My open letter to the nine-year-old boy who broke my heart this week - Christa Ackroyd

I wish I could tell you his name but I can’t. But he knows who he is. I can’t even tell you where he lives, apart from in a small, caring children’s home which looks after four young boys somewhere in West Yorkshire.

But I am not going to change his name to one he won’t recognise because I want him to know when he reads this it is about him and for him. So I will simply call him F. The fact he is in care is not his fault. But then it rarely is.

Yes it is true he didn’t go to school as often as he should. And yes it is true that when he did he didn’t work hard enough. I suspect no one close to him ever told him why he had to, no one he loved anyway. And you can’t blame a child for rebelling when they feel alone and scared. Now after a few short months F knows the importance of hard work.

And boy is he working hard. For the first time in his young life he believes in himself and his own abilities and he is soaring thanks to those he now lives with who believe in him too. And that as a child is all we ever need in life, to be loved, supported and believed in.

Now F is in school every day. He works hard and is achieving great things. And he is proud of that and of himself, bless his little heart.

The first thing he did when I went to see him this week was run to his bedroom and show me his essay about an imaginary dream he had of being a chariot racer. It was exceptional. The neatness of his writing, his use of words, the power of his imagination, his story telling and his message of hope and aspiration. He won the race of course.

And that tells me all I need to know that F now believes he can win in life too, although one line about being grounded by his father spoke volumes as well. I didn’t question him about it. Instead I read it out loud to him in my best newsreader’s voice which he thought was hilarious and told him it was superb and that I couldn’t have written anything as good as that at his age, yet now I write or appear on television for a living.

He seemed to enjoy that, though told me in no uncertain terms that wasn’t for him. Instead he wanted to work with horses. But he had Googled me when he knew I was coming and yes he knew all I told him was the truth. The truth matters to F and those like him.

I know my car disappointed F a little. He had been told I was coming to meet him and that I had been on television for many years. I think he expected a Ferrari. I promised him the next time I saw him I would try and do better.

He also asked me if I lived in a mansion. To which I replied of course I do. ‘I knew it’ , he said. And you can too, I told him. ‘I know that,’ he replied quick as a flash, ‘but I will have to work hard.’

F broke my heart this week but also restored my faith in the power of love. And of self preservation. For the same reason as to why I can’t identify him I also can’t tell you his family history. Nor would I. That is for him to process. I know he is proud to be part of a large family.

The first thing he did was to show me a photograph of his many brothers and sisters. But when I asked him how long he would be staying at the little house he now lives in he looked me in the eye and told me ‘a couple of years at least, I hope’ . To which he was assured he could stay as long as he wanted. He seemed reassured by that.

He insisted on showing me his bedroom, which was far from the typical bedroom of a nine year old boy, though the character duvet cover was there and the desk for the homework he is now proud to be doing.

Atypically it was as neat as a pin. His clothes, many of them new, were folded immaculately and put away. His bed was beautifully made. And his books neatly stacked. F likes books.

We talked about how you can escape into a book as I still do when he proudly showed me the little library on the landing as well as the grouting he had helped the maintenance man carry out in the new shower room and the dart board he had helped make in the games room.

This boy is not only clever, he is a doer. He has a great future ahead of him if he believes it. But also because despite where he has found himself he cares deeply and wants to please.

Shall I tell you how I met F ? Of course I went willingly at the request of a friend to meet a little boy at this critical stage in his young life. As one who was adopted I absolutely understood that. But I went not to help him, but because F was determined to help me.

That little boy (and his three pals) had been discussing that valuable lesson that there is always someone worse off than you. My friend had told him of the work I am proud to do on the streets feeding and supporting the homeless.

And I think they were shocked that some people had nowhere to call home. And so they began baking buns. Not just a tin full but dozens upon dozens. This week I took 100 buns all beautifully decorated with icing and edible stickers to our outreach.

F had made 50 of them and he showed me every one. And then you wonder why he at once broke my heart and filled it too. So F this week all these words are for you. Remember a kind heart is all you ever need. Our men and women, who do not have a bedroom like you do to call their own, loved your buns. In fact many of them had two.

But what they loved more was the fact that you and your friends had made them especially for them. Some of them even cried, but they were happy tears. And you did that. You made someone feel special as they ate your buns. Because you are a caring little boy who will have a great life because of your big heart.

And yes they do want more, so I will see you soon. Perhaps no one ever told you I was adopted. Perhaps no one ever told you I worried about what would happen to me and what place in life I would find for myself. But I did and I was never as clever as you.

And you will find that purpose too. It’s not going to be easy. But then can I be frank and tell you nothing worth having ever is.

So if you want to come with me and see some horses we will make that happen. If I have to borrow one I will turn up in a posher car than the one I normally drive. But you can be who you want to be, become all you should be, because of who you are inside and the faith we all have in you.

F you are a very special person. You know you have to keep working hard at school and at your new home. But you can do it. I am counting on you.

All we ever need in life is someone to believe in us. All we ever need in life is a purpose. The rest is window dressing.

So thank you F for reminding me of that.

Now where can I borrow a Ferrari ….. ?​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​