4

Continued from previous months; if you want to read them first,
click [July] [August][September]

The keys rattled and the door opened. A tall, skinny, stone-faced woman let us in. She didn’t seem to be any keener on the social worker than I was and made it pretty plain she ought to shove off fast. She didn’t need much persuading, believe me. She obviously thought she was better off the other side of that locked door. For once I wished I was going with her.

After checking my name, it was down to the Admission Room. This time it was a tall, large, stone-faced woman in a nurse’s uniform waiting for me. She told me to take everything off and go and have a bath. I tried to explain that I had just had one before I left the Grange. The staff on duty there seemed to think it was very important that I turned up at the lock-up clean.

But Big Nurse was having none of this. “A bath is part of our Admissions Procedure, dear”. (Have you ever noticed that when somebody says “dear” with a tight mouth and hard eyes it makes the hairs on your arm stand up ? Mine were waving about like flags.)The bath was in a sort of cubicle, so I shut the door, ran the water and then sloshed about in it with my hands. It was a small victory, but I felt I had to fight back, or go under.

A lot of my kit was bagged up by the time I came out of the bathroom and just a few tops and my one skirt were left out. Some big knickers had turned up from somewhere – “More suitable, dear” - and some thick socks and some of those old fashioned black plimsolls.

Later I found out we all had to wear them ‘cos if you got into a ruck with the staff it hurt you more than it did them when you kicked them. After a few days with them on in the summer I never passed up on the chance of a bath again.

Out of a cupboard Big Nurse got another skirt that looked like some school swot had worn ten years ago. No point in trying to explain I only wore trousers because of the scars on my legs, from one of Mum’s glass smashing trips. “We all wear skirts here, dear”. The thing that really made me want to spew up was that none of the things - even the big knickers - looked new. I started to ask the tall skinny one if she would wear somebody else’s knickers, but I decided she probably wore boxer shorts anyway. Perhaps the girls at the Grange had been right about all the staff here being lezzies. Instead, I asked about seeing my Mum. She gave a thin smile, well at least her lips parted a bit. “No chance dear”.

Then it was up to the unit, a living room, dining room, bathrooms, toilets and bedrooms. It looked like I’d just missed lunch, but a friendly faced old bat gave me a sandwich and a biscuit out of her own lunch box. She sat by me while I ate and told me some of the things I needed to know. The tall skinny one downstairs had been explaining the rules and sanctions to me during the Admission Process, but could you concentrate, wondering who had last been in the knickers you’ve got on?

The friendly old bat said it would soon be time to go outside, or to go to school. I thought she must be battier than I first thought, but no, a bunch of staff turned up and marched off with some to the classrooms and the rest of us shuffled outside. There was a sort of tennis court, with a wire cage thing all round it. We had to run around for a bit with a netball, but there was only one goal post, so nothing to get too excited about.

Then one of the girls threw the ball and hit the bloke in charge for the afternoon. Caught him right on the nose – plenty to aim at if you ask me, only truly she wasn’t aiming; it was a real accident. He went purple and we all went in before you could shout “Goal”’. He was nagging and pushing her about all the way back upstairs. Some of us stood up for her and told him it was an accident and by then he was gibbering as well as purple. Before you could think what your own name was he had started a fight with about four of us. It ended with two of us in the isolation rooms – cells really – a mattress on a concrete block, tiny barred window, plastic bucket in the corner and great big heavy door that clanged shut.

I had plenty of time to look at the ceiling, and the floor, and the walls, and wonder about Mum and wish we were a normal family.

Soon after that, there was a meeting about me and because of my “violent and uncontrollable behaviour” it was decided that the new secure unit next door would be more appropriate…… Actually, although there were lots of rules and regulations in many ways, it was better in there than at the Grange or any of the other doss holes they call children’s homes and remember, I had seen a few by now.

Because there was absolutely no chance of running away, everybody in the Secure seemed more relaxed in a funny kind of way. Even the staff were nicer and they were usually kind. For one thing, all the staff worked there all the time and there were none from any of the agencies. You knew when you went to bed who would be getting you up and that you would get fed properly and get to watch some of the soaps in peace, without a fight over the remote control.

Of course we used to moan about it being like a boot camp because we went in the gym two or three times a day, but not outside in the tennis cage. I got quite good at badminton and even started to enjoy circuit training. I also went to school every day. At first I was dead embarrassed because it was so long since I had been to school and I was sure I was going to get showed up.

So I did the usual – flounced in, scowled, pushed the chairs about, flopped down, folded my arms and told the teacher I wasn’t going to do nothin’. She said she was glad because that meant I must be going to do something. I scowled and she laughed and I turned round to the table ready to work. I had a load of tests so that she could see what level I was at. She made sure that nobody knew what anybody else was doing, so nobody could be flash, nor get picked on for being divvy.

Next day she came in early and asked if I could go into the classroom with her. She went through the test stuff with me and talked about what I could do for the next few months. She seemed really keen and even suggested that I could do some exams.

It all went well for a bit until one day out of the blue somebody said something and I went off on one in the classroom. Books, papers, chairs. Strange thing was, the chairs bounced off the windows – unbreakable plastic apparently. The bad thing was that one of the bouncing chairs hit the teacher.

I thought I was really for it this time. The care staff came in and hauled me off to my room. More time to look at the floor, the ceiling, the crack in the wall and wish we were a normal family. What really bugged me was not knowing when it was going to happen and not being able to stop it. Suddenly there would be this voice shouting and screaming, sounding just like my Mum.

Next morning that teacher was back early and asked to see me in the classroom. I didn’t know where to look when I saw the bruises on her arms and legs. She asked me ever so nicely about what she called “these episodes”. When did they start, how often did they happen, what started them? She said she had been thinking about me looking back through my files and thought there was a pattern. She asked about my periods - shameful or what? Then she started telling me about something called pre-menstrual tension.

Suddenly, it all made sense. The times when I had found myself shouting and carrying on for the slightest thing, lashing out for no good reason, messing up time and again.

Anyway, we agreed I would see the doctor and start to keep a chart of my periods and the outbursts.

I started to cry and I remember seeing the tears splashing onto the grey, shiny floor of the classroom. The teacher asked me why I was crying. At last I felt I could tell somebody. I had been thinking that I was going to be like my mother, on pills and in and out of mental hospital. Now it might be something simple that the teacher said could be made better.

So finally, after the doctor helped me to get sorted and I had gone for months without any violent outbursts, there was another case conference. Only this time I could join in sensibly and so it was with me, not just about me. They found me a decent place to stay, which would support me to do some exams and then prepare me to look after myself.

I had finally realised that Mum was never going to keep it together for us to live together and I had to find my own way. I decided that I might not have had a normal family so far, but now I could do my best if I ever had any children.

So although I had loads to look forward to, I was still trying not to cry as the key turned in the lock at High Trees.

Two tourists were driving through Wales. At Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwll Llantysiliogogogoch, they stopped for lunch and one tourist asked the waitress "Before we order, could you please settle an argument for us? Would you please pronounce where we are - very slowly?"
The girl leaned over and said "Burrr - gurrr - King"