by Angela Hart
Missing People is a national organisation offering assistance to people who go missing or run away, and their families and carers. In the UK 180,000 people are reported missing every year – 80,000 of them children. One in ten children in care is reported missing each year, compared to one in two hundred not in care. Visit missingpeople.org.uk.
Other stories by foster mum Angela Hart . . .
The Girl With Two Lives
A Shocking Childhood. A Foster Carer Who Understood.
A Young Girl’s Life Forever Changed
As I stepped back into the kitchen, Danielle looked very proud as she held her notepad up for me to see.
‘Finished!’ she declared cheerfully. I was surprised to see that the surname Danielle had printed wasn’t the one I’d seen on her paperwork from Social Services, and so I asked her casually if she used two different names, which often happens when children come from broken homes.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But this is the surname I’m going to use from now on, because it’s the name of my forever family.’
Danielle has been excluded from school and her former foster family can no longer cope. She arrives as an emergency placement at the home of foster carer Angela Hart, who soon suspects that there is more to the young girl’s disruptive behaviour than meets the eye. Can Angela’s specialist training unlock the horrors of Danielle’s past and help her start a brave new life?
Available now in paperback and ebook.
The Girl and the Ghosts
The true story of a haunted little girl and the foster carer who rescued her from the past
‘So, is it a girl or a boy, and how old?’ Jonathan asked as soon as we were alone in the shop.
My husband knew from the animated look on my face, and the way I was itching to talk to him, that our social worker had been asking us to look after another child.
I filled Jonathan in as quickly as I could and he gave a thin, sad smile.
‘Bruises?’ he said. ‘And a moody temperament? Poor little girl. Of course we can manage a few days.’
I gave Jonathan a kiss on the cheek. ‘I knew you’d say that. It’s exactly what I thought.’
We were well aware that the few days could run into weeks or even longer, but we didn’t need to discuss this. We’d looked after dozens of children who had arrived like Maria, emotionally or physically damaged, or both. We’d do whatever it took to make her feel loved and cared for while she was in our home.
Seven-year-old Maria holds lots of secrets. Why won’t she tell how she got the bruises on her body? Why does she run and hide? And why does she so want to please her sinister stepfather?
It takes years for devoted foster carer Angela Hart to uncover the truth as she helps Maria leave the ghosts of her past behind.
Available now in paperback and ebook.
The Girl Who Just Wanted to be Loved
A damaged little girl and a foster carer who wouldn’t give up
The first time we ever saw Keeley was in a Pizza Hut. She was having lunch with her social worker.
‘Unfortunately Keeley’s current placement is breaking down,’ our support social worker, Sandy, had explained. ‘We’d like to move her as soon as possible.’
We’d looked after more than thirty youngsters over the years, yet I never failed to feel a surge of excitement at the prospect of caring for another one.
Sandy began by explaining that Keeley was eight years old and had stayed with four sets of carers and been in full-time care with two different families.
‘Why have the placements not worked out?’ I asked.
‘Both foster carers tell similar stories. Keeley’s bad behaviour got worse instead of better as time went on. That’s why we’re keen for you to take her on, Angela. I’m sure you’ll do a brilliant job.’
Eight-year-old Keeley looks like the sweetest little girl you could wish to meet, but demons from the past make her behaviour far from angelic. She takes foster carer Angela on a rocky and very demanding emotional ride as she fights daily battles against her deep-rooted psychological problems. Can the love and specialist care Angela and husband Jonathan provide help Keeley triumph against the odds?
Available now in paperback and ebook.
Terrified
The heartbreaking true story of a girl nobody loved and the woman who saved her
Vicky stared through the windscreen, her eyeballs glazed like marbles. She was sitting completely rigid in her seat, frozen with fear.
I took a deep breath and then asked Vicky as gently as possible, if she was all right.
‘I’m here, right beside you, Vicky. Can you hear me? I’m here and I can help you.’
She still didn’t respond in any way at all. Her normally rosy cheeks had turned ivory white and the expression of terror on her face was like nothing I’d seen before: I had never seen a child look so scared in all my life.
‘Take a deep breath, love. That’s what I’ve just done. Just breathe and try to calm yourself down. You’re with me, Angela, and you’re safe.’
Vicky seemed all self-assurance and swagger when she came to live with Angela and Jonathan as a temporary foster placement. As Vicky’s mask of bravado began to slip, she was overtaken with episodes of complete terror. Will the trust and love Angela and her husband Jonathan provide enable Vicky to finally overcome her shocking past?
Available now in paperback and ebook.
The Girl With No Bedroom Door
A true short story
Fourteen-year-old Louise has been sleeping rough after running away from her previous foster home. Unloved and unwashed, she arrives at foster carer Angela Hart’s door stripped of all self-esteem. Can Angela’s love and care help Louise blossom into a confident and happy young woman?
Available now in ebook.
Read on for an extract from the first chapter of Sunday Times bestseller
The Girl Who Wanted to Belong
The True Story of a Devastated Little Girl and the Foster Carer Who Healed her Broken Heart
‘I’ll be very, very good,’ she told me. ‘I won’t make Wendy cross with me.’
