Mummy Told Me Not to Tell: The true story of a troubled boy with a dark secret. Cathy Glass
have willies but no legs.’
‘Well, wash your willy and your legs.’
I waited while he squashed the sponge on various parts of his body, which would be sufficient for now. Then I ran the sponge over his shaved head — there wasn’t enough hair to shampoo. Letting out the water, I wrapped him in the bath towel.
A mixture of more cajoling and repetition saw Reece into his pyjamas, and after another bedtime story, for which he sat on the beanbag with me squatted beside him, I eased him into bed.
‘I want Henry,’ he said, snuggling down and obviously finding comfort in being cocooned beneath the duvet. I guessed Henry was a soft toy he took with him to bed and that he would be in either the rucksacks or the toy boxes, which I hadn’t had a chance to unpack yet.
‘What does Henry look like?’ I asked, as I undid the first rucksack.
‘A hippo,’ Reece said.
I smiled. ‘Henry Hippo, that’s a good name. Did you call him that?’
‘Don’t know.’ So I thought that Henry Hippo was probably an old favourite and had come with all the other ‘Don’t knows’ from home.
I began rummaging through the first rucksack, which contained an entire school uniform, hardly worn, and presumably from one of the schools Reece had been excluded from. At the bottom of the bag my fingers alighted on something soft and furry, and I pulled it out.
‘That’s not it!’ Reece yelled.
‘No.’ It was a soft toy but in the shape of a shark.
I began on the second rucksack, which contained some new books. As I took them out and placed them on the bookshelves in the recess of his bedroom, I saw that they were all about sharks, or ocean creatures including sharks. ‘Who bought you all these?’ I asked.
‘Carers,’ Reece said.
I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to indulge Reece’s love of sharks, given his biting, but doubtless the carers had acted with the best of intentions by giving Reece something he liked. Further down this bag were some large-piece jigsaws, the pictures on the front of the boxes showing underwater scenes with fish and sharks. The boxes were new, so I guessed a well-meaning carer had bought these too. I pulled out a couple of short-sleeved T-shirts emblazoned with pictures of sharks, but there was no sign of Henry Hippo.
‘Do you know where Henry is?’ I asked, dearly hoping that Henry had been packed. I took the lid off the first toy box.
Reece didn’t answer. He was lying in bed, watching me intently. Although the toy box was new, it contained lots of old small toys, many broken, so that I guessed the contents had come from home. As I rummaged through I saw that the theme of sharks dominated here too. There were models and toys of sharks in plastic, rubber and cardboard, in various poses of swimming, all with their mouths open, displaying rows of barbed white teeth. They had clearly been well used, for many had been chewed and had bits missing. One particularly nasty creature, which was a model of a shark’s head about ten inches across, had half its teeth missing but the grin on its face said that it was still capable of doing real damage and enjoying it. When social workers take a child into care they always try to bring as many of the child’s clothes and favourite toys as possible so that the child feels comfortable with what they know around them. Usually these things are loaded into carrier bags, so I assumed one or more of the previous carers must have bought the new toy boxes, rucksacks and suitcase. Reece was still looking at me carefully, not saying a word; clearly these toys were poignant reminders of home.
‘Well, it’s not here,’ I said.
I shuffled over on my knees and took the lid off the second toy box. To my great relief and Reece’s delight, at the top lay a grubby, well-chewed, but clearly much-loved hippopotamus soft toy.
‘Henry!’ Reece cried.
I smiled and tucked Henry in beside Reece. Then I had a quick glance at the toys that had been under Henry in the box. It was no great surprise that the shark theme dominated again, together with McDonald’s. The fast-food chain must have been giving away small plastic models of sharks and aquatic creatures in their children’s Happy Meal boxes, for this toy box was full of them. Putting the lid back on the box, I stacked it, together with the rucksacks, on one side of the bedroom, to be sorted out the following day.
“Night ‘night,’ I said to Reece, kissing his forehead. His face was buried deep into Henry’s soft fur, the toy’s familiar smell welcoming and secure.
“Night,’ came the muffled reply.
I went to the bedroom door. ‘Would you like your light on or off?’ I asked, as I ask all children on their first night. It is essential the child sleeps as they are used to and feels comfortable.
‘On,’ came the muffled response.
‘OK, but I’ll dim it a little so it doesn’t keep you awake.’ I turned the knob on the light switch down so that the room was lit but not startlingly bright. ‘And Reece, do you want your door open or shut, love?’
‘Shut,’ Reece said.
‘All right. See you in the morning. Sleep tight.’ Only the top of his head was visible as his face snuggled into Henry. ‘See you in the morning,’ I said again and came out and shut the door.
I waited on the landing, for given how hyperactive Reece had been during the day, coupled with it being his first night in a strange bedroom, I was expecting him to be out of bed the moment I left the room, in which case I would keep resettling him until he finally dropped asleep. But five minutes later, when there had been no sound from his room, I gently eased open the bedroom door and found him fast asleep. He was exhausted and so was I. Closing the bedroom door again, I went downstairs, where Lucy and Paula were in the kitchen making a hot drink.
‘He’s asleep.’ I said. ‘Thanks for all your help. It’s much appreciated.’
‘Mum?’ Paula said, pouring milk into her tea. ‘What’s the matter with Reece’s front teeth?’ Lucy looked at me too.
‘I don’t know. I’ll ask the dentist when I take him for a check-up. I’m sure it’s something that can be corrected by an orthodontist when he’s older.’ I hesitated. ‘I know this sounds odd but Reece has the nickname Sharky. I think it could be because of his teeth and that he bites.’ They both looked at me. ‘His toys and books are all about sharks. It was a label that began at home and they encouraged him to behave like a shark and bite. He bit me when he first arrived earlier, so please be careful. And obviously we all have to work towards getting rid of that ridiculous nickname.’
They nodded and I could see from their expressions that they didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, because who on earth calls their child Sharky and encourages him to bite?
‘We’ll get him interested in something other than sharks,’ I said. ‘Something that doesn’t bite, like cars or aeroplanes.’ And it occurred to me then that perhaps all the zooming around the house Reece had been doing with his arms outstretched wasn’t a plane or prehistoric bird but a shark skimming through the water in search of prey. Anyway, thanks again. You were both a big help.’
They smiled and handed me a very welcome mug of tea. ‘Oh yes,’ Lucy said, ‘I nearly forgot. Jill phoned while you were out and asked how we were doing. I said we were all fine.’
I went to bed early that first night, at ten o’clock, expecting to have a very broken night’s sleep; children, unsurprisingly, are often unsettled for the first few nights, in a strange bed and a new house. But Reece must have been exhausted, for I wasn’t woken until five o’clock. Then it was with a vengeance!
I was just starting to surface, with my eyes flickering open, when I heard Reece’s door fly