The Girl Who Just Wanted to Be Loved

by Angela Hart

  ‘I’m not swimming in that shitty water!’ she shouted. ‘Keeley! Language, please,’ Jonathan said. ‘I’m only joking.’

  Carl laughed again, but I could see he was looking embarrassed too, as the people in front of us in the queue turned around.

  ‘Call that a joke, do you, Jonathan?’ Keeley said cheekily. ‘Look, Keeley,’ I soothed. ‘You can’t use bad language like that. Please stop trying to annoy people. You have to have a bit of patience in a theme park, but it’ll all be worth it.’

  She huffed and went to stand next to Phillip, who was quietly minding his own business. He’d brought his iPod with him, which was his pride and joy as he’d received it as a gift from his mother, and he had his earphones in and was listening to music.

  ‘What are you listening to?’ Keeley asked, jabbing her finger into his arm to get his attention.

  Phillip frowned, took out one earphone and said, ‘What?’

  ‘What are you listening to?’

  ‘Music.’

  He put the earphone back in and turned away from Keeley.

  ‘Shall we have a look at the map?’ I suggested, trying to distract her.

  ‘OK,’ she said. ‘I want to go on the shooting range and to the zoo.’

  ‘Shooting range?’

  ‘Yes. Look, I saw it on the way in. You get to fire a rifle. Bang, bang, BANG!’

  Jonathan winced. ‘Sounds a bit violent!’ he said.

  ‘We’re in a theme park,’ she mocked. ‘I’m not going to really kill anyone. You just have to hit the tin cans.’

  I wasn’t sure how suitable this was for an eight-year-old girl, and I thought back to the time she became very animated at the mocked-up sword fight we saw in Wales, when she had chanted ‘KILL, KILL, KILL’ from the audience. I kept my thoughts to myself, though. Having Keeley start a row in this queue was really not something I wanted.

  ‘What do you want to go on, Angela?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, I fancy the swing boat, the carousel and perhaps we could see what’s on in that 3D cinema show.’

  ‘Yippee!’ Keeley said, giving me an exaggerated smile. ‘I want to go on exactly the same things as you, Angela, so we can leave the boys, can’t we?’

  ‘I like the 3D cinema too,’ Jonathan said, which Keeley ignored.

  ‘I wonder if they’ll be showing the Invisible Man . . . ?’ Jonathan then winked at me.

  ‘Or Groundhog Day?’ I quipped, out of Keeley’s earshot. The water ride was good fun in the end, but the rest of the day turned into what felt like a tightrope walk for Jonathan and me. We found ourselves watching everything we said, wary that if we veered off course in any way then we may have a heavy price to pay, as Keeley seemed constantly on the verge of kicking off and causing trouble.

  We reluctantly let her have a go at shooting after she nagged us relentlessly, and said the day would be ruined if she couldn’t do it.

  ‘Done this before, little lady?’ the Stetson-clad stallholder asked.

  ‘No, but I know what I’m doing.’

  ‘Right, hit three cans and you get a prize.’

  ‘Get out of my way or I’ll blow your balls off!’ she replied. The stallholder was over six foot tall and looked as hard as nails. His mouth fell open but no words came out, and then he jokingly pinned himself as far out of Keeley’s firing range as possible. It’s comical in hindsight, but at the time I wanted the ground to swallow me up.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said to the man. ‘Keeley, what have I told you about watching your language?’

  ‘Shut BANG up BANG shut BANG up,’ she muttered, as she took her turn, hitting three cans right on target and toppling an entire display.

  She chose a large purple and yellow dinosaur as her prize, which Jonathan ended up lugging around for the rest of the day. By the time we turned in for the night I felt completely shattered.

  Jonathan and I snatched a bit of time alone together once all three children were in their beds, and we reflected on the day. We’d had some fun moments and some touching ones too. We both agreed that Keeley was adorable in the children’s petting area in the zoo, for instance, where she sat transfixed for ages, stroking the rabbits and guinea pigs before admiring the lizards and terrapins in the reptile house.

  ‘This is amazing,’ she’d said, wide-eyed. ‘It would be good to live in a zoo, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t have to go to school or follow any rules. You could sleep when you wanted to and just wee in the corner without going to the toilet!’

