Mummy Told Me Not to Tell

by Cathy Glass

  By the time we arrived home Reece was a little calmer, but it still took me a long while to get him ready for bed. As he changed into his pyjamas I stole a look at his legs and could see no sign of a bruise or anything that resembled one. Being light skinned, he had quite a few freckles but that was all.

  Reece was finally asleep at 9.30. I went downstairs to the living room and wrote up my log notes, including details of Tracey’s accusation, and that I had found no sign of any bruise. Presumably the supervising social workers hadn’t either when Tracey had examined him.

  As there was nothing I could do until the social worker returned from leave, we continued as we had been doing. The weekday routine I had started remained more or less the same, with Reece and I spending part of each day ‘playing schools’ and then going out to the park or shops, for a walk and occasionally for a special treat like the cinema and ice-skating.

  We met up with Marie and Susie on the last Sunday in February, and the two children spent an hour, well wrapped up from the cold, playing in the park before we all adjourned to the park’s café for hot drinks and a light lunch. Marie was lovely and very good company. She was younger than me and had been fostering for five years. She had no children of her own and told me that she had decided to foster because she herself had been in care as a teenager when her father had been killed in a road accident and her mother had suffered a nervous breakdown as a result. Like me, she was waiting for Jamey Hogg to return, for although Susie was attending school, there were a lot of other issues which Marie wanted to raise with Jamey as soon as possible, including what Susie was now telling her about her stepfather. Marie didn’t go into the details; she knew, as I did, that such details were confidential and were not discussed even between foster carers.

  However, we did mention contact, for like me she was having to contend with Tracey’s endless complaints, aggression and accusations. Susie was seeing her mum with the other siblings — Sean, Brad and Sharon — on Monday and Thursday evenings, and Marie had felt so intimidated by Tracey that Marie’s husband had started going with her to collect Susie at the end of contact. Marie also mentioned the likeness in all the siblings, and that unfortunately they all appeared to have learning difficulties, although Susie didn’t have Reece’s hyperactivity and behavioural problems. Jamey Hogg was due back in the office the following day, Monday, and Marie and I agreed we were looking forward to hearing from him asap. We said goodbye, with an arrangement to meet again in three weeks. The children waved through their car windows as Marie and I drove out of the park and then went in separate directions, home.

  ‘I’ve had a nice time,’ Reece said in the car, and his gleeful expression and endless chatter confirmed this.

  ‘Good,’ I said. ‘I am pleased. I enjoyed chatting with Marie.’

  ‘Thank you for taking me, Cathy,’ he said. And my day was complete.

  Chapter Nine:

  Starting to Get Annoyed

  If Marie and I had been looking forward to Jamey Hogg’s phone call on Monday we were to be disappointed, for there wasn’t a call, not to me at least. By Tuesday afternoon, when I still hadn’t heard anything, I telephoned Jill and she said she’d phone the social services to find out if Jamey was back at work. She phoned back quarter of an hour later to say he was in the office and ‘catching up’. He had told her he would be in contact with me as soon as was possible. Jill suggested I emailed him, so that he had something in writing, and gave me his email address. As with many organizations email had to some extent taken over from the telephone and mailed letters. So, with Reece sitting on the floor beside my desk and trying to do a big-piece jigsaw puzzle, I emailed his social worker.

  I stated that I was Reece’s carer and I was looking forward to meeting him, as was Reece. I also reminded him we were still waiting for a school for Reece and that Reece’s first review was due. I wrote (diplomatically) that I looked forward to discussing all the other issues surrounding Reece when I met him. I clicked send. Later I checked my email inbox to see if there was a reply. There wasn’t.

  On Wednesday morning, when there was still nothing from Jamey, I emailed Jill with a copy of the email I had sent to him and asked her if I had his correct address, as I hadn’t received a reply. She emailed straight back to me and said that the email address was correct and that she would also email him a reminder to contact me. On Thursday, still having not received a reply, I emailed Jamey again, tagging on my previous email. I wrote that I was very concerned that Reece was still out of school, as Tracey had been when I had seen her at the last contact.

