Cruel to Be Kind. Cathy Glass

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ I reassured her. ‘He ate a good dinner, had a bath and is now in bed asleep.’

      ‘So I can’t speak to him if he’s asleep.’

      ‘I’d rather not wake him, if you don’t mind. I’m sorry. It was getting late and with school tomorrow I thought he should go to bed.’ In fairness to Caz, she had a right to be annoyed; she’d been expecting Max to phone her and due to a breakdown in communication, he hadn’t. I was now expecting a rant, but she said, ‘OK. Tell him I phoned. Goodbye.’ And the line went dead.

      A little unsettled and concerned that we hadn’t got off to the best start – again – I picked up my pen and finished writing my log notes. Then I read the essential information forms, noting where Max’s school was. A little before ten-thirty I returned the folder to the locked drawer in the front room, put Toscha to bed and went up myself. I checked on the children, who were all asleep, and then washed and changed and got into bed, leaving my bedroom door open so I could hear the children if they woke.

      I never sleep well when there is a new child in the house. I’m half listening out in case they wake, frightened, not knowing where they are and needing reassurance. With Max there was the added worry that he might need his inhaler in the night. He hadn’t needed it all evening so I was hopeful he’d have a good night. I’m a light sleeper and would hear him if he was restless. His inhaler was in his school bag in the hall and I could easily pop down and get it if it was needed. Jo was going to find out more about Max’s condition and the directions his mother had been given regarding when the inhaler was to be used. If his mother had stayed on the line a little longer and had been less hostile, I could have discussed it with her. In the meantime I would use my judgement and common sense. All foster carers have first-aid training and I’d fostered children before who’d arrived with inhalers.

      During the night I was repeatedly woken by Max, not because he was frightened or needed his inhaler, but because of his snoring. I’d never heard a child snore so loudly. In the still of the night, with the bedroom doors open, it echoed along the landing, creating a rhythm of its own. Beginning with some snorts and grunts, it rose with each breath to a crescendo, and then there was a short silence before it began again. I was so concerned he would wake Adrian and Paula that I closed their bedroom doors. Each time I went into Max’s room he was flat on his back, fast asleep, mouth open and snoring heavily through his nose, although his chest sounded clear. He wasn’t too hot and the room was well ventilated, so there was nothing I could do. If I tried to move him onto his side, which might have helped, I ran the risk of waking him with a start. I knew that snoring could be linked to a number of medical conditions and I would raise it with Jo when we next spoke.

      At six o’clock, with very little sleep, I was out of bed earlier than usual to begin our new school routine. I showered and dressed, brewed coffee, fed Toscha and let her out for a run. Then at seven o’clock I returned upstairs to wake the children.

      ‘Did you hear Max snoring?’ Adrian asked me as soon as he was awake. His room was right next door to Max’s.

      ‘Yes. I hoped you hadn’t been disturbed,’ I said, concerned.

      ‘It’s OK. I wondered what it was to begin with, but when I realized it was Max snoring I went back to sleep.’

      ‘Good.’

      Paula didn’t appear to have heard anything, and when I asked Max if he’d slept well, he said, ‘Yes. It’s quiet in this house, like you said.’ Not for me, I thought.

      ‘Do you know you snore?’ I asked him lightly as I placed his freshly laundered clothes on his bed.

      ‘Yes. My sisters say they need earplugs.’

      I smiled and left it at that. There was nothing Max could do about his snoring, and I didn’t want him to feel embarrassed by it. I asked him if he needed any help dressing, although I was pretty sure he didn’t, as he seemed to have good self-care skills. However, children can panic in an unfamiliar setting if they are asked to do something they are not capable of. It’s a horrible feeling and one I can remember from being a small child at school. I’d been asked by my teacher to deliver a message to a teacher in another classroom. This was a responsibility coveted by the class and I felt proud to have been chosen. But once outside the classroom I realized I didn’t know where the other teacher’s room was and I panicked. Instead of going back into the classroom and asking where I had to go (and feeling a bit of a fool), I began wandering around the two-storey building, hoping I would stumble across the correct classroom. I didn’t, and I must have been gone for a long time, for eventually two other children from my class were sent to find me, and they then helped me deliver the message. Of course I felt silly and self-conscious when I returned to the classroom, as everyone knew I’d got lost. With this in mind, I never assume a child can do something or knows something, even if it is obvious, until I am certain they are up to the task. We all acquire skills at different rates and it’s crushing to have one’s lack of knowledge highlighted through failure.

      As it was, Max confirmed he didn’t need help dressing, so I told him to come down to breakfast as soon as he was ready. That he was in the habit of having two breakfasts – one at home and then another at school – was of concern to me, but I wasn’t about to start changing his routine straight away. Of further concern was the amount of sugar Max had on his cereal. Slightly disappointed that I didn’t have chocolate pops, as he usually had at home, he chose wheat flakes, drowned them in milk and then began ladling on the sugar, heaped teaspoon after heaped teaspoon. Adrian and Paula watched, wide-eyed.

      ‘I think that’s enough sugar now, love,’ I said after the fourth or fifth teaspoonful, and sliding the sugar out of reach.

      Max grinned. ‘My mum says I’ve got a sweet tooth.’

      You won’t have any teeth at all if you eat that much sugar, I thought, but didn’t say.

      Adrian and Paula had a bowl of wheat flakes too, with half a teaspoonful of sugar on each.

      ‘Do you have another breakfast at school?’ Max asked Adrian as we ate.

      ‘No,’ Adrian replied. ‘We take a piece of fruit and a drink to have at morning break, and then at lunch I have school dinner.’

      ‘Do you have to take in a piece of fruit?’ I asked Max. I knew that many primary schools did this now.

      ‘Some kids do, but I don’t,’ he said. ‘I hate fruit.’

      ‘What? All of it?’ I asked.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘What about bananas?’ Adrian asked.

      Max shook his head. ‘Grapes are OK sometimes, but that’s all,’ he said. I could guess why he liked grapes – they’re often very sweet.

      ‘What’s your favourite food?’ Adrian asked.

      Max thought for a moment. ‘Chocolate cake with chocolate ice cream,’ he said, smacking his lips. ‘Yummy.’

      ‘That’s mine too,’ Adrian agreed, although I couldn’t remember him ever having both in the same dish.

      ‘I like chocolate cake and ice cream,’ Paula said, not wanting to be left out of the conversation.

      ‘What food do you hate the most?’ Adrian now asked Max.

      ‘Cabbage, СКАЧАТЬ