Who cares for the kinship carers?

From my perspective it was a no brainer. I could help, therefore I would.

She moved in two months ago, which apparently qualifies me as a member of the forgotten army of carers. Forgotten by the Government that is. An estimated 200,000 grandparent carers save local authorities millions of pounds a year by keeping children out of foster and residential care. This month the Grandparents Plus charity lobbied Parliament with the message that while a family member is often best able to provide a loving home for a child who needs support, these surrogate parents deserve to have the financial and practical support that is available to foster parents, and in many cases they need it. One in three does not even receive child benefit.

No one knows how many more informal arrangements are made by families to care for children who would otherwise need local authority support. The cost of keeping a child in the care system is £40,000 a year. Aunts, uncles, older siblings and godparents do it for nothing, and provide a more stable life for the children they take in than the care system, says Sam Smethers, chief executive of Grandparents Plus.

“We know that children prefer to stay with family and friends as carers,” she says. “They’re not moved around as much as they are in foster care, they’re more likely to stay within the local community and the outcome is at least as good. But there’s no support for kinship carers, who may be dealing with a child having nightmares, a child with behavioural issues, or might have to tell a child his or her mum has overdosed on heroin. A foster parent would have training, access to counselling for the children as well as financial support.

“Kinship carers are often scared to admit that they’ve got a problem because they’re worried the child might be taken from them. When they do ask for support there’s no guarantee that anyone’s going to listen. No one is taking responsibility for supporting them.”

I’m fortunate to be able to meet the cost of supporting my niece and I’m lucky that Bella has made it clear that she appreciates being able to live with me. She likes the calm that enables her to study, she likes the reliability of the routine and I don’t mind the extra shopping and cooking because that way I can shovel protein, fruit and veg into her and stop her living on pizza and crisps. And if she prefers The X Factor to cleaning the kitchen, I don’t think she’s unusual.

If, as Bella hopes, she does become a doctor she will need to show confidence and I hope that by the time she starts seeking jobs there will be nothing in her way. Bella has been neglected and has felt isolated, and while she knew that I was on the end of a phone, she had become withdrawn and silent. Her teachers were worried about her, not least because she had no friends.

I can’t offer her peer friendship, but I can show that I enjoy her company, that I’m interested in her. Now, sitting over our supper of griddled salmon and roast tomatoes, she is becoming more comfortable talking about herself, learning to articulate how she feels. She knows that I care and that must be preferable to feeling lonely in a household that revolves around dysfunctional adults.

It’s a new experience for her to live in a house that is clean and that isn’t negotiable. But I have promised not to interfere when she covers her bedroom floor with clothes and books. While I find myself more relaxed about a bit of mess than I ever was, she is more respectful than I had hoped. These are life lessons for both of us, I suppose. Occasionally, infuriated by a working day, I’d like to slob out with a bottle of wine and a sack of Kettle chips, but because Bella’s around that would be embarrassing. So I don’t. It’s hardly a sacrifice. People seem to think I’m doing something remarkable. I don’t see it that way. I enjoy watching her grow. Blood is a powerful force, and for as long as she wants me, I’m here.

The names have been changed

I had the love that he needed

Beverley Xavier is 44 and lives in Maldon in Essex. She started caring for her nephew Liam when he was 5. He is now 14.

I was at work when I got an urgent call. It was a social worker saying that Liam’s mother could no longer cope with him and she wanted him taken away. They asked if I’d have him. It would be, they said, only for six weeks. That was more than eight years ago and I’ve had him ever since.

When he arrived he was a very angry, frightened little boy. He couldn’t sleep in a room alone: he had nightmares and he always slept with the light on. He hadn’t suffered from physical abuse in his birth family but from emotional abuse: there had been other step-siblings who were always more favoured than Liam.

I’d never had or wanted children so I was forever phoning friends and asking advice. I’d give him lots of kisses and cuddles to show that he was loved; I always talked and listened to him and I’d always be home for when he got in from school. I tried to put him first and slowly things turned around.

It affected my work hugely. Initially I went part-time, then I resigned: I couldn’t balance work and caring for Liam. While I wasn’t working we were supported by the fostering allowance. Money was certainly tight but it was enough. Now he is more independent I’ve gone back to work part-time.

With my job and my friends, I thought I had a busy and fulfilled life but despite all that, I was lonely. I had all this love to give and Liam needed it. Now I don’t know what I’d do without him.

We had to fight for support

Becki Josiah is 41 and lives in East London. She and her husband Aubrey, 40, began caring for their great-nephew Jaidon when he was seven and a half weeks. He is now 6.

One day, we were phoned by social services, told that our great-nephew was going into care and asked if we would have him. Apparently, we were the only ones to help: the father’s birth family was unknown and his grandmother was deemed not suitable to look after him. So unless we stepped in, this seven-week-old baby would be going into the care system. Of course, we took him.

He was very thin. His birth mother hadn’t been feeding him — not because she was on drugs, but because she couldn’t be bothered. There were also concerns about her physical handling of him.

He was an almost pathologically hungry child, feeding as much as he could every hour. The cost of all that food was huge. We also had to buy him everything he needed, from clothes to cot to food, as his birth mother had often lost his things.

It was a shock having another baby in the house. Our own children were a little more grown up. My husband and I were enjoying our new freedom and I had a good full-time job. The baby changed all that. It isn’t possible to get up and go to work at 6am when you have a tiny baby and I was utterly exhausted the whole time. So I resigned.

Financially, we struggled a great deal. In the beginning it was costing hundreds upon hundreds of pounds every month.

I asked for more money, but I was initially told that I couldn’t have any. I explained that it was financially difficult for us, at which point they asked whether I was questioning my commitment to the placement. The implication was that he would be taken away and put into care. Eventually I did manage to get an allowance out of the local authority and it was enough, but I had to fight for it.

People could have done more to help us; I felt that what help is given is focused entirely on the birth mother, which is good as she is going through a lot. But as a carer you are being plunged into a world that you don’t understand. In many ways and at many times it has been difficult.

But we would never be without Jaidon. He’s a lovely, funny little boy; he’s a joy and he’s our son.

Interviews by Catherine Nixey

Where to get help

The British Association for Adoption and Fostering supports those dealing with children in care: baaf.co.uk

The Family Rights Group gives advice to parents and family members whose children are involved with social services: frg.org.uk

Grandparents Plus champions the role of grandparents in children’s lives: grandparentsplus.org.uk