Amelia's Story (Box Set the Complete Series Books 1 & 2) (6 page)

Breeton House (1st V
isit)

The following day my Social Worker arrived and signed the relevant release papers, urging me to collect my belongings as we had quite a journey in front of us.

The long journey to Breeton House was a very quiet one; I was deep in thought, staring out of the window at the passing farms and mass rape fields laid out on the countryside, like blankets of gold, a truly beautiful sight. These fields glowed like a bulb, so yellow and so bright. I wondered what was waiting for me at the end of my journey, would I like it? Would the other children be nice to me? Would the staff talk to me? I would soon find out.

My young head was a buzz with questions and full with anxiety. Yet another move to somewhere unknown; you never got used to it no matter how many times you were shuffled around from one place to the next. I never felt settled and never felt secure in my life, there was no routine as such but this was how it would be and I had to accept it. My schooling was greatly affected by all the moves in my life. I was never in one place long enough for the school to make a real difference, and with all the troubles in my home life I was constantly distracted, or too worn out emotionally to take to my studies, although I tried with all my being.

After a long and thoughtful journey we arrived at Breeton House. The first thing I noticed was the enormous solid old oak door with a large round iron knocker that stood before us at the entrance. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before, I had no idea doors could be so huge. It was rather intimidating to say the least. The large impressive building was extremely old and built in the Victorian era. We were greeted by a very friendly man who turned out to be the head of the house, his name was Gary Cotterage and he had a face full of hair in the form of a very large beard. I liked him immediately, he seemed kind and gentle, and he made me feel less nervous. Gary made it his job to put me at ease straight away; I was asked if I needed a drink before I was escorted to his office to receive the rules of Breeton House.

I jumped at the chance of a glass of warm milk accompanied with two malt biscuits; there was an old woman with a white overcoat on standing over a large old cream stove situated in the centre of the kitchen. She had a cigarette hanging from her mouth with a long stem of ash which looked like it was about to fall into the pot!
Gary informed me that she was Dotty the cook. I liked her immediately too and she gave me a wink and a smile before continuing to cook. I was taken to the office and asked to sit down while he read out the rules of the house to me.

The rules are as follows:

1.) You will receive £1.10 pence pocket money each week to spend on whatever you like at the local shop accompanied by a member of staff.

2.) You must keep your room tidy and make your bed each morning.

3.) Each child must take their turn to serve dinner once it has been prepared by cook.

4.) Each child must take their turn to wash up/put away.

5.) You are not allowed outside of the grounds without the supervision of a valid member of staff.

6.) You can make one phone call per week.

7.) You will attend a school outside of the premises.

8.) Breakfast at 7:30 A.M. lunch at 12.30 P.M. dinner at 5:00 P.M. and finally supper at 8:00 P.M. – followed by bed at 8.30 P.M.

9.) If you run away, you will be brought back straight away and all privileges such as pocket money suspended, you will have your shoes and socks taken away only to be returned when you attend school.

All things considered this sounded just fine to me; all I kept thinking about was the £1.10 pence pocket money that I would receive each Saturday morning. This was an immense amount of money to me, not to mention I had never received pocket money before, in fact I had never had my own money at all. I was asked if I had any questions – shaking my head to indicate I did not.
Gary then took me into the main area to meet the other children.

Unfortunately, there was one girl I took an instant dislike to - her name was Glenda. She was huge, the size of a bear - she looked at me with evil eyes and pulled faces at me. She was much older than me, about 13-years-old at least, to a nine-year-old Glenda was definitely a towering figure. I knew from that day forward she was not going to make my life an easy one at all. The days that followed proved my original feelings regards Glenda were to be correct: she was, in simple terms, a bully and I was her new target much to the delight of the other children as they were given a reprieve.

I spent most of my time dodging her fist. I was always running to one member of staff or another but they did not do anything, in fact, I think one or two of them were frightened of her. It was Glenda that had made life difficult in this home and I was pushed to the point that it was time to run away. I waited until all the staff were asleep and sat patiently waiting for the night watchmen to do their rounds. Then I just got dressed and sneaked out of the downstairs toilet window. I ran until I could run no more, having no idea what time it was, just that it was very late. I chose my direction and followed the lights towards the town.

It wasn’t long before a police car pulled up along side me and told me to get in. Boy was I in trouble. They returned me to Breeton House and I was berated on my arrival, with the staff taking a new attitude towards me. They decided to teach me a lesson and put me in a room with the very girl who was bullying me. I tried to explain why I had run away, but it was to no avail. They were not interested and I was told to conform or I would make life very difficult for myself.

All my privileges were revoked: so no pocket money, no day trips on Saturdays and no shoes or socks. No one ever listened, they asked you why you ran away, so you try to explain your reasons to them, and then you were punished for telling tales. This did not make sense to me at all. I was to learn very quickly that it was best to keep things to yourself; a child in care was not easily believed. It was very hard to prove your case when you were met with so much resistance from the very people who were there to protect you.

