Mummy Told Me Not to Tell: The true story of a troubled boy with a dark secret

Placing my free hand on his shoulder, I tried to turn him round to face me so that I could make eye contact with him and gain his attention. ‘Reece, listen,’ I said, kindly but firmly. ‘Listen to me.’ He was still pulling and refusing to look in my direction. I didn’t want to bend forward to make eye contact, as that would leave me in exactly the right position for a well-aimed headbutt. ‘Reece, we are going down the hall now and into the back room. There are some toys there already set out for you.’

‘Leggo! Leggo of me!’ His voice was rasping, guttural, like an old man’s, and so loud it filled the air and obliterated any other sound.

‘OK. Let’s go down the hall together,’ I said calmly but firmly. I knew if I let go of him now in his heightened state of alert he would be off like a free radical, charging around the house, doing damage to himself and anything that got in his way. Later I’d show him round, but for now I just needed to get him calmer and establish some form of control.

With Reece still pulling against me — and he was very strong with his weight behind him — I began steadily, if not a little jerkily, down the hall and towards the back room, which is our living room.

‘I’m Veronica,’ the social worker called from behind me, closing the front door.

‘Nice to meet you,’ I returned over my shoulder.

‘Slag!’ Reece shouted.

Once we were in the living room I let go of Recce’s hand and closed the door. As I’d hoped he would, he went straight to the selection of games I’d arranged in the centre of the room; the rest of the toys were in cupboards in the conservatory that acts as a playroom.

Veronica sank gratefully on to the sofa, happy to transfer the responsibility for Reece to me, while I remained casually standing in front of the door. It wasn’t obvious to Reece, but I was blocking his exit in case his interest in the toys vanished and he made a dash for it.

‘Sorry we’re late,’ Veronica said. ‘Imran was supposed to bring Reece but it became impossible.’

I glanced at her questioningly as Reece continued overturning the toys, tipping them from their boxes but not actually playing with them. ‘Imran is Asian,’ she said, and then nodding at Reece, mouthed: ‘He’s racist.’ She looked anxiously from me to the framed photographs of my children on the walls, where there were some of my adopted daughter Lucy, who is part Thai.

‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I’ll deal with it.’ For while some carers would refuse to look after a child who is deemed racist, I had found that children of Reece’s age will have learned such behaviour from home, and it can be unlearned pretty quickly. I was more concerned about Reece’s apparent ADHD (Attention Deficit and Hyperactivity Disorder), which hadn’t been mentioned by Jill or Karen but was very obvious now. His continual agitated and jerky movements, his short quick breaths as though he was hyperventilating and his heightened state of alert, which stopped him from focusing on anything for longer than a second, suggested hyperactivity. I needed to get him calmer before I could offer Veronica a coffee, let alone address the paperwork, which she was now taking from her briefcase.

Reece had finished turning out all the boxes of puzzles, jigsaws and toys, and they were now in a colourful mountain in the centre of the room. I slowly moved away from where I was standing by the living-room door and went over, squatting on the floor beside him.

‘Reece,’ I said, trying again to make eye contact, ‘choose a game for us to play with and we’ll put the rest away.’

He didn’t so much as glance in my direction. His brain seemed so busy firing off in random directions it had blocked out almost everything and everyone around him, or any logical thought. I lightly touched his hand and he glanced towards me, but I didn’t think he’d actually seen me. ‘Reece, shall we play with these building bricks?’ I suggested. ‘I bet you are good at building things.’ I put two pieces together but Reece was already on his feet, going straight over to the bookcase, where he began pulling books off the shelves. By the time I was at his side he had cleared one shelf and was starting on the next. ‘Reece, would you like me to read you a story?’ No reply, and no response, just more books thrown on the floor.

‘Right, Reece. Here’s a nice book,’ I said more loudly. I stooped and retrieved a large colourful counting book from the ever-increasing pile on the floor. ‘Let’s read this one. It’s a counting book, with lots of pictures, and all the numbers to a hundred. I wonder if you can count to ten?’

The books suddenly stopped raining down and he turned to look at me properly for the first time since arriving. I noticed what lovely brown eyes he had but what unusual front teeth. His front four teeth at the top were very large, overlapped each other and had prominent serrated edges. It crossed my mind whether this had contributed to the ‘Sharky’ tag his mother had given him, in which case it was unbelievably cruel.

‘Well?’ I said, making direct eye contact. ‘Can you count to ten, Reece?’

He grinned broadly, which highlighted even more the unusual configuration of his teeth. ‘Of course I can, you silly bugger!’ he said. ‘I can count to a hundred.’ He grabbed the book from my hand and, throwing himself on the sofa, sat expectantly, waiting for me to read. I wasn’t worried about being called a ‘silly bugger’ or his snatching the book, for at last he was calmer and I had his attention.

I sat beside him on the sofa as Veronica began sorting through her paperwork. Reece moved closer into my side and then placed the book in my lap. I opened it at the first page, which showed a huge three-dimensional number 1 on the left-hand page with a corresponding picture of one large white cuddly rabbit on the right-hand page.

‘So what is this number?’ I asked.

‘One!’he yelled.

