Angela Hart - The Girl with the Suitcase

A Girl Without a Home and the Foster Carer Who Changes her Life Forever

Shes been in several other foster homes

Back to reality, my husband Jonathan remarked, as we carried our bags into the house. Wed managed to snatch a couple of nights away together by the sea, after unexpectedly finding ourselves with an empty house. A teenage boy wed been looking after had moved on sooner than wed anticipated and, by coincidence, the two other children we were fostering were both spending a few days with their relatives during the school summer holidays.

Do you think its OK for us to go away? Id said to my friend Joanne, who was also a foster carer. I mean, its mid-week. Should we be doing this?

Dont be daft! she laughed. Opportunities like this dont come around very often. Its not a long holiday or even a long weekend. When was the last time just the two of you managed to get away for a couple of days?

Jonathan and I did take regular holidays whenever we could, and ever since wed started fostering wed taken whichever children we had staying with us on our annual week or fortnight away.

Just us, with no kids? I honestly cant remember. Must be eight or nine years? Maybe longer.

I rest my case. Joanne smiled. Just notify Social Services book the B & B and tell them where you will be staying. As long as everyone has your contact details in case of an emergency, whats the problem? Youre only going to be a few hours drive away.

I tentatively took my friends advice, though I still felt uneasy about it and couldnt help fretting to Jonathan. What if a child needs us and were not here? And what if Social Services urgently need our help and we have to say no? And theres the shop. Do you really think we can...?

Jonathan reassured me that our assistant Barbara could easily run our florist shop for a couple of days, especially as my mum had offered to help out too. It had been my parents business before my father died, and my mum had run the shop on her own for a while before handing the reins to Jonathan and me. She wasnt getting any younger, of course, but Mum was still a very capable woman, and she was always willing to roll up her sleeves if we needed any help. As luck would have it, we only had one small wedding in the diary that weekend, which was unusual for July. This meant Mum and Barbara could easily deal with the preparations for the church flowers, bouquets and corsages. Wed be back on the Thursday evening, when there would be plenty of time for us to take over and organise our regular deliveries too.

Theres absolutely nothing to worry about, Jonathan told me. Everything is manageable.

I know youre right, I sighed. But were always needed here. I feel kind of selfish going away on our own.

A few years after we started fostering, Jonathan and I began specialist training so we could take in children, and particularly teenagers, with complex needs. Now the majority of the children who came to us often from another placement that had broken down, and frequently in an emergency situation needed specialist care of some description. Demand for specialist carers always outstripped supply in our part of the country and I felt a huge burden of responsibility towards the social workers who struggled on a daily basis to find homes for kids in crisis.

It was Jonathans turn to sigh. Look, what you say is true and part of me feels the same. I know were needed here, but we need a break like everybody else. We havent had an easy time of it lately, and every holiday weve taken for years has been with the kids.

I couldnt argue.

Anyhow, he went on, I bet you a pound to a penny the phone will ring the minute we step foot back in the house. And guess what? Itll be Social Services and well be plunged straight back into the thick of a new challenge. Well be ready for it, because well have recharged our batteries.

I had to agree. The change of scene would do us both good, and I knew Jonathan was tired out and needed to relax. More often than not he was the one who opened up the shop, went to the wholesalers, ran around making the deliveries and closed up at the end of the day. He never grumbled; in fact it was the opposite. He would tell anyone who would listen what a good team we made, and how lucky we were to work together and combine the running of the shop with fostering. Whenever wed had broken sleep or had been up half the night dealing with one of the kids, Jonathan was the one who sprang out of bed at the crack of dawn without a word of complaint. Disturbed nights had been happening often lately. The two girls who were living with us both had a lot of problems, and in recent times wed also looked after a succession of children who came to us for short stays, or respite care, as its known. Most proved incredibly challenging; for example, the teenage boy whod just moved on had been in trouble with the police for stealing cars and joyriding. He never came home on time, and sometimes not at all. Wed lost so much sleep during his stay I felt wiped out.

Needless to say, I was very pleased I had finally agreed to go to the seaside. Jonathan and I had a wonderful time, soaking up some lovely sunshine, strolling along the coast and eating fish and chips out of paper trays. With the sea breeze in my hair I felt like I didnt have a care in the world well, apart from knowing I had to face the dreaded scales at my slimming club the following week!

Were so lucky, I said as we watched the sun set. I feel blessed. We have a privileged life, dont we?

Jonathan put his arm around me. We do. We certainly do. I didnt have to spell it out for Jonathan to know exactly what I meant by privileged. We didnt have fancy cars or designer clothes and we didnt live a lavish lifestyle in any way at all. It was the old estate car and a caravan for us; my wardrobe was full of comfy jeans, flatties and bargains from my favourite outlet store and catalogues; and the restaurant we ate at the most was Pizza Hut, because all the kids loved it.

But we were privileged. We were trusted to look after kids who had fallen through the cracks of society. Social Services may have picked them up, but they were still in desperate need of rescuing. When we first began fostering, Jonathan and I naively thought we could save these children by simply loving them and giving them a safe, warm home. For this we thought they would be grateful, and that theyd want to live with us. We soon saw that there was a lot more to it than that, and that dealing with the families they pined for would be a big part of the job.

We learned quickly that one of the keys to fostering success is to show each child you believe in them. Kids in care have most likely been rejected and neglected rather than championed and cherished, as children ought to be. Often, nobody has ever believed in them, throughout their lifetime. With their life in our hands, for however long that may be, its our job to show the most damaged and dejected kids we believe in them wholeheartedly, and that their future does not have to be dictated by their past. Once they trust us and believe in us too, fantastic things can happen. Its such an honour to be given the chance to change a life; I cant imagine any other job could be so rewarding.

We had a good journey back from the coast and even managed to catch up with some old friends who lived en route and had invited us to drop in. I felt thoroughly relaxed as we sat on their patio, catching up on all their news. We didnt stay long; time was moving on and, despite having had such a good break, I was ready to go home. As soon as wed left the seaside Id started planning what needed to be done. The washing was the priority. There were our clothes from the trip and I wanted to strip all the beds and have the spare room ready for the next child to move into, whoever it may be. Thats always a priority; if a child arrives at short notice, I want them to feel as welcome as possible, and having a clean, fresh bedroom is very important. The only thing I dont do is choose the bedding, as I like to give them the opportunity to pick whichever duvet set they like.