For the next few days I just kept my head down in the grave hope I went unnoticed by everyone. I guess this was my reality, I had to get used to a whole new set of rules known nowhere other than the care system. I was now just a number to be counted every morning and counted in every evening - this was similar to assembly to ensure all children were present and correct and no one was missing.

Breeton House was not so bad as far as children’s homes were concerned. This place could have been a lot worse, it was just one or to of its occupants that made life for me quite difficult at times. But the longer I was there the more confident I became and the more friends and allies I made. I started to learn how to stand up for myself, Glenda got bored of me and soon moved on to her next poor victim. I was to find out later that most of the other younger girls had been through the same ordeal with her and the staff just turned a blind eye.

I was now sharing a dormitory with four other girls with whom I had become friends, we were always running around Breeton House playing hide and seek. Then, one day I passed Glenda on the stairs, she started calling me horrible names, so I shouted back, “Fatty!” and then ran for my life. She chased me all around the house until she caught up with me on the winding stone staircase. She wasted no time in grabbing me by the hair and smashing my head down into the corner of the step which had metal clips on each corner. I passed out immediately and Glenda ran off scared at what she had done.

The next thing I remember is being lifted into an ambulance. I was in hospital for two days, with five stitches to the top of my right eye in my brow line. My face was swollen and turning black and blue from the severe bruising and I was unable to open my eye for a week. The doctors said if the cut was just a little deeper I would have been blinded in that eye. My mother was informed and she came to visit me while I was in hospital and the Social Services had agreed to let me go on a home visit for a couple of days to see my siblings as I had missed them so much.

I thought to myself that it was almost worth having lost an eye just to see them again. During my home visit my mother was quite pleasant. She was sympathetic and said that I would be allowed home soon, all being well. When Jake and I were alone he started crying, holding on to me as if his life depended on it, “Amelia it’s been so hard while you have been away, she takes her bad moods out on me all the time, even Jenny and Susie are getting it now.”

I tried to reassure Jake that I would take care of him once I was back home. I could not bear to see him like this; at least if I was home mother was not so hard on him. I hated the thought of going back to Breeton House and leaving him. I hugged him tightly and told him to keep out of her way as much as possible, and do whatever she asks of him. I promised Jake that on my return we would go to the old ruin again for the whole day.

I told my mother how much I missed being at home and how much I missed her too, which was a lie. I just wanted to be close to Jake so I could take care of him.

On my return to Breeton House I was determined more than ever to have my case reviewed regards going home. I needed to be there for my siblings - they needed me more than ever now. I went to see the head of the house, Gary; he was more than happy to give me some private time to hear me out. I asked him when could I go home as my mother wants me back, she’s changed, she’s happier now. Gary advised me that sending me home was something they were considering and they will come back to me once they have spoken to my Social Worker.

Gary
also advised me that the police and my Social Worker wanted to talk to me about my accident, that this was normal practice for their records. I was interrogated by the staff and police as to whom had done this to me - I just said I had fallen down the stairs as the thought of more problems at my door frightened me after Glenda’s attack. The police had to be called in as any injury to a child has to be reported and investigated. On my return to Breeton House, the staff made a point of telling me how worried Glenda was about me and that she had been asking after me almost by the hour. Of course I knew why, and a short while later when I was alone in my room Glenda came in to see me. She asked if I had told anyone. I said no, and she said she was really sorry and had never meant to hurt me like that she just lost control. She begged me never to tell and I promised to abide by her wish as long as she left us all alone going forward, as we had had enough of her.

Glenda changed after that and the bullying stopped
, she could not do enough for me and she actually became quite pleasant to be around. All the other kids were a lot happier too, so it seemed my beating was not in vain!

I spent 12 months in Breeton House, during which time I was attending a local all girl's school called
Mount Pleasant School for Girls. This was a great school and I was doing well, above what was considered average for my age in English and Math’s. The teachers went on to say I could excel in these areas and do well in future exams. However, regular visits to Breeton House from my mother had started to disrupt my behaviour again. She would arrive stinking of alcohol, swearing and screaming at me in front of everyone. This was just too much for me to bear and was not helping my case for going home at all.

I felt as if she was doing it on purpose so I would not be allowed home. It was always like this when I was doing well at something too; it was like she could not bear for me to be doing well at anything. She was the only person on this planet capable of stealing my confidence with a few lashings of her tongue; her life’s mission seemed to be directed at making mine as miserable as possible. Why couldn’t she just be proud of me, put her arms around me and say I love you? Why did everything have to be about her? It was so little to ask and so easy to give.

The decision was made to reduce her weekly visits to twice monthly and this suited me fine. I missed my siblings so much it hurt beyond belief, and I still needed to get home no matter how much I did not want to live with her. All I wanted was for her to love me and be proud of me, it was very little to ask, I thought. I started truanting from school shortly after and my subjects were noticeably suffering. I could not bear to be the only child in the school that did not go home to a family at the end of each school day. All the parents would be gathered outside the school gates, arms wide open to greet their angels, and I was greeted by a member of staff checking their watch as they were coming to the end of their shift.