Thrown Away Child Read online

  In the end I was lucky enough to meet a lovely man at art college who I was eventually to marry years later and with whom I am still incredibly happy. We have two children of our own, and we also foster children together. It is a joy and a challenge, and I feel incredibly blessed and grateful on that front. But that’s another long story, for another place.

  As for dear old Irish Sean – the man who saved my life and gave me some lovely childhood memories – I loved him dearly until he died. I still do. He was my real family – generous and kind. I continued to see him as often as I could. He always welcomed me back with a warm ‘Hello, girlie, come in,’ until the very last. He would always get the whisky out, or some Guinness, and pour me a huge glass (‘Down the hatch, girlie’). He continued in his caravan as long as he could, and carried on betting on the horses, growing his veg and flowers and walking his dog, Frida.

  One time I visited him towards the end of his life, when I had finished art school. There were several older men sitting on seats outside his caravan. The sky was glowing warm and orange in the summer evening, and the air smelt of jasmine and honeysuckle. As I got nearer to the caravan I could hear gravelly talk and raucous laughter and music. The men on the seats in caps and tweeds, belts and braces, all had instruments with them: a fiddle, a drum, a tambour, a penny whistle and a squeeze box. There was a crate of Guinness and brown ale by the side of the caravan and most were smoking ciggies or pipes.

  ‘Oh, there you are, come here, girlie,’ rasped Sean, laughing. He introduced me to his gang, all ex-navvies from his past. I was handed a bottle of Guinness and some crisps and then the men tuned up and suddenly struck up a wonderful Irish jig. I sat on the step of Sean’s caravan, listening to the fantastic bouncy music. My foot was tapping and my heart was full to bursting as I watched Sean tooting on his penny whistle, as all the players made the jig ring out through the orchard into the night air. As I watched Sean’s rosy cheeks fill as he blew, and listened to the wonderful sound, I thanked him with all my heart for the happy times and care he had given me in my childhood. I knew absolutely that I would not have survived without him. I could see the road ahead of me was going to be a long and winding one, just like the Beatles song I loved. But that along the way there were significant people, like Tim and Sean, and later my wonderful husband, who had simply made all the difference between me living and dying.

  That was certainly something to be thankful for, after all.

  Afterword

  Child abuse is not a comfortable subject to think about. I will be honest with you: I was scared about writing this. Scared for all the reasons you can imagine and some you can’t.

  There are four types of abuse: sexual, physical, emotional and neglect. The easiest one to prove is physical abuse, as long as the marks are still showing. Neglect can also be easy to detect, but not all neglect presents itself as a snotty face or dirty tangled hair full of head lice. Emotional neglect is the most recently legally acknowledged form of child abuse, but I suspect it plays a big role in all the other kinds.

  As a stand-alone abuse, I wonder how many adults are doing this to children every day without any awareness that their behaviour is even abusive or that it will have long-term effects on that child’s mental health? I believe children are abused because they are young and vulnerable. I believe adults abuse because they can.

  After reading my story you may be surprised to know that I think my educational neglect was the worst part of all the abuses I suffered. It has been my life sentence. I have managed to live with the other abuses, which have somehow settled into my form, and I think I’ve been good at hiding them; most people would never know and I have never told. But poor literacy skills, no basic maths and a narrow awareness of the world has been a terrible cage to be trapped in and impossible to hide. I have felt ashamed and humiliated as I have observed people thinking I’m thick.

  In all subjects except art I was labelled remedial and, as an adult, I was diagnosed with dyslexia and dyscalculia. When I did go to school my head was fizzing with fear and hurt; there was no room to learn and I was not encouraged to do so. I’ve had to work hard to try and catch up, and I’m aware that my thoughts, ideas and approaches can be a little unconventional, but I put that down to a non-formulaic learning experience – or creativity: depends who’s asking!

  Young Louise is part of me now; I keep her safe and make sure she has everything she needs. We get along well and she makes me smile. I know she will never leave me; our childhoods never do. These days I spend my time looking after other people’s children, as well as two stepchildren and two of my own. But when I began fostering with my husband a few years ago, we found a world that was far removed from what we had hoped.

  We see social workers struggling to manage huge caseloads and it has become harder for them to spend time with the children and young people in their care, as they feed the hungry machine of legislation and data collection and so on. This stifling bureaucracy takes them away from the reason most of them came into social work – to make a difference in children’s lives.

  We began our fostering journey via an independent agency – the first one that popped up when we typed ‘fostering’ into the search engine – and we naively believed their marketing. These agencies are a mix of charitable, not-for-profit and private companies, and it can be difficult to tell the difference from their websites, but we soon learnt that most are owned by bankers and venture capitalists who make millions from the agencies recruiting foster carers to look after local authority children. It feels like capitalism has been allowed to run amok in children’s social care.

  We responded to the national call for more foster carers but, after successfully going through a rigorous assessment process, the agency we were with still couldn’t find us a placement after more than a year. We began to wonder if there were any children who needed a foster home.

