The Girl Who Just Wanted to Be Loved

by Angela Hart

  ‘You know you said Keeley was no angel?’ I said quietly, giving a slightly world-weary smile, as I felt quite exhausted and mentally drained by this point in the day.

  ‘You can say that again.’

  ‘Well, I’ve got a better way of describing her.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It’s like living with Jekyll and Hyde! That’s the conclusion I’ve come to. It’s peaks and troughs, highs and lows, a total roller coaster of a ride with Keeley.’

  ‘You’re right,’ he said, nodding. ‘You’ve hit the nail on the head, Angela, but let’s look on the bright side. I’m sure the dips will lessen as time goes on. That’s why we’re looking after Keeley, isn’t it? It’s our job to help her straighten out these moods and lapses and improve her behaviour. I think we’re doing OK. We’ll get there, I’m sure.’

  I hadn’t expected him to be quite so optimistic after the afternoon we’d had, but I felt better after talking to Jonathan. He had the right attitude, and I told myself that I had to keep the faith that Keeley’s behaviour would get better, because what was the alternative? If I didn’t believe we could help her, what was the point of keeping her in our care? We had to continue trying as hard as we could, and I would simply have to keep on reminding myself that she was not a bad girl; it was the hand she had been dealt in life that was bad.

  It turned out to be a lovely evening. After dinner we got out the paints and did some work on the bonnets. Keeley thoroughly enjoyed herself and did a very good job. She beamed when I praised her, and she very willingly helped me tidy up. The boys were both in a good frame of mind too, and all five of us ended up sitting around the kitchen table, enjoying a really pleasant chat before Keeley went up to bed.

  ‘Not long until our weekend away,’ Carl commented, his eyes shining. ‘Are you coming, Keeley?’

  She looked at me expectantly.

  ‘Do you know, I haven’t even got round to telling Keeley about that yet, but the answer is yes. That’s if you want to, Keeley?’

  She was thrilled to bits when I explained all about the forthcoming weekend break to Wales. I’d cleared it with her social worker, which was actually the reason I hadn’t told Keeley sooner because I’d only just got the all clear.

  ‘The boys will go off fishing and you can too, if you want to, or we can go and do some sightseeing instead. There’s a lovely castle we could have a look at.’

  Her eyes widened like saucers.

  ‘I’m up to the bit in my book where the dancer is hiding in the castle with the mice! Will there be mice?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so, but you never know,’ I laughed.

  Phillip began excitedly quizzing Jonathan about fishing rods and bait and Carl became very animated, talking about organising a stone-skipping competition, which was something the two boys and Jonathan had done before and loved.

  It was one of those times when I was reminded why I do this job. To see Keeley, Carl and Phillip all looking carefree and excited, just as kids should, made me count my blessings.

  I ran a bath before bed and as I soaked in the bubbles I thought back to 1986, which is when my fostering journey began. That was when I responded to an advert in the local paper for foster carers, and when I enthusiastically talked Jonathan into giving it a go for a little while, or perhaps until we had kids of our own.

  We both look back now and laugh at how naive we were at the start. We thought fostering was simply about giving kids a comfortable home and loving care, and we imagined that if we provided both of those things we’d be doing a perfect job, and nothing could go wrong – just as the many people who’ve passed comment on our job over the years imagine fostering is like. Of course, we’d learned from experience that, just like with parenting, there is a lot more to fostering than that. We hadn’t made it particularly easy for ourselves either, I reflected. Deciding to train as specialist carers for challenging teenagers, five years after starting out as foster carers, had certainly added to the demands of the job. Just like Keeley’s placement with us, our fostering experience had been a roller-coaster ride, but I didn’t regret a thing. Helping children not just survive and develop, but flourish, is a priceless experience, and one I can never imagine tiring of.

