Читать книгу Trapped: The Terrifying True Story of a Secret World of Abuse онлайн | страница 33

Phoebe’s eyes bulged when I put her dinner on the table, staring at her plate with such horror that anyone would have thought I’d just unveiled a lamb’s head instead of pizza Margherita.

‘What’s wrong, Phoebe? Don’t you like pizza?’

I had tried to find out what she might like to eat during the day, but each time I mentioned food she had gagged. Breakfast had been a small bowl of porridge, Phoebe’s untouched pancake polished off by Emily, who hated to see good chocolate going to waste. She had refused lunch so I was keen for her to eat something that evening. I thought I couldn’t go wrong with a trusty Italian meal. Every child I had fostered so far had had food issues, but usually it was a case of trying to stop them from gorging themselves until they were sick.

Phoebe pushed her plate away, retching. ‘I want porridge,’ she choked, her eyes irresistibly glued to the source of her revulsion.

Emily lowered her own pizza slowly to her plate and Jamie screwed up his face, staring at Phoebe in disgust. ‘Can you stop her making that noise, Mum?’ he asked, his chin tucked close to his chest as if close to throwing up himself.

I whipped Phoebe’s plate away, slipping it onto the bookshelf behind me. Her shoulders sagged in relief but she continued to make gagging noises.

‘Alright, that’s enough, Phoebe. Take some deep breaths – it’s gone now. But you must tell me what sort of thing you eat at home, so I can get something you like.’

‘I only eat porridge,’ she said, her breath coming in short gasps. She was almost in tears. Her eyes were still bulging as if food were somehow a threat to her safety.

‘Yes, I know you prefer porridge for breakfast, but what do you like for lunch and dinner?’

‘What do you like for lunch and dinner?’ she mocked, then clamped her hand over her mouth. My concern was suspended by a moment’s jubilation. She realises, I thought, she actually knows what she’s doing. I wasn’t quite sure what the implications were but for some reason I was filled with a sense of optimism.