Her mother, step-father and brother have British passports. But because Candice Chesher has a South African natural father - who left her at ten months old - she faces deportation from her North Yorkshire home. Lindsay Jennings reports on her Home Office battle.

IT is just before 5pm in Aismunderby Road, Ripon, on a warmish October day. The kids from nearby houses are playing cricket in the cul-de-sac in between the parked cars. Two mothers stand chatting on a doorstep, babies asleep in their pushchairs.

The gate and fence leading up to the Chesher's front door is covered in wire protective mesh. The wire, as it turns out, is just there to keep the family's hyperactive border collie from bouncing into the road.

"She's only young at the moment so she'll hopefully calm down in a few months," smiles Karen Chesher somewhat ruefully as she grabs her excited pet's collar.

Inside the home, the family is gathered in the front room, dad Martin on the sofa, Alex, 15, on the computer, and 18-year-old Candice sitting in an armchair, legs curled up beneath her. Karen joins her husband on the sofa. There's is a typical British family, but one the Home Office is threatening to break up by deporting Candice to South Africa.

Candice, who was born in South Africa, was just ten months old when her natural father walked out on her mother, Karen. Candice hasn't seen or heard from him since.

Shortly after he left, Karen met Martin through their work at a furniture company. Their jobs came with a company car and a house in Pretoria in a secure compound, which was patrolled by security guards with guns. Martin, 43, had gone to South Africa from Nottingham in 1983 and Karen, 38, had moved to the country with her Irish-born parents.

But their lives were turned upside down when the furniture company went bankrupt and the Chesher's lost everything - their jobs, car, and house. After three months of being unable to find work, Martin flew to Britain with Alex to find work in November 2003.

"There's a lot of unemployment in South Africa, and I tried to get work but we were really struggling," says Martin.

"We came to North Yorkshire because my brother had been stationed here when he was in the Army and my mum and dad planned to retire here. I found work really quickly and Karen and Candice flew out a month later. We applied to the Home Office for leave to remain for Karen and Candice and we basically came back with what we could carry."

As Martin's son, Alex was entitled to a British passport, but because Candice had a South African father, she only had a South African passport. Karen had dual Irish/South African citizenship.

When they entered Britain, the family thought notifying the Home Office about Candice and Karen, who did not have an Irish passport at the time, would be a mere formality. So they were devastated when a letter informed them their leave to remain had been denied.

"I just presumed that being British born and bred my family would be entitled to be with me," says Martin.

'But our view is that we were a soft target. Because we went to the Home Office and said 'here we are' they've always been able to trace us. If we'd just come in and got on with our lives, I don't think they'd have been able to trace us. But we wanted to go through the proper channels."

By the time their case went to adjudication, Karen had been issued with an Irish passport, which left the Chesher's battling to keep their daughter in the country. They won the appeal when the adjudicators decided that it was wrong to split up the family, who have been together for most of Candice's life.

But, to their amazement, the Home Office launched a counter-appeal on an 'error of law', arguing that Candice had to go back to South Africa because her grandmother and uncle were there. The family argue that they have barely had contact for five years.

"My mother is a widow and is 60, she would not be able to support Candice, and my brother has three kids of his own under the age of eight to bring up and he's not going to be able to take a teenager," says Karen.

"They've even sent letters saying they wouldn't be able to take her."

Once in Britain but with little money, the family had to live with Martin's mum in Ripon -five of them in a two-bed bungalow - for seven months. Eventually, Karen found work as a cook at Morrisons in Ripon. Martin works for a plumbers' merchants.

In the meantime, the family had another adjudication date set for July 14 in Manchester. This time, the adjudicators refused their appeal.

"We'd been fighting it on our own because we thought it would be a matter of going through the paperwork and everything would be fine," says Karen. "But the appeal was refused straight away, and it sent us all into a panic. They said Candice would have to go back."

"I wrote back," says Martin, "saying you've made a mistake, she's my daughter I'm British, just let her stay. That's when we started the petition and got the media involved. Maybe I should have done it earlier... I just thought it would be a formality that they would let them in."

The family have now borrowed money to hire specialist immigration lawyers to help with their case. They have enlisted the backing of David Curry, the MP for Skipton and Ripon, who has written to Tony McNulty, the immigration minister asking him to intervene. The Cheshers are going to Downing Street tomorrow to hand in their 2,500 name petition to Tony Blair.

But any further legal challenges, such as the High Court or European Court of Human Rights, are expected to cost £10,000, and it is money they don't have. They are running out of options. Last Wednesday they were told by the Home Office they had "exhausted all their rights to appeal".

At the moment, Candice is not allowed to work or live in Britain, but was entitled to vote in the General Election, even though she had declared her South African citizenship on the electoral form.

"I voted for Tony Blair, can you believe it?" she says, her eyes widening with incredulity. "And family values are supposed to be important to him."

Candice is desperate to work with children, and has a placement lined up at a local nursery, but she fears she may not be able to take it up. She cannot cook or drive and has no qualifications.

'She's just a vulnerable child," says Martin. "I'm the only father that Candice has ever known."

Candice, sitting in her armchair and smoking a cigarette, nods her head in agreement.

"I don't call him by any other name but dad. I call him dad because that's what he is to me. I wouldn't even know what my natural father looks like."

Badger the border collie has bounded into the room again, a bundle of effervescent energy, before being ushered into the kitchen. Alex and his dad are planning to give the kitchen a make-over and Alex goes off to get the paint. They have managed to buy their semi-detached house in Ripon, but they don't know how long they will be able to keep it.

"I try not to think about it and focus my mind on other things," says Candice. "But I have nightmares of big men in suits pitching up on the doorstep and dragging me away or ending up living in a cardboard box in South Africa.

"I just want to work with children and to stay here with my family. I don't care if I'm not allowed to claim anything. I just want to get a job and make something of myself. Is that too much to ask?"