‘Good. Well done. But there’s no need to shout. I’m sitting next to you.’ I turned the page to reveal a large three-dimensional number 2 and an accompanying picture of two rag dolls.

‘Two!’ Reece yelled.

Veronica now had the placement forms and relevant paperwork ready on her lap. Between turning the pages and reading the numbers I began answering her questions, first about my doctor’s contact details where I would register Reece, and then my mobile number, which the social services didn’t have.

‘I would offer to make you coffee,’ I said to her, ‘but I think it would be wise to keep this book going for a while.’

‘Absolutely,’ she said. I continued turning the pages as Reece shouted out the numbers, and Veronica asked questions and made notes. By the time Reece and I had arrived at number 15, Veronica had all the additional information she needed, and the placement agreement form was ready for me to sign. She leaned forward and passed me her pen and the form. I signed with my right hand, while turning the page of the book with my left. Veronica separated the copies and put one copy on the coffee table for me.

‘I would normally go through the essential information forms with you,’ she said, glancing at Reece, ‘but I’m not sure that’s a good idea at present.’ The essential information forms contained the full names, addresses and ages of the child’s immediate family, and details of his and their ethnicity, any religious, dietary or medical needs, the type of court order granted to bring the child into care and any special conditions the child had such as behavioural difficulties. ‘No,’ I agreed. I’ll look at it later when I have the opportunity.’ I turned the page to the number 20 and a picture of twenty little elves.

‘I don’t think it contains any more than you’ve already been told,’ Veronica said. ‘The contact arrangements haven’t been finalized yet.’

I glanced up from number 24, which was twenty-four small white mice. ‘All right. Fine.’

Reece nudged me to continue, which I did. Then I paused and said: ‘Reece, you’ve been a very good boy. You’ve sat here very nicely. I’m so pleased you like books, because I do too.’ Number 25 was twenty-five red tulips. Reece yelled out the number and I turned the page again.

‘Well, unless there is anything else you can think of, I’ll leave you to it,’ Veronica said, placing the set of essential information forms on top of the placement forms.

I stopped turning the pages and looked at Reece, still calm beside me. ‘Reece,’ I said. ‘I will continue reading this in a minute after we have said goodbye to Veronica. All right?’

He jabbed the open page with his forefinger. ‘No, read!’ he demanded. ‘I want the book.’

‘Well, in that case, if you are not going to say goodbye, you can look at the book by yourself for a moment while I see Veronica to the door.’

I moved the book, now open at twenty-eight twinkling stars, from my lap to his and stood up. Reece immediately jumped up beside me, jettisoning the book on to the floor. ‘What about me fings?’ he yelled at the top of his voice. Veronica and I looked at each other and smiled. In all the kerfuffle of Reece’s arrival we had both forgotten about Reece’s belongings, which would be in Veronica’s car. Learning difficulties Reece might have, but he wasn’t going to be left without his possessions!

‘Well done,’ I said to him. ‘We can’t let Veronica go without giving us your things, can we?’

He grinned his toothy grin. ‘You silly buggers, you forgot!’ he shouted, giving me a hefty whack on the arm. He shot out of the living room and down the hall towards the front door. I went straight after him, leaving Veronica putting away her paperwork.

‘Reece, don’t open that door!’ I called.

He was already grappling with the front doorknob, which fortunately sticks, trying to turn it to get out and to the car for his belongings. I arrived beside him and gently put my hand over his on the doorknob. ‘There’s a busy road out there,’ I said. ‘You must always wait until I open the door. We don’t want you getting hurt.’

My left hand was lightly on top of Reece’s hand, and both of them were on the doorknob, which was level with his head. Before I realized what he was about to do he’d brought his mouth forward and sunk his teeth into the back of my hand.

‘Ow!’ I cried, and immediately withdrew my hand as Reece continued to yank on the door. I pressed my foot against the bottom of the door so it wouldn’t open and looked at the back of my hand. His front teeth were clearly imprinted in my flesh, but fortunately it wasn’t bleeding. I took hold of him lightly by the shoulders and, turning him away from the door and towards me, I tried to make eye contact.

‘Reece,’ I said firmly, ‘that was naughty. You don’t bite. It hurts. It’s not a nice thing to do.’ But his eyes were darting all over the place and I knew he couldn’t hear me even if he’d wanted to. ‘Reece,’ I said more loudly, still holding his shoulders, ‘Reece, look at me. You don’t bite.’ Still not looking at me, he brought his chin down on to his left shoulder and tried to bite my hand, which was resting there. Then he turned his head quickly and snapped at my other hand, but both were fortunately out of his range.

‘No!’ I said again. ‘Don’t bite. It’s cruel. You will stop that now!’

He snapped again at both my hands, and then wrenched free of my hold and charged up the staircase.

Veronica was beside me now. ‘Cathy, are you all right?’ she asked.

We both looked at my hand, which still bore the perfect impression of Reece’s front teeth.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It hasn’t broken the skin.’ I glanced anxiously up the stairs. I could hear Reece charging around the landing. I certainly didn’t want him up there alone.

‘Veronica,’ I said. ‘Could you bring Reece’s belongings in from the car while I go up and settle him?’

‘Of course,’ she said. I quickly propped the door open so that she could get in and out, and then I went upstairs.