Aweek later there was an air of hushed expectation as we pulled into the drive at High Oaks, and the imposing manor house came in view. Jodie had spent much of the long drive dozing, or talking to Julie, her life-size doll. As we approached High Oaks she fell silent and pulled herself forward for a better view. We recognized the house from the video, but I was surprised at its size close up. It was enormous, with fourteen bedrooms stretching out over two wings, and an annex to the right, which had once been the servants’ quarters and was now the therapy and ‘quiet’ room. The roof was gabled, dipping over an arched brick porch, which was draped with ivy. I guessed the buildings had been built in the mid-nineteenth century.
‘This is very grand,’ I said. ‘We’ll have to make a appointment to speak to you.’
Jodie grinned, not quite understanding what I’d said, but appreciating that it was special, and that it applied to her.
I parked behind a line of three cars on the carriage drive and opened Jodie’s door to let her out. She slipped her hand in mine, and we crunched across the gravel towards the oak door. I pulled the brass bell cord, and we heard the bell echo inside.
‘Me do it,’ she said, and gave it another three sharp tugs.
The door opened and Betty appeared, smiling. ‘Do you like our bell, Jodie? We thought about having a modern one fitted, but everyone voted to keep it.’
Jodie immediately swapped my hand for Betty’s, and I was surprised, as that morning she’d claimed she didn’t even know who Betty was. We walked into the hall, which was decorated by white-painted panels with stencilled rosettes in the centre of each square, giving the space a light, cheery feel. Ron appeared from within the house. ‘Hi Jodie, hi Cathy. Did you have a good journey?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ I answered for us both. Jodie took refuge behind Betty.
Ron had phoned the previous evening, and I’d updated him on Jodie’s state of mind. There had been no change, and Jodie hadn’t raised the subject of the visit. We’d only discussed it once, the day before, when I’d reminded Jodie that we were going, and Reg had replied that he ‘fucking wasn’t’.
‘This way to the lounge,’ said Betty, leading Jodie down the hall. ‘The children are out for a walk, which is why it’s so quiet. They’ll be back later.’
The lounge was at the back of the house, and it must have been three times the size of ours at home. Through the French windows was a concrete patio area, and beyond that there were swings, a climbing frame, a seesaw and a magnificent tree house. Beyond the fence at the back I could see the field, which was at present empty of cows. The lounge was furnished practically, with four sofas around the walls, as well as two armchairs and half a dozen beanbags, arranged at angles facing the widescreen television.
‘We use this room in the evenings and weekends,’ Ron said, ‘when we’re all together. We’ll show you the rest of the house later.’
Jodie sat next to Betty on one of the sofas and propped her doll between them. I sat on the adjacent sofa, and Ron took the large armchair. We were like Goldilocks and the Three Bears, with the father bear having the largest. Betty offered us a drink, but we declined, having stopped on the motorway for breakfast.
‘We have ten children with us at present,’ said Ron, looking at Jodie, ‘and nine carers to help. Clare and Val will be your special adults. You’ll meet them next visit. Betty and I are always here, so is the housekeeper, Shirley. She makes our meals, then we all help clear away. I know you like helping, don’t you, Jodie?’
She didn’t answer but smiled sheepishly, and inched into Betty.
Ron continued to explain how the children had turns in choosing what they wanted for the evening meal; meanwhile I glanced around the room. I wondered how they kept it so clean and tidy with so many children, and supposed it must be down to the housekeeper.
‘Now, have you thought of any questions?’ asked Ron.
‘Where’s the cows?’ she said, becoming more confident, and wriggling to the edge of the sofa.
‘At this time of day they’re usually in the upper fields. You’ll be able to see them from your bedroom. Would you like to look round now?’
She nodded vigorously, and slid off the sofa. With the doll clutched under her arm, she followed Betty into the dining room, which also overlooked the garden and had a long refectory table and fourteen chairs. Next to this was the office, which the children were not allowed to go into without knocking first. Next door was the playroom, which was as big as the lounge and brimming with toys, beanbags and equipment. There were three computers, various small plastic tables, and cupboards stacked with games, soft toys and books. There was also a ‘home corner’, which was equipped with a toy cooker, a sink, a microwave, a settee and a cot. Around one little table sat half a dozen teddy bears, with plastic cups and plates neatly laid out in front of them. Jodie pointed at it excitedly.
‘We had a teddy bears’ picnic last night,’ said Betty. ‘I bet your dolly would like to join in next time.’ Jodie shook Julie, so that the doll appeared to be nodding. ‘Good, then we’ll lay an extra place.’
We moved on to the kitchen, where a woman was busy at the sink.
‘Shirley, this is Jodie,’ Ron said, ‘and her carer Cathy.’
Shirley was a rotund woman in her late fifties with a kind, open face. She wiped her hands on her apron and came over. ‘Hello, Jodie, nice to meet you. And who’s this?’ She was referring to the doll, but Jodie had hidden her behind Betty’s back.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, shaking her hand.
