Читать книгу I Miss Mummy: The true story of a frightened young girl who is desperate to go home - Cathy Glass, Cathy Glass - Страница 8

Upstairs again, I joined Lucy and Paula at Alice’s bedside. I stood for a few moments gazing down at Alice as Lucy stroked her forehead and Paula held her hand. Alice’s expression still held the same wide-eyed bewilderment and amazement, but I thought she looked slightly less anxious, and at least she wasn’t crying. The girls were talking to her gently, telling her their names again and that she would be staying with us for a while, and reassuring her it was a nice house and she would be happy. Alice stared at them with her big brown eyes, occasionally shifting her gaze from one to the other, as she had to me when I’d come into the room, but she didn’t speak.

Nestled beneath the duvet and pink blanket, with only her little face peering out, she reminded me of a little babushka doll, swaddled, with her cheeks red against her pale skin. I was going to leave the pink blanket on her bed, for although it wasn’t needed for warmth (she had the duvet), I assumed the blanket was familiar to her and would therefore be a source of comfort now everything else was unfamiliar. But I wondered where the blanket had come from, for Alice had been staying with her grandparents when she’d been snatched, and according to the duty social worker, she’d been taken to the police station by her mother’s boyfriend. I’d no idea where he lived or how he fitted into Alice’s life.

Adrian’s bedroom door opened and he appeared in the doorway of Alice’s room in his pyjamas and dressing-gown. ‘Mum, do you know it’s nearly eleven o’clock?’

I nodded. ‘Come and say hello to Alice. Then we’d all better try and get some sleep.’

At fourteen years of age I’m sure Adrian would have preferred it if a boy his own age had come to stay, but when he saw Alice his face melted. ‘Hi, Alice,’ he said with a little wave. ‘I’m Adrian.’

Alice’s eyes flickered from the girls to him and the briefest of smiles crossed her lips.

‘She likes you,’ Paula exclaimed, and I wondered if Alice’s extended family had included a boy of Adrian’s age with whom she’d had a close bond, so she now felt comfortable with Adrian. I knew from the referral that Alice didn’t have any siblings; perhaps there’d been a cousin, or perhaps her mother’s boyfriend had helped in her care?

‘Adrian is my son,’ I explained to Alice. ‘He lives here too.’

Alice’s eyes darted to me and then returned to Adrian. He smiled and waved again and she smiled back. The four of us then stood for a moment, grouped around the bed, gazing down at Alice. The poor child was the star attraction but she didn’t seem to mind.

‘I think we need to get some sleep soon,’ I said presently, as reluctant as the children were to leave.

Adrian made a move first and, giving Alice another little wave, said, ‘Goodnight, Alice.’ Alice’s gaze followed him out of the room.

‘And you two,’ I said to Lucy and Paula, who I’m sure would have happily spent all night with Alice, petting and reassuring her.

‘Goodnight,’ they said at last, and took it in turns to kiss her forehead.

Alice’s big round eyes blinked, her long dark lashes dusting her cheek like a butterfly’s wing. ‘They’re going to their bedrooms to sleep now,’ I explained to Alice. ‘You’ll see them in the morning.’

Lucy and Paula kissed Alice again and, with more goodnights, finally moved away from her bed. Alice’s gaze followed them until they were out of her line of vision and they left her room.

‘OK, love,’ I said gently to Alice, leaning over the bed. ‘I want you to try and get some sleep. You must be very tired. I’ll leave your bedroom door open a little so I can hear you if you wake in the night. Do you usually sleep with your light on or off?’ Although I didn’t expect a reply – Alice was too overwhelmed to make a decision about lighting – I always ask the children I foster this on their first night, for so many are afraid of the dark. ‘I’ll leave the light on low,’ I said. ‘Is that all right?’

Her big eyes blinked, but she didn’t say anything.

‘All right, pet, I’ll see you in the morning. I’m going to my bed now.’ I kissed her forehead, tucked her in and moved away from the bed.

She watched me as I walked slowly to the door and I smiled. ‘Night, love. See you in the morning.’

Dimming the light to a level that allowed her to see but wouldn’t keep her awake, I said a final goodnight and came out, leaving the door half open. I waited on the landing, expecting her to cry out now she was alone, but she didn’t. She was very quiet and didn’t make a sound. From where I stood on the landing, with her door half open, I could see her, although she couldn’t see me unless she turned her head. She lay on her back, very still, and as I watched, her long eyelashes flickered and then closed in sleep. She was utterly exhausted, which was hardly surprising considering what she had been through.

