Mummy, Make It Stop

by Fox, Louise

  After the first few weeks, I did manage to get talking to a girl called Poppy - someone else who didn’t really have any friends - and I was thrilled when she asked me to tea. I skipped the whole way home that day, wondering what her house would be like and what we would have to eat. But my hopes were dashed when I rushed in to ask Ruth if I could go and she told me that everyone in Poppy’s family would have to be police-checked before I could visit their house. I was sure they would never agree, so it was with a heavy heart and deep embarrassment that I went to school the next day and told Poppy the news - begging her not to tell the other kids that I was in care.

  I never did get to go to her house. From then on, Poppy began to give me a wide berth. No doubt she’d been warned to stay away from me because her parents didn’t want her hanging around with a girl from a kids’ home, especially one with a reputation for housing out-of-control kids who went around the neighbourhood spraying graffiti, smashing swings in the playground at the park and drinking and smoking.

  After that, I didn’t really try to be friends with anyone. I just hung around by myself. I told myself I didn’t care - I’d never had any friends before, so why should it be different now? People had always thought I was trash. But deep down it hurt me badly, knowing that now I was in a children’s home my last hope of being able to make a friend was gone.

  At Cranley it was the kids who were in charge, not the adults. It was more like a youth club with bedrooms than a real home. Top of the roost was Wayne, who terrorised everyone, even the staff. They would turn a blind eye as he battered and bullied any kid who stood in his way. Wayne had first pick of everything - from the clothes and food to what we watched on TV that night. It was more like a prison, where the toughest inmates ruled, than a home for children.

  Jamie fell out with him several times. He couldn’t see why Wayne should have his pick of everything, so he refused to put up with it, and Wayne was furious. He hit Jamie many times, making his nose bleed and on one occasion getting him on the floor and kicking him. The staff saw what was going on, but they didn’t intervene.

  The boys in the home were constantly fighting. There were punch-ups every day. Most of them were ignored by the staff, but one night there was such a massive brawl that the staff had to jump in and break it up before several boys got badly hurt. As ever, Wayne was at the centre of it.

  Jamie, Tanya and I quickly realised that to survive we were going to have to toughen up. If we wanted to avoid becoming targets for bullying, we had to join in with being rude to the staff, swearing all the time and taking the mickey out of anyone who was ripe for picking on. Not surprisingly, our behaviour deteriorated fast. Desperate to impress the older, tougher kids, I went from being quiet and shy to becoming a disruptive, argumentative kid, looking out for trouble with anyone who got in my way.

  I also started smoking. All the kids used to go out and smoke in the garden after tea and, determined to be one of the gang, I asked them for a cigarette. They laughed and gave me one, and I tried hard to smoke it. But the smoke burned my throat, my face turned red and I struggled not to choke. I got through a third of it before I handed it to someone else. But after that I tried again and again, until, well before my tenth birthday, I could inhale with the best of them.

  Most of the older kids hardly ever went to school, and Tanya and I soon began bunking off to hang out with them. I didn’t mind school, but I wanted to be one of the gang, so a couple of times a week I followed Tanya to the park where we met up with the older ones, who’d bunked off too. We would go to the town centre, where there were shops to wander around. No-one seemed to notice that we weren’t in school in the middle of the day.

  There weren’t many rules in the home. Most of the older kids were allowed to come and go as they pleased, but, to my frustration, I wasn’t allowed out unsupervised. All I could do was go for a walk with a staff member, to the local shops or the park - and that would end when the staff member got fed-up and announced we were going back.

  At weekends I became incredibly bored and the days dragged. We were allowed to lie in until nine or ten and very little was organised for us to do. We would play up all the time, chasing each other around, screaming and shouting, letting off fire extinguishers and smashing things up. We were never allowed to eat or drink except at set meal times. The kitchen was kept locked and the fridge and food cupboards had big bolts on them, to keep us all out.