  In fact Tuesday’s contact had been horrendous, the worst one yet. The security guard had had to break up a fight between Tracey and Scott; then, when Tracey turned her wrath on me, he’d had to distract her while Reece and I made a dash from the car park. We were both pretty shaken and it was ten o’clock before Reece was calm enough to go to bed.

  Jamey emailed back an hour later to say he was very busy dealing with a priority case and he would get back to me when he had a chance. I considered Reece’s case a priority and emailed him to that effect, adding that Reece hadn’t been in school for nearly a term, and his LAC review was overdue. The LAC (Looked-After Children) review is a meeting of all parties to make sure everything that can be done is being done for the child, and to discuss the child’s progress. A review should be held four weeks after the child is first brought into care, then every three months for the first year and then twice a year. My email was terse, but I hadn’t liked the way Jamey had marginalized Reece. Someone has to speak up for foster children and if it’s not the carer, then who else have they got?

  An hour later the phone went. It wasn’t Jamey but Mary, his team manager.

  ‘Cathy,’ she said. ‘As from tomorrow an escort will collect Reece and take him to contact, and also return him to you afterwards. I am aware the situation hasn’t improved and I’m not having it continue.’

  ‘Thank you very much,’ I said. ‘I have tried to talk to Tracey but it’s impossible.’

  ‘I know. I’ve read the supervisors’ reports. Don’t take it personally. Tracey is very angry and she is taking it out on the carers as well as the social workers. I’m arranging escorts for all the siblings. I will not have our foster carers verbally abused and it’s not doing the children any good to witness it either.’

  The decision to use an escort wouldn’t have been taken lightly, as they are expensive and costed on time and distance. The other children lived miles away from the council offices, which were still to be used for contact. Not only was it very efficient of Mary to put all this in place but it also showed how sensitive she was to the effect this type of verbal abuse has on foster carers when we are striving to do our best.

  ‘Reece will be picked up at five thirty,’ she said. ‘The escort is called Sabrina.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said again. I hesitated. ‘Mary, is Jamey in the office?’ The office was open plan and I guessed she would be able to see his desk from where she sat.

  ‘Yes, he is,’ she said.

  ‘Is it possible to speak to him, please?’

  ‘He’s on the phone at present. I’ll tell him to phone you as soon as he’s finished.’

  ‘Thank you, and thank you again for organizing the escort. It’s much appreciated.’

  We said goodbye and I hung up, feeling very relieved. Tracey’s continual haranguing of me at the end of each contact had started to worry me more than I cared to admit; I was getting to the position of dreading Tuesdays and Fridays. Now I felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. All that I needed now was for Jamey to phone and things would really start to take off.

  Jamey did phone, at the end of Thursday, but things didn’t exactly take off. He didn’t know what was happening about Reece’s school and he didn’t seem in any hurry to push it with the education department either. But he did say he would visit Reece and me the following day.

  ‘Excellent,’ I said. ‘Is there a number at th
e education department I can phone, to find out what’s going on?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t have it to hand. I’ll try and find it for tomorrow.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, then wanting to get off to a good start I asked: ‘Did you have a good holiday?’

  ‘No. I had time off to sort out my divorce.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ I said. I wished I hadn’t asked.

  I explained to Reece about the escort and also that he would be meeting his social worker the following day. Neither of these facts prompted any comment from him, as he was up to his elbows in paint, glue and glitter from a compendium of activities I had bought the day before. Reece was gradually becoming more adept at sitting and doing activities and for longer and longer periods. I was very pleased. His behaviour generally was far calmer now, unless he became anxious or overexcited, when he would take off as he had done when he’d first arrived. But there was no aggression and I was far more relaxed looking after him.

