Read Can't Anyone Help Me? for Free Online Page A

to swallow, the food would choke me.
    ‘Jackie, eat your breakfast,’ my mother said.
    Her face showed no trace of sympathy, only a resigned displeasure at my behaviour. Scared of her disapproval, I forced down some toast, but with the first mouthful I retched. My eyes streamed, I couldn’t swallow, and the soggy mess landed back on my plate.
    My mother shouted, ‘Jackie!’
    My father jumped to his feet. ‘For God’s sake, Dora, do something,’ he said tersely. With the paper, he left the room. ‘I’ll get breakfast on the train,’ he called, over his shoulder.
    I cringed with embarrassment and fear.
    My mother glared at me. ‘Well, that’s a family breakfast ruined,’ she said, and marched me to the downstairs cloakroom. A damp cloth was wiped none too gently across my face, my school dress was inspected for any sign of damage, and all the time her angry voice was buzzing in my ears.
    I screamed at her again that I didn’t want to leave the house. But I couldn’t tell her that my nightmare had stepped out of my sleep and that the fear it brought was sweeping through me. And even if I could have, it would have made no difference. I was going to school and that was that.
    I can’t remember what happened on the way there or when we arrived. The next thing I do remember was that my mother had gone and I was in a classroom seated at a desk. I sat looking at the door, convinced that somehow I had to reach it and escape.
    The teacher turned to write something on the board and I seized my chance. Out of my seat I sprang, and I ran as fast as my feet could take me. Behind me were the images from my nightmare and the echoes of a voice telling me I had to run.
    The teacher caught me before I reached the door. She held me against her as I wriggled and cried that I wanted to go home. In the end, unable to pacify me, she picked me up and took me to the headmistress’s office. Then there was another voice. It came from the headmistress and eventually calmed me. Gradually my breathing slowed and my fear diminished.
    Eventually I was calm enough to be returned to the classroom.
    Bottles of milk were passed round, and later we were taken to the school canteen to have our lunch. I was placed next to the teacher and I knew it was because of my behaviour earlier that morning. I didn’t mind because she was nice to me and kept trying to include me in conversations. I told her that I liked drawing and she said she would be getting us to do lots of that.
    That afternoon we played with sand in the playground before a story was read to us. Just as I was beginning to feel sleepy, a bell rang and my first day at school was over.
    After that first day I began to like school – there were days when I raised my hand to answer a question and smiled happily when a word of praise came my way. The teacher tried to encourage me to mingle more with the other children by asking me to pass round books or crayons.
    We were each given sheets of paper and told to draw something familiar. ‘Why not try and draw the house where you live? Yes, children, let’s do that first,’ she said, when twenty puzzled little faces looked at her for inspiration.
    I drew a large square, then a series of small ones within it to represent windows and the front door.
    ‘Very good, Jackie,’ she said. ‘Now, who lives in the house?’ And again I bent my head to the task. Little stick figures appeared with circles for faces. ‘Well done,’ she said, to each child in turn, as she walked around the classroom inspecting our work. She stopped at mine. ‘Who’s that?’ she enquired.
    ‘Mummy and Daddy,’ I replied.
    ‘No, that one,’ she said, pointing to a smaller figure standing apart from the two larger ones.
    ‘That’s me,’ I answered. She made no comment, but unlike the other children’s pictures, which showed groups of figures standing together, I had drawn myself standing alone.
    As the days went on I tried to draw animals and flowers as I had