Amelia's Story (Box Set the Complete Series Books 1 & 2) (14 page)

We pulled back one of the boards on the downstairs window and climbed in. Unusually, it was quite clean. There was an old settee sitting in the middle of the living room, the floors still had carpets on them albeit old and a bit musty, but it was more than we had hoped for. There could be any number of reasons why this house was unoccupied? however, that was not our concern. We had a place to stay and that was all that mattered. We put our bags down and Liam volunteered to fetch us all a bag of chips which would keep us going until the morning. Then we hatched a plan to wake up with the larks and do a door step sweep after the milkman had delivered his goods to all the tenants.

The following morning Paul and I were up first, so we got dressed and slipped out of the window leaving Liam fast asleep. We headed to the row of houses opposite and ran from door to door lowering our heads as we sneaked past the kitchen windows. We were loaded with goods on the run back to the house with lots of bread, milk, yogurts, and cheese, just enough food and milk for the next couple of days at least. As far as cash goes we were left with a grand total of £3, which was enough for another round of chips if we got desperate during the week.

We were all sitting down on the floor in the house talking about our hopes and dreams for the future. Liam was the older one at just 15, whereas Paul and I were 14-years-old. Liam was pretty quiet really. He smiled a lot and did not say too much, he was a thinker. Paul was a comedian and was always joking, and me, well, I was just in a hurry to be an adult, as being a child was far too hard.

I talked about my brother and sisters and how we were all separated several years back. Liam talked about how his father used to beat him badly, and Paul didn’t talk about his past at all, only that he could not wait to officially leave Bryn Tyn. We were all in agreement with Paul on that score. We all hated it for the most part; however, strangely enough there were some good times too. Josie and I had a great time getting up to mischief all the time, but when things were bad they could be intolerable in a place like that.

Unknown to us all while we were all having our heart to heart over our sumptuous breakfast, we had been spotted by one of the tenants from over the road, one of the ones we had stolen the bread from. She had watched us climb into the house then went and called the police. Before we knew it or could act accordingly, there were two police cars outside shouting at us to come out. We could not believe it, after everything we had been through the last couple of days, not to mention the marathon walk we accomplished without thumbing a lift once. We knew we were done for so all climbed out of the window. The policeman was very nice and asked us to get in the car. We told them our names and once they had checked them a red flag came up, and they looked at us saying that there were police all over
Shropshire searching for us. Again we were told how lucky we were as there are a lot of unsavoury people about and we could have landed ourselves in serious trouble. We admitted to taking the bread and milk and explained we only did this because we were hungry and did not have enough money to purchase the goods.

We were taken directly to the local police station, and put in a holding cell until our Social Workers arrived. They gave us dinner and even let the two boys smoke. Because we were listed as runaways we had to answer a few questions about the last two days: where we had been, had anything happened to us and were we all in good health as far as we knew.

One of the Policemen was really kind; he sympathised with us and seemed to understand why we had runaway. He gave us a few pearls of wisdom and said, “You don’t have too long left in care now, why don’t you just try and keep your heads down and get through it?”

We all looked at him and said nothing. Only someone who was not subjected to our life in care could suggest such a thing. Times just got too hard to bear, we were children, and we felt like we had no one or nothing.

My Social Worker arrived first, then the other two arrived shortly afterwards. It was decided that my Social Worker would drive us all back to Wales. After a briefing at the station, we all left and started the long journey back to Wales. I was really scared now as I knew we were really in for it on our return, they would be pleasant enough in front of my Social Worker, but once she had left it would be scrubs for us three once again.

None of us spoke a word during the whole journey. My Social Worker put on an old radio station that was cranking out country and western songs, and I don’t think any of us heard the songs really. We also knew that we would all be separated on our arrival and that was also part of the punishment - being kept away from your friends. I had that awful sinking feeling again that I had felt so many times before; I dreaded the thought of scrubs and not being able to mix with everyone else. I knew I would have all my privileges stripped once more, but this time I had my bedroom to lose as well. I knew I would probably be put back in a dorm or at the very least a shared room. One thing I did know for sure my “Trust” status would have been removed.

