sorry, we don’t have Coke. It’s very bad for your teeth.’ Not to mention hyperactivity, I thought to myself. ‘How about apple? Paula, my youngest daughter, likes apple. You’ll meet her later.’

      ‘That one.’ She tried to clamber on to the work surface to retrieve the bottle.

      I took down the bottle of blackcurrant and poured the drink, then carried it through and placed it on the coffee table. I drew up the child-sized wicker chair, which is usually a favourite.

      ‘This is just the right size for you,’ I said. ‘Your very own seat.’

      Jodie ignored me, grabbed her glass, and plonked herself in the place I had vacated on the sofa next to Jill. I sat next to Gary, while Jill pacified Jodie with a game on her mobile phone. I watched her for a few moments. So this was the child who was going to be living with us. It was hard to make much of her so early on; most children displayed difficult behaviour in their first few days in a new home. Nevertheless, there was an unusual air about her that I couldn’t quite understand: it was anger, of course, and stubbornness, mixed with something else that I wasn’t sure I had seen before. Only time would tell, I thought. I observed Jodie’s uncoordinated movements and the way her tongue lolled over her bottom lip. I noted almost guiltily how it gave her a dull, vacant air, and reminded myself that she was classified as having only ‘mild’ learning difficulties, rather than ‘severe’.

      A quarter of an hour later, all the placement forms had been completed. I signed them and Gary gave me my copies. Deirdre and Ann immediately stood to leave.

      ‘We’ll unpack the car,’ said Ann. ‘There’s rather a lot.’

      Leaving Jodie with Gary and Jill, I quickly put on my shoes and coat, and we got gradually drenched as we went back and forth to the car. ‘Rather a lot’ turned out to be an understatement. I’d never seen so many bags and holdalls for a child in care. We stacked them the length of the hall, then the two women said a quick goodbye to Jodie. She ignored them, obviously feeling the rejection. Gary stayed for another ten minutes, chatting with Jodie about me and my home, then he too made a move to leave.

      ‘I want to come,’ she grinned, sidling up to him. ‘Take me with you. I want to go in your car.’

      ‘I don’t have a car,’ said Gary gently. ‘And you’re staying with Cathy. Remember we talked about it? This is your lovely new home now.’ He picked up his briefcase and got halfway to the door, then Jodie opened her mouth wide and screamed. It was truly ear piercing. I rushed over and put my arms around her, and nodded to Gary to go. He slipped out, and I held her until the noise subsided. There were no tears, but her previously pale cheeks were now flushed bright red.

      The last person left was Jill. She came out into the hall and got her coat.

      ‘Will you be all right, Cathy?’ she asked, as she prepared to venture out into the rain. ‘I’ll phone about five.’ She knew that the sooner Jodie and I were left alone, the sooner she’d settle.

      ‘We’ll be fine, won’t we, Jodie?’ I said. ‘I’ll show you around and then we’ll unpack.’

      I was half expecting another scream, but she just stared at me, blank and uncomprehending. My heart went out to her; she must have felt so lost in what was her sixth home in four months. I held her hand as we saw Jill out.

      Now it was just the two of us. I’d been in this situation many times before, welcoming a confused and hurt little person into my home, waiting patiently as they acclimatized to a new and strange environment, but this felt different somehow. There was something in the blankness in Jodie’s eyes that was chilling. I hadn’t seen it before, in a child or an adult. I shook myself mentally. Come on, I cajoled. She’s a little girl and you’ve got twenty years’ experience of looking after children. How hard can it be?

      I led her back into the living room and, right on cue, Toscha reappeared. I showed Jodie the correct way to stroke her, but she lost interest as soon as I’d begun.

      ‘I’m hungry. I want a biscuit.’ She made a dash for the kitchen.

      I followed and was about to explain that too many biscuits aren’t good, when I noticed a pungent smell. ‘Jodie, do you want the toilet?’ I asked casually.

      She shook her head.

      ‘Do you want to do a poo?’

      ‘No!’ She grinned, and before I realized what she was doing, her hand was in her pants, and she smeared faeces across her face.

      ‘Jodie!’ I grabbed her wrist, horrified.

      She cowered instantly, protecting her face. ‘You going to hit me?’

      ‘No, Jodie. Of course not. I’d never do that. You’re going to have a bath, and next time tell me when you want the toilet. You’re a big girl now.’

      Slowly, I led my new

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