The Girl Who Just Wanted to Be Loved

by Angela Hart

  ‘Well, I feel as if I’m on my holidays too!’ she announced cheerfully, clearly enjoying the change of scene and the sense of purpose she felt. She’d been talking enthusiastically for several days now about some of the ‘little jobs’ she wanted to do in the shop while we were away, like revamping the window display and decluttering some of the storage areas. It was heartening to see her like this, as it was how I remembered her when she and my father ran the shop, and I was a little girl. Both my parents were extremely hard working and threw themselves into building up the florists into a very successful enterprise. I was very glad I’d had the chance to take the business on and continue the family tradition. My dad would have been very proud to see us all today, I thought, with the shop still thriving and my mum still involved and enjoying herself like this.

  I looked at my mum with pride and admiration, but as I did so I caught Keeley giving her a sceptical, sideways glance. My pulse quickened a little, as I wondered what Keeley was going to say or do next. I really didn’t want her to poke fun at my mum for arriving with her suitcase and the cool box, or being so excited about helping us out while we were on holiday. I’d seen Keeley giving sideways looks like this before, though, and they often preceded a sly comment, rude remark or cheeky dig.

  ‘That’s really funny!’ Keeley giggled.

  ‘What’s funny?’ I asked nervously.

  ‘Your mum, of course, saying this is like going on her holidays! You’re funny, Thelma! I’m going to miss you.’

  Keeley said this with meaning, and I immediately felt ashamed of myself for doubting her. She was genuinely quite tickled by my mum’s comment and was being very sweet and endearing. Mum, of course, lapped it up.

  ‘What a lovely thing to say, Keeley. I’ll miss you too. Ten whole days! Goodness me, you are very lucky to be having such a lovely long holiday.’

  Keeley sat herself down beside my mum at the kitchen table, clasped her hands primly in front of her as if she had something serious to say, and looked Mum in the eye.

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I’ve never had a proper holiday. My mum never has any money for holidays. She isn’t like Angela. She hasn’t got a shop or anything.’

  I flicked my mum a knowing look, to remind her not to be drawn into a conversation about Keeley’s mother; I certainly didn’t want a reportable incident of any kind at this point in time.

  ‘No, dear, oh well, dear,’ my mum said, clearly now a little flummoxed.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Keeley said. ‘I don’t mind talking about my mum. She’s a really good mum. She’s letting me go on holiday and she could have said no, couldn’t she? And she told me she’s happy about me seeing my dad again. I think that’s good, because she hates my dad.’

  ‘She hates your dad, does she?’ I interrupted, as I didn’t feel it was fair, or sensible, to leave my mother navigating this conversation on her own for any longer. This was the first I’d heard about how Tina may have felt about Keeley’s dad, though, and I didn’t want to close down the conversation completely. I would never do that, as these moments can be very important to a child in helping them work through issues from the past. Keeley seemed to be in the mood to talk, and so I stopped what I was doing and sat at the table with her and my mum, hoping to make it easier for her to carry on.

  ‘Yes. She hates him. She used to tell me he was a pig. When we went to the zoo together, Mum pointed to a big fat pig and said it looked like my dad. He’s nice, though, and he’s not fat. It was just my mum being silly! Oh well! Angela, will we see any animals on holiday?’

  ‘There’s a small zoo at the theme park,’ I said. ‘I think they have monkeys, plus rabbits and giant guinea pigs you can pet, and all sorts of reptiles.’

  ‘Do they have pigs though?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Oh. It sounds good, though. I hope there’s a gift shop.’

  With that, Keeley gave me a smile and then skipped out of the kitchen, saying she was going to put some colouring books in her backpack for the car journey. ‘I’m packing pens,’ she said. ‘I want to send Ellie a postcard.’

  ‘Isn’t she a funny little girl?’ Mum said kindly, as Keeley disappeared up the stairs, ‘such a sweet little thing.’

  ‘Yes, she has her moments,’ I grinned.