That I did deserve to lose, but if only they had listened to me more often then maybe, just maybe, I could have coped better and not runaway so often. You had to be quite tough to survive in care, and I was just not feeling tough enough. I now hated everything that “Trust” represented. This meant we were given a tad more freedom, and I mean a tad. Unlike most teenagers of the same age on the outside, we were hidden away from society under the blanket of the care system, we were unable to roam freely on a Saturday around town with our friends, we were not allowed outside of the premises unaccompanied by a member of staff. If we had “Trust “ status this just allowed us an hour of freedom in the small town of Wrexham on a Saturday morning and not totally out of sight from the member of staff in charge. “Trust” to me felt like something a prisoner earned for good behaviour while doing their time to make life a little easier. Not for children in care who were not at fault for the circumstances they were placed in by their parents. “Trust” was just a permanent reminder that we were not free; we were all just caged birds.

On my return to Bryn Tyn I was punished far harder than before. I had my single room taken from me, this I had expected. I was placed in a room with Josie, and this I did not mind at all. In fact, I was so surprised that they actually considered this a good idea because now we were even closer day and night, which meant more mischief! I was yet again on scrubs for the umpteenth time, and it had become such a regular part of my life it no longer bothered me. I worked my punishment and again heeded the advice given to me and kept my head down. I finally came to the conclusion that running away was doing me no good whatsoever. No one listened to my complaints, and no one much cared either. I decided to make the most of a bad situation and finally try to settle down.

Over the next couple of months I was well behaved, I took part in weekend activities once more and started doing extra chores to earn some money. We all had to do daily chores to keep our units clean and this was unpaid, however, you could volunteer to do special chores which could earn you up to £5.00 per week. More new children were admitted into Bryn Tyn, and older children were released from the care system once they came of age

Bryn Tyn was part of a community of children’s homes, and once a year a sports day was organised between the homes and this would usually take place within the Bryn Tyn grounds as this was the largest of all the homes. This was quite a spectacular event and everyone took part. The local news station was invited to cover the event, this was a big show to the outside world to give the impression that all was well within these homes. All the children loved sports day, there was so much going on, a pop group was hired to sing for a couple of hours, a lot of local people were invited and some of the kid’s parents were also invited. A great day would be had by all and no expense was spared. This would appear in the local paper the next day and mentioned on the local news station. The food was always great on sports day, and we all let our hair down and enjoyed a great feast.

Westbrook Hall

I was approaching my 15th birthday; yet another day that would pass me by unrecognised. I started to wonder a lot about what would happen to me as I only had just over 12 months left in the state
-care-system. Where would I go, what would I do? The thought started to scare me. I realised there and then that during all those years spent in care I had actually become institutionalised without realising it. I was beginning to feel what many children had felt before me. I did not know what it was like to just be able to do things without asking permission. I mean we even needed permission to access our clothes from the locker room, or to take a bath. We needed permission for all the things most kids just took for granted, I could not imagine a world where I made all my own decisions.

My birthday came and went much like Christmas that year. It was a very harsh and cold winter and some of the staff were snowed in for a couple of days. This was the middle of winter with snow up to your knees in the middle of
North Wales. There were real coal fires situated throughout all the units and plenty of coal stacked high in the bunkers outside. We all wrapped up warm and watched videos chosen for us by the staff until the snow started to melt, and cars could once again come in and out of Bryn Tyn.

By the summer of that year a case review was held over my future and it was decided that I was to be moved for the last and final time. I was to be sent to Westbrook Hall, one of the homes within the Bryn Tyn community only this one was situated 50 miles away in Shropshire about 10 miles from where my mother lived. The reason for this, I was told, was because I originally came from
Shropshire and they thought it would be best for me to end my days in care, in familiar surroundings. They would try and help me in the search of gainful employment and try their best to find me a place to live when I turned 16, although they advised me this was not always possible and they may have to place me in a hostel.

