She endured the heartbreak of losing three babies before term. Nature had been cruel to Patsy Richardson-Flood. Or Whaea Patsy as she's known.

'I was destined never to be a mum. It was depressing.”

Then her father, a considered man of faith, stepped up and told her God had greater things in store for her. 'Something is going to happen in your life that will make up for those losses,” he told her.

That ‘something' was 15-year-old August Tiarah Kokiri. 'Don't know about August,” says the teenager, who was born in November. Possibly August, as in distinguished or eminent.

Regardless, just as her father had prophesied, August Tiarah was delivered through chance and need to Whaea Patsy. Whaea, a respectful term meaning aunty and applied to teachers. 'I had to fight back the tears,” says Whaea Patsy. 'It was a phenomenal, emotional moment for me.”

That from a feisty, no-nonsense Te Puke High schoolmarm. 'To know this young lady wanted to be with me is indescribable.”

'Yes, I love her.” And that from a typically reserved teenager August Tiarah Kokiri, known as Tiarah. 'Because she is kind. But that depends on whether you piss her off.”

And in a sense this teacher and pupil, this guardian and ward, have also become mother and daughter.

These stories seldom get told because the circumstances of young damaged lives are generally bound in privacy to protect them. But Whaea Patsy and Tiarah think their story should be shared and celebrated.

It has its origins in a class at Te Puke High three years ago. 'I overheard Tiarah telling someone she wouldn't be at school the next day because she was moving house… again.” The teacher asked the pupil where she was moving to and Tiarah said she didn't know. Tiarah was in Child, Youth and Family care and life was transient – from care to care, home to home.

'I decided that wasn't going to happen,” says Whaea Patsy. 'Tiarah needed some stability. So I told her she was coming home with me.”

'Really?” asked Tiarah. 'Really!” said the schoolteacher. There was a scramble. CYF arrived at school and the school councilor was summoned along with Tiarah and Whaea Patsy. 'They asked short-term or long-term and I said: 'As long as it takes'.”

Tiarah admits to being both nervous and scared. 'I didn't even know her.” But that afternoon after-school the teacher and the pupil drove home together. 'That was the day our paths crossed,” says Whaea Patsy. A maternal void had been filled, stability restored and the work began.

'I had bad eczema, really bad and I had nits, head lice. I was bullied because of it,” says Tiarah. She can talk about it now probably because her complexion is near perfect again and she boasts an enviable mane of lustrous, black hair. 'Whaea helped me.”

'It's what I would do for my daughter. I would fight for her,” says Whaea.

But there were difficulties because Tiarah was a young woman used to pleasing herself, coming and going as she wanted. 'Whaea was very strict.” Whaea by name and Whaea by nature.

Tiarah ran away twice. 'That was the old Tiarah, naughty with a bad attitude. I didn't have my new self then.”

Each time Whaea Patsy would track her down and CYFs would pick her up. 'Whaea invited me home but I got a good growling first. I deserved it.”

'I told Tiarah I would kick her butt. I also told her she could run away as often as she liked but she would be coming back because this is her home now.”

'You don't piss Whaea off,” says Tiarah. 'You don't hop on her bad side.” Then they would hug and move on to important things.