'Things seem bleak and lonely at the moment, without hope, but we shall do everything we can to help make those feelings better. If you'll let us and work with us.' The fifteen-year-old wiped the back of her hand across her face, smudging her already running mascara. 'I don't know.' Ginger handed her another tissue and watched as the girl shredded it in her lap, her dark eyes awash with misery. She never failed to be moved by the stories of pain and despair the young people who came to her confided. It was up to her to change that, to give them new hope for a brighter future. Not that it was easy. It wasn't. Far from it. The kids were often misunderstood, angry, frightened, reserved, anxious, even rude and aggressive, but they had in common a desperate need to be helped and cared about. Ginger refused to let them down, and her growing list of success stories uplifted her patients and colleagues alike, and kept them going despite the odds. The sight of the young girl and the knowledge of the importance of the job confirmed once more she had done the right thing by walking away from Cameron in London four days ago.
