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meetings and training, I would then have paperwork to see to, and that took its toll on the amount of time I had left over for my own family. But no matter how much they resented missing out on some of my time, they never took it out on the foster children who shared our home. Somehow, they seemed to understand that these children had come from difficult backgrounds, and that they had had a rough start. In their own way, my children were sympathetic and did their best to make life a bit easier for whichever troubled child was living with us. It’s something I’ve noticed in other children besides my own – there is often a lot more understanding and empathy there than we would expect.

      Adrian and Paula have certainly had to put up with a lot over the years – particularly when my husband and I divorced – but they have never complained about all the troubled youngsters coming and going in their home. Over the years, we’ve experienced all types of children, most of whom have exhibited ‘challenging behaviour’. The majority of children who come to me have suffered from neglect of one sort or another, and funnily enough that is something I find relatively easy to understand. When parents have addictions to drink or drugs, or suffer from mental problems, they are obviously in no fit state to care for their children properly and look after their needs in a way they might be able to if they could overcome their problems. This kind of parenting is not purposefully cruel in the way that actual physical and sexual abuse is cruel – it is a sad side-effect of a different problem. The ideal outcome is that a child will be returned to its parents once the factors that caused the neglect, such as addiction, have been remedied.

      A child who has suffered from neglect will have had a miserable time and can arrive in my house in a very troubled state. They can be full of brashness and bravado, which is usually a disguise for a complete lack of self-esteem. They can often be out-and-out naughty, as a result of having no boundaries or parental guidance at home, and as a way of seeking attention. Their anger and resentment can stem from the unpredictable nature of life at home, where nothing was ever certain – would Mum be too drunk to function today? Would Dad be spaced out or violent? – and where the borders between who was the adult and who was the child, and who was caring for whom, were often blurred. They may try to destroy things, or steal, or be manipulative and self-seeking. And, to be honest, when you know what some of them have had to put up with in their short lives, who can blame them?

      The way that I’ve found is usually best with children from this kind of background is fairly simple: I provide stability and a positive environment in which good behaviour is rewarded with praise. Most children desire approval and want to be liked, and most are able to unlearn negative behaviour patterns and accept different ones when they realize how much better and easier life is with the new order. For many of them, a regular routine provides a blessed relief to the chaos and unpredictability of life at home, and they soon respond to a calm, positive environment where they know certain things will happen at certain times. Something as simple as knowing for sure when and where the next meal is coming from can provide an anchor for troubled children who’ve only ever known uncertainty and disappointment. Routine is safe; it is possible to get things right inside a routine – and getting things right is lovely when it means being praised, approved of and rewarded.

      Of course, simple as it may sound, it is never easy and straightforward. And sometimes children come to me who’ve suffered much more severe levels of abuse, and who need much more professional help to get through their experiences. Many have learning difficulties and special needs. Some are removed from home too late, when they’re teenagers and have suffered so much that they are never able to get over what has happened; they’re not able to respond to a positive environment in the way a younger child might, and their futures look a lot bleaker.

      Nevertheless, almost all my fostering experiences have been good ones, and the child has left our home in a better place than when they arrived.

      As I drove home from the meeting at Social Services that day having agreed to take on Jodie, I knew that this child might be more of a handful than most, and wondered how best to tell the children about our new addition. They wouldn’t be best pleased. We’d had children before with ‘challenging behaviour’, so they knew what was in store. I thought of Lucy, who’d been with us for nearly two years, and was very well settled. I hoped Jodie’s disturbed outbursts wouldn’t set her back. Adrian, at seventeen, kept pretty much to himself, unless there was a crisis, or he couldn’t find his shirt in the morning. It was Paula I was most worried about. She was a sensitive, nervous child, and even though Jodie was five years younger than her, there was a risk she could be intimidated. Emotionally damaged children can wreak havoc in a family, even a well-integrated one. My children had always reacted well to the other children who had joined our family, even though we’d had a few rocky times, and I had no reason to think that this time would be any different.

      I suspected the children wouldn’t be surprised by my news. It had been a few weeks since our last foster child had left, so it was time for a new challenge. I usually took a break of a couple of weeks between placements, to refresh myself mentally and physically, and give everyone time to regroup. I also needed to recover from the sadness of saying goodbye to someone I’d become close to; even when a child leaves on a high note, having made excellent progress and perhaps returning home to parents who are now able to provide a loving and caring environment, there is still a period when I mourn their going. It’s a mini-bereavement and something I have never got used to even though, a week or two later, I’d be revved up and ready to go again.

      I decided to raise the subject of Jodie over dinner, which was where most of our discussions took place. Although I consider myself liberal, I do insist that the family eat together in the evenings and at weekends, as it’s the only part of the day when we’re all together.

      For dinner that night I served shepherd’s pie, which was the children’s favourite. As they tucked in, I adjusted my voice to a light and relaxed tone.

      ‘You remember I mentioned I was going to a pre-placement meeting today?’ I said, aware they probably wouldn’t remember, because no one had been listening when I’d said it. ‘They told me all about a little girl who needs a home. Well, I’ve agreed to take her. She’s called Jodie and she’s eight.’

      I glanced round the table for a reaction, but there was barely a flicker. They were busy eating. Even so, I knew they were listening.

      ‘I’m afraid she’s had a rough start and a lot of moves, so she’s very unsettled. She’s had a terrible home life and she’s already had some foster carers. Now they’re thinking of sending her to a residential unit if they can’t find someone to take her in, and you can imagine how horrible that would be for her. You know – a children’s home,’ I added, labouring the point.

      Lucy and Paula looked up, and I smiled bravely.

      ‘Like me,’ said Lucy innocently. She had moved around a lot before she finally settled down with us, so she knew all about the disruption of moving.

      ‘No. Your moves were because of your relatives not being able to look after you. It had nothing to do with your behaviour.’ I paused, wondering if the discreet message had been picked up. It had.

      ‘What’s she done?’ Adrian growled, in his newly developed masculine voice.

      ‘Well, she has tantrums, and breaks things when she’s upset. But she’s still young, and I’m sure if we all pull together we’ll be able to turn her around.’

      ‘Is she seeing her mum?’ asked Paula, her eyes wide, imagining what for her would be the worst-case scenario: a child not seeing her mother.

      ‘Yes, and her dad. It will be supervised contact twice a week at the Social Services.’

      ‘When is she coming?’ asked Lucy.

      ‘Tomorrow morning.’

      They all glanced at me and then at each other. Tomorrow there would be a new member of the family and, from the sounds of it, not an easy one either. I knew it must be unsettling.

      ‘Don’t worry,’ I reassured them. ‘I’m sure she’ll be fine.’ I realized I’d better be quick, as once dinner was over they’d vanish to their rooms, so I cut straight to

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