  Obviously, my mum knew that Keeley had some serious issues from the past, but she was quite rightly judging Keeley as she was that day: a delightful, albeit idiosyncratic, eight-year-old girl. I took note. Mum hadn’t been affected by Keeley’s behaviour in the way I had, and she was displaying a normal, generous response to her. That’s how I need to be again, I thought, and I found myself praying that Keeley’s good mood would spread into the holiday.

  As usual I jotted down some notes as soon as I had the chance. I had no idea if Keeley’s chatter about the pig or her mother’s supposed hatred of her dad had any relevance, but I took note of her comments nonetheless, because it wasn’t up to me to decide what was and wasn’t potentially important. Keeley had said very little about her father, and as he was now very much in the spotlight I thought I’d be as cautious as possible and jot down as much as I could whenever she mentioned him.

  Sandy had explained to me a day or two earlier that assessments were now being carried out on Keeley’s father, to see if he was suitable to take her in. This involved background checks and police checks to make sure he had no criminal record or other black marks against his name. Tina had been informed that her ex-partner was potentially going to have Keeley living with him, and that Joan was in charge of checking his suitability and his accommodation, as he would need to have a spare room that was suitable for Keeley. If everything was in order, Keeley would be allowed to go for weekend visits after the holiday, with a view to moving in in the near future. The full care order she was under would be changed, and contact with Tina would be reorganised to fit in with Keeley’s new circumstances.

  Keeley had been made aware that Social Services were looking into the possibility she could live with her dad, although exactly how much detail Joan had gone into I didn’t know. This was not unusual; carers like us would only be kept informed of the details that were relevant to us, on a need to know basis. This mean that we’d be told the dates of Keeley’s weekend visits with her father, and a potential moving out date, but probably little else. Our opinion about the move wasn’t sought at all; what we thought of the plans wasn’t relevant. Our job was simply to look after Keeley while she was in our care, and provide Social Services with any information we considered might be important to have placed on Keeley’s file.

  After Sandy had given me the latest update, Jonathan had asked me how I felt about Keeley potentially moving in with her dad.

  ‘On paper it couldn’t be better, could it?’ I said tentatively. ‘After all, it’s not sustainable having her here with the boys, and what could be better than going to her dad’s, especially as he has no other children.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Jonathan replied. ‘So why the hesitation in your voice?’

  ‘I just don’t know. I think I’m worried about him being on his own with Keeley. I know he’s her dad, but it could be very tough for him. I know I couldn’t do it on my own.’

  Jonathan hugged me.

  ‘It’s typical of you to think of others,’ he said. ‘Lots of people would be critical of Keeley’s dad for being off the scene for so long, but here you are worrying about him and his wellbeing, and not focusing on yourself at all.’

  I smiled, grateful for the compliment.

  ‘Don’t worry about what you can’t control, Angela. You are doing all you can for Keeley. Let’s just try and give her and the boys a really good holiday. That’s our job for now, and that’s what we need to focus on.’

  The long journey to the theme park, our first destination, was dreadful. After being extremely helpful with the packing, waving angelically to my mother and buckling herself into the back of the car as I’d asked her to, Keeley’s mood soon changed. We were just a few miles
from home when it happened, and hadn’t even reached the motorway.

  ‘Oi!’ Phillip said. ‘Don’t do that, Keeley!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You know what!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘DIGGING ME IN THE RIBS.’

  ‘Never did. Liar!’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’

  ‘Phillip!’ I implored. ‘Don’t use language like that. Keeley, what is going on?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Then why is Phillip complaining that you are digging him in the ribs?’

  ‘Because Phillip is a wanker,’ she said pointedly, over enunciating the word wanker.

  ‘Right, Keeley, that is enough. I don’t want to hear another word from you until I say so, do you understand?’

  ‘How am I supposed to answer you, Angela, if I can’t talk?’

  ‘Keeley!’ Jonathan snapped. ‘For heaven’s sake, please don’t use bad language, don’t be rude to Angela and please don’t cause any trouble. Let’s all try to get along and enjoy the holiday.’

