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

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.

      ‘Joss,’ I said sharply. ‘Say sorry to Mr Chanda and then we’ll go.’

      ‘Sorry,’ she said quietly.

      Mr Chanda nodded.

      ‘On the way out we will apologize to Mrs Chanda too,’ I told Joss. ‘I assume that was your wife?’ I said to Mr Chanda, and he nodded.

      Mr and Mrs Chanda were clearly decent, hard-working people who were doing their best to make a living, and it was appalling that Joss – and, from the sound of it, others from her school – was causing them so much trouble.

      ‘Thank you,’ he said.

      I made to leave and he went ahead and courteously held the door open for Joss and me. We went down the short hall and into the shop, where Mrs Chanda was serving behind the counter. We waited until she’d finished and then her husband said, ‘The girl is going to apologize to you.’

      I looked at Joss. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

      Mrs Chanda nodded coldly, and who could blame her? She must have been as fed up as her husband with having to deal with thieving.

      ‘I’m dreadfully sorry,’ I said to her. ‘Joss will not come in here any more.’

      She nodded again. Mr Chanda then raised the counter and Joss and I went through. I put the ten-pound note into the collecting tin and we left the shop.

      As soon as we were outside, Joss relaxed. ‘Phew, that was close,’ she said, all humility gone.

      I was furious. ‘I can’t believe how stupid you’ve been!’ I said. ‘Do you realize that if Mr Chanda had called the police you would have been sent to a secure unit for sure? Whatever were you thinking of? You know it’s wrong to steal.’

      She gave a nonchalant, couldn’t-care-less shrug.

      ‘How dare you treat those people like that!’

      I unlocked the car and we got in. Before I started the engine I turned to Joss. ‘Don’t ever go in that shop again. Do you understand?’

      ‘Yes,’ she said.

      ‘And don’t be tempted to steal from anywhere else either. If you want a magazine, buy one. That’s what your allowance is for.’

      ‘But you keep stopping my allowance,’ she said accusingly, as if this was forcing her to steal and therefore it was my fault.

      ‘Yes, as a sanction for when your behaviour is unacceptable. It’s a punishment, Joss. You go without something, although you know you can always earn it back. So don’t blame me for your stupidity. You need to take responsibility for your actions. Who was in the shop with you?’

      ‘No one,’ she said moodily.

      ‘Chelsea wasn’t with you?’

      ‘No. She waited outside. She can’t afford to get caught any more.’

      ‘And neither can you!’ I said, my voice rising. ‘And whether you get caught is not the issue. It’s wrong to steal. You don’t do it! That poor Mr and Mrs Chanda. Think of them. They have children too.’

      ‘He shouldn’t have kept me there against my will,’ Joss said defiantly. ‘He can’t do that. He hasn’t got the right. It’s against the law.’ Which was choice, considering she’d just been stealing.

      ‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ I said. ‘A shopkeeper has the right in law to detain a shoplifter and call the police. You want to be damn grateful he called me instead. And when you get home tonight you’re going to put all those magazines you stole in the bin.’