  To an outsider looking in, we would have looked like a bunch of out-of-control kids who didn’t know how to behave. But we had all been so badly let down - by our families and then again by the care system, which allowed us to run riot, without providing stability, discipline, activities, or carers who actually cared. We were all just desperate for love and attention, and the only way we knew how to get attention was by misbehaving.

  Anna came to see us regularly. She was always warm and concerned. She would ask how things were, and I’d tell her they were OK. I wasn’t able to articulate my worries and fears, but it was nice to have someone who cared. I liked Anna, and looked forward to her visits.

  I missed Mum badly and longed for her to come and see us. Tanya and I kept asking the staff if she could come, but the answer was always ‘not yet’. We were allowed to ring her sometimes, but it was always awkward, as we didn’t really know what to say. Mum was cheerful and I got the feeling that she was getting on fine without us and didn’t really miss us or want us back.

  We had been there for three months when we were told that Mum would be coming for an hour-long supervised visit.

  A room in the home was laid aside for visits - a really nice room which didn’t fit in with the rest of the place. It was bright and colourful, with comfy chairs, nice-looking and welcoming. One of the workers at the home would be supervising the visit, which meant she would sit in the corner of the room watching us for the whole time Mum was there.

  The first time Mum came, all three of us were waiting for her in the visiting room. I felt excited and nervous, wondering how she was and if she was going to tell us that we could go home. I still didn’t really know why we had been taken away from her. I wanted someone to explain, but I didn’t dare ask.

  When Mum finally arrived, Tanya and I rushed forward to hug her, with Jamie following behind. We were so happy to see her, and Mum seemed happy to see us too. She had brought sweets and presents and it really felt as though she missed and loved us. For the first time in our lives, she held us and cuddled us, touched us gently and stroked our faces. I lapped it up, wanting to hold onto Mum for the whole hour, drinking in the feeling of being loved.

  All too soon, the hour was up and Mum had to go. The care worker stood up and said it was time, and I burst into tears, wanting Mum to stay, or to be allowed to go home with her. But the rule was strict and Mum was whisked out, promising she would come back when the next visit was allowed, in a fortnight.

  Two whole weeks before we could spend another hour with her. It seemed such a long time. To me it was just as if we were in prison. After all, what was the difference? We were locked away, and had to wait for visiting time once a fortnight, when our every move would be watched.

  Mum was always on her best behaviour. She really did seem to want to see us, and to have us back. She told us she hoped that we would eventually be allowed home. She said she didn’t know why we had been taken away from her, and that we should nag the staff to let us see her, so that they would send us home. When she said that, I felt happy - it seemed as if she did really want us back. And after a few months of the fortnightly visits she was allowed to step them up to once - and sometimes even twice - a week. She was also allowed to see us unsupervised, though still only for an hour. I loved those visits, because Mum was still being really nice to us, even without the carer watching.

  But it was at one of these meetings that she dropped a bombshell. Casually, as if she was discussing the weather, she told us that she had decided to move John and his two children in with her. She said she was lonely and n
eeded the company now we had left her. My heart sank. We knew she was still seeing John, but now it felt as if we had been replaced just as easily as we had been taken away.

  I didn’t speak at all, and Mum must have sensed my unease. She tried to convince me that it was for the best and that we would all be together when we were allowed back home. I forced a smile but deep down I was hurting dreadfully. How could she just go and find other children to replace us? I felt rejected and unwanted, and nothing Mum or anyone else said made me feel any better. I felt we had just been thrown out, like pieces of rubbish.

  After that, my behaviour rapidly went further downhill. I felt I had nothing more to lose, and I was badly behaved, angry and disruptive. No-one could get through to me - not that they really tried - and I didn’t care if I was punished.

  Shortly after this, Tanya, Jamie and I were given news that devastated us all over again. Ruth took us into her office and explained that we were to be moved to another home - one we would be settled in long-term.