  ‘Yes, and you wouldn’t need a shower!’ Carl teased.

  We had all laughed conspiratorially, and even Phillip saw the funny side. Enjoying moments like that made all the effort Jonathan and I were putting in worth it; smiling faces were our reward.

  The second leg of our trip started very successfully. Keeley loved the mobile home and put her new dinosaur on her pillow next to Jinty. We decided to hire bikes to use around the site and the local area, and Keeley, who turned out to be a confident cyclist, was very excited when we set out for the first time.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Not sure, just exploring the campsite,’ I told her.

  ‘Ooh, an adventure!’

  ‘Exactly!’

  ‘Fasten your helmet on and we’ll get going.’

  ‘Do I have to?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘we all have to wear a helmet.’

  I was stealing myself for an argument, but Keeley dutifully clipped her helmet on. ‘Ready!’ she called.

  The boys led the way and we had a very pleasant ride around the site and down a cycle track that took us to a local lake. It was idyllic, and we stopped for ice creams and sat by the lake for a while, where the boys and Jonathan skipped stones and Keeley hunted for bugs.

  ‘There you go,’ I heard her say, after she’d found some crickets. ‘That’s better.’

  ‘What are you doing, love?’ I asked.

  ‘Burying the crickets, because they are dead.’

  ‘How did they die?’

  ‘I don’t know. Just died.’

  I’d seen Keeley catching live crickets, and I think she must have crushed them, hopefully by accident.

  ‘Have you found anything else?’

  ‘Yes. A ladybird. Dead too.’

  With that she lifted her right foot and then slammed it down onto a rock beside her.

  ‘What was that?’ I asked, jumping up from my seat on another rock nearby.

  ‘Ants. Naughty ants. You can go in the insect grave too.’

  I distracted Keeley with talk of what we would do later that day, having decided there was nothing to be gained from tackling her about this rather disturbing game now. Instead, I made a note of this little episode in my diary later.

  We went on to have a really lovely break, going on lots more bike rides, swimming in the campsite pool, playing table tennis, visiting some local attractions and having some good barbecues in the evenings, sitting around outside our mobile home and meeting a few other holidaymakers. However, there were four other incidents that marred the holiday.

  The first happened after Keeley developed an irritating cough. It didn’t shift for a couple of days, and so in the end I bought her some cough medicine in the local chemist, which I gave to her straight afterwards when we all sat in a cafe over the road. Keeley took the two spoonfuls of medicine off me without a fuss, but then she held it in her mouth, unable to swallow it.

  ‘Just gulp it down,’ one of the boys said, ‘that’s always the best way.’

  She shook her head and looked around with her cheeks puffed out, as if searching for a place to spit it out.

  I was about to tell her she should just drink it quickly and not spit it out, when an awful thought invaded my head. On a training course once, I was told to be very mindful of forcing children who had been abused to swallow anything they didn’t want to. Some had been forced to drink alcohol, nasty concoctions of drinks and medicines or even chemicals by their abusers. Others, who had been sexually abu
sed, had memories and fears that made them freak out whenever unpleasant liquids were put in their mouth.

  Keeley then went as white as a sheet, made a dash for the door and spat the green liquid all over the steps of the cafe. I chased after her and cleaned her and the steps up as best I could with a fistful of paper napkins.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  Keeley looked straight through me, and she didn’t say another word for quite some time.

  ‘You can talk to me whenever you want, about whatever you want,’ I said protectively.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, but we never discussed this scene again, and I noted the details in my log with a heavy heart.

  The next incident was caused by sheer bad luck. On our last day we all went for a long bike ride, and the boys raced on ahead. Keeley tried to keep up with them and pushed forwards too, turning a corner moments before Jonathan and I, who were bringing up the rear. We caught up with the boys very shortly afterwards, spotting them whizzing along on a straight stretch of the path beyond a fork in the cycle track. Keeley, however, was nowhere to be seen, and we immediately realised she must have taken the other side of the fork by mistake.

  ‘Wait a minute, boys!’ I called, as Jonathan did a U-turn and pedalled off to catch up with Keeley.

  He found her sobbing her heart out on the side of the track.