  He was making such good progress all round that I was looking forward to him starting school. I was convinced that, although Reece clearly had learning difficulties, he could learn, and that with the right support in school he would continue to improve dramatically. We had gone from a sight vocabulary of one word, ‘a’, to fifteen words in a few weeks. Reece knew these words and was reading them without prompt from a picture. Also his writing, while laborious and way behind what it should have been, was starting to show some improvement. When we went out shopping I continually gave him little sums to do in relation to what we were buying. He enjoyed this immensely, particularly when we went into a corner shop and I gave him the money to pay.

  We hadn’t had any more repeats of him biting or head-butting and neither had we had a repeat of overt sexualized behaviour as in the incident with Paula. However, I remained concerned that Reece did seem to view both my daughters in a sexual, rather than sisterly way. He often passed comments on their appearance and also tried to hug and kiss them (and me sometimes) with what could only be described as passion, rather than a little-boy hug.

  All this I would be discussing with Jamey when he came the following day. I assumed that, as well as giving me some more background information, Jamey would bring me a copy of Reece’s statement of special educational needs, which would give me some direction while I continued to help Reece until he started school.

  The following morning I opened the door to a very distinguished-looking man in his late thirties with a ponytail, dressed casually but smartly in jeans and jumper. His round, open face smiled warmly.

  ‘Hello, Cathy. I’m Jamey. Pleased to meet you.’

  We shook hands as he came into the hall. I showed him through to the living room and offered him coffee.

  ‘Thank you. That would be much appreciated,’ he said. About 5 feet 10 inches tall, he had a very calm manner and a smooth, relaxing voice, which I thought would put anyone at ease. Reece was sitting on the floor in the living room with the Snakes and Ladders board game which I had been teaching him to play prior to Jamey’s arrival.

  ‘Hi, Reece,’ Jamey said. ‘I’m Jamey, your new social worker.’ Jamey immediately squatted down on the floor beside Reece and asked him who was winning.

  ‘Cathy,’ Reece said, pulling a face.

  I smiled. ‘Jamey, mine is the red counter. Do you want to take over while I make coffee?’

  He did, with great enthusiasm, and I left Jamey and Reece playing together and getting to know each other. In the kitchen while making coffee, I could hear Reece trying to explain to Jamey how you played the game, although quite clearly Jamey already knew. Reece was repeating the phrases and words I’d used when I had explained the game to him. They sounded very quaint and old-fashioned on the lips of a child.

  When I carried the coffee and biscuits through, Jamey had the red counter on the top line and Reece was just disappearing down another snake.

  ‘Oh shit!’ Reece exclaimed.

  ‘Reece,’ I warned lightly. Jamey looked up and smiled. ‘He seems a lot calmer than I’d been led to expect,’ Jamey said.

  ‘Yes, he’s made huge progress, with only the odd relapse now and again. He really is a lovely boy.’

  But while I was happy to say positive things about Reece in front of him, I knew that a lot of the discussion Jamey and I would be having, for example on Reece’s background and his difficulties, wouldn’t be suitable for Reece to hear.

  ‘When you have finished that game,’ I suggested to Jamey, ‘shall I let Reece watch a DVD in his bedroom, to give us a chance to talk?’

  Jamey nodded. Reece immediately stopped playing, unable to believe his good fortune, for I rarely let him watch television in the daytime unless I had to make an uninterrupted phone call.

  ‘I want a DVD now,’ Reece demanded.

  ‘No, finish the game first,’ I said.

  ‘I’m losing. I want the DVD now.’ For a moment I thought Reece was about to erupt and throw a tantrum and undermine all the positive things I was saying about his progress and good behaviour.

  ‘OK,’ Jamey said, coming to the rescue. ‘We needn’t finish the game but I would like to talk to you first before you rush off.’

  Reece looked at him suspiciously, ‘’Bout what?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing in particular. Just talk a bit so I get to know you.’