  The last thing I wanted was to move again. While I had hated the home at the start, after seven months I had got used to it and found a way to cope. I knew my way around, was settling in at school, and had learned to live with it. I thought we would be there until we went home, and I believed we’d be going home any day. Now there would be yet another place to get used to, more kids to get to know, and - worst of all - another school.

  Ruth explained that it wasn’t safe for the three of us to go back home yet. We just didn’t get this at all. How come Mum could live with other kids, but not us? The stuffing was well and truly knocked out of all three of us. It felt so unfair, and no matter how Ruth put things, it didn’t feel any better. To us it was just another kick in the teeth from adults who pretended they cared about us, but didn’t really.

  No-one ever reassured us, or explained that it was because we had been hurt and that they wanted to look after us. I think if they had, it would have helped. We’d still have been away from home, but we’d have understood that we weren’t being punished. As it was, I didn’t see that at all. I thought I must be the worst child in the world, unwanted, unloved and banned from my own home. I was convinced it was all a punishment for telling about George and Terry.

  I think Tanya felt the same way. She barely spoke for the rest of the evening. I wished we could comfort one another, but neither of us knew how, so we just got on with what we had to do. As for Jamie, he just went out and kicked a football around, which was his way of venting his feelings.

  What could we do? With tight, white faces, the three of us went reluctantly to our rooms to pack. We were due to leave the next morning. I asked if I could go to school to say goodbye to my teacher, and Ruth agreed. Nathan walked me to the local shop so that I could buy a big bar of Galaxy with my pocket money and then we walked to school.

  I wasn’t wearing my uniform, and the whole class watched in silence as I went in and gave the chocolate to the teacher. She didn’t seem surprised, so she must have been told that I was going. I said goodbye and started to cry, and Nathan led me out and back to the home.

  Later that day, Mum arrived for a visit. She walked in and told us she had brought John and his children, to introduce them to us. Her timing couldn’t have been worse. We went out to the car park, where they were all standing around John’s car, and I looked at the two children and thought, ‘This is who Mum’s got in to replace us.’ They were just ordinary kids, and I knew it wasn’t their fault, but I hated them all the same.

  Tanya, Jamie and I stared sullenly as Mum told us they were called Shaun and Kelly. Then, after a couple more awkward minutes, they all got in the car and drove off, waving at us as they left.

  Chapter Nine

  Ten minutes after Mum left with her new family, Anna arrived to collect me, Jamie and Tanya. We were told to get into the back of her car and were taken right across the city, to an area we’d never heard of.

  On the journey, Anna told us how lovely our new home was, and that there would be lots of people we could make friends with and a really nice school. But we stared out of the windows and said nothing. We didn’t believe a word of it. I had always liked Anna, but at that moment I hated her. I was angry with her for stopping us going home with Mum - as far as I was concerned, it was all her fault, and a bit of sweet-talking wasn’t about to win me over.

  A short while later, we drew up outside a new-looking building with lots of flowers in the front garden. It was long and L-shaped, a kind of bungalow, with an upper floor that looked like a loft conversion, with a sloping roof. It was bright and clean and looked a lot nicer than the last home, but I was in no mood to care.

  We walked from the small car park up the front path to the front door. Inside, a very short woman with spiky blonde hair greeted us. I couldn’t help staring at her, and as Anna introduced me, Jamie and Tanya, the lady winked at me. Despite my glum mood, I giggled, and this made Tanya smile and broke the ice. The lady told us her name was Penny and she was in charge of the house. She thanked Anna for bringing us and Anna gave us a quick hug, wished us luck and said she’d see us in a couple of days.

  I had to admit that the place looked nice. It was light and airy and was decorated in peaches and creams, with soft carpet on the floor and plants on the window sills. The atmosphere seemed a lot calmer and more settled than it had been at Cranley.