‘I’m pleased to hear you’re going to be well behaved, sweetheart. By the way, have you remembered she prefers you not to call her Wendy?’
‘Yes. I need to call her Mum. I don’t like calling her Mum, but I will. Mum, Mum, Mum.’
Lucy is eight years old and ends up in foster care after being abandoned by her mum and kicked out by her dad’s new partner, Wendy. Two aunties and then her elderly grandmother take her in, but it seems nobody can cope with Lucy’s disruptive behaviour. Social Services hope a stay with experienced foster carer Angela will help Lucy settle down. Lucy is desperate for a fresh start back home, but will she ever be able to live in harmony with her stepmother and her stepsister – a girl who was once her best friend at school?
Available now in paperback and ebook.
1
‘So many questions!’
‘That’s wonderful!’ Jess exclaimed. ‘I’ll let the social worker know right away. Thanks so much. This is great news for Lucy. Please thank Jonathan from me. What would I do without you two? I shudder to think!’
Jess had been our support social worker for some time and we’d got to know each other well. She was a good ten years younger than my husband Jonathan and me – we were in our forties now – yet Jess always seemed wise beyond her years. She was extremely efficient at her job and had a way of always saying the right thing, even when she was completely snowed under with work.
‘Thanks, Jess. We look forward to meeting Lucy. It’ll be nice to have another little girl in the house.’
‘Lucy’s very fortunate,’ Jess replied, sounding relieved. ‘I think you are the ideal foster carers for her. Let me make the arrangements and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Hopefully we’ll get her to you tomorrow. Is that OK?’
‘Perfect.’
When I put the phone down I felt supported and appreciated, just as I always did
after talking to Jess. I was also excited, apprehensive and slightly nervous about meeting our new arrival. To this day those emotions still collide whenever a new child is due to start a placement. I love the sense of anticipation, wondering what the child will be like, how we will get along and how we will be able to help. I immediately start thinking about how to make him or her welcome when they turn up at our door; I want them to feel comfortable from the moment they arrive, although that’s not always possible. No child comes to us without issues and I always have underlying worries about what state they will be in, what problems we may need to deal with and whether or not we really will be the right foster carers for the job.
Lucy had recently turned eight years old and Jess had explained to me on the phone that she was described by family members as being ‘disruptive’, ‘aggressive’, ‘belligerent’ and ‘totally impossible to live with’. She had support in the classroom, which suggested she had some special educational needs, but there were no further details. Her mum was off the scene – Jess didn’t know the details – and Lucy was left with her father, two brothers and her little sister. Problems started when her dad moved his new partner and her young daughter into the family home. Lucy clashed with her ‘stepmother’ so badly she was sent to live with two different aunties, miles out of town. They either didn’t want her or couldn’t cope and so Lucy was packed off to stay with her elderly grandmother who lived even further away, in a different county. Lucy had missed a lot of school during this period and it was her struggling gran who had reluctantly called Social Services, asking for help after finding herself unable to cope.
Jess also told me that Lucy’s placement would be short term. The little girl missed her daddy and siblings and desperately wanted to go home, despite the issues she had with her new stepmother. It would be our job to help integrate Lucy back into the family unit. Her father and stepmother and possibly some of the children would be given support in the form of family counselling, to help pave the way for Lucy’s return. Lucy would see a psychologist and also take part in group family therapy. It was expected the whole process would take two or three months, although understandably nothing was set in stone.
Jonathan and I are well used to taking in children at short notice and not knowing how long they will be staying. We’d been fostering for more than a decade at this point in time. We’d looked after dozens of kids and many had come to us as emergency cases, at even shorter notice than Lucy. I was delighted we could offer Lucy a home, and as soon as I’d finished talking to Jess I went to sort out a bedroom for her, to make sure she would feel as welcome as possible.
The following day Lucy arrived with a social worker called Brian. I was standing on the pavement in front of our flower shop, helping to take in the last of the displays, when they pulled up in a bright red Mini. To my amusement Brian looked exactly like Rowan Atkinson; the likeness was uncanny. As he got out of the car and shook my hand I thought to myself, I’m glad his car’s not green or I’d have thought Mr Bean had arrived!
‘May I present Lucy,’ Brian said very brightly as the small and very slender little girl climbed out of the back of the car.
I was struck by Brian’s energy. He had collected Lucy from her grandmother’s house, which I’d been alarmed to discover was more than a hundred miles away. He must have been driving for hours and it was a Friday too and so the traffic can’t have been great, especially in the afternoon rush. Nevertheless, Brian was all smiles and looked as fresh as a daisy. Lucy appeared remarkably bright in the circumstances too. She gave me a broad grin and said hello enthusiastically, which I was very pleased about. As she smiled I noticed she’d lost her two front teeth; her adult teeth were just starting to push through the top gum. Lucy looked very young for her age and she could have passed for a child of seven or maybe even six. She was very pretty, with bright blue eyes, a sprinkling of pale freckles on her nose and beautiful honey-blonde hair that framed her little face and bounced on her shoulders. I grinned back at her, thinking how appealing she looked and how friendly she seemed. It was almost as if she’d come for a social visit, rather than arriving for a foster care placement, which was very heartening to see.