‘No problem. I expect she’ll show me next time.’
‘Now your bedroom,’ Betty said, sensing Jodie’s eagerness to move on. Jodie released her hand and took mine, and we followed Ron up the winding staircase with an impressive balustrade, along the landing to the door second from last.
‘You go in first, Jodie,’ Betty encouraged. ‘This is your room, and we’re your guests.’
Jodie proudly turned the handle and went in, and we heard her gasp with delight. The room had been freshly decorated in two-tone peach, with complementary flowered curtains and a matching duvet. A new pine bed was against one wall, with a matching wardrobe, chest of drawers and bookcase against the other.
Jodie was at the window. ‘Over there! I can see cows!’
I stood behind her, as we looked out on half a dozen Friesians gathered around a massive oak tree to the right of the property. ‘Cows at last,’ I said, as much to Betty and Ron as to Jodie. But it was a beautiful view, with the grounds stretching to the field on one side and rolling hills on the other. I couldn’t have imagined a better start to Jodie’s recovery than opening the curtains every morning and gazing on such tranquillity.
She stood staring for a while, then turned to explore her room. She opened and closed all the drawers, investigated the wardrobe and then sat heavily on the bed.
‘Next time you come,’ Betty said, ‘you could bring one of your toys and leave it in your room if you like.’
‘I can leave the doll now,’ she exclaimed, holding her up by the arm.
‘Are you sure? If she’s your favourite, you won’t see her again until next week.’
‘I want her to stay,’ she said determinedly.
Betty and I exchanged approving glances, as Jodie pulled back the duvet and tucked Julie in. Clearly, this was a positive sign.
We moved on to the bathrooms, which were each shared by three children. We then walked past the other bedrooms, but we didn’t go in; Betty explained to Jodie that these were private. As we headed downstairs, the front door opened, and the children returned from their walk. The quiet house suddenly erupted into excited chattering, and Jodie grabbed my hand and froze.
‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing to worry about.’
‘We’ll say a quick hello,’ said Betty encouragingly, ‘then I think that’s enough for today. You’ve done very well, Jodie.’
I coaxed her down the rest of the stairs but, confronted with so many new faces, she stayed hidden behind me. The children began taking off their muddy boots and hanging up their coats. They all had their own pegs and shoeboxes.
‘This is Jodie and Cathy,’ Ron said.
There was a chorus of ‘hi’s and ‘hello’s, but Jodie said nothing and stayed where she was.
‘Is the hot chocolate ready?’ one boy asked.
‘Shirley’s doing it now,’ replied Ron. It seemed that a long walk followed by hot chocolate was a regular routine, and the children streamed off in the direction of the dining room like one big family returning from an outing. With the hall now clear, Jodie came out from her hiding place.
‘Have you thought of any more questions?’ Betty smiled.
Jodie shook her head and moved towards the front door.
‘OK, well if you do think of anything, you can tell Cathy. We’ll give you a ring tomorrow, and then see you next week.’
I thanked them as we left, and they waved until we were out of sight.
Jodie, having risen to the occasion, was now physically and emotionally exhausted. She lay on the back seat moaning, then stuck her thumb in her mouth, curled into a ball, and was asleep within five minutes. I phoned home to say we were on our way, and told the children the visit had gone well.
‘So she’s definitely going then?’ Paula asked. I could hear the sadness in her voice.
‘Yes. You know, it really is the best place for her, and I think she knows that. I’ll tell you all about it later.’
I settled in the traffic on the southbound carriage, at a steady 65–70 miles per hour. Every now and then I glanced in the mirror, as Jodie slept on the back seat. She’d been so calm and normal today, I was tempted to overlook the months of disturbed behaviour, and believe once again that she could possibly have stayed with us. Maybe with regular therapy, love and patience she could recover and learn to function within a family. In my mind I replayed Dr Burrows’ diagnosis, and wondered if she was ever wrong. Did she make mistakes? Was her conclusion 100 per cent certain, or just the best guess she could make at the time? We were the only family Jodie had, and however good High Oaks might have been, it was still a children’s home. I turned Radio Four on quietly, and focused on the car in front.
Twenty minutes from home, Jodie woke with a cry. She was desperate for the toilet. ‘I can’t wait, Cathy. I’ll wet meself!’ This was at least one area where she clearly had improved; a year ago she would have simply done it on the back seat.
I pulled off the motorway and found a quiet lane, then I spotted an entrance to a field. I pulled in and led Jodie behind a clump of trees. ‘You can squat here. No one can see.’
She lifted her skirt and grinned. ‘Do you want to watch?’
‘No. Of course not.’ I turned my back.
I heard the stream of water, then her voice. ‘My daddy did. I had to pee on his face. He said it was the drink of the gods, warm and sweet.’
I said nothing. Hiding my revulsion had become as much a part of caring for Jodie as showing love and affection.