  Millions of pounds of public money is somehow lost to tax havens while carers like me have to fight to get even the basic resources and therapeutic support for our foster children. In 2014, £3 billion went to the looked-after children’s budget and £1 billion of that went to the independent fostering agencies.* I shiver at the thought of shareholders feeling happy that more children are going into care – it feels like children’s misery has become a commodity.

  I think we all agree that the best outcome for a child going into care is a good foster placement that offers a safe and secure home for as long as is needed. But so many good foster carers are leaving; tired of being bullied and disregarded, they say it simply isn’t worth it. Unfortunately, carers have no rights or protection. They are often subjected to malicious and mischievous allegations from foster children, their families and sometimes even social workers. I have seen foster carers and their families destroyed as allegations go forward without good evidence or a decent hearing, and this takes time and money away from the work and results in the loss of more foster homes.

  If governments genuinely want to improve children’s lives then they need to look after the people who look after the children; they should divert the money back into children’s social care, improve these children’s life chances, and stop lining the pockets of people who want to develop their own wealth portfolios.

  Abuse isn’t particular to any one social group. It is found freely among the whole social strata – which is why we need carers from a wider reach of backgrounds. Foster carers have traditionally been a husband and wife, with the wife being the primary carer. I believe we need to attract a more modern fostering workforce that represents all the backgrounds of children in care. When social workers threatened me with foster care if I didn’t behave (and as a foster carer I would hate to feel that we are a punishment for behaviour caused by trauma), I would have willingly packed my own suitcase if they’d told me I was going to live with a gay couple who loved the Arts and shopped at Liberty. But I know I didn’t want to live with another family. I didn’t like my own family and the thought of living in someone e
lse’s would have been awful.

  Teenagers are the hardest to place. For many, their experiences of family life have been harmful and chaotic, so the traditional family model may be too much for them. Someone else’s family unit can feel like a foreign country: new smells, different food and rules. Teenagers may work better with adults who are not trying to be a parent but a friend who takes responsibility for them and does right by them.

  I would love to see a new attitude in fostering and adoption. My drive is to know that vulnerable children will get a fair chance in life and learn how to free themselves from a traumatic childhood. Perhaps all young people should be educated in what the consequences are for children, parents and society if a child is abused or neglected. We should collectively join up and teach them about the responsibilities of having children. Cycles of abuse can be stopped through good education and the necessary support being there for vulnerable people. If we cannot get this right, then we are simply behaving like undertakers sending out assassins. We have to tackle all the cycles of abuse. But we also need to be sure that foster carers – who are so important to these processes – are treated with respect.

  The true character of a society is revealed in how it treats its children.

  Nelson Mandela, 1997

  You can contact Louise at:

  Louise-Allen.com

  * * *

  *Statistics from https://www.gov.uk/­government/­collections/­childrens-social-care-statistics

  Acknowledgements

  Louise would like to thank: all the people whose acts of kindness have given me the strength to go on. The friends along the way with whom I have laughed and danced, and the people whose warmth and compassion made it possible for me to learn to hug. My lecturers from art school, who gave me that chance: Ian Hunter, Mark Harrington, Howard Mason, Brian Lunn and Dave Jenkins. You truly opened my eyes to art, design, culture, friendship and the pub!

  William, for answering my letter. My cousins, who after so many years have come back into my life. Lyn and Mike, who know more than most. Sue, George, Laura and Jack for showing me what a good family looked like.

  Jane, my special agent from Graham Maw Christie, for having faith and making that call. Corinne Sweet, for sitting with me and displaying such kindness and insight. Kerri Sharp, for her editing wizardry and to Simon & Schuster for giving me a chance.

  And finally, all my children, who made me understand what childhood is all about, you are so important; and my husband Lloyd who understands and keeps these matters light.

  Corinne Sweet gives heartfelt thanks to Jane Graham Maw of Graham Maw Christie, Kerri Sharp of Simon & Schuster, Susanne Torok, Katie Smith, Olamiju Fajemesin, Vicky Abram, Tim Davis, Gill Doust and the WSEG, Johnnie McKeown, Clara Potter-Sweet and the Keedees.

  First published in Great Britain by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, 2017

  A CBS COMPANY

  Copyright © Louise Allen, 2017

  The right of Louise Allen to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  Simon & Schuster UK Ltd

  1st Floor

  222 Gray’s Inn Road

  London WC1X 8HB

  www.simonandschuster.co.uk

  www.simonandschuster.com.au

  www.simonandschuster.co.in

  Simon & Schuster Australia, Sydney

  Simon & Schuster India, New Delhi

  The author and publishers have made all reasonable efforts to contact copyright holders for permission, and apologise for any omissions or errors in the form of credits given. Corrections may be made to future printings

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-4711-6674-7

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-4711-6675-4

  Typeset in Fournier by M Rules

  Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY

  Simon & Schuster UK Ltd are committed to sourcing paper that is made from wood grown in sustainable forests and support the Forest Stewardship Council, the leading international forest certification organisation. Our books displaying the FSC logo are printed on FSC-certified paper.

  While this book gives a faithful account of the author’s experiences, some names and details have been changed to protect the privacy of the individuals involved.