Read Online Mummy Told Me Not to Tell by Cathy Glass - Free Book Online Page B

important to me, his refusal could easily become a toolfor trying to manipulate me. But I had already been there, done that and ‘got the T-shirt’ many years ago when I had first started fostering. Eventually Reece would do as I asked and see that if he cooperated he would win my approval and feel happier in himself, but not yet. Now he hated me and wanted to do exactly what he had always done, which appeared to be nothing, or exactly what he felt like doing.
    Five minutes later Reece pulled roughly on his pyjama bottoms and then, using his feet, stamped them to the floor.
    ‘Well done,’ I said, ‘although next time it might be easier to use your hands.’ He snatched the pants from me and, sitting on the bed, put them on without too much trouble.
    ‘Good,’ I said. ‘Now take off your pyjama top and put on your vest.’
    He had real problems trying to get his arms out of his pyjama top, so I helped him, showing him how to do it, and then gave him his vest, which he got into first time. Next I helped him on with his sweatshirt.
    ‘Excellent,’ I said. ‘Now the socks.’
    Aware that putting on socks is difficult for young children, particularly those with poor coordination, I told him to sit on the bed again and I would show him how to put on one sock and he could do the other.
    As I knelt in front of him, he tried to cuff me over the head again and I guessed this regular cuffing had probably been done to him. ‘No, you don’t do that,’ I said, moving my head out of reach. ‘Do you understand?’
    He nodded. I showed him how to put on one sockand passed him the other. ‘Who used to dress you before?’ I asked casually as he struggled to get his toes into the sock.
    ‘Carers.’
    ‘And at home?’
    ‘Don’t know.’
    He had made a reasonable attempt at putting on the second sock and I helped him to complete the task. Praising him, I took his hand and we went downstairs together. Lucy and Paula were in the hall, putting on their coats, ready to leave for school and college. I hadn’t seen them properly that morning because I had been so occupied with seeing to Reece.
    ‘Bye, loves,’ I said. ‘Have a good day.’ I kissed them both.
    Reece pursed his lips, wanting to kiss them goodbye also. Lucy and Paula smiled and, bending towards him, offered their cheeks. He gave them a nice little kiss each.
    ‘Goodbye,’ they both called to us. I saw them out and closed the door. Reece was beside me, his hand still in mine.
    ‘Cor, that was nice,’ he said, grinning. ‘I’d really like to give them one.’
    I paused in the hall and looked at him, my heart sinking. ‘Pardon, Reece? What did you say?’
    He grinned again, leering almost. ‘I want to give them one,’ he repeated. He dropped my hand and clamping his left hand on to his right arm he brought up his fist in the crude pumping gesture of wanting sex.
    ‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ I said, knowing only too well. ‘But it’s not a nice thing for a boy of seven to say. And please don’t do that with your arm.’
    ‘My dad does to my sister,’ he said and stopped, aware that he had committed the ultimate sin of saying something about home.
    ‘Does he?’ I asked lightly, while assured of Reece’s reply.
    ‘Don’t know. I want me breakfast now. You said it was time.’
    I followed Reece into the annexe off the kitchen, which we call the breakfast room. I knew from Reece’s history he’d seen a lot of inappropriate behaviour, possibly even sexual abuse, but I was still shocked and saddened. I also knew that Reece had been sworn to secrecy and wasn’t about to say anything more. Later I would talk to the girls and remind them of our ‘safer caring policy’ — the guidelines all carers follow. They had just left with Reece giving them a kiss on the cheek like any younger brother, but Reece had laden it with sexual connotations and for all our safety we were going to have to be very careful.
    The ‘safer caring policy’ is a