Watson - Mummys little helper: the heartrending true story of a young girl secretly caring for her severely disabled mother

I love my family. I really do. Theyre the best in the world in almost every respect. But sometimes they do tend to gang up on me.

Mum, thats bonkers, my daughter Riley said, as I brandished the clutch of paint-colour cards I had collected that morning from the local DIY superstore. You said it yourself. Trust me, I remember very clearly. You said, The upstairs is just fine as it is.

Perfect, my husband Mike chipped in pointedly. I glared at him. Honest! he persisted, ignoring it. Thats what you said, love. That the whole house was perfect. Perfect as it was, you said. Remember?

That was true, certainly. But I chose to pretend I hadnt heard him. Instead I looked at my Kieron, for support. If I could rely on one person at this point, it would be my son. He wouldnt let them browbeat me in this scurrilous fashion, surely? But I was sorely mistaken.

Come on, you did, Mum, he said, his face a picture of innocence, even as he threw me to the lions. And we did do the downstairs

The whole of the downstairs, added Riley. And in a week. Look. I still have the blisters to prove it!

I fanned my rainbow of blues and pinks and fixed them all with a steely glare. All right then, I said. Ill be the little red hen, then. I shall just have to do it by myself!

Except I wouldnt. I knew Id talk them round eventually.

That had been a week back, and true to my prediction I had managed to persuade Mike of the logic of my plan, and with him on board the kids had caved in and helped too. It had been, Id decided, an inspired idea. With one bedroom for us, and one earmarked for visitors, we had two bedrooms free for our fostering needs. Two bedrooms, to my mind, meant one blue and one pink. That way, I explained to Mike, wed be always at the ready, whichever gender John Fulshaw sent us next. John Fulshaw was our fostering-agency link worker, and a dear friend. Hed trained us, and had been by our sides ever since.

Save time and money doing it this way in the long run, Id pointed out. And I knew Mike couldnt argue with that. Wed been fostering for four years now and had no thoughts of stopping, so being prepared for anything and anyone made sense. Though back at the start, when wed taken in our first foster child, Justin, I had, I knew, gone slightly overboard. So much so that, when he left us, and our next child was a girl, it was no small task changing our boys room to a girls room. Id gone so mad Id football themed almost everything in it, right down to the border, the carpet, the clock and the curtains Id even painted footballs on the bookcase!

And, as ever, the family rallied round, just as they had this time. It seemed incredible to think wed been in our new home for barely a month. It was the beginning of February now, and wed only moved in a couple of days before Christmas. If it hadnt been for everyone pitching in to get the place the way I wanted it what with the holidays, and having just waved goodbye to our last foster child, Spencer I felt sure that I wouldnt have felt half as settled as I did.

But, yes, Mike was right, the house was perfect. It had been perfect when wed viewed it, and was even more perfect now. I could barely believe our luck, really. Wed been eighteen years in our last house, and it had been something of a wrench leaving our childrens childhood home. There were just so many happy memories wrapped up in it.

And it had been a stressful situation that had prompted it, as well. The move had actually been brought about because of problems with Spencer. Hed been a particularly challenging child to foster, to put it mildly, and his antics (at just eight hed already been like a one-boy walking crime spree) had caused a lot of upset in the neighbourhood. We werent exactly forced out, but a great deal of bad feeling had developed, and it had hit home that bringing children such as this into our lives could (and in this case did) have an impact on others, too.

It had certainly forced us to think about the future. And as soon as wed sat down and considered our options, we realised the timing was right anyway. Not that wed downsized. Though our own children had flown the nest (Kieron was settled with his girlfriend Lauren, and Riley and her partner David even had two little ones of their own) wed moved house with children very much still in mind. Our new place was that little bit further out of town, that bit more open and leafy, that bit more suited to serving our fostering needs.

And now, I thought, as I looked around my two freshly painted bedrooms, the house itself was, as well. Now all I needed was a child to put in one of them.

So is there anything in the pipeline? Riley asked me, having admired both the makeovers. It was Tuesday lunchtime, and Levi, my eldest grandson, was back in nursery full time now, so shed brought baby Jackson over for a sandwich and a natter before going to pick him up. It seemed impossible to me almost like the blink of an eye that my first grandson was three now, and that Jackson would be one year old next month.

Impossible but true. Where had all the time gone? I shook my head. Not as yet, I told Riley. Though when I spoke to John last week he seemed to think there might be another little boy coming up. With mainstream carers at the moment, but theyre apparently struggling to cope with him. Multiple issues, I went on. And some really entrenched disturbing behaviours, by all accounts. Johns kind of put us on standby while they decide what to do.

Riley laughed. I bet your ears pricked up straight away, she commented. Multiple issues disturbed behaviours Sounds right up your street, Mum.

Which was true; it was exactly why Id come into fostering. Id already been thinking about it when I first saw the advertisement for the agency back when Id been working as a behaviour manager in a large comprehensive school. An ad seeking people who actively wanted to take on challenging children, the children the system was failing to cope with. Fostering the unfosterable had been the slogan. And it had gripped me straight away. It was what I did at school. It was what I felt I was best at. Oh, yes, I thought, challenging was right up my street.

I nodded. But that was last week, I said, as we headed back downstairs. I thought I might have heard back by now. I might call him later, as it happens. See what the score is

Riley rolled her eyes. You just cant do it, Mum, can you?

Do what? I asked her.

She burst out laughing. Do nothing!

I didnt call John in the end. After all, if he had a child for us hed have called me about them, wouldnt he? But there was no denying I leapt for my mobile when I heard it buzzing at me the following afternoon. Riley was spot on. I was no good at doing nothing. And since I couldnt take a job that was a stipulation for our kind of intense fostering without a child in, Id soon be climbing all those freshly painted walls. There was only so much cushion plumping a woman can do and stay sane even a clean freak like me.

And it wasnt just through lack of an occupation that I was bored. Now wed moved house, Mike, who was a warehouse manager, had a slightly longer journey to work and back every day, and with us new to the area, filling the day was itself a challenge. I needed to get out and about, make new friends and get to know the neighbours. But all of these things would take time.