Mummy Told Me Not to Tell

by Cathy Glass

  Later that afternoon when Lucy and Paula arrived home Reece was still excited and had lots to tell them. I could see they shared my mixed feelings, for while we were obviously all pleased for Reece to have such a loving family of his own, we were losing a member of our family. It would have helped Lucy and Paula if they could have met May and John and seen how nice they were, but I didn’t think it was going to be possible with them being at school.

  Paula and Lucy were both pretty subdued that evening, particularly after Reece had gone to bed, when the house was uncannily quiet and indicative of how it would be once he had left us. To lighten their spirits I told them what I was planning: ‘It will be the half-term holiday ten days after Reece leaves us,’ I said. ‘So I thought it would be a good opportunity to take that week abroad we were talking about. Reece will be having a great time with his new family and we’re not going to sit here and mope. How about Cyprus? The climate is supposed to be ideal in mid-October.’

  It did help, a little, and I knew from past experience that when the time came, and Reece had successfully moved on, the holiday would help us to move on too.

  The following day, with John’s emailed instructions on the front passenger seat and Reece excitedly looking out of his side window, I found John and May’s home first time. And I was surprised. What John and May hadn’t told me was that the reason their house was ‘off the beaten track’ was that it was a farm, with pigs, cows, two donkeys and meadows as far as the eye could see. Reece was as amazed as I was, and almost lost for words.

  ‘You didn’t say it was a farm,’ I said as May and John welcomed us at the door.

  ‘No? I must have forgotten,’ John said, winking at Reece.

  ‘You didn’t forget,’ Reece said. ‘You wanted it to be a surprise.’

  ‘That’s right.’ And a rapport between them was immediately established.

  Once we were inside John explained he had inherited the farm five years before from his father, but unlike his father he hadn’t wanted to farm full time, so he had scaled it down and kept some of the residents — the pigs, cows and donkeys we had seen at the front, together with some chickens and a retired shire horse out the back. He said he employed a local man to look after the farm with May, while he continued with his main work as a telecommunications engineer. The farmhouse was 100 years old, while the two barns were even older. John and May showed us round the downstairs, which had a relaxed country feel to it, with muddy Wellingtons in the porch, waxed raincoats on the stand and an Aga in the kitchen. The kitchen was huge and I thought the gathering point for the family. At one end was a massive pine table with matching high-back chairs.

  ‘We don’t stand on ceremony,’ John said. ‘You’ll have to take us as you find us. Make yourself at home.’ I always think seeing people in their home surroundings gives a very good clue as to the type of people they are, and May and John were clearly warm, relaxed, gentle, kind-hearted country folk.

  I stayed with May in the kitchen, chatting, while John took Reece to see the animals. ‘How did you get to be a farmer’s wife?’ I asked her, for it seemed a far cry from the council estates that Tracey had spent all her years living on. May told me how after she had fled from her father at the age of sixteen she had gone through a really bad patch and then while sleeping rough had met John. He was a member of a local church group and had as it were picked her up and dusted her off, finding her lodgings with another church member. She had been nineteen then, John was five years older, and they had been together ever since. May said that although they would have liked to have had children of their own, having Lisa and now Reece more than compensated. They were both churchgoers and felt that God had taken a hand in shaping their lives and given them each other and their family. I felt that Reece’s new family was so perfect for him that I too could have believed in divine intervention, for this was surely meant to be.

  Reece came in with John and then spent some time playing in his bedroom, freshly decorated with Batman and Robin wallpaper and matching duvet cover and curtains. Lisa had bought some boxed puzzle games and put them on the shelves in his room, together with a big teddy which had the message ‘Home Sweet Home’ embroidered on its T-shirt.

  When it was time to go Reece asked if we could stay longer, but the three of us said it was time to say goodbye for today, and that we would all look forward to the next visit in two days’ time, when Reece would stay for most of the day while I went shopping.

  ‘And don’t forget to put your Wellington boots in,’ John called from the gate as we got into the car. ‘I’m taking the day off work and I’ll need some help mucking out those pigs.’

  ‘I will,’ Reece called. And I knew that Reece was going to be as happy as a pig in s*** living here. ‘Oink oink,’ he yelled from the car.

  Epilogue

  Reece moved to his new family as planned, and a month later, after we’d returned from our holiday in Cyprus, I phoned as I’d promised. Lucy, Paula and I spoke to Reece and he told us all about the animals on the farm, and said that he was going to be a farmer when he grew up. He also said he had visited his new school and would be starting the following week. His teacher was called Mrs Bing and he would be sitting next to a boy called Mark, who Reece said was a bit like Troy. I kept the conversation light and short, for the purpose of the call, apart from reassuring us, was to let Reece know that we hadn’t forgotten him. Any further phone calls, or meetings, would be initiated by May and John, when and if they felt it appropriate. We would write to Reece and also send him birthday and Christmas cards, but I wouldn’t phone again. It was important Reece now transferred the feelings he had for us to his forever family.

