Please Don’t Take My Baby. Cathy Glass
Читать онлайн книгу.
Goodnight.’
‘Night,’ she called.
I came out and closed her door.
An hour later when I went up to bed I heard talking coming from Jade’s room. It didn’t take great insight to realize she was on her mobile. I knocked lightly on her door and then put my head round it. Jade looked up from beneath the duvet, where she was very comfortably settled in bed, surrounded by her soft toys and with her phone pressed to her ear.
‘I won’t be long,’ she said, anticipating what I was going to say.
I nodded and came out.
Half an hour later when I’d finished showering, it was all quiet in Jade’s room. I went to bed, read for a while and was just dozing off when I heard Jade’s voice – raised and angry, nearly shouting, and very likely to wake Adrian and Paula. Throwing on my dressing gown, I went round the landing, knocked on her door and went in. Jade was still in bed but was now propped up on one elbow and arguing on the phone.
‘Sorry,’ she said to me as I entered, taking the phone from her ear. ‘He’s being such a dickhead.’
I assumed she was talking to Tyler, although goodness knew what he had or hadn’t done. ‘It’s very late,’ I said. ‘Finish the call now, please. I don’t want Adrian and Paula woken and you need to get off to sleep.’
Jade nodded, but I had the feeling that the moment I was out of the room the call would resume. It was then I remembered some advice I’d heard at a support-group meeting for foster carers, from a couple who were experienced teenager carers. They said one of their house rules was that all mobile phones were left downstairs at night and collected at breakfast. This had the double result of ensuring the teenagers weren’t on their phones all night and also that they got up in the morning.
‘Jade,’ I said, kindly but firmly, ‘if you can’t take responsibility for switching off your mobile for the night, then you will have to leave it downstairs.’ The couple had also said that separating a teen from a mobile was a bit like severing a limb.
Jade scowled. ‘You can’t do that,’ she said defiantly.
‘I hope I won’t have to, so please make the right decision.’
Jade scowled again; then, returning the phone to her ear, said, ‘I gotta go now, Ty. Speak to you tomorrow.’
‘Good decision,’ I said. ‘See you in the morning. Goodnight, love. God bless.’
The rest of the night was quiet, and indeed no sound came from Jade’s room the following morning while Adrian, Paula and I got up, had breakfast and then left for school. I was pleased Jade had cooperated the night before, although I appreciated I might have to deal with the same issue again, as teenagers have notoriously short memories when it comes to requests they’d rather not comply with. I also knew teenagers liked their sleep and can sleep all day if they are allowed to, so I was anticipating having to wake Jade when I returned home from taking Paula to school.
To my amazement as I let myself into the hall I heard music coming from the radio in the kitchen and the sound of someone cooking. I slipped off my coat and shoes and hooked them on the hall stand, and then went into the kitchen. Jade was washed and dressed and, having found the largest frying pan, was cooking herself a full English breakfast: fried eggs, bacon, sausages, fried bread and baked beans.
‘Good morning,’ I said brightly.
I could see she’d already had cereal because her bowl with residue milk, the spoon, the open canister of sugar, the open packet of cereal and the four-pint carton of milk were all still on the work surface, together with the butter, a loaf of bread, a carton of eggs, a packet of bacon, a can of baked beans, a bag of frozen sausages, a mug of tea and a carton of juice which clearly Jade had struggled to open, as it was standing in a large puddle of its contents.
‘That smells good,’ I said.
Jade had her back to me and was concentrating on the frying pan, and she didn’t turn or answer. It was then I saw she was wearing earphones. I switched off the radio, which seemed superfluous to her needs, and going over lightly touched her arm.
She turned with a small start, removed one earphone and beamed. ‘Hi! Aren’t you proud of me? I got up without being told, had a bath and hair wash, and now I’m doing me own breakfast to save you the trouble.’
‘Excellent,’ I said. I wondered if Jade was also going to save me the trouble of clearing up after her, but I knew enough of teenagers to know that was doubtful. At least she was up and not lazing in bed. I was pleased with her. ‘Would you like a hairdryer?’ I asked, seeing her hair was damp.
‘Nah, it’ll go frizzy. I leave it to dry,’ she said, turning the sausages in the pan.
‘If you’ve finished with these I’ll put them back in the fridge so we can use them again,’ I said. I began gathering together the butter, milk, eggs, sausages, etc., which needed to be kept in the fridge. ‘And Jade, love, can I suggest you turn down the gas a little? When the fat splatters that much and you see blue smoke coming from the pan it usually means the fat is a little too hot.’
‘Oh, yeah, sure,’ she said, jigging in time to the music coming through the one earpiece. I opened the small window to stop the smoke alarm going off.
Satisfied that the house wasn’t going to burn down and Jade had everything she needed, I thought it best to leave her to finish cooking her breakfast. I didn’t want her to feel I was watching or criticizing her. I knew teenagers hated being watched and can easily feel they are being ‘picked on’. In fact I was surprised at just how much I did know about teenagers, even though it was some years since I’d fostered one – knowledge gained from foster-care training and friends’ teenagers, I suppose.
‘I’ll fetch your empty holdall from your room so it’s ready for us to take with us later,’ I called to Jade as I left the kitchen and went upstairs.
‘Sure,’ she returned amicably.
Going into Jade’s bedroom I picked up the duvet, pink leggings, T-shirt and soft toys from the floor and returned them to the bed, although I stopped short of making the bed – Jade could do that. I then picked up the holdall and, leaving it on the landing, went round to my bedroom to collect the empty suitcase that I kept on top of my wardrobe; we’d take both cases with us. As I did, I passed the open door of the bathroom. I knew teenagers weren’t renowned for their tidiness or for clearing up after themselves but how one person could use so many towels and products I’d no idea. I also wondered how hot Jade had had the water, for the bathroom was like a sauna, with water running down the window, mirrors and wall tiles. I opened the bathroom window; I screwed the tops back on the shower gel, bubble bath, shampoo, conditioner, body lotion and toothpaste; and then I mopped up the puddle of water by the bath so that it didn’t seep through to the ceiling below. It was Jade’s first morning and I wouldn’t start nagging her about clearing up, although I now appreciated some of the discussions that had taken place at the foster-carer support-group meetings between carers who fostered teenagers.
I took the case and holdall downstairs and left them ready in the hall. As I did, Jade’s voice called from the kitchen: ‘Cathy! I’ve made you a mug of tea.’
‘That’s kind of you, love,’ I said, going into the kitchen.
Jade had finished cooking and was now seated at the table in the dining area and tucking into her cooked breakfast. She’d set a mug of tea for me in the place opposite her and I sat down. ‘Thanks, love,’ I said again.
‘Would you like something to eat?’ she asked, waving her fork at her plate of food, which did look appetizing, apart from the river of grease and tomato sauce. ‘We