Kate Maryon - Invisible Girl

For Dawne, Susie, Susannah, Rachel, Helen,

Emma, Becky and Clea…

May we dance in this glorious fire of tea-drinking, wine-sipping, heart-sharing friendship until our old bones return to dust and all that laughter and all those tears are heard as Love, echoing through the glittering hallways of eternity. X

For Mathilda, Freddie and Ella…

For your truly wonderful dads, Mike and Pete, you touch my heart with your enthusiasm and generosity – thank you both so much. x

Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Foreword by Andy McCullough Foreword by Andy McCullough – Head of Policy for the charity Railway Children You may be surprised to know 100,000 children in the UK run away from home or care every year. Many are thrown out, no longer wanted in the family. The majority of children say family problems and issues are the main reason for them running. Often when you end up running away you feel you have got rid of your problems; however, you usually substitute them for other problems. Being out on the streets is lonely, cold and really dangerous. We know that there are always people who will exploit young people and use them for profit and power. I have worked in the field of social care for over twenty-seven years, but some of my training was as a child myself, spending a lot of time on the streets, having run away. I met a lot of good people whilst out there, people who had grown up in care, been kicked out by their family or had become detached, but always, like a dark shadow, there were people who wanted to use you to make sure they were better off. Gabriella’s story is an important one to hear. Who knows, it may make you think a little differently when you pass a child on the streets… Railway Children is a registered charity, no.1058991 Visit www.railwaychildren.org.uk

Then Most days drift by like clouds. Others burn deep into your life and make a blister, like a bright white moon in a black night sky. And you’re left wondering, forever. Then, I might as well have been invisible for all Dad and Amy cared. They’d been busy making massive decisions about my life without even thinking about me, or bothering about how I might feel. They’d obviously been plotting and planning for weeks, whispering under the covers at night, painting the walls of our flat with lies. The day had been creeping towards me like a tiger in the dark with its amber eyes glinting, for ages. The shouting had been getting worse. Dad had started spending more and more money we didn’t have. He’d broken his promise and started using credit cards again, to keep Amy happy. But it didn’t work. Amy just got madder and madder, her screeching making her face flush pink and her lips turn white with rage. What’s strange is that the day it actually happened everything seemed so normal. Dad ignored me, his eyes glued to Daybreak on the telly and Amy hogged the bathroom for so long I thought I was going to wet myself. In the end I couldn’t wait any longer, so I picked up my bag and raced off to school with a piece of toast and jam between my teeth without even saying goodbye. If I’d known I was never going to sleep in my bed again or sit on our sofa or lie in our bath under the bubbles, I might’ve snuggled down in the warm a bit longer, soaked up that feeling of home. I might have given Dad a kiss, begged him to change his mind; at least I could’ve asked him why. I’d definitely have grabbed more toast. Toast would’ve been good because I had no idea how hungry I’d get, or how cold. The most annoying thing though, apart from what Dad did, is that he didn’t put my little photo of Beckett with the letter. I hadn’t seen or heard from Beckett or Mum for seven years, nothing at all since the day they left. So not having the photo made everything so much harder.

Chapter 1 - When Amy arrived

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 - When that happened

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12 - A while ago

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24 - One week ago

Chapter 25

Chapter 26 - Now

Acknowledgements

Afterword by John Bird

An Excerpt from A Sea of Stars

An Excerpt from A Million Angels

An Excerpt from Glitter

An Excerpt from Shine

About the Author

Also by Kate Maryon

Copyright

About the Publisher

Foreword by Andy McCullough – Head of Policy for the charity Railway Children

You may be surprised to know 100,000 children in the UK run away from home or care every year. Many are thrown out, no longer wanted in the family. The majority of children say family problems and issues are the main reason for them running.

Often when you end up running away you feel you have got rid of your problems; however, you usually substitute them for other problems. Being out on the streets is lonely, cold and really dangerous. We know that there are always people who will exploit young people and use them for profit and power.

I have worked in the field of social care for over twenty-seven years, but some of my training was as a child myself, spending a lot of time on the streets, having run away. I met a lot of good people whilst out there, people who had grown up in care, been kicked out by their family or had become detached, but always, like a dark shadow, there were people who wanted to use you to make sure they were better off.

Gabriella’s story is an important one to hear. Who knows, it may make you think a little differently when you pass a child on the streets…

Railway Children is a registered charity, no.1058991

Visit www.railwaychildren.org.uk

Most days drift by like clouds. Others burn deep into your life and make a blister, like a bright white moon in a black night sky.

And you’re left wondering, forever.

Then, I might as well have been invisible for all Dad and Amy cared. They’d been busy making massive decisions about my life without even thinking about me, or bothering about how I might feel. They’d obviously been plotting and planning for weeks, whispering under the covers at night, painting the walls of our flat with lies.

The day had been creeping towards me like a tiger in the dark with its amber eyes glinting, for ages. The shouting had been getting worse. Dad had started spending more and more money we didn’t have. He’d broken his promise and started using credit cards again, to keep Amy happy. But it didn’t work. Amy just got madder and madder, her screeching making her face flush pink and her lips turn white with rage.

What’s strange is that the day it actually happened everything seemed so normal. Dad ignored me, his eyes glued to Daybreak on the telly and Amy hogged the bathroom for so long I thought I was going to wet myself. In the end I couldn’t wait any longer, so I picked up my bag and raced off to school with a piece of toast and jam between my teeth without even saying goodbye.

If I’d known I was never going to sleep in my bed again or sit on our sofa or lie in our bath under the bubbles, I might’ve snuggled down in the warm a bit longer, soaked up that feeling of home. I might have given Dad a kiss, begged him to change his mind; at least I could’ve asked him why. I’d definitely have grabbed more toast.

Toast would’ve been good because I had no idea how hungry I’d get, or how cold.

The most annoying thing though, apart from what Dad did, is that he didn’t put my little photo of Beckett with the letter. I hadn’t seen or heard from Beckett or Mum for seven years, nothing at all since the day they left. So not having the photo made everything so much harder.