  After the girls and I had spoken to Reece, I spoke to May and she confirmed Reece was settling in remarkably quickly, helped she said by having the animals to care for, which was keeping him fully occupied until he started school. Although it was still early days yet, Lisa was enjoying helping to look after Reece, and in many ways mothering him rather than seeing him as a rival for her parents’ affection. I asked May when Lisa’s birthday was, for I would start sending a card to her too. May told me and said that once Reece was truly settled perhaps the girls and I might like to visit. I thanked her and said we would like to very much, but obviously only when she felt the time was right.

  The first week in January Tracey gave birth to a baby girl and the baby was taken from the hospital straight into foster care. Sad though it was for a new mother to lose her baby, I thought that at least that child, like Lisa, would be given a chance in life. However, unlike Lisa it seemed likely the baby was a product of incest, and would almost certainly suffer from the same genetic make-up and therefore the learning difficulties the other siblings had. Only time would tell how she fared. I heard that Scott was still being investigated in relation to Susie’s allegations and the police also wanted Tracey’s father for questioning but he had vanished. I wasn’t told any more and wouldn’t be because my involvement with the family had finished when Reece had left my care. Or almost finished.

  In the July of that year, while shopping in the high street, I suddenly felt a sharp tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Tracey standing behind me. My first instinct was to run. She had a man with her, and she was even more overweight and unkept than the last time I’d seen her — in the car park after contact. Her long greasy hair straggled round her shoulders and she was wearing a badly stained nylon football club T-shirt and over-stretched faded leggings. The man she was with looked about the same age as her, was thickly set and had a tattoo of what looked like barbed wire round his neck. He wore a matching football club T-shirt and they were both drawing heavily on cigarettes.

  ‘I thought it was you,’ Tracey said, clapping her hand on my shoulder. “Ow are you, girl?’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks, Tracey,’ I said. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Apart from that bleeding social worker, I’m good. He’s breaving down me back the whole time and I’ve told ‘im to piss off. So ‘as Gary.’<
br />
  The man she was with nodded. ‘Don’t you worry, Tracey,’ he said. ‘I’ll deal with ‘im. He ain’t coming poking his nose round my ‘ouse. He ain’t got no business there. It’s my kid.’

  I looked at Tracey, who smiled proudly. My eyes left her face and travelled down to her swelling stomach. She gave her stomach a pat. ‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘He ain’t ‘aving this one. This is Gary’s and mine.’

  ‘No,’ Gary agreed. ‘He ain’t.’

  I made no comment.

  They turned and walked away; then almost as an after-thought Tracey called back: ‘How’s Sharky boy doing?’

  I cringed at the phrase from Reece’s past. ‘Reece’s doing fantastically well,’ I said, and I continued on my way.

  At the beginning of December, fourteen months after Reece had left us, we received a phone call from May inviting us for Sunday dinner. We immediately fell into conversation and after half an hour, May said, ‘Let’s leave this catching up until your visit. Come as soon as you can.’

  So a week later, I printed out John’s emailed instructions again and, bearing flowers and chocolates, Lucy, Paula and I made the two-hour drive to Pine Farm. Reece must have been looking out for us, for the front door opened as we walked down the path.

  ‘Hi,’ he said shyly. ‘Come in and I’ll call Mum and Dad.’

  Reece had grown, by at least four inches, and now came up to my shoulder. His usually pale cheeks were glowing a healthy pink from all the country air. Lucy and Paula were immediately impressed by both the farm and Reece. As we went in May, John and Lisa appeared in the hall, and although Reece had been a bit reserved on meeting us, John and May weren’t. I gave them the flowers and chocolates and there were hugs all round as I introduced Paula and Lucy. Lisa was a teenager now and had become quite a young lady. She quickly formed an alliance with Lucy and Paula and the three of them went off to her laptop in the kitchen where she was downloading a music DVD. Reece came with John, May and me into the living room.

  ‘It’s so good to see you, Reece,’ I said again. ‘How are you? You look very well. You have grown!’

  ‘I’m big now,’ he said, grinning shyly.

  ‘And how is school?’

  ‘Good. I’m doing well. I have lots of friends. Can I go and play with the girls now?’