  Penny took us into her office, which had kids’ paintings all over the wall, and gave us some tea and biscuits. She told us this place was called Cherry Road and was home to around twelve children. She said they took boys and girls from the ages of eight to sixteen, though as there were no younger ones at the moment, I would be the youngest.

  ‘I hope you’ll be happy here,’ she smiled. ‘Shall I show you your rooms?’

  We went upstairs to the corridor where the bedrooms were. To my surprise and relief, Tanya and I were sharing again - a small but pretty room with a sloping roof and skylight windows that made it feel really cosy. Jamie was in a room just down the hall, sharing with a boy called Ian.

  Back downstairs, Penny introduced us to two of the other staff members - Melanie and Craig. Later we met Ted and Janice, when they came on shift. All of them were nice, friendly, interested and kind. I was bowled over by how different they were to the staff at the previous home, but I wasn’t about to show it. I still felt too hurt and upset to show any positive feelings, even though I was secretly surprised by how nice everything at Cherry Road was.

  We met the other kids when they got back from school that day. Most of them were teenagers, and there were more girls than there had been at our last place. They didn’t fall over themselves to be friendly, but they weren’t hostile either. One of them, Monica, was seventeen and she had a baby. She lived in a little self-contained apartment at the end of the main building and she told us her boyfriend was allowed to visit her there. Her fifteen-year-old sister, Lizzie, was in Cherry Road too.

  That night we were given spaghetti bolognese for tea. I’d never heard of it, but it was delicious - loads better than the boring food we’d had at the last place. I ate with gusto.

  While things were much more pleasant at Cherry Road, the rules were far stricter. Penny was friendly but very firm and everyone had to do as they were told or face trouble. My bedtime was to be at nine every night - nine thirty at weekends - and no argument. We all had to help with the chores - a rota for washing-up, sweeping, setting tables and so on would be put up every week - and bad behaviour wasn’t tolerated. If you stepped out of line, the punishment would be doing all the washing-up for a fortnight, or loss of TV privileges or pocket money.

  But while the staff were tough about the rules, they were also much more involved and interested in the children. They were always about, and ready to have a chat or join in a game.

  In this gentler, safer and more supportive environment I would gradually begin to find some healing. But it was to be a long process. I was a damaged, frightened, lonely child, and I didn’t trust anyo
ne. I had learned to lash out at anyone who came near me, and to keep myself to myself. I felt betrayed and let down by everyone. I’m sure I presented the staff with a huge challenge, but they weren’t about to give up on me, and in time I realised it.

  One day they asked me to fill in a form that asked ‘What do you want in life?’ I wrote that I just wanted to go home, have long hair, get a Barbie and go to Disneyland. I may have been wearing make-up and trying to compete with the teenagers, but in reality I was still just a small girl who wanted the things most other small girls want.

  We were already into the autumn term when we arrived there. Penny told me I would be going to St Mark’s Primary School, a ten-minute walk away. A couple of days after we arrived, Janice walked me into town to get my uniform. This time it was a grey skirt with a white shirt and red jumper and tie. I liked it, but I pretended I didn’t.

  A few days later, I started school. Janice walked me there and took me in. It was an old Victorian building, a little like my first school back at home. To me it was just another school, with yet another teacher and another set of kids. They eyed me curiously when I was taken in, and at breaktime a few of them tried to talk to me, but I was too shy and overwhelmed to respond, and after a while they gave up.

  The school wasn’t bad. Mostly no-one bullied me and I didn’t mind being there, though I was still very behind and struggled with lessons, especially anything involving writing. I bunked off a few times at first, because that’s what I was used to doing. I did a bit of shoplifting - nicking sweets and drinks. But apart from that, there wasn’t really anything to do, so after I’d spent a few days walking around, thoroughly bored, I decided I might as well go to school.

  I used to watch the most popular girl, who was always surrounded by friends. She was called Karen, and she reminded me of Amber Smith. Just as I had with Amber, back at my first school, I wondered what it would be like to be so pretty and popular.