  ‘Keeley!’ he called. ‘We’re all back this way! Are you all right?’

  She couldn’t speak she was so upset. Tears were crashing down her cheeks and she was coughing and spluttering as she gasped for breath. Jonathan pushed the two bikes back, asking Keeley to hold on tight to her bike, so she felt safe again, but didn’t have to hold his hand.

  ‘What happened?’ Carl asked. ‘Did you fall off?’

  Keeley blanked him.

  ‘She just went the wrong way,’ Jonathan said. ‘Easily done.’

  Phillip snorted a little unkindly, which prompted Keeley to give him an evil stare.

  ‘I’ll get you,’ she said.

  Thankfully, Keeley cheered up quite quickly, and we rounded off the holiday with a visit to a pretty local village, where the three kids spent their pocket money. Keeley bought a postcard for Ellie and some colouring books and fancy pens, and the boys got a T-shirt each, and some fudge, which they both loved and shared around.

  Jonathan and I gave each other a satisfied smile as we prepared to drive away from the campsite on the last morning of our holiday. We’d had some heart-in-the-mouth moments, which didn’t surprise us, but we felt we’d done what we’d set out to do. The children had all had a really good break. We’d explored new parts of the country, had some laughs and enjoyed plenty of fresh air, exercise and good food.

  ‘Well done,’ he said to me, giving me a kiss and a hug, and not realising the kids were watching.

  ‘Urgh!’ Keeley said. ‘You’re disgusting!’

  Everybody laughed.

  ‘Sorry!’ I shrugged. ‘Now, come on, everybody in the car. Keeley, do you think you could sit in the middle seat?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it’s the narrowest and you are the smallest. We seem to have a few more belongings than when we set out, and we’re a bit tight for space.’

  ‘No. I want to sit by the window.’

  ‘Please, Keeley,’ I implored. ‘It would be very helpful. It’s no big deal, is it?’

  ‘No fucking way!’ she shouted, and then ran off towards the centre of the holiday park.

  Jonathan and I watched her for as long as we could before we worried we’d lose sight of her. She stopped about fifty metres away, turned around and put up her middle finger.

  ‘Wankers!’ she shouted. ‘You’re all wankers, and you’re a cunt!’

  This reaction was so extreme I couldn’t help thinking that Keeley might have suffered an unpleasant experience in a car in the past, or perhaps she simply had an issue being in such close proximity to the two boys, given that her grandfather may have sexually abused her. Jonathan and I had already been talking about getting a seven-seater car, and now we both agreed this should be a priority. It would make life so much easier for everybody and we would also be able to take my mum with us on trips, which would be a bonus.

  I assumed Keeley’s last foul-mouthed insult was thrown at me and I blanched. At that moment a young family appeared from down the side of one of the other mobile homes, and the parents looked at Keeley and then directly at me. I don’t mind admitting I was so shocked and embarrassed that, in the heat of the moment, I tried to pretend Keeley wasn’t with us.

  ‘Honestly!’ I muttered, giving a forlorn look designed to say, ‘Who on earth is that girl, behaving like that?’

  The family shuffled on, and I watched as Keeley sat down cross-legged on the side of the path, as if she were staging a sit-in protest. Jonathan eventually talked her round, unfortunately resorting to yet more bribery after first telling her off for her bad language and display of temper.

  ‘I’m upset you have behaved like this, Keeley,’ he said calmly but forcefully. ‘It’s not nice to see you like this, all miserable and being rude. I much prefer the happy Keeley we’ve seen on this holiday, don’t you?’

  She said nothing.

  ‘I tell you what, if you sit in the middle seat of the car now, I will let you choose the music we have on,’ he said. ‘I know the middle seat is a bit cramped, but somebody has to sit there, or how would we go on holiday?’

  She nodded silently, walked to the car and buckled herself into the middle seat. Then she demanded that Jonathan play her favourite songs from Beyoncé, Jamelia and Busted. Phillip plugged himself into his iPod again, and Carl shut his eyes, leaned on a rolled up sweatshirt that he placed against the window, and tried to go to sleep. Despite the tense atmosphere, we drove on peacefully for most of the rest of the trip. I don’t think anybody felt like speaking; the boys had looked quite stunned at Keeley’s latest outburst, and they both stayed very quiet and didn’t make a single comment on the music, which we knew was not to their taste at all.

