Triumph Over Adversity 3-in-1 Collection. Casey Watson

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СКАЧАТЬ throwing a ‘Be good, Imogen’ back towards us by way of a goodbye.

      I’d already decided to skip my usual half-hour in the staffroom and as we were in school so early – there were still ten minutes to go till the bell went – take the opportunity to acclimatise Imogen to her new surroundings before the other children all came crashing in.

      ‘Come on,’ I told her now, beckoning her towards the doors to the main corridor. ‘Follow me.’

      She seemed reluctant to make eye contact, but fell into step with me, chin very firmly on chest. But not before I could see the strange blank expression that had now taken over her face. It really was mask-like; as if, now Nan had gone, a shutter had come down. It made the silence between us feel even more uncomfortable.

      I chatted as we walked, trying to fill it. I told her about my own children, and how I would have been in school before her and her Nan were, had it not been for my daughter Riley and her scattiness in the mornings and how this particular morning she’d had us all in a spin, rushing around trying to find her a pair of her ‘stupid’ tights. I kept glancing at Imogen as I spoke, but it wasn’t clear that she was even listening, since there was no response at all.

      ‘There are going to be five other children joining us in a bit,’ I went on. ‘Three boys, two other girls – and they’re all looking forward to meeting you. I think you’ll like them – particularly the girls, Molly and Shona. They’re a little younger than you – Shona’s in year 8 but Molly’s still in year 7 – and they’re both lovely girls.’

      The walk wasn’t a long one, but it seemed so. It was a strange business, inanely chirping away to a girl who seemed not to want to listen or respond. And I wondered – what was going through her head right now? Still, my research had told me that this was the right thing to do – just keep on talking, even if it was into a void. And that, I thought, as we reached my classroom, I was good at.

      ‘Here we are!’ I said, as we approached the door. ‘My little kingdom!’

      It was something to see, too – a proper work of art. In contrast to every other classroom door in the school, mine was highly decorated; covered, top to bottom, in daffodils and daisies, all painted by various children who had passed through it and all cut out and covered in sticky-back plastic, in traditional Blue Peter style. A work of art in its own right, everyone in school commented on it, and I was pleased to see it prompt a reaction. No, not in words, but Imogen did seem to do a bit of a double-take on seeing it.

      ‘We’ll have to get you to paint a flower for it, too, eh?’ I told her as I unlocked it. I laughed. ‘I think there’s just about room!’

      Again, there was almost nothing in the way of a response, and it was an equally odd business trying to do my usual welcome spiel. I ushered Imogen to a seat, and as I proceeded to point out the various aspects of the classroom I felt increasingly like an air hostess – one who was trying to keep the attention of my single indifferent passenger, who only glanced up occasionally and apparently indifferently.

      ‘And that door there,’ I said, once I’d run through all the basic whats and wheres, ‘is the emergency exit, as you can see, but we often take a table or two out there if the weather is nice. Might do today, in fact. We’ll see …’

      It was hard work, but just as I was wondering if I should next show her the brace position, I was rescued by the arrival of Henry.

      ‘Morning, Miss!’ he said brightly, grinning widely at the pair of us.

      ‘I’m Henry,’ he told Imogen with a confident can-do air. ‘I came in early so I could check you were here. What’s your name again?’

      Meeting his eye now, Imogen seemed to physically shrink. Down went the head onto the chest, too.

      ‘Her name is Imogen,’ I reminded him. ‘Imogen, Henry is our oldest. In fact he’s your age, and he kind of helps me out, don’t you, Henry? With some of the younger ones.’

      I watched Henry swell with pride. ‘Yeah, I do,’ he confirmed. ‘I make sure they don’t mess about too much for Miss. An’ I told them they gotta be all right with you, too. So they will be, okay?’

      There was no response to this from Imogen, so I supplied one for her. ‘Thanks, Henry,’ I told him. ‘And you’re right. I’m sure they will be. Now, shall we get some drinks made before the others get here?’

      Henry moved towards my little corner and grabbed the kettle so he could fill it for me. I was so impressed with him; was this the same boy who was an inch from exclusion? Maybe stewarding Imogen would be really good for him. ‘Hot chocolate?’ I asked Imogen. ‘That’s how we tend to start the day here. With a nice cup of hot chocolate and a biscuit.’

      She glanced up and I noticed her gaze flutter up towards me. And was I mistaken or was that the trace of a smile? It was something, at any rate. Something we could build on. Perhaps we might be able to communicate after all. Right now, though, I took it as evidence that she would indeed like a hot chocolate, so I joined Henry and set about arranging all the plastic cups, plus my mug, ready for my next cup of coffee.

      I’d done well with my hot-chocolate stash, which I’d shamelessly blagged not long after I’d arrived in the school. There was a drinks vending machine in the sixth-form block, and a man came every month to fill it, and one day, by chance, we’d met along one of the corridors and had fallen into conversation. I’d told him about how several of my kids came into school hungry and thirsty, and he’d told me about how a small proportion of the drinks had torn sleeves and couldn’t go into the machines he serviced. They were usually thrown away, too. Would I like them?

      It was a match made in heaven. I got a new supply of hot chocolate once a month, and he got a free cup of tea before he left and, more often than not, a biscuit as well.

      It was a full ten minutes before the other kids arrived, and they were long ones, Imogen silently sipping her drink and Henry sneaking peeks at her as he did likewise. After his initial chattiness he didn’t seem to know quite what to do now, and kept glancing towards the door, hoping for reinforcements. I think we were both relieved when a rumble in the corridor bore fruit and the other four kids came bowling in, Shona and Molly arm in arm as per usual, and Ben and Gavin doing their usual pushing and shoving.

      ‘Ah,’ I said, ‘here’s the rest of our little group, Imogen. Right,’ I told them, ‘come on in and take your seats everyone, and let’s get this party started.’

      I made quick introductions as I prepared chocolate for the rest, and told the girls to go and sit at Imogen’s table. Today, with even numbers, we’d have a boys’ group and a girls’ group – for this morning’s activity, at any rate. I also got out the biscuits, eyeing Ben as I always did. Ben, I knew, was one of the kids who never got breakfast, as his dad worked shifts and would be asleep when he’d left for school. I’d once asked him if he could maybe grab some toast to see him through, but his response was that there wasn’t often any bread.

      I couldn’t think of Ben without feeling a sharp pang of sympathy, and today was no different. I glanced at him now, yawning away, looking as if he’d just tumbled out of bed fully clothed. His off-white shirt, unironed and crumpled, had its two bottom buttons missing, and was only half tucked into his grubby school trousers. He didn’t have a school jumper, and when I’d asked him about that he’d told me it was because his dad didn’t think it was worth spending the money as he’d probably be excluded soon and would be off to a different school.

      ‘You can have one of СКАЧАТЬ