  As it happens, Jonathan and I never did have children of our own. After years of waiting and wondering, then being told I had a condition affecting my ovaries that lessened but didn’t rule out my chances of falling pregnant, I woke up one day in a house full of kids and finally acknowledged that I would never give birth to my own. I can remember the day vividly, because the feeling I experienced was so powerful. The sun was shining when I got out of bed. I’d slept really soundly and felt a great sense of wellbeing. I could hear the sound of youngsters talking and laughing and chasing around upstairs, and it made me smile as I made my way to the bathroom. The mirrored door on the vanity cabinet was slightly ajar when I walked in the room, and the angle of it meant I caught an unexpected look at my reflection. In that moment, I saw myself with real clarity.

  I was Angela the foster carer; Angela who looked after other people’s kids – those children who needed help and love and understanding. My heart swelled with pride as I let this thought flood me. I felt very lucky to be in this privileged position, having so many children coming into my life. Over the years many of our foster kids have kept in touch after they left us, and that’s another myth of fostering that’s been well and truly exploded.

  ‘I don’t know how you can give them back,’ is a remark I’ve heard countless times.

  ‘I don’t, not usually,’ I generally smile. ‘They never really leave.’

  Over the years we’ve enjoyed some amazing reunions, where dozens of adults of all ages have gathered around Jonathan and I for a photograph, and we have all caught up with each other’s news. The weddings we have attended have been as poignant as if the bride and groom were our own flesh and blood, and our foster children’s children have become our godchildren and, in several cases, just like grandchildren to us. I cherish each and every one of the special occasions we all shared, because they are my family now.

  That memorable, sunny morning, when I stopped and reflected and counted my blessings, took place a few years before Keeley came to stay, when I was heading towards my mid-forties. Jonathan and I had been married for more than twenty years by that time. We had never taken precautions and, until then, I had never stopped wondering if I might conceive. I always told myself that stranger things had happened, and I read stories in magazines and newspapers every once in a while that made me wonder if I would be the lucky one next time; one of those women who surprised everyone by suddenly and unexpectedly falling pregnant. Jonathan and I talked about it less and less as the years rolled by, because we honestly didn’t feel the need to as we were so happy with the way things had turned out. We had kids like Carl, Phillip and Keeley in our hearts and in our home, and our lives were full. Fostering was our destiny and we embraced it willingly.

  11

  ‘I told you he was weird, didn’t I?’

  In June we took our touring caravan to Wales for the weekend, and Carl, Phillip and Keeley were all as good as gold on the journey to the campsite. The weather was fine, and as soon as we’d unpacked the car the five of us headed down to the rocky coastline to get our bearings and stretch our legs.

  The boys soon started skipping stones, and Keeley and I sat on a rock and watched for a while. Phillip was on particularly good form, and he managed to make his stone ‘skip’ seven times, which made him punch the air in delight.

  ‘I can beat that!’ Jonathan challenged enthusiastically, before making a disastrous throw that resulted in his stone splashing and sinking the second it hit the water.

  Phillip and Carl laughed their heads off and Keeley and I had a chuckle too.

  ‘Poor Jonathan!’ I said, although I knew he would take it all in good spirit.

  The competition inevitably went up a gear after that, and the boys and Jonathan became engro
ssed in beating Phillip’s top score.

  ‘Can we go to the fairground now?’ Keeley asked, having soon lost interest in watching the boys.

  We’d spotted a poster for a small travelling fair on our way to the campsite and had all agreed we’d like to visit.

  ‘We thought perhaps we’d go this evening,’ I said. ‘Let’s see what everybody else fancies doing, shall we?’

  ‘Well, we could go now, couldn’t we? Just you and me, Angela?’

  ‘We could, but I’d like us all to go together to the fair. It’s something that’s usually good fun when there’s a group, and I know the boys want to go too.’

  Keeley didn’t look convinced and she put on a sulky face and sighed.

  ‘I tell you what, why don’t you and me have a paddle?’

  ‘OK!’ she said, brightening up.

  We both took off our sandals and edged tentatively into the water, which felt icy cold despite the warm weather.

  Keeley began shrieking and giggling.

  ‘It’s too cold!’ she yelled. ‘Argh! I hate it!’