  On the very last leg of our journey, Keeley complained she was bored and then started nudging Phillip and asking him to turn his iPod down.

  ‘I can hear it through your earphones,’ she complained.

  ‘Then you must have bionic ears,’ he said loudly, ‘the volume’s on low.’

  ‘I can hear it!’ she wailed. ‘It’s so annoying! Your music is so shit as well.’

  Phillip then did something he really shouldn’t have. He turned the volume up as loud as possible, which was like a red rag to a bull.

  Keeley was enraged and tried to grab Phillip’s iPod off him.

  ‘Get off, you nutter!’ he said.

  ‘Stop it,’ I said, turning in my seat. ‘Please stop it! It’s very distracting to Jonathan and we’re on the motorway . . .’

  My plea was ignored and drowned out by the ongoing argument.

  ‘Worried I’ll break it?’ she said, snatching the iPod with both hands, which wrenched the earplugs from Phillip’s ears.

  ‘Give it to me!’

  ‘Your mum gave you this, didn’t she?’

  ‘JUST GIVE IT TO ME!’

  ‘Your mum hates you! You have to stay with Angela because your mum hates you! All your mum does is buy you rubbish presents. My dad isn’t like that!’

  ‘KEELEY!’ I shouted. ‘Stop it this minute!’

  ‘Fuck you all, wankers. I’m going to live with my dad! I’m going to live with my dad!’

  With that Keeley threw the iPod in Phillip’s face, and he retaliated by landing a very hard punch square on her nose. She shrieked hysterically, and then blood dripped down onto her T-shirt. I cried, ‘Oh my God!’ in shock and even Carl started to panic, wailing, ‘Stop the car, Jonathan! She’s bleeding! Help! You need to pull over, right now.’

  This very unfortunate event marked the beginning of the end of Keeley’s placement with us. She was left with a black eye and a sore nose that day, but I felt strongly that we had all had
a lucky escape – Keeley included.

  It’s a great pity she got hurt, but at least some good did come from the situation. We had reached crisis point and, though we didn’t know it at that moment, at last life was going to improve for everybody.

  When we got home I immediately phoned Sandy to report exactly what had happened. She listened carefully, taking notes, and telling me she would place this on Keeley’s file and inform Joan and Phillip’s social worker straight away. Then she said, ‘Angela, I have some very timely news.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘The assessments on Keeley’s dad have all been carried out and everything is in order, and proving very straightforward. There is no reason Keeley can’t go and live with him, if she wants to. We just have a few formalities to complete in terms of the paperwork, that’s all. It could be sorted out in a matter of weeks. All we really need to do is make sure Keeley is happy and arrange some weekend visits so they can make sure they both want to go ahead.’

  I breathed a deep sigh of relief.

  ‘I know Keeley does want to live with her dad,’ I said, ‘and I know she’ll tell her social worker the same. She has talked about her dad a lot, and I am sure this is what she wants. This is terrific news, Sandy. I can’t tell you how happy I am for her, and for the boys.’

  ‘And I’m happy for you, Angela,’ Sandy said.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes, you and Jonathan. You have been very patient with Keeley. Without you she would have certainly ended up in a special unit; there is still no single placement available anywhere in the vicinity. I’m very glad that you can now focus on the boys again, without all the added stress you’ve had to deal with. Thank you for everything you have done. You have been patience personified. Keeley is a lucky girl.’

  I was very pleased, and extremely relieved, to hear Sandy say this. I’d been dreading calling her to tell her about the punch, for fear of what she might think of me and Jonathan. We had had to stop at KFC for a bag of ice on the way home, and Keeley had sat with it pressed to her nose for the remainder of the car journey.

  All the way home I thought what a dreadful mess we were all in, and what a failure I felt as a foster carer.

  ‘What will Social Services say, do you think?’ I’d hissed to Jonathan when we stopped at the services. ‘I mean, what foster carers take the children on holiday and have one of them punching seven bells out of the other? And how many eight-year-old girls are punched on the nose like that?’