All I could think about was one more year, 12 months and counting, and then my destiny would be in my own hands. The world would again be free to me. I would again be able to walk down the street without having to look over my shoulder, take a simple walk in the park on a lazy Sunday afternoon, go for a meal in a restaurant, to watch the latest film perched in the back row of the cinema; all these things I had never experienced before. This seemed so surreal to me, I would not allow myself to believe it until it happened.

About a month later I said goodbye to Bryn Tyn and sat in the back of my Social Worker’s car for the very last time. On arrival at Westbrook Hall I was greeted by a very stern man called Phil. He was very tall and very wide, and if I didn’t know better I swear he did not like children. He pointed in the direction of the office and started walking. Westbrook was an old stately home bought and converted into a children’s home by John Allen, the founder of the Bryn Tyn community. It was a white building in acres and acres of land; the driveway itself was half a mile long.

The children in Westbrook were all a lot older than in Bryn Tyn, the youngest being 13-years-old and the oldest 17-years-old. The average age though was 15 years. I was given the usual rules and regulations and told to make sure I adhered to them. Again schooling was on the grounds of Westbrook hall, and I was told I had only a few months left to attend school and then I would be found a suitable placement with a local firm so I could support myself on leaving Westbrook. It all seemed so cold and clinical. There was no real preparation for your entry into the big wide world, no great guide or words of wisdom to prepare you for the pitfalls you may come up against.

I did not like Westbrook at all, it was full of egotistical men and that was both the staff and the boys residing there. A lot of the boys were hardened to their environment and they had come to believe that life had nothing better to offer them. This was evident to me in their attitude on a daily basis. There were few girls at Westbrook, which made things a bit difficult at times as the place was filled with testosterone. We were all teenagers and the boys thought about sex a bit too much. They were always trying to grab you here and grope you there. It was hard just trying to stay out of their way, and I made sure I was never far away from a member of staff.

One day a couple of months down the line I was watching TV in the communal area when a group of boys came in looking suspiciously at me. One of the boys closed the door, while suddenly I was jumped on by another. I was being held down with one hand over my mouth, my arms and legs were pinned tight to the floor, and I could not move. I could feel my eyes filling up as my jeans were torn from me, then my knickers. One boy was lifting my top up as another started climbing on top of me. I tried everything I could to wriggle free but my attempt was in vain. The boy on top of me had unzipped his trousers and was just about to rape me when the door swung open. All the boys jumped up and scampered away, and I was left on the floor scrambling around for my clothes. The staff member told me to get dressed and advised me to stay in my room; he made me feel like I had committed a cardinal sin.

I was later called into the office and given some strong advice. I was told that no good would come of any complaint I made, that he had spoken to each of the boys and this would not happen again. They had apparently been severely reprimanded, and that was supposed to have been enough, the whole incident was treated like a bunch of silly boys who knew no better. Two of the boys were 17-years-old, very big and strong. I was made to feel worthless. I had my clothes torn from my body, was violated, but this was to be brushed under the carpet never to be spoken of again. It was clear to me that the girls had a harder time at Westbrook than the boys.

I settled in as best as I could and I was to sleep in the cottage with the other girls. It was our private place. We still had to eat in the main dining hall and if we wanted to watch television we also had to head over to the main building, but our sleeping quarters were in the cottage.

My 16th birthday was upon me finally and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. I felt a lot older than my 16 years suggested. I was more than ready to take on the challenge of a new era coming soon into my life, but I was also scared to death. My birthday was celebrated in the cottage amongst the girls with a cake they had baked for me and two lovely cards they took the time to create for me. It was probably the best birthday I had ever had. It meant so much to me that they had taken the time to make me cards and make me feel special for that one day, I felt very humbled by their kindness. I was to spend Christmas a week later in the cottage with two other girls who also had nowhere to go. One of the female members of staff brought us a little Christmas tree for us to put up in the cottage, and we all decided to make each other a Christmas present to put under it so we had something to open on Christmas day. I made memory boxes for each one of them out of old boxes. The other two girls Louise and Sarah made little pouches out of felt to act like purses. On Christmas day we were so excited we could not wait to open our presents, there could have been pure gold wrapped up in that Christmas paper the way we jumped and screamed with delight, we were so happy as we were used to so little.