Amelia's story (9 page)

As soon as we were back in
side
the house
, she threw me in
my bedroom and bolted the door screaming
,
“
Y
ou will stay in there until tomorrow
,
you defiant bitch
!
” I was so upset I started banging on the door
,
begging her to let me out, but I was met with her sharp
,
nasty tongue. I was not allowed out of my room until the
following
day. The shouting, screaming,
and arguments became all too
frequent event in our lives once more.
Unsurprisingly, this started to raise the
neighbour
’s suspicions
,
and after
I received
yet another beating and
was
thrown out of the house
again,
the
neighbour
s made an anonymous phone call to the
Social Services.
I was subsequently removed from my mother
’
s care and I was taken very swiftly to Highfield House Children’s Home for my own safety. Mother had started taking al
l her troubles out on me—
being the oldest, I was the one who faced her wrath more and more. However
,
she was very clever at convincing the powers that be that I was the one at fault. Back then
,
th
ere was a motto I often heard,
C
hildren should be seen
and not heard
. Unlike today, there was nowhere a child could t
urn to in situations like this,
no help lines or chariti
es that we were aware of
to help children in distressed situations.
I arrived during the middl
e of the night, tired and upset.
F
rom the moment I entered the old
,
dark building situated at the top of the hill I despised it
.
T
here was a cold feeling to the place. I did not rece
ive a very warm welcome,
not from the staff, not from the children, not from anyone. I was shown to my bedroom and left to go to bed
,
but before the staff member left
,
she said
,
“
O
ne step out of line
,
young lady
,
and you will know about it.”

I did not belong there.
I will never for
get that night as long as I live.
I
felt like I was being punished for my mother
’s failings;
it seemed no matter what I did
,
life was getting worse by the day. I cried like a baby all night, my
pillow was sodden with my tears.
R
ight there
,
right then
,
I would have given anything to be at the old ruin with J
ake, climbing trees
and
picking
fruit.
I was awakened t
o a loud shrill-like noise at 7:
30
a.m.
and jumped with fright
as a lady walked into the room.
S
he greeted me with a nonchalant hello and told me to get washed and down to breakfast by 8
:00 a.m.
sharp, no later. She pointed in the direction of the washrooms and left me to it. I was petrified and felt like the staff had ta
ken an immediate dislike to me, and
I just knew I was in for a hard time.

I hated it there
;
I started crying for my mother
,
but my cries went unheard. It does not matter how a child is treated by the
ir
parents
;
they will still love them even when they fear them
.
I needed her to come and get me and wa
s scared and alone.
Jake was not with me. I had been placed into care by myself, alone
,
without my brother and sisters. Confusion and fear was setting in fast, feelings I wa
s all too familiar with. At that moment,
I would rather
have
face
d
my mother’s wrath than
remain
there.
A
t least I knew what to
expect
and could be with my siblings, watching out for them.
I did not go down to breakfast; I didn’t know where the dining hall was or which way
to go as the building was huge.
I had also wet the bed and was afraid to leave the sheets where they were in fear of being punished. Eventually
,
a female
staff member came to collect me. S
he was
harsh and to the point.
I was escorted to a communal area and advised
,
“
Yo
u have missed break
fast now; lunch will be at 1:00 p.m.”
I was also advised to stay within the confines of the communal area until lunchtime.
I was not allowed to go outside,
and
I was not allowed to leave the communal area as the door was locked and you could only leave the room with
a member of staff by your side.
I
t felt like I was in prison. There were only a few children residing at Highfield
House during my time there. I
t was lonely,
and
the staff made no effort to make you feel at home
or even at ease.
I was just another passing statistic to deal with. There was ver
y little to do on a daily basis;
the communal room had a few chairs and sofas
scattered about
, a television in the corner
, which displayed a very poor snowy picture,
and a very old pool table that had been donated to the home
, but
that was it. They
just did not have the resources;
this was a temporary place for children to stay while decisions regarding the
ir
future were being made by the powers that be. A child in this place could not possibly feel more alone in the world
; it was cold and unfeeling
.
After about a month into my stay at Highfield
H
ouse I had a visit from my Social Worker and was advised that I was going to b
e transferred to Breeton House Children’s H
ome the following day. A rush of relief swept
through me.
I was told it was a pleasant place and it was run like a large family home. My Social Worker convinced me this was the best decision for me. The
Social Worker informed me that M
other had made it quite clear she no longer wanted me home. This obviously bought tears to my eyes and
pain in my heart.
I cried
,
asking
, “W
hy? What about my b
r
other and sisters?
”
I had nev
er felt so rejected in my life. T
he feeling of despair that was deep within me was taking root.

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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
j
ourney to Breeton House was a
very
quiet one; I was
deep in thought, staring out
the window at the passing farms and 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. W
ould 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 abuzz with questions and full with anxiety. Yet another move to some
where unknown;
you never got used
to
it no matter how many times you were shuffled ar
ound from one place to the next.
I never felt settled
or secure in my life. There was no routine,
but this was how it would be and I had to accept it. My schooling was greatly affec
ted by all the moves in my life.
I was never i
n one place long enough for
school to make a real difference, and with all the troubles in my home li
fe 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 jour
ney we arrived at Breeton House.
T
he first thing I noticed was the enormous solid
,
old oak door with a large
,
round iron knocker that
stood before us at the entrance.
I
t was unlike a
nything I had ever seen before;
I had no idea doors could be so huge. It was rather intimidating to say the least. The large
Victorian building was impressive
and extremely old. We were greeted by a very friendly man who turned out t
o 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 im
mediately;
he seemed kind and gentle, and he made me feel less nervous. Gary made it his job t
o 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. T
here was an old
woman with a white overcoat
standing over
a
large old cream stove situat
ed in the center of the kitchen.
She had a cigarette hanging from her
mouth with a long stem of ash that,
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 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 were
as follows:

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

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

3.) E
ach child must take their turn to serve dinner on
ce it has been prepared by the cook.

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

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

6.) Y
ou c
an make one phone call per week.

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

8.) Breakfast at 7:30 a.m.,
lunch at 1
2:30 p.m.,
dinner at 5
:00 p.m.,
and finally supper at
8:00 p.m.
followed by bed at 8.30
p.m.