‘I’m Angela. It’s lovely to meet you Lucy. Come and meet my husband Jonathan, he’s in the shop.’
‘Is this your shop?’
‘Yes. It’s a family business. We’ve been running it for a very long time. My mum ran it before us. You’ll meet her soon enough, I’m sure.’
‘I thought you were just foster carers. Wow! Do you own all these flowers? What’s your mum’s name? Where does she live? Does she live with you as well?’
Lucy was standing in the middle of the shop now, taking everything in, her eyes darting everywhere.
‘So many questions!’ my husband said cheerfully, stepping from behind the counter. ‘Hello Lucy, I’m Jonathan. Very pleased to meet you.’
She said hello politely and I introduced Jonathan to Brian. ‘Decent journey?’ Jonathan asked.
Before Brian could answer, Lucy was off again. ‘What do you do with all the flowers you don’t sell? Where do you grow them all? You must have a big garden. Who does the gardening? I like gardening. Have you got flowers in your house? Do you have to water them all? Does it take ages? It must take ages. What’s this stuff for?’
‘We try not to have too many flowers we don’t sell, but if we do have any going past their sell-by date we often put them in the house, so we can enjoy them. Jonathan goes to collect them from the wholesalers, we do have a garden, but we don’t grow any of the flowers for the shop. Yes, they all need watering, and that green foamy stuff is for making flower arrangements. It’s called oasis and it helps the flowers stand up and stay in place. You push the stalks into it, to keep them upright. Does that answer your questions?’
‘Er . . . I think so.’
‘My mum’s called Thelma, by the way,’ I said. ‘She lives nearby and she loves to meet all the children who stay with us. She babysits for us sometimes.’
‘Oh! Do you have a baby?’
‘No, I mean she looks after the children we foster for us sometimes.’
Lucy nodded and seemed to approve. ‘I like the smell in here. Can I help you? I’d love to work in a shop!’
‘Indeed you can, but not right now,’ Jonathan said. ‘We’re about to shut up for the evening and you must be tired after all that travelling. Let’s go through to the house.’
We left our assistant Barbara to finish closing the shop. She’d been working with us for many years and was well used to seeing different children coming and going.
‘I’ll see you again soon, by the sound of it,’ Barbara said kindly, and Lucy gave her a smile.
Jonathan and I led Lucy and Brian through the storeroom at the back and into our adjoining town house. Her eyes were everywhere still and she continued to ask lots of questions. I glanced at Brian, thinking, I wonder if he’s had this for hours on end in the car? That man deserves a medal!
‘Do you have children?’ Lucy asked, looking me directly in the eye. ‘Who else lives here? Do I have to share a room?’
I told her we had another girl living with us called Maria, who was just a little bit older than Lucy. Maria was upstairs in her bedroom and no, Lucy would not have to share a room.
‘We have three floors and your bedroom is on the top floor of the house, next to Maria’s. I’ve got it all ready for you but I haven’t put the duvet cover or pillow cases on yet as I thought you might like to choose which colour set you want.’
‘OK. Thanks. Have your own children left home?’
‘No, we don’t have children of our own.’
‘Oh.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Is Maria adopted?’
‘No, we are fostering her too, just like you.’
‘Oh. Do you like fostering then?’
We went into the kitchen, and as Lucy and I continued to chat – or, should I say, Lucy continued to interview me – Jonathan fetched everyone a glass of water. It
was an unusually warm, sunny day in early spring and Brian said he needed a cold drink after driving for so long in the heat.
‘Thirsty work, wasn’t it Lucy?’ he said jovially, which made Lucy burst out laughing. There was obviously an in-joke going on here, but they didn’t elaborate.
Lucy carried on quizzing me and Brian tactfully took the opportunity to run through the routine paperwork with Jonathan, talking quietly on the other side of the kitchen. By now Lucy had moved on to ask me lots of questions about our garden and what was in the shed she could see from our kitchen window. I was happy to keep chatting while Brian went through the formalities, handing over all the usual forms with contact numbers on, emergency Social Services numbers and so on. Sometimes kids sit in silence during this initial handover, which is never ideal and always makes me feel uncomfortable.
Brian didn’t have a great deal of background information on Lucy. This is not uncommon on the first day of a placement, and Lucy had never been in care before so there were no old records on file. In any case, Brian was not Lucy’s actual social worker and had simply been drafted in to transport her to our house as he was based in the county where her grandmother lived. She would be assigned a social worker from the area her parents lived in as soon as possible.
As they filled in the paperwork Brian told Jonathan that he had stopped for a cup of tea with Lucy’s grandmother. ‘She seems like a lovely, sweet old lady,’ he said. ‘She told me she’s very sorry she’s had to get Social Services involved and wishes she could care for Lucy herself, but she’s too old and frail. I felt sorry for her, to tell the truth. I told her she’d done the right thing.’ Brian was aware of the fact that Lucy’s schooling had been disrupted with all the moves she’d made between relatives’ houses.