  I passed Jamey his coffee and put the biscuits within reach. ‘Shall I make myself scarce?’ I asked Jamey. It is usual to leave the child alone with their social worker for a while when they visit, in case the child has an issue they don’t feel comfortable about discussing in front of their carer.

  ‘I’m happy for Cathy to stay. Are you?’ Jamey said to Reece.

  Reece nodded vigorously. I took my coffee from the tray and, resisting the chocolate biscuits, sat on the sofa, while Jamey, still on the floor next to Reece, asked him what he liked doing.

  ‘Don’t know,’ Reece said.

  ‘Well, I know you like television, don’t you?’ Jamey said. ‘What about roller-skating? Do you like that?’

  ‘Don’t know,’ Reece said.

  ‘So what are your favourite programmes on television?’ Jamey tried again in his softly spoken and gentle manner.

  ‘Don’t know,’ Reece said.

  ‘Favourite foods?’ Jamey asked. ‘What do you like to eat, Reece?’

  ‘Don’t know.’ Then he added, ‘Burgers, and what Cathy makes me.’ Bless him, I thought. ‘Can I watch me DVD now?’

  Jamey smiled. ‘Yes, and I’ll come up and see your bedroom before I go, if that’s all right with you?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Reece agreed. Jumping up, he shot over to the shelf, where he quickly chose the DVD of The Lion King.

  I left Jamey making himself comfortable on the sofa while I went upstairs with Reece and settled him on the beanbag with the DVD. ‘I’ll be in the living room if you want me,’ I said, but my words fell on deaf ears. The dramatic opening scene had begun, with the fiery orange sun rising over the plains of Africa as all the animals gathered.

  ‘He could watch television all day,’ I said to Jamey as I returned to the living room. ‘And while I think of it, “Don’t know” is Reece’s response to most questions, particularly if they relate to him or home.’

  Jamey nodded, sipped his coffee and took another biscuit.

  ‘I’m pretty certain,’ I continued, ‘that he has been warned off saying anything. Actually I am certain of it, and that this child has secrets.’ I looked at Jamey, hoping he might now give me the background information that would help me in my care of Reece. He didn’t. He seemed happy to sit on a comfortable sofa, in a warm stress-free room, and enjoy the coffee and biscuits. I had quickly formed the impression that Jamey was a caring, amiable, warm-hearted person who related easily to children but who was also very ‘laid back’. So laid back, I thought, that if he relaxed any further he might nod off.

  I took the file, which I had already brought from my desk and opened it on my lap. ‘I don’t have much background in
formation,’ I said. ‘Can you tell me anything more about Reece that might help me to look after him?’

  Jamey drained the last of his coffee and set the mug on the table. ‘To be honest, Cathy, I don’t know much more than you do. I was assigned the case immediately before I took leave. The files are huge, and at many different locations. I’m trying to bring them all together and put them on the system so that I can get a clearer picture. I’m fairly new to this area and I’m still learning this council’s procedure. I know Tracey’s other children have been in care a long time, and I’m not sure why Susie and Reece were left at home for so long. Certainly Reece’s behaviour at school, and with his previous carers, suggested a pretty disturbed child. What Susie is now saying about her stepfather increases my concerns. I understand there have been on-going issues for years and that there were concerns about Tracey’s father behaving inappropriately to Sharon, her eldest daughter, fifteen years ago. That’s when Sharon came into care. But I’m still trying to bring all the information together to get a clear picture.’

  I nodded, and while I could have hoped for more, I understood what Jamey was saying and the problems he was facing. ‘There’s another half-sister, isn’t there?’ I said, glancing at the placement forms in my open folder. ‘Lisa. She is twelve now. Tracey mentioned her once at contact.’

  ‘Yes, but again, I don’t know the details. I shall be visiting Lisa as well as all the other siblings. My understanding is that Lisa was placed with the aunt, Tracey’s sister, voluntarily, when Lisa was a baby.’