I now crept along the landing and into Paula’s room to kiss her goodnight.

‘I feel so sorry for Alice,’ Paula said as I perched on the bed, her face clouding. ‘She’s so little to be without her mummy.’

‘I know, love, but we’ll look after her and make sure she’s all right.’

Paula’s face immediately brightened. ‘Yes, we will. And I’ll get up tonight if she’s upset and look after her. You can stay in bed.’

I smiled. My family were used to disturbed nights when a child first arrived, but they didn’t always offer to get up. ‘That’s very kind of you, love,’ I said. ‘But it’s important you get your sleep, with school in the morning. There’ll be plenty of opportunity for you to help look after Alice – after school and at the weekends.’ I paused. ‘But Paula, you do realize that I don’t know how long Alice will be with us? It could only be a few weeks.’ For already I could see that my family were going to get very attached to Alice, and very quickly.

Paula nodded. ‘I know, Mum, but I hope she stays a long time.’ Then she yawned.

‘OK, love, off to sleep now.’ I kissed her goodnight, tucked her in, and then came out and went into Lucy’s room.

Lucy was propped in bed, listening to her Discman. ‘Lucy, it’s far too late to be listening to that,’ I said. ‘You’ve got to get up for school in the morning.’

She immediately switched off her music and took out her earpieces – a vast improvement from when she’d first arrived, nearly a year before, when she’d bucked against authority and argued and debated about absolutely everything I (or her teachers) had asked her to do. Now she placed the Discman and headphones on her bedside cabinet and snuggled down, ready for me to tuck her in and say goodnight.

‘I wonder why Alice has come into care.’ Lucy said as I kissed her forehead.

‘I’m not sure exactly. Her mother couldn’t look after her, so she’s been staying with her grandparents.’

‘‘Well, they’ve done a good job. She looks normal.’

‘What do you mean “normal”?’ I asked, smiling.

‘You know, like someone has looked after her. Not like I was. My aunts didn’t care a toss. They didn’t do anything about my nits, even when the school nurse sent me home with a letter. It was awful going to school and scratching my head the whole time. All the other kids laughed. I remember sitting in lessons and trying not to scratch, but in the end I had to ‘cos it itched so much. And I stank. I knew I did. My clothes were filthy. I tried to wash them at home but I was only allowed to use cold water.’

I took Lucy’s hand between mine, as I had done so many times during the past year, when she’d wanted to talk about the sad memories of her deprived childhood – the severe neglect she’d suffered for as long as she could remember. ‘I can only guess how awful that time must have been for you,’ I said quietly. ‘But thankfully it is past now, and will never return. You did so well coping with all of that. I’m sure I wouldn’t have coped so well.’

‘You would if you had to,’ Lucy said thoughtfully. ‘You just get on with it and take each day as it comes. I always made sure I found one good thing in each day. It didn’t matter how small it was as long as it was good and made me happy. One day a girl at school gave me a crisp from her packed lunch – that was a really good thing. And another time I was chosen by the teacher to collect the brushes at the end of the art lesson – that was a very big good thing. But sometimes it was the small things that were good, and maybe you wouldn’t notice them if you weren’t looking for something to make you happy. Like the bud of a flower just about to open in spring, or a bird flying off with a twig in its beak to make a nest, or writing a poem you’re really pleased with. There are so many good things in the world to make us happy, but sometimes you have to look very hard to find them.’

I pressed Lucy’s hand between mine and swallowed the lump rising in my throat. Lucy had such a beautiful way of putting things, I wondered if it was as a result of her suffering, if it had sharpened her senses, for I doubted the average twelve-year-old would have such insight. ‘Nevertheless, Lucy,’ I said, ‘you had a lot to cope with, and you coped very well. I’m just so pleased that that time is past and you found your way to me.’

‘So am I,’ she said. Throwing her arms around me, she gave me an extra big hug.

Having said goodnight to Lucy and come out of her room, I hovered on the landing again, outside Alice’s door. It was quiet but I wanted to check on her so, easing the door open, I crept in. She was still on her back, fast asleep, with one little hand pressed to her chin. Relaxed in sleep, her lips were slightly parted, and I could hear the faintest whisper of her breath. What memories of her past would Alice have, I wondered; not only of the days when she was missing but from the four years before that? – her short life to date. Would her memories be like Lucy’s, which were similar to those of many of the children I’d looked after? – memories of severe neglect and abuse. I doubted it. Something told me Alice’s story would be very different, although I doubted it would be any less upsetting.