The Girl From Yesterday (29 page)

As can be gleaned from reading this book, I arrived in Garshaigh resolutely determined never to return to child protection work. I was full of doubts about my motivations, asking myself questions about the impact I had had on those who’d had me meddling in their lives, and sick of the pain I seemed to see everywhere I looked.

If you asked me twelve months ago whether or not I had stood by my decision, I probably would have proudly decreed that I had, but the truth is more complicated. I
have
continued to work with children, just in different ways. My teaching eventually morphed from childcare to specializing in sociology and psychology and finally onto child protection, and my journalism moved in the same direction – within two years I was the go-to person for several major newspapers if they wanted someone to write about a child protection issue.

But it was more than that. The Blaney case showed me that while I may not go looking for children who need help, they seem to find me. At any given time I will probably have at least one case on the go that I am involved with on a consultancy basis. This involvement is at many different levels: I have been asked to get involved with national and international committees on policy development, but I also assist in custody cases and help out with child protection issues in schools and crèches. I have worked on one or two cases that attracted worldwide attention in the press – some ended well, others did not, as is the nature of the work.

Do I still find myself upset by what I encounter? Every single day. And I am glad of it. When you come across a child who is hurting, and you don’t feel outraged by it, that is when you truly do need to do something else. I am in the lucky position that I can at least try to do something to help.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, this is a book about grief. Lonnie Whitmore was my friend. I have tried, over three books now, to paint a picture of what our relationship was like: we fought constantly, we competed daily and we could be unremittingly hard on one another. Yet he also knew me better than almost anyone, and could see through my bluster and bravado to the person I am beneath. He was often proud of my accomplishments when I could not even see that I had achieved anything at all. He met every day with a smile and a sense of optimism, and felt empathy for everyone he met, even those who treated him badly. It is only now, many years after he is gone, that I realize just how deeply his death affected me and how long it took me to come to terms with my loss.

This book is my goodbye to him.

He brought out what was best in me, and challenged me to strive to go beyond it. He asked for little in return, and met all of life’s obstacles with a smile.

This one is for you, Lonnie.