  She didn’t really hate it though, as she paddled around for ages, stopping from time to time to pick up interesting looking bits of rock and shell. At one point a tiny crab crawled sideways over her foot, which made her explode with a mixture of fright and delight.

  ‘This is brilliant!’ she said. ‘I didn’t think the holiday was going to be this good!’

  Keeley had never been to the coast before and I felt honoured to witness her first experience of walking barefoot into the sea. She looked happy and relaxed, and when the five of us eventually started heading back to the caravan for lunch I experienced that same feeling of satisfaction I’d felt when we had sat around the kitchen table together, chatting and discussing the trip. This is what life is all about, I thought, and I felt really good.

  ‘I want to go on the roller coaster!’ Keeley announced, having turned the conversation back to the fairground once more.

  ‘Me too,’ Phillip said. ‘I like the dodgems best though. Do you think they’ll have dodgems?’

  ‘I expect so,’ I said. ‘We’ll find out later. How about we have a fish and chip supper for tea later on, and then we’ll go to the fair after that?’

  Everybody was in agreement, but I noticed Carl had been more quiet than usual and was walking slightly apart from the rest of us.

  ‘What’s your favourite ride, Carl?’ I asked.

  He thought about this for a moment and then said that he wasn’t sure.

  ‘Not the dodgems, like Phillip?’

  ‘No, not really. They’re OK, I suppose.’

  ‘What about the roller coaster?’

  ‘Er, not really. I’ve never been on one before, I don’t think. I’ll probably give that a miss.’

  ‘Scaredy cat!’ Keeley teased. ‘You’re scared aren’t you, Carl?’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ he said. ‘I’ve just told you, I’ve never even been on a roller coaster so how can I even know if I’m scared of one?’

  Keeley had a mocking, triumphant look on her face and I gave her a gentle warning.

  ‘Not everybody is the same,’ I said. ‘If Carl doesn’t want to go on some of the rides, then that is up to him. Don’t start teasing him or criticising, please, Keeley. You’ll spoil the fun for everybody, and we all want to enjoy the break.’

  Keeley looked slightly put out to have been spoken to like this and stomped off in front, while Phillip and Carl decided to race each other back to the caravan.

  ‘Quite fitting that it was the mention of the word “roller coaster” that turned the mood, don’t you think?’ Jonathan winked, once all three of the kids were out of earshot.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well what is it we say about looking after Keeley? It’s like a roller-coaster ride. We might have had a lovely morning, but hold on tight for the next twist and turn! The afternoon could be an entirely different kettle of fish.’

  I laughed but, unfortunately, Jonathan’s slightly tonguein-cheek prediction turned out to be uncannily accurate.

  About twenty minutes later, once we were all back in the caravan, Keeley managed to ‘accidentally’ tread on Phillip’s bare foot with the wooden heel of her sandal. Understandably it made him yelp in pain, but she could scarcely bring herself to say sorry, and Phillip’s cheeks flushed red with anger. Next, Keeley complained about the picnic lunch I set out, saying she wanted chips instead. The fact we were having fish and chips for tea didn’t seem to make any difference and she grumbled non-stop.

  ‘Keeley, if you don’t stop complaining about the food I’m not sure I’ll be taking you to the chip shop tonight, or the fairground,’ I said, exasperated.

  ‘I don’t believe you! That would spoil things for you too! What would we do instead?’

  ‘What do you mean, what would we do?’

  ‘You’d have to stay with me, wouldn’t you, Angela?’

  ‘Jonathan and I could both stay and the boys could go on their own. We don’t mind, and I don’t see why the boys should miss out on the fun of the fair just because of your behaviour.’

  Keeley huffed and smouldered for a while, but thankfully had no answer to this. Unfortunately, she wasn’t done yet, as when Carl started talking about the next day’s fishing trip that was being planned along with Phillip and Jonathan, Keeley rudely told Carl he was ‘like a boring old man’.

  Jonathan and I desperately wanted to keep the peace, and we told Keeley she was being unkind and rude, and asked her to stop as her behaviour was making other people feel sad and cross.