  We laughed. ‘Yes, of course,’ I said. ‘Thank you for inviting us. It really is so good to see you.’ He threw me a grin and scampered off.

  May, John and I stayed in the living room. It was at the rear of the house, and from where I sat I could see the chickens pecking around in their coop.

  ‘Reece looks very well,’ I said to May and John.

  ‘Yes,’ May said. ‘He is, and has settled in so nicely. His school is in the village and it’s small. Reece is in a class of twelve. He only has a TA half time now, and for the rest of the time he is unsupported in the class.’

  ‘That’s a huge improvement in a year,’ I said. ‘Fantastic.’

  ‘We are very proud of him,’ John said, and I could see that they were.

  As we continued to chat May and John said that like me they were convinced Reece harboured bad secrets, but other than a few throwaway comments he still hadn’t said anything to them or Lisa about his life with his mother. Calling May and John ‘Mum and Dad’ had been Reece’s idea, although he still saw Tracey and Scott at supervised contact – three times in the last year. John and May had taken Reece to contact and had met Tracey and Scott while the supervisor and security guard had been present. Tracey had had plenty to say to them, but had been stopped by the supervisor and warned that contact would be terminated if she persisted. I guessed that John and May had experienced some of the verbal abuse that I had endured, but they were such kind souls they would never have said a bad word about anyone. We agreed it would be a long time, possibly into adulthood, before Reece gave up any of his secrets, if ever. He’d once confided in them that ‘Mummy had told him not to tell.’ They also said they had been through a rough patch at school when Reece had been there for three months. It was after the first contact and he had become unsettled, convinced his mother was going to go to the school and get him. But the school had handled it very well and reassured him, and since then he had gone from strength to strength.

  ‘Does he still want to be a farmer?’ I asked John, as May went to put the finishing touches to dinner, insisting she didn’t want my help.

  ‘Very much,’ John said. ‘If he still does when he leaves school it’s a viable option. Reece’s good with practical stuff, and loves the animals. I can easily expand the farm again. There would be enough work for him as well as Bob, who runs it now.’

  ‘What a nice thought,’ I said. ‘Reece always did like animals.’

  ‘He’s so gentle with them. He collects the eggs from the chickens every morning and hasn’t frightened them or broken an egg yet.’

  ‘And what about Jamey? Is his social worker paying regular visits?’

  John paused and gave a small smile. ‘He phones every so often, but has only managed to visit us once. He’s very busy with other cases, and we don’t really need his support.’ So it appeared that despite Jamey’s assurance of more regular visits, they hadn’t materialized. It wasn’t about ‘support’ but that as Reece’s (and Lisa’s) social worker, Jamey should have been in more regular contact. But I guessed John felt as I had done: that it was impossible to get annoyed with Jamey for, despite his failings, his heart was in the right place. Not that I could see John ever getting annoyed with anyone.

  Presently May called us in for dinner, and the seven of us sat around the massive pine table at the far end of the kitchen while she served a huge roast with all the trimmings. It was an idyllic country setting, with the room heated by the old Aga, the sound of cows mooing in the distance and us chatting and laughing as we helped ourselves from the huge china platters. In fact the setting was so pleasant and convivial that we stayed at the table talking after we had eaten ourselves to a standstill and declined second helpings of home-made bread-and-butter pudding and clotted cream.

  But as the afternoon light slowly faded, and the sky outside darkened, I said we ought to think about going. I had a two-hour drive and the temperature was set to drop to freezing that night. It was quite a pull for Lucy, Paula and me to drag ourselves away from that warm kitchen with its cosy family atmosphere to go out into the cold night air.

  ‘Thank you all so much,’ I said as May and John finally helped us into our coats in the hall.

  ‘Thank you for the flowers and chocolates,’ May said. ‘There was no need to do that.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ I said. ‘And if ever you are down my way please drop in. We would love to see you again.’

  ‘Will do,’ they said. We all hugged and kissed each other goodbye. I gave Reece an extra hug. ‘I’m very proud of you,’ I said.

  He grinned sheepishly.

  As we finally stood at the open door ready to leave I said quietly to May and John: ‘You’ve done a great job. Reece is so very lucky having you both.’

  May smiled self-consciously. ‘Nonsense,’ she said. All we have done is give Reece what he deserved: his own family. And we thank God for giving us what we wouldn’t have had without Lisa and Reece: our very own family.’

  Also by the same author

  Damaged

  Hidden

  Cut

  The Saddest Girl in the World

  Happy Kids

  The Girl in the Mirror

  I Miss Mummy

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  First published by HarperElement 2010

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  © Cathy Glass 2010

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  ISBN 978-0-00-736296-7

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