Cruel to Be Kind. Cathy Glass
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Название: Cruel to Be Kind

Автор: Cathy Glass

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Биографии и Мемуары

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isbn: 9780008252021

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СКАЧАТЬ – to refuse him a third helping and limit the amount of bread he’d eaten? But as this was his first meal with us I didn’t think it appropriate to do so now, as it would have drawn attention to his need to diet. Similarly, when Max finished his main course and asked if it was time for the ice cream now, I said yes and dished it up. Two scoops for each child, but I didn’t offer second helpings.

      By the time we’d finished eating it was after seven o’clock and time for Paula’s bed. I usually took the children up to bed in age-ascending order, so Paula, the youngest, would go first, then Max and Adrian. I explained to Max it was Paula’s bedtime and asked him what he usually did at home in the evening before bed. I try to follow the routine the child has been used to at home as much as possible to minimize the disruption. Max said he read his book and it was in his school bag.

      ‘Excellent,’ I said. ‘Adrian enjoys reading too. Perhaps you’d both like to sit in the living room and read while I take Paula up?’

      Both boys fetched their school bags from the hall, sat side by side on the sofa and took out their reading books.

      ‘What are you reading?’ Adrian asked Max, interested.

      ‘James and the Giant Peach,’ Max said, showing him the front cover of the children’s classic. It was quite advanced for the average six-year-old; Adrian, older, had read it earlier in the year.

      ‘Are you enjoying the book?’ I asked Max.

      ‘Yes. I like Roald Dahl.’

      ‘So do I,’ Adrian said, turning to him enthusiastically. ‘James’s aunts, Spiker and Sponge, were horrible to him,’ he added, referring to James and the Giant Peach. ‘I’m glad he got away from them.’

      Max agreed.

      ‘Have you read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?’ Adrian asked.

      ‘Not yet, but I’ve read George’s Marvellous Medicine, and The Twits.’

      ‘The Twits is so funny,’ Adrian laughed. And so they began a discussion about Roald Dahl books.

      They paused to say goodnight to Paula and we left them sitting on the sofa, discussing books and with the still-warm evening air drifting in through the open patio doors. I was pleased Max liked reading. I try to interest all the children I foster in books – with varying degrees of success – but Max was one of the few children who’d arrived with a passion for them. It was only later I discovered that there was another, more disturbing reason for him wanting to escape into books.

      Chapter Five

       Restless Night

      While I was upstairs helping Paula get ready for bed I left her in the bathroom brushing her teeth for a few minutes and went into my bedroom to find some more pyjamas for Max. I took all the large sizes of pyjamas from the ottoman, holding them up as I went to see if they would fit him. Usually I’m quite good at judging a child’s size, but in Max’s case I had absolutely no idea. The ones that had 8–9 years old on the label seemed too long in the leg but not wide enough around the middle. The next size up, 10–11, seemed ridiculously big for a six-year-old, and 12–13 was gigantic. I couldn’t decide, so I carried them all into Max’s room for him to try on at bedtime, and removed the pair I’d previously put out.

      Paula, having finished in the bathroom, was ready for a bedtime story and I went with her to her bedroom, where she chose a book from her bookshelf before climbing into bed with a yawn. I lay beside her, my arm around her shoulders and my head propped on the headboard as I read the story she’d chosen. When I’d finished she snuggled down beside me, ready for our usual cuddle and chat – part of her bedtime routine – before she went to sleep. Unsurprisingly, tonight she wanted to talk about Max.

      ‘How long will Max stay with us?’ she asked, kissing my cheek.

      ‘I don’t know yet, love. Until his mother is well enough to look after him again.’

      ‘Does he miss his mummy?’

      ‘I should think so, but he’ll see her tomorrow at the hospital.’

      ‘He’s not crying like some children do.’

      ‘No, he’s been very brave, but I expect he’s thinking lots about her and his family.’

      ‘I’d cry if I couldn’t live with you,’ Paula said, snuggling closer.

      ‘But that’s not going to happen, is it?’ I reminded her. ‘If I had to go into hospital, Nana and Grandpa would come and look after you and Adrian. You know that.’ Since my husband had left, comments and questions like this came up from time to time – from Paula and Adrian. Understandably they both felt a degree of insecurity with just one parent at home, and I always reassured them as best I could.

      ‘Do you think Max eats too much?’ Paula now asked with the candidness of a young child.

      ‘Possibly.’

      ‘He’s very big, isn’t he? I don’t mean tall like big boys – his body is very round.’

      ‘I know, but you wouldn’t ever say that to him, would you?’ I hoped that Adrian at his age had developed the necessary self-regulatory skills to stop him saying hurtful truths, but at Paula’s age children are still highly impulsive and simply say what comes into their head without considering the consequences. Paula shook her head.

      ‘Good. Because I’m sure Max knows he’s overweight and he’d be very upset if you said anything.’

      ‘Are you going to stop him eating so much?’ she now asked.

      ‘I might, we’ll see how it goes.’

      ‘I hope you do, then he can ride the bike.’

      ‘OK, love,’ I said, drawing the conversation to a close. ‘We’ll see. But in the meantime you can play other games with Max. Try to look beyond his size to the person within. I think he’s a lovely boy, kind and gentle.’

      ‘Yes, so do I,’ Paula agreed. ‘I promise I won’t look at his big tummy but inside him.’

      ‘Good girl.’

      I kissed her goodnight and came out of her room, leaving her bedroom door slightly open so that I could hear her if she called out. Downstairs, both boys were still on the sofa, now talking about football and with their books open on their laps. I wasn’t sure if they’d done much reading, but it didn’t matter. They were getting along well and Max seemed relaxed. I was also pleased he hadn’t needed his inhaler since he’d first arrived and his voice sounded far less husky. I hadn’t heard from Jo about phoning his mother that evening, and as it was now getting late I rather assumed she wouldn’t be in touch, as Caz was seeing him the following evening.

      ‘Max, I think it’s time for you to go to bed,’ I said. ‘What time do you normally go to bed at home?’

      He shrugged. ‘Any time, really. I go to my room and lie on my bed СКАЧАТЬ