  ‘You can’t put me in time out here, can you?’ she teased, giving me a rather menacing smile. ‘Because you can’t send me to my bedroom!’

  This was true, as Keeley would be sleeping on the bed that would be pulled out once the dining table we were gathered around was folded away.

  ‘No, but I could do better than that. One of us could take you home and leave the others to enjoy the holiday, if you can’t join in nicely.’

  ‘You wouldn’t do that,’ she smirked, which was not far from the truth, as to-ing and fro-ing to the campsite would have been almost impossible in the space of the weekend, as we were several hours away from home.

  ‘Try me,’ I said, as convincingly as possible.

  I thought I had finally got through to Keeley because, for the next hour or so at least, she cut out the cheek and the aggravating behaviour and joined in perfectly well with a game of swing ball with Jonathan and the boys.

  Later in the afternoon we went to play crazy golf on the campsite and I hoped that Keeley’s good behaviour would continue. However, after struggling with the first hole a few times she started to lose her patience.

  ‘I can’t do it! I’m useless!’ she shouted, after whacking the ball far too hard and hitting it out of play in temper and frustration.

  ‘No, you’re not useless, you’re just learning and you’ll get better,’ I soothed. ‘You just need to take your time. You can do it, Keeley. Come on, have another try! Put the ball back on the starting spot and try again.’

  Keeley took a deep breath.

  ‘OK,’ she said through gritted teeth.

  I was glad to see she now looked more determined than angry as she replaced her golf ball on the dot at the start of the hole. Her face was etched with concentration and she focused intently on the castle gateway she was aiming for, as she took a very firm swing. I was willing this to be a good shot, but the ball missed the target by quite some distance, smashed into the castle’s turret and ricocheted back down the green matting. As if to taunt her, it rolled this way and that before eventually coming to a stop back at her feet, almost precisely on the starting spot.

  Carl and Phillip burst out laughing. I couldn’t really blame them; it actually was quite a comical moment that you really couldn’t make up.

  ‘I wish we’d filmed that!’ Phillip laughed. ‘We could have sold it to You’ve Been Framed!’

  Not surprisingly,
Keeley didn’t see the funny side of this at all.

  ‘What are you fucking laughing at!’ she screamed.

  The boys’ eyes widened and they both looked shocked and embarrassed. The crazy golf course was busy that day and there were groups of people all around us. Several looked over, some raising eyebrows and others nudging one another.

  ‘Keeley!’ Jonathan said firmly. ‘There is absolutely no need to use language like that.’

  ‘Fuck off!’ she shouted at him at the top of her voice.

  Keeley then started to raise her golf club in the air, and so I dashed swiftly to her side and put my hand on her arm, as I was worried she might try to hit someone or take a swing at something with it.

  ‘Keeley!’ I said. ‘This is completely unacceptable. You need to calm down and have a think about your behaviour.’

  ‘OWWWW!’ she bellowed. ‘Get off my arm. You’ve hurt me! OWWWW!’

  I flushed with embarrassment. I could feel the other holidaymakers looking over at the commotion, and I was afraid they might think I had actually hurt Keeley. The reality was that I’d barely even touched her, let alone hurt her.

  I am acutely aware that any physical contact with a child must be very carefully monitored. We can’t even hug a child without asking their permission and, right from the day she moved in, I’d checked with Keeley that she was happy for me to give her a hug at bedtime. She had agreed to this, and that is why we had a routine in place where I gave her a hug at her bedroom door before she tucked herself into bed. I wouldn’t have laid a finger on her if she had told me she didn’t want a hug, because the child’s wishes must be respected at all times. In some cases, where a child has been physically or sexually abused, we might be advised to only give them a group hug with other adults and children in a circle, so there can be no danger they feel threatened, and there is no risk that they might be drawn into making an inappropriate complaint against you.

  I had most certainly not taken hold of Keeley with any force, and had only placed my hand lightly on her arm because I was worried about what she might do with the golf club. Her reaction was completely irrational, and extremely irritating.