  She frowned and tut-tutted and stared out of the window, studiously ignoring Jonathan, while Phillip began to shake his head in disbelief.

  ‘I said Jesus Christ and she said wanker and we both got the same telling off! How does that work?’

  Carl started sniggering.

  ‘Let’s all try to get along and enjoy the holiday,’ Jonathan repeated.

  Phillip huffed and put his head in his hands while Carl began fumbling in his bag for a book, which was his way of disengaging from the conflict.

  I detected a note of desperation in Jonathan’s voice; we still had hours of driving ahead of us and this did not bode well. Jonathan and I looked at each other and I imagined a shared thought bubble appearing between us. The words ‘groundhog day’ loomed large inside the bubble; we’d seen it all before, with Keeley aggravating Phillip, and it was all happening again, as if on a repeat loop.

  We were staying in a hotel near the theme park, and then carrying on to a mobile home on a campsite on the south coast. After we’d had about twenty minutes of peace and quiet in the car, Phillip asked me about the sleeping arrangements at the hotel.

  ‘We have a family apartment,’ I explained. ‘Everybody has their own room, but all inside the same apartment.’

  ‘Are there locks on the doors?’ Phillip asked. ‘Only I don’t want her coming in, pestering the hell out of me.’

  The next moment he let out an almighty shriek, which made me jump. Jonathan gripped the wheel tightly, exclaiming: ‘What on earth!’

  I turned round to see Keeley giving me a really sarcastic grin, and Phillip was clutching his side.

  ‘What’s happened now?’ I asked.

  Keeley mouthed something to me silently.

  ‘Keeley, what are you doing?’

  She made the same silent mouth movements while Phillip said, ‘The silly cow is jabbing me in the ribs again, Angela.’

  ‘You are allowed to talk now, Keeley,’ I said, remembering I’d told her to not say another word until I said so, ‘so please tell me what is going on back there.’

  ‘Nothing!’ she yelled indignantly. ‘If you hadn’t stopped me talking none of this would have happened.’

  ‘None of what?’

  ‘Nothing!’

  ‘I give up!’ Phillip said, exasperated. ‘I just give up. Can’t Carl sit in the middle instead of me?’

  Jonathan and I decided this was a good idea, and we pulled into the next motorway services so that everybody could go to the toilet, and then Carl would sit between Phillip and Keeley. This seemed like a sensible plan, but Keeley used the stop as an opportunity to wreak yet more havoc. She pointedly refused to buckle her seatbelt again once we were all back in the car, and when Jonathan refused to move until she had done so we ended up in a very frustrating stalemate situation.

  ‘Keeley, I can’t drive the car until you have your seatbelt on.’

  ‘See if I care.’

  ‘Well I think you will care, when we are still sitting here instead of being in our hotel, having fun.’

  ‘I don’t. I never wanted to come on holiday with you anyway. I told you that, didn’t I? I’d rather be at my dad’s.’

  ‘Can’t you just take her to her dad’s?’ Phillip said. ‘That would do us all a favour.’

  ‘Shut it, wanker. You’re just jealous because I’m going to live with my dad and you’re not.’

  Phillip unbuckled his seatbelt, flung open the car door and stomped out onto the forecourt of the motorway services. I saw him take a deep breath and clench his fists. He looked fit to punch something, or somebody. Jonathan got out and went to talk to him, while I tried another tactic.

  ‘Look, Keeley, I know you don’t really mean to upset anyone, but that is what you’re doing. I don’t want to get cross with you. I don’t want to shout or tell you off or anything else. I would much rather we all got along and enjoyed the holiday, as Jonathan said. Please can you stop upsetting Phillip, because you are ruining things for everyone.’

  ‘You’re weird, Angela, do you know that?’

  ‘Why are you saying that?’

  ‘Because most people would smack me and tell me I was being a little bitch, but you are being all nice to me. I don’t get it. What are you up to? Are you messing with me?’

  ‘Most people wouldn’t smack you or call you a name like that, Keeley. It’s not the right way for anyone to behave, is it?’

  ‘My mum knew what was what! She wouldn’t have put up with this! She’d have smacked my bare arse! So would my granddad. But you’re useless!’

  I could scarcely believe my ears. Keeley was telling me off for not physically or verbally abusing her. That was what she had grown up with, and that was what she expected of me, as her carer. It was all very upsetting and confusing. I thought about the whole transference business, and realised this was probably what was going on here. Keeley was projecting her extremely low expectations of care onto me, and when I wasn’t playing ball she was upping her game, to try to get me to fit into the blueprint she had in her head of a mother figure. I didn’t really know what to do next; it was a mind game too far.

  Thankfully, Jonathan returned to the car and intervened. He called Phillip over to hear his plan.

  ‘I’ve got a good idea,’ he said. ‘How about, if we can all get along on this car journey, I’ll treat everyone to some extra pocket money for the holiday?’

  It was shameless bribery but we were desperate and I didn’t blame him at all; in fact, I was relieved he said this. Each summer Social Services gave us an extra allowance, which could go towards a holiday away or for activities during the holidays. The amount of money involved didn’t come close to covering our costs, but it was welcome, all the same, and we always found a way of passing it on as directly as we could to the children. Jonathan and I had already agreed between us that we were going to give the extra money to the kids, for their spending money. This was the time to do it, and it worked, thank God. Hardly surprisingly, all three kids readily agreed to Jonathan’s deal. Carl said a very polite thank you and sounded very grateful while Keeley and Phillip huffily accepted the bargain, while also making it clear they still weren’t happy.

  ‘I hate this seatbelt,’ Keeley grumbled as we had another attempt at setting off. ‘That’s what caused the trouble. It was too tight, that’s how I came to knock into Phillip before.’

  ‘So you admit you did hit me?’

  ‘No, I didn’t say that, idiot!’

  ‘THAT IS ENOUGH!’ Jonathan said. ‘Keeley, buckle yourself in, please, and let’s get going.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then we can’t go anywhere.’

  ‘Good. I don’t want to go on holiday with you losers!’

  ‘For the love of God . . .’ Jonathan said, gripping the steering wheel hard.

  ‘What do you propose then, Keeley? Shall I turn the car around?’

  ‘What would you do that for?’

  ‘Wha
t do you think?’

  ‘To get rid of me?’

  ‘I don’t want to get rid of you!’

  ‘All right then, I’ll put my seatbelt on.’

  ‘Good. Let’s go.’

  Phillip groaned, but thankfully the rest of the journey went by without another row. The atmosphere was tense, but at least the peace was kept. That was about the best I could hope for, in the circumstances.

  31

  ‘Help! You need to pull over, right now’

  ‘This is boring,’ Keeley said.

  We were standing in a long queue for a water ride, and the waiting time was about half an hour.

  ‘It’ll be worth it,’ I said. ‘I’ve been on a ride exactly like this before. It’s really good fun.’

  ‘It better be.’

  I tried to ignore this. Jonathan and I had agreed that we would start the day with this ride, which everybody could do together, and then we would split up into different groups as the day went on, depending on which rides people wanted to go on. Keeley wasn’t tall enough for several of the big attractions, and Carl wasn’t keen on the fastest and scariest rides, so we’d just have to work out what was best for everyone as we went along.

  ‘I don’t want to wait any longer,’ Keeley whinged. ‘Can’t we leave the boys here and do something else, Angela?’

  ‘No. We’re here now. Let’s do this ride and then we can decide what to do next.’

  The sun was beating down and Keeley then began to complain about the heat.

  ‘You’ll soon cool down when we’re on the ride,’ Jonathan said.

  ‘How? It’s all outside.’

  ‘Because you have to get out of the boat and swim the last bit, and the water’s quite chilly. Freezing cold, actually. You did bring your swimsuit, didn’t you?’

  Carl laughed, immediately realising Jonathan was making this up, but Keeley